The Grand Teton

It’s hard to live in the shadow of the Tetons and not constantly have thoughts of those rocky spires on your mind.  My daily running route takes me past a view of the sun rising over the Grand.  Nearby towns are named Teton and Tetonia.  The local phone book has a page and half dedicated to businesses that begin with “Teton.”  Kids can find books in the school library with titles such as, “Jenny of the Tetons” and “The Grand Controversy.”  The imagery of those mountains is plastered to signs, wedding announcements and everything else around town.  It might not come as a surprise then, that shortly after I moved to Rexburg I made a goal to climb the Grand. 

A picture I took of the Grand this summer.  I love how it looks like God has lit up the Grand.

            The initial idea for climbing the Grand in the summer of 2013 came from my close friends, Meagan Cooper and Annalise Summers.

Two of my best friends - Annalise Summers (left) and Megan Cooper (right)

Meagan’s father-in-law, Gary Cooper, has climbed the Grand approximately fifty times and is something of a local legend.  Although Meagan’s and Annalise’s idea was only a “suggestion,” I seized upon the informal invite and threw out the date of July 27^th (which also happens to be Kai’s birthday).  I knew that an idea without a date to cement it in place often dies and I didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity!  Meagan and her husband, Mike, were fine with that date and our group, along with Daniel and Rhett Summers, was now complete.  Kai was placated by us missing his birthday by a promise of a wild and crazy pizza party/late night party with his friends the following weekend.

            As the weather started to warm, I started to train – and hard.  I worked out six days a week by lifting weights, doing cardio and, most painfully, doing flight after flight of stadium stairs at BYU-I.  You’ve never experienced sore calves until you’ve done stadium stairs!  The workouts were good for me though and by the time July rolled around I was more than ready – physically – to climb the Grand.

            As our summit date of July 27^th neared, we had a few planning meetings to get ready.  We met Michelle Cooper – our climbing leader.

Our fearless leader - Michelle Cooper

We practiced our knots.  We made sure our helmets, harnesses and climbing shoes were in good repair.  We practiced rappelling.  And we selected our route – the more exposed, and slightly more technical, Exum Ridge route.  Additionally, Michelle (who was only nineteen) had had a blessing from her dad.  In the blessing, it was suggested that each member of our party would benefit from a visit to the temple before our climb.  Daniel and I were able to squeeze in an hour of initiatories before we left.  I was blessed to have Deby Leishman as one of my officiators in the initiatory booth.

            The week before our Grand Teton climb was a busy week.  The Saturday before the climb (July 20^th) I was able to hike to Hurricane Pass (via the Roaring Creek/Alaska Basin route) with my girlfriends.  

A view of the mountain I would be climbing in less than a week from Hurricane Pass.  (With friends - Heather, Annalise, Me, Rachel and Rachel)

Then, two days later (July 23^rd – July 25^th), I backpacked into Lower and Upper Palisades Lakes with thirteen of my Girl Scouts and six other adults.  

After swimming at Upper Palisades Lake

With only 24 hours to unpack, repack, and recuperate before heading out to the Grand, I definitely (in hindsight) didn’t give myself enough time to rest.  I’d already logged 27 miles with a pack on my back that week! 

            The morning of July 26^th dawned bright and early with Quin waking me up around 7:00 a.m.  Keep in mind, I had just gotten home from my Girl Scout backpacking trip the day before.  Daniel and I spent the day packing and getting our gear ready.  Mom Dewey had come to watch the kids for us while we were gone and we knew we were leaving them in good hands.  

Grandmas are the best!

We left for Grand Teton National Park at 3:00 that afternoon with Mike and Meagan.  We stopped in Victor and picked up Rhett and Annalise who were up at their cabin.  I couldn’t have asked for a more fun group of friends to climb with.  We hadn’t even started hiking yet and I was already having the time of my life.

In Jackson with (from left to right) - Daniel, Me, Mike and Meagan Cooper, Annalise and Rhett Summers

We ate dinner at a pizza place in Jackson that, although the pizza was excellent, had horrendously slow service.  Dinner took much longer than expected and - because of that, we didn't arrive at the Lupine Meadows parking lot until much later than expected.

To compound matters, there was a possibility of rain in the weather forecast and so, in an attempt to avoid being caught in bad weather, we moved our departure time an hour forward.  Due to these factors, we only had one hour to sleep before disembarking on our adventure.  I don’t think a single one of us slept a bit. 

            The first few hours on the trail were wonderful.  I love hiking in the dark through the mountains – everything is so still and so quiet.

We made good time going up the trail as we made our way to The Meadows where Michelle and Gary Cooper were camped for the night.  At about 2:30 a.m. we arrived in The Meadows, rousted Michelle from her cozy, warm sleeping bag and headed out again.  

Rise and shine Michelle!

           Within minutes of leaving The Meadows our first stroke of bad luck hit.  We were crossing a creek that rushes down through the valley.  We missed the main trail area and had to find our own crossing by jumping from a large rock to the other bank.  Daniel, who was carrying at least twenty pounds of rope for the group, misjudged the weight of his pack, landed short of the bank on the other side of the creek and fell backwards into the stream.  He used his trekking pole (that he had borrowed from Scott Hurst) to break his fall and ended up breaking the trekking pole too.  Luckily, he was unharmed (if not a little wet) and we soon resumed our hike up the Grand.

            It wasn’t too long after that point in time that I started to feel the first hints of nausea.  I would find out later from Wyatt’s Hunter Education Survival Guidebook that mild altitude sickness is marked by headache, nausea and dizziness.  Severe altitude sickness has taken hold when the individual starts vomiting.  The guidebook recommends that they immediately descend to lower altitude.  Funny the things you learn after you endure a trial.  As I made my way up Garnet Canyon, my nausea steadily worsened.  I responded by increasing my speed.  I should have slowed down and allowed my body to acclimate.  But I was too sick to socialize – I didn’t want to talk to anyone – so I hiked alone at the front of the group.  Although I find my behavior strange now, I remember thinking that I just wanted to get up the trail as quickly as possible and maybe I would slowly acclimate.  In actuality, gaining elevation at a slower pace would have been better for me.  The surprising thing was that I was still at a very low elevation.  In fact, I had been considerably higher than the elevation where I first started to get sick less than six days previously on my hike up to Hurricane Pass!  Had I known more about altitude sickness, I would have known that I should have been eating and drinking non-stop from the trailhead instead of intermittently like I had been doing.  However, most importantly, I would have realized that a key factor in keeping me happy and healthy was getting adequate sleep.  I honestly feel that if I had had a more restful week going into the hike and gotten a good night’s sleep the day before the hike, I would not have been plagued with altitude sickness to the degree that I was on that day.  Live and learn.

            Before long, we had arrived at the Lower Saddle (approximately 11,650 feet) and I began vomiting.
 At that point in time, I should have turned around, but I only remember thinking, “I’m not going to give up on my dream just because I’m throwing up!”  I changed into my Mongolia tights, put on my yak wool socks and climbing shoes, grabbed my gloves and made my way up the trail.

Yes - I'm smiling for the picture, but I was feeling miserable by this point in time.  

            As we approached Wall Street, the sun had just appeared over the horizon and the weather, while not perfect, still looked good enough for climbing.

Wall Street is somewhat of a “point-of-no-return.”  Once you pass that point, it is better to continue up the mountain and then back down the other side than to retrace your footsteps.  It was ironic then, that shortly after we crossed Wall Street, the weather took a turn for the worse.  

Heading up Wall Street (that's me with the orange pack).  Weather was still looking good.

This is me going over the "Nose."  Notice the huge drop behind me.  I was way too sick to even notice. 

My altitude sickness decided to follow suit.  Mike, Rhett and Daniel stopped our ascent at that point in time and gave me a beautiful priesthood blessing.  I returned the favor by vomiting on Rhett’s shoe.  Nonetheless, I was blessed that I would be able to manage my altitude sickness and be able to continue the climb.  Thanks to the power of the priesthood, I was able to do just that.  From that point in time, I survived on an odd combination of peppermint essential oil rubbed under my nose (trust me – it works!) and Clif Shots (with caffeine) chased down with swallows of Gatorade.  I had lost the ability to chew and hold anything down.  I had to get my calories by sucking on the Shots and washing it down with the Gatorade.  We continued upward.

This picture is from the descent, but someone caught me putting peppermint oil on under my nose.  I lived off that stuff!

            By the time we had traversed to the Golden Staircase and the Wind Tunnel it was starting to snow – and it wasn’t just any snow – it was a cold, wet snow that was driven by gale force winds.  Snow like that can quickly make you wet.  And when you’re wet on top of the Grand, you’re most definitely cold.  

Heading into the storm.  You can see Daniel's white helmet far below me.  Mike Cooper is somewhere between us on the rope.

I was so thankful that I had taken the time to change into my Mongolia tights and yak wool socks at the Lower Saddle because, once you’re roped in on top of the Grand, you can’t unrope to change clothes.  And, as a sidenote, you also can’t unrope to pee.  I was soon familiarized with the reality that I had no choice but to pee within five feet of Mike (who I was roped in next to), on the edge of a cliff, in the driving snow, multiple times before our adventure was through.  I’ll just say that it was a bonding experience.

            Each of us women had a moment on the climb where we had a breakdown.  Annalise’s breakdown came at the Friction Pitch – a particularly steep section of the Grand that requires the use of ascenders to help you up the mountain.  Meagan’s breakdown came a little while after that.  

Meagan always has a smile on her face.  So you know things are rough when that smile is missing.

The sleep deprivation, cold and exhaustion were starting to take their toll.  As for me, I remember trying not to focus on anything but controlling my nausea and vomiting.  Daniel remembers this part of the climb fairly well – for me, I only remember bits and pieces here and there.  I do remember handing the camera over to Daniel at this point in time – taking pictures seemed like the most irrelevant thing anyone could possibly consider doing.  Daniel, however, was so focused on being the “clean up” for the group (the anchor who gathers up the ropes and gear at the end) that he promptly tucked the camera in his coat and forgot about it.  Thankfully other members of our climbing party remembered to take pictures!

A great picture that Mike or Rhett took.  I'm looking pretty pale in this picture from the nausea.

            Our original climbing plan had us summiting around 11:30 - 12:00.  We didn’t summit until approximately 1:45 p.m.  The going is slow when the rocks you’re trying to climb are slick and wet.  We were about two hours behind schedule even though we had left the parking lot one hour earlier than planned.  Once at the summit, we spent very little time enjoying the moment.  

The summit of the Grand Teton.

Not the joyful faces you'd expect to see on the summit of the Grand Teton.

We all wished we had thought to bring ski goggles as we tried to open our eyes and smile for a quick picture at the top.  I had brought some Lindor truffles to share with the group as my celebratory/luxury snack item as I “enjoyed” the view from the summit.  The Lindor truffles were the last thing I wanted to throw up, so I forced down another Clif Shot.  Right before leaving the summit, I did happen to notice the initials “G.A. Dewey” scratched into a rock.  The wet stone made it easier to spot the historic signature.  Daniel pulled out the camera and, along with a picture of me squinting in the snow, it was one of the two shots we took with our camera on the summit.  

Once we returned home, we researched the signature on the internet and found this interesting history tidbit.

“The hustle and bustle at the turn of the century brought prosperous times to Victor, Idaho.  Not one to pass up an opportunity to live in a beautiful area, George Dewey arrived in Victor with his brothers, Jessie and Frank. With the Grand Teton in the background, the trio worked together and built three similar stone houses for their families. The one which now houses the restaurant was completed in 1928.

Speaking of Teton legends, the glory of mountain life beckoned yet another young and ambitious soul. His name was Paul Petzoldt and he later became very famous. He settled into a simple wood cabin in between the old bank and George and Annie's Old Dewey House. 

A long winter of heavy snowfall, fussy pregnant wives and cabin fever spurred the two neighbors to kick up their heels and climb the Grand Teton.  Despite rudimentary gear, George Dewey and Paul Petzoldt made it to the top of the Grand and were among the first to conquer such a climb. The `20's were roaring to a close, but Paul & George continued to enjoy life in the mountains. Climbing more peaks, Paul became a Teton legend in his own right, founding the National Outdoor Leadership School. Today, the NOLS program continues to educate backcountry and wilderness enthusiasts of all ages.
Although many of Victor's early landmarks were destroyed in fire, The Old Cheese Factory, the movie house, the bank building, Paul's cabin and The Old Dewey House are some of the remaining historic buildings left in Victor today.”

Daniel coming down the rappel.  The rope was soaking wet and we were all extremely cold at this point in the climb.

The descent from the summit requires a series of rappels.  At one of these rappels, Mike was so exhausted and his hands were so cold that he had to tie Meagan’s rappel knot six times before he got it right.  I was next to rappel after Meagan, and Mike told me to watch him tie the knot to make sure he tied it right as I got ready to rappel down.  All I remember thinking at that point in time was a certain degree of ambivalence.  I honestly remember thinking something along the lines of, “The knot is not really that big of a deal – I’m sure I’ll get down just fine.”  

Mike must have tied my knot right.

Possibly that was when the initial stages of my delirium started to set in.  Later on, as I recounted my story to Scott, he voiced his opinion that I possibly was developing preliminary symptoms of HACE (or High Altitude Cerebral Edema).  HACE occurs when an individual with severe altitude sickness does not descend and their brain cells, starved for oxygen, begin to leak fluid and cause brain swelling.  Nausea and disorientation are two of the biggest symptoms.  Wyatt’s Hunter Ed Survival Book backs this up by stating that if a person with severe altitude sickness does not immediately descend, they risk getting HACE, or the equally scary, HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema), where your lungs begin to fill with fluid.  My behavior from this point in the climb, however, attests to the fact that I was quickly going downhill (had to throw in that pun!). 

A few hundred feet below the summit, I experienced one of the lowest points of the climb.  Meagan, Annalise and I had rappelled off the summit and were waiting for the men to descend.  We found a shelter of rocks on the precipice that had been built by a previous party and took refuge in the stone crevice.

I don't know why I'm smiling in this picture.  This was one of the most miserable moments of my life.

As Meagan, Annalise and I huddled together for body warmth, I considered (for just a moment) whether or not I wanted to get up.  Deep down, I knew that I would.  I have too much to live for!  But there was a moment, up there in that crevice when I pondered the amount of effort it would take to get off the mountain and how miserable I was at that point in time and I honestly contemplated not getting back up.  I can also say that the bond that Annalise, Meagan and I share after huddling in that rock crevice is something we’ll always hold close to our hearts.  An experience like that changes friendships – for the better – forever.  It was at this point in time that Michelle had her breakdown cry.  We were all so wet and cold.  The three of us women who had endured childbirth agreed that what we were experiencing at that moment was worse than childbirth. 

Also during this portion of the descent, Meagan happened to loosen a grapefruit-size rock which then proceeded to careen down the mountain towards Rhett.  She yelled “Rock!” in an attempt to warn him.  Rhett said that his typical habit, upon hearing the warning of “Rock!” was to look up to see where the rock was coming from and then try to avoid it.  However, this time, he looked down instead.  The rock hit him square in the helmet – which protected him from injury.  Had Rhett looked up, or had he not been wearing his helmet, he most certainly would have incurred a serious head injury.

Looks like he's ok!

After the next rappel, the storm began to ease up.

Fortunately, I had packed two things that everyone else in the group had not – a pack cover and a change of clothes.  And it was a good thing too, because I was in pretty bad shape.  I took off all of my cold and wet clothes and put on dry layers.  I felt my body warm just a little. 

The bright green rain pants were such a blessing.  I didn't realize this picture was being taken and my face shows how miserable I was feeling.

After the rappel, the descent to the Lower Saddle takes you through a chute called The Idaho Express.  As we made our way down, my altitude sickness began to increase (shouldn’t it have been getting better?).  Scott says that’s another sign of HACE setting in.  As my condition worsened, I once again took off on my own to suffer in solitude.  The problem with this decision was that darkness and a thick fog were began to close in on us simultaneously as we made our way down the chute.  I didn’t know the route.  Healthy Lindsey knew better than to take off and leave the group under any circumstances.  Sick Lindsey only had one thought on her mind – “Get off this mountain as quick as you can!”  I remember scrambling down rocks and only taking minimal precautions as I was doing so.  At one point in time, I got to a chute and started to lower myself down the wet rock.  I had lowered myself to my hips when the thought occurred to me, “If you slip – even one time – you will die.”  In a moment of clarity, I thought to myself, “What am I doing?”  I raised myself back out of the chute and stood there on the edge of the precipice as I waited for the rest of the group to catch up.  They found me standing on the edge of the cliff – in the dim light and the fog – staring off into space.  The memory of that moment and what I was about to do haunts me now.  The path I was about to take down was not the correct route down the mountain for sure.  I also remember wondering why everyone else was going so slow.  I could see the lights coming on at the tents far down below in the Lower Saddle and thinking, “Hurry, hurry – I won’t start feeling better until I get to a lower elevation!”  Daniel was still dutifully performing his job of clean-up at the back of the group.  I had remained civil throughout all my vomiting and misery, but at about this time I snapped at Daniel, “Why are you at the back of the group with everyone else when I’m up here alone and sick?”  In Daniel’s defense, he had not realized that my altitude sickness had so suddenly taken a turn for the worse.  He quickly passed his clean up duties on to Rhett and came up to the front to help take care of me. 

By the time we got back to the Lower Saddle, I was in extremely bad shape.  I truly believe that I needed medical attention at that point in time.  At the very least, I could have used an IV fluid bag.  I thought about stopping and requesting help from the rangers at the Lower Saddle; however, the Exum Guide tent was nearby and they have not been kind to the Cooper family in the past.  I knew that if I stopped and asked for help, it would greatly increase tensions between the Cooper family and Exum.  I plodded forward. 

Not far past the Lower Saddle, I began vomiting more violently than I had at any previous point in time on the climb.  It had been 36 hours since I had last slept, I’d just spent four hours in a blizzard on top of the Grand, I was dehydrated from constant vomiting, had hiked approximately 42 hard miles in one week, gained and lost over 12,000 feet of elevation in that same week and was possibly suffering from HACE.  I was in very bad shape.  It was at that point in time that I had my breakdown – and believe me, it was a far more dramatic sobfest then any of the other women had put on display.  I rested in Daniel’s arms and cried and cried.  My entire body was racked with my sobbing.  I’d tested my physical limits with a marathon, multiple half-marathons, six natural childbirths, numerous backpacking trips – but I’d never experienced anything like this.   We continued on. 

Part of the descent down includes a fixed rope on a moderately steep stretch.  About every ten feet or so, a knot is tied in the rope to help you grip as you make your way up or down the rope.  My disorientation and disregard for my own personal safety was on full display on this stretch.  To descend the rope, I let myself freefall until my hands jerked me to a stop on a knot.  I repeated the process as I let myself drop down the rope.

Later, as I looked back to see the progress of the rest of our climbing party, I realized that everyone else was easing their way down while keeping a vise grip on the rope.  Obviously that would have been the safer way to get down jagged boulders.

Nonetheless, my quick-drop method gave me more time to rest further down the trail.  I used that to my advantage when I spotted the first patch of grass on our way down.  Without saying a word to Daniel, I dropped onto the grass and immediately fell asleep.  

I marvel a little bit at how well these giant boulders fit my body.  It was if they knew that at some point in time an extremely sick and tired woman would need the shelter of a place out of the wind and some soft grass on which to lay her head.  I think I was asleep within seconds of collapsing to the ground.

When I heard our group approaching half an hour later, I got back up on my feet and started down again.

At about this point in time, Daniel said that I started to act delirious.  He said that I’d randomly stop on the trail, take off my pack and stare off into space.  I’d say things that weren’t really making sense.  I still continued to vomit my way down the trail.  After another episode of puking, Daniel and Rhett gave me a second priesthood blessing.  They blessed me that I would be able to get off the mountain on my own two feet.  It was a powerful blessing.  My memory is fuzzy at this point in time, but I do vaguely recall everyone unloading things out of my pack and carrying my gear for me.  I also recall Daniel telling Rhett, “Don’t leave me alone with her.  She’s not acting normal and I’m afraid I won’t be able to get her off the mountain myself.”  Upon hearing Daniel say that I remember thinking…nothing.  I definitely was experiencing some level of disconnect with reality. 

After my priesthood blessing, Daniel told me that we only had three more miles before we got back to the parking lot.  This was a grave error on his part.  Daniel, who never makes map, distance or directional mistakes, was incorrect as the parking lot was actually four and a half miles from our current location.  That might not seem like much of a difference, but when you’re sick, cold, hiking through boulder fields in the dark and losing major elevation, an extra mile and half feels like an eternity.  Thinking that we only had three more miles, I developed a new method of getting myself down.  I would vomit and then, in the interim period where you feel slightly better after puking, I would run.  I would run until I started feeling sick again and then I would walk.  And then I would walk until I vomited again.  It was about a five-minute cycle.  As I vomited/ran/walked, I would take sips of my Gatorade and try to stay hydrated.  I immediately threw everything up.  My Camelbak later showed that I had tried to drink a substantial amount of fluid – but I just couldn’t hold it down.  During this time frame, the importance of our “directive” to make a trip to the temple before our climb became apparent.  The words of the initiatory blessing kept running through my head, over and over again, like a broken record.  It did bring me a sense of strength to remember those words. 

I’ve run enough mileage to know approximately how far three miles is – and I knew I had covered some ground.  So why didn’t it feel like we were approaching the parking lot?  What we were, in actuality, approaching was a trailhead sign that would inform us that we had an additional three more miles to the car.  I felt defeated.  I sat down in the middle of the trail.  I had an emergency foil blanket in my pack and was so close to taking it out, wrapping up in it and just staying put.  I had told myself that I could go three more miles and no more!  How was it possible that I would have to go three more miles?  I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was really angry at my sweet mother-in-law (of all people!).  She, who was so selflessly and kindly watching my kids!  The reason for my anger?  Mom Dewey had to leave at 6:00 a.m. to make it back home to Logan for a missionary farewell for our cousin Matt Dewey.  If Mom wasn’t leaving in just a few hours time, I would have given myself the liberty to lay down right there in the middle of the trail and go to sleep!  Giving in to my exhaustion up there in the mountains wouldn’t have been safe in my condition at all.  In hindsight, I actually think that Mom leaving for that farewell was a tender mercy for me.  Knowing that my kids needed me to make it back home by 6:00 a.m. kept me moving.  It’s funny sometimes how the Lord knows exactly what you need even if you don’t feel like that’s what you need at the moment.

From that point on, I turned my brain off.  Just like blinking and breathing are automatic reflexes, I put my legs into “walk” mode and didn’t think or do anything else.  Daniel was trying to talk to me to keep me going and I remember thinking (in a strange twist of role reversal), “Why is he talking so much?”  He’d ask me questions to gauge my responsiveness and I’d think, “It takes too much energy to answer that” and remain silent.  My uncharacteristic silence was definitely making Daniel more and more worried. 

Everyone in the group was exhausted and miserable by this point in time.

Finally, after time ceased to mean anything anymore, we were back to the car.  Without saying another word, I grabbed a sleeping bag, climbed in the back seat of the car, and passed out.  Daniel, not wanting to disturb me, laid down on the dirt of the parking lot and, using his pack as a pillow, waited for the rest of our group to make their way off the mountain.  They were about ten minutes behind us because they had not implemented the vomit/run/walk method.  

The time was 12:30 a.m. – our climb up the Grand had taken us a total of 25 hours from start to finish.  It would be 3:30 a.m. before we made it back home to Rexburg and were able to climb into bed.  We had gone approximately 44 ½ exhausting hours without sleep.

As I mentioned previously, my mother-in-law had to leave at 6:00 a.m. to make it to a mission farewell in Logan.  She was also kind enough to offer to drive McCall part of the way to her Girl Scout camp which started Monday morning in Provo Canyon.  So, after only two hours of sleep, I pulled myself out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to see Mom and McCall off.  As luck would have it, Quin woke up from the noise and was up for the day.  Somehow I managed to fix breakfast for the kids and get them all ready for church which started at 11:00.  At 10:30, I woke up Daniel and told him to take the ready-to-go kids to church.  After they left, I was gone.  I don’t think what I was doing could be called sleep.  It was beyond sleep – if that even makes any sense. 

For the next three days, I existed in a weird state of consciousness.  I would fall asleep randomly at any hour of the day and all over the house.  I couldn’t think.  Literally, I couldn’t get my brain to work.  I couldn’t remember the ingredients to recipes that I’ve made a hundred times.  A grocery list that would normally take me thirty minutes to write up took me an hour and a half – and, even then, I would later discover that I had left numerous obvious items completely off the list.  At this point in time, I hadn’t even heard of HACE, but I remember asking Daniel during this time frame if high altitude can kill your brain cells because I was having a hard time “thinking.” During later research, I would discover that it takes a minimum of a few days, but can even take up to a month to recover from HACE.  I discovered that I had lost eight pounds from the experience.  Eight pounds!  Additionally, like a post-traumatic stress victim, I would start crying at the strangest things.  In the grocery store parking lot, Daniel was lowering the hatchback of the Suburban and accidentally bumped me on the head.  Normal Lindsey probably would have said, “Ow!” rubbed her head and gone on with life.  Post-Grand Lindsey had a total crying and sobbing breakdown in the grocery store parking lot – not because it hurt, but because, on top of everything else, it just seemed like too much to handle.  Now that I’ve had more time to mull over my symptoms and learn more about HACE, I’m convinced that my condition on the Grand was far more serious than anyone realized. 

It goes without saying that the Grand taught me numerous life lessons.  I gained an even greater love for my Savior.  He was there with me in my moment of need and I definitely felt that love.  My testimony of priesthood blessings, and of the worthy men with me on the climb who live their lives in a manner so that they can give those blessings in moments of need, was strengthened tenfold.  I know that I had reached the edge of my physical limits.  The Lord got me off that mountain.  I had been blessed that I would be able to get off the mountain on my own two feet and I know that without the Lord’s strength and the power of the priesthood, I wouldn’t have been able to do so.  I’m thankful to my dad who taught me how to be prepared in the mountains – the change of clothes in my pack and my pack cover were instrumental in keeping me warm on the mountain.  Staying warm left me with the energy reserves I needed to fight my increasing sickness.  I’m also thankful to my mom and dad for bringing me fur-lined tights and yak wool socks home from their mission in Mongolia.  My feet never got cold!  There were guardian angels with me on that mountain.  Mike mentioned that there were two times on the ascent (once with Meagan and another time with me) when he was being up-belayed and knew that there was no way that the small women who were pulling him up the rope had the strength to haul him up the mountain the way that we did.  I can also say that I feel the power of prayer more acutely in my life now.  There were numerous people praying for us that day – our names were even on the temple prayer roll.  There is no doubt in my mind that those prayers made all the difference for us up on the Grand.  I can also say that I’m more in love with Daniel after our climb than I’ve ever been.  Even though he was exhausted and cold, he put aside his own misery and took care of me on every step of that mountain.  I’ve never felt so loved and never been so sure of the eternal nature of our marriage than I was on that day. 

Daniel attempting to block me from the brunt of the storm.

Sharing delicious backpacking food with me (on a different cold and wet trip to the Tetons)

Many people have asked Daniel and I about our experiences on the Grand since our climb, and they all have the same question – “Would you do it again?”  The answer is actually different for the two of us.  Daniel, without hesitation, tells them that he will not do the Grand again.  He says that watching me suffer and feeling powerless to help me is something that he never wants to experience again.  He learned a lot from the experience and is glad that he can now say that he’s climbed the Grand; but, overall, he doesn’t have very fond memories of the experience.  Ironically, when I’m asked the question of whether or not I’d climb the Grand again, my answer is, “Yes.”  Altitude sickness can be finicky – just because you’ve had it once doesn’t mean that you’ll get it again.  I’ve climbed at elevations higher than where I started to get sick on the Grand since we returned home (and many times before our Grand Teton climb) and did not experience any symptoms of altitude sickness.  There is a part of me that wants to climb the Grand again and really enjoy it – to be able to sit on top and actually be able to see something besides the driving snow and to enjoy my Lindor truffles!  Climbing the Grand was horrible – and wonderful.  Overall, it was life-changing for me – it haunts me.  I’ll never look at that mountain the same again.  And I will climb it again. 

A picture taken from the Idaho side of the Grand - about a month after our Grand Teton climb.

A picture of the Grand going up to Paintbrush Pass.  Also taken after our Grand Teton climb.