A 'damsel in distress'

Of course, older guys can daydream about rescuing a "damsel in distress," but last Thursday was no fantasy. It happened high up in Glacier Park, just below the Continental Divide.

There are aspects of acrophobia I understand and some I do not. Dictionary says it is "an abnormal fear of being in high places." On past occasions, the Over the Hill Gang had guest hikers who "froze up" while climbing, several of them in pitches that were not necessarily cliffs but very steep terrain. A few have had to be roped down.

From personal experience, there can be situations where the onset of sudden fear or anxiety can produce real physical pain. The worst attacks I've witnessed caused mental confusion along with varying physical effects. I recall a couple of instances where seasoned parachutists froze at the aircraft door. One had a death grip on the static line cable. Acrophobia can be a frightening and alarming thing for anyone who gets it. A doctor friend, Bob Sherrick, told me the attacks can involve a constriction of blood to the brain.

At breakfast last Thursday, I suggested we climb Mount Oberlin because we had two new hikers who had never been on top of a mountain. About eight members thought that was a good idea because Oberlin is the easiest of the major peaks in Glacier to top. Though it involves only 1,500 feet of vertical climbing, its summit offers awesome lofty views of the Logan Pass peaks, as well as the McDonald Valley thousands of feet below and the Livingston Range to the north. The approach to Oberlin across part of the Hanging Garden's waterfalls, ponds, flowers, and wildlife is spine-tingling wonderful.

Partly because of medicine I'm taking, partly from a lack of physical conditioning and delays from taking pictures, I was bringing up the rear as the Gang strung out on what Gordon Edwards called the Southeast Slope Route. Three-fourths of the way up, I ascended a break in small cliffs, and at the top a young woman sat facing outward, hands tightly clasped over her eyes so she couldn't see, trembling slightly and crying.

Told her everything was OK and I would help her. She rejected a painkiller and water, explaining that was not her problem. It was difficult for her to talk, but I soon diagnosed pure and simple acrophobia. Her husband and two teenage daughters were above us. She had urged them to keep going and reach the summit without her. They had traveled clear from Vermont to climb a peak in Glacier Park; but now she was in a panic situation. Told me she had to get off this high place.

"I can't stay here," she cried.

Right then, I saw friend Ted Rugland come out above us near where the lady's family was climbing. Grabbed my radio and called Ted. Told him to stop that man and tell him I was going to take his wife down off the mountain. The man heard that and maybe wondered what kind of an old nut was trying to steal his wife. Ted probably told him I was harmless but a competent climber. The man asked to speak to his wife, so I handed her my radio, which she knew how to use.

Everything got worked out. Those above continued on toward the summit, and the lady and I headed down. Held her wrist in the two-way grip where she could also hold my wrist, and if she started to slip I could keep her from falling. The terrain was not cliffs, just very steep ground where loose scree did not provide solid footing. She did fine where there were solid rocks and small cliffs. After only 15 minutes, my arm was in pain from holding it high against her weight, and I suggested we stop and rest; however, the idea of getting off that steep stuff was all she could think about. She wanted to keep going, so that's what we did.

In half an hour, we were off the precipitous part and down to the moderate green slopes, ponds, flowers and marmots. It felt great to be on good footing where she could walk free. We sat down and relaxed on a big red rock. She thanked me and said her name was Gracie. I said my name was George and I was pleased to have been of help. She could smile by this time and asked, "Do you do this very often, I mean rescue 'damsels in distress?'"

Kidded her, "That's the only reason I come up here. Lookin' at all this scenery and wild animals is nice, but I like adventure now and then."

Had noticed her husband was the only one with a backpack so assumed that was where her lunch was. It was 12:30 so I said, "Lunch will be half an egg salad sandwich, half a salted peanut bar, some cold water and trail snacks."

Gracie said that sounded wonderful to her, and she also promised that when her family got down she would pay me back with a granola bar.

As I think back on this unusual adventure, I can't decide whether I should eat the granola bar or have it bronzed.

G. George Ostrom is the news director of KOFI radio and a Hungry Horse News columnist.