The morning after our summit of Mt. Baker, we wake up early and break camp after a quick breakfast. Our guides have promised us lunch at Miguel’s for some “it’s okay in Northern Washington, but if you’re from California you are not going to be impressed” Mexican food. Just as we start the hike out, a climber from another Mountain Madness group comes running up looking for Zach or Stephen, “someone fell and I was told you guys could help”. Zach rushes ahead of the group toward the Railroad Grade, which was the sketchiest part of the route the entire three days on the mountain. It is a narrow trail with a steep drop off on one side down into the glacier moraine, and it sounds like someone fell off. Stephen leads us down, everyone now on high alert not to cause a second mishap. We reach the point where the accident happened, the path is maybe a foot wide with a stiff bush sticking halfway into the trail, an inattentive hiker could easily be knocked off balance and take a 50 foot fall down the steep, rock and boulder strewn embankment. By the time we arrive there is already a rescue operation underway, Zach has built an anchor and lowered himself down, as well as two or three other guides from the other group. We step off to the safe side of the trail as others begin directing the traffic still working their ways up for their own summit attempts.

The weather closes in as we watch and wait. It rains off and on. Search and Rescue is contacted, the woman who fell has a fractured arm and hit her head but is alert. Spare clothes, warmed water, and food are pulled from packs and donated to the effort. An area rescue team is making their way up from the bottom, but will be a few hours. The other option, a helicopter rescue is being delayed by the shitty weather and no visibility. So we wait. Using up the rest of our fuel to melt snow and make Nalgene bottle hand warmers. I read somewhere that most mountaineering accidents happen on the descent, but I guess it’s still unexpected when it happens off the “mountain” part of the mountain. The Railroad Grade is an established trail, especially at this time of year when the snow has been melted away by boots and sun. You have to leave the trial to get to any substantial snow clinging for dear life to the shade under trees or the cooler climes around large rocks that freeze overnight. The trail is just a narrow, non-technical trail you have to walk on without losing your balance, but it still managed to ruin a person’s trip and potentially her life depending on how things turned out. I realize after a moment that I’m getting way too introspective and go back to shivering. Meanwhile this dude who was skiing around somewhere in the area in shorts is in contact over his radio with the S&R dispatcher and is giving coordinates for a helicopter that we now hear circling. Ski Shorts was apparently the first person down the side of the mountain to help in stabilizing the woman at the bottom, and helped her daughter get down safely to be with her. It’s been 4 hours when the clouds break here and there and the sounds of the helicopter grow louder.

A Navy helicopter, apparently lost or attempting to massively expand the service’s purview to include all large masses of water, burst through the clouds and began circling as the pilot attempted to figure out a safe angle of approach into the valley.

After the rescue excitement is over, we carefully make our way down the rest of Railroad Grade and follow the less heinous trail back to where our van is parked. The walk is slow and painful as the warmer weather meant my feet were no longer enjoying the numbing benefit of the snow. I would try to hurry, then give up and resort back into a sort of hop/shuffle. It was well past lunchtime, and we were now looking at dinner at Miguel’s.

Miguel’s was unimpressive. We drive South back to Seattle, my feet finally free of the boots, but still in the socks I’ve been unable to remove for two days. Back at Mountain Madness HQ we happen upon the husband of the woman who fell picking up his wife and daughter’s belongings. She was being released from the hospital so he rushing to get their stuff and go pick them up. That news put a smile on everyone’s face as we gathered our gear and said our goodbyes. I shamble into the SeaTac hotel room and shed my shoes, time to see if things really are that bad or if I’ve been a baby for the past 5 days in my boots.

As it sinks in that I’ll be spending the next week or two wearing nothing but flip flops, I realize that now I am definitely too broken—or at least blistered—to summit.