Previous Expeditions

Below is a sampling of photos and journal entries from some of my more memorable expeditions while on my quest to Climb Every Mountain!

Mt Rainier Washington 2005

The Departure

The Approach on Skyline Trail

The Muir Snowfield

Base Camp at Camp Muir

Cowlitz Glacier

Ingraham Flats

Disappointment Cleaver and the High Break

The Summit & Descent

A special thank you goes out to The Crazy Chilean- Richard Riquelme for his keen camera eye, expert guiding and friendship. Many of these photos you see here are his. Also, thank you to each of my sponsors for their support on this expedition. But most notably, thank you Kristi and Savannah for your love and support and to my brother Guy, thank you for being part of the journey.

Mt. Mansfield Vermont 2003

Hiker missing on Mt. Mansfield.

Below is our story of how we spent Christmas Vacation 2003. It's a story that we'll never forget. It's a story filled with lessons learned.

Please read on.

Bret, Kristi and Savannah BKS Johnson to Eternity, God Willing

The below link will take you to the Stowe Hazardous Terrain Rescue website. Their callout log is listed. You may want to visit this website after reading our story.

www.stowevt.org/htt/callout.htm

Also, you'll notice a reference to a map in our story. The map follows the story. It shows the route Bret took to reach the summit and eventually to safety.

Mt. Mansfield Summit Attempt December 26, 2003 Kristi, Savannah and I left our house in Cazenovia, NY at 06:15 on the morning of the 26th. Our plan was to drive straight through to Shelburne, VT, offload our luggage and head to the Sunset Ridge trailhead at Underhill State Park. We made good time on the road and after changing hotels in Shelburne, we left for Underhill around 12:00. While in the lobby of the hotel, Kristi noticed the Stowe ski report stating that it was "snowing heavily and lifts may be closing due to poor visibility and strong winds. Summit temperatures were around 16F. The ride to Underhill was uneventful following directions from Mapquest. However, turning onto Mountain Rd. in Underhill Center, it became apparent that Vermonters did not play on this side of the mountain as the road was minimally maintained for the first 2 miles and impassable for the last 2 to the Park entrance. (see accompanying map) The presence of 5 or 6 cars in the makeshift parking lot lifted my spirits as I began to question the plausibility of attempting the summit on this day. Not knowing the trail or the area, I assumed that there were XCskiers in Vermont who were crazy enough to summit like those I had encountered during my descent off Mt. Marcy. We finalized what I then considered "the Plan". Kristi was to head back down Mountain Rd. and north around the mountain, pick up 108 and head south to Stowe and Stowe Ski Resort where I would meet her at the Gondola base. Based on what I had in mind, I figured they would have to kill some time in Stowe Village as I wouldn’t be meeting them until 17:00. Meanwhile, I would cruise up the remainder of Mountain Rd. and the CCC park road and start at the trailhead by 14:00. I said to Bret, "This doesn’t look good. You’re going to be adding 2 more miles to your entire ascent and it’s 1 o’clock. What do you want me to do if you’re not at the Gondola Base at 5 o’clock?" "Give me ‘til 6pm, and then make the call," was his reply. It was 13:20 when Kristi and Savannah pulled away. After a "before" snapshot, Kristi’s last words were "Stay safe, somebody has to teach Savannah science." I smiled and started the climb wearing the following gear:

1 pr. MSR Denali modular snowshoes
1 pr. Rocky Jasper Trek boots side 14
1 pr. Bridgedale hiking socks with Coolmax
1 pr. Duofold heavy weight thermal pants
1 pr. Campmor Polartec 200 fleece pants
1 pr. Red Ledge waterproof, breathable shell pants
1 Chili’s midweight underlayer shirt
1 Great Northwest fleece shirt
1 Red Ledge waterproof, breathable shell jacket
l black knit watch cap
1 fleece head band
1 pr. Helix ski gloves with Youngtec lining.

And carrying in a Trager Day Pack:

1 pr. Wool hunting sock
1 oversized fleece
1 North Face midweight fleece
1 pr. Binoculars
First aid kit
Multi-tool
Silkskins balaclava
Princeton Tec headlamp w/ extra bulb (but not fresh batteries)
1 lb. Deluxe trail gorp (peanuts, raisins, dried cranberries, coconut, chocolate chips and 4 pc. Rocky road fudge)
1 medium McIntosh apple
5 fig bars
1 bagel with peanut butter, butter and jelly
1 snowshoe bag
1 gallon fresh water

The map below can help with timetables. I will use this text to fill in the mental and physical attributes of the climb.

As I watched Bret begin his ascent in the rearview mirror, I begin my descent back down Mountain Road, very slowly. The road was slick. While trying to remain focused on the road conditions, my mind kept wandering back to "the Plan", and how something didn’t seem quite right to me. Call it a woman’s intuition, but I just knew that this felt like the calm before the storm. That’s when Savannah and I said a prayer for Bret’s safety and ours. Savannah said, "Amen", and then I decided to teach Savannah some new words. "PaPa climbs the mountain", to be exact. She chose her words carefully to create, "PaPa mountain." By the time I reached a main road, I took a few moments to look at the map. Bret had showed me the quickest and most direct route to take, and so I proceeded to follow "the Plan." The main road remained what some Southerners would probably call treacherous. I drove 20 miles per hour for over an hour, until I could go no further. Once again, the road became impassable. I was in luck, however, for there was a fabulous ski resort and village to my immediate left. I parked the van. Savannah and I remained in the van for the next hour where we read books and drew pictures. After bundling up, we decided to find out where the Gondola Base was located. There were people mulling all around, with and without ski gear, and it was difficult to know where to go. Savannah chose to look in the gift shop first, and so we did. I asked one of the sales clerks where the gondola base was, and her reply was quite startling to me. "We don’t have a gondola here. Stowe has a gondola and they’re about 4-5 miles south of here. But, they don’t clear the road past our resort, so you’ll have to drive north and make a loop. It’s about 40 miles away. Depending on road conditions, it could take an hour or so." Feeling so ridiculous and angry, I walked Savannah back to the van and grabbed the map to check out the alternate route to Stowe Ski Resort. As soon as the van started to move, Savannah fell asleep, which was a great relief for me. I began to watch the clock, knowing that I had very little time for error at this point. Road conditions remained poor, and I got behind a plow moving just 20 miles per hour. By the time I reached Morrisville, the roads began to clear, and I was able to increase my speed to 50 mph. As I was driving through Stowe village, I noticed the traffic off the mountain was thick. Glancing in the rearview mirror, there really wasn’t much traffic behind me, and the few cars in front of me kept turning left or right into hotel parking lots. By the time I reached the parking entrance to Stowe Ski Resort, it was 4:50pm, and I followed the signs leading to the Gondola Base. However, when I came to a stop in a parking lot, I looked up at the mountain to see darkness. Pitch black. No hint of a gondola. I rolled my window down to ask a passerby where the gondola base was. He said it was two parking lots down. I quickly turned around and headed down. The parking lot for the base was empty and the barn was completely shut down. I proceeded to the next parking lot, and grabbed Savannah, who had just opened her eyes and stretched. When I stepped outside, my breath was taken away, and I had to look down immediately, as the winds were so strong, swirling the snow, making visibility almost impossible. I decided to run to the building with Savannah in my arms, and when I reached the doors, a sign was posted that said, "Authorized Personnel Only." Fortunately, a woman, on her way home, opened the door to see us standing on the steps. She asked if she could help us, and I said, "My husband was supposed to summit Mt. Mansfield today and then meet me at the Gondola Base at 5pm. I can’t find him." She led me into the building, which I later found out was the Operations Building for the Stowe Ski Resort. Inside, I walked through numerous rows of lockers, and the ski patrol team who was in the process of removing their gear. The woman took me to a man named Guy. I explained "the Plan" to him, and he shook his head in disbelief. He said, "Come with me." We went back out the door, and in an adjacent door that led upstairs to the offices. Guy took me to a cubicle where he began to ask more questions. Questions that were simple for me to answer, but an obvious sign that this was more serious than I would ever have imagined. As he wrote my answers down, I found out that he was the Manager of the Ski Patrol. Guy left us in the cubicle and went to take the information he acquired to other key people. That’s when Savannah and I said a prayer for Bret. Savannah ended with "Amen." We went to the restroom and I saw that my face was white as a sheet. This never happens to me. I’m always red in the face when I’m stressed or upset or whatever. It was now a little after 5pm.

Following the packed trail created by the XCskiers, the early going was not too difficult. However, it was obvious that the 16" of fresh powder wouldn’t support my snowshoes. I passed 4 skiers coming down and heard the last one comment that they only made it as far as the lean-tos. Not knowing the trail, I gathered that they were referring to lean-tos on the Sunset Ridge. By 14:00 I had reached the Ranger station and cleared off the 2 ft. of snow to sit on one of the picnic tables. Here I ate my bagel and drank about a cup of water and noticed that here was where the ski tracks ended and those building nearly buried in snow were the aforementioned lean-tos. I continued on under a light snow constantly calculating the time and distance traveled equation as I crossed over the CCC road each time. I was doing OK on time but when I reached the divergence of the Laura Cowles and Sunset Ridge trails I decided to deviate from the plan. I knew that I could save significant time by taking Cowles which was almost a full half mile shorter. (From the trailhead, Sunset Ridge to the summit is 1.8miles. Cowles is only 1.4miles.) I took Cowles and started picking up the blue blazes on the trees. The blazes were low but it made sense considering that I was walking on a 3’ base. I followed the blazes for about ¼ of a mile as the powder got deeper and the trail ran along side a brook. I decided to leave the trail as the embankment above the brook was quite steep and did not look supportive to snowshoes. I kept the brook in sight as a reference point and planned to pick up the trail when there was more of it to walk on. I was relieved when I stepped back down the to stream bank and saw the blue blazes again. From here I picked up 6 or 7 more trail markers and began to notice that the trail wasn’t letting up as it continued to climb quickly. I stopped at a tree with a blue tin marker nailed to it to take water, 5 fig bars and a short rest. It was now 14:45. The trail wasn’t getting the better of me, but it sure was making me work. As I began to move on, I pushed off the tree with my hand and bumped the blue tin marker. It rattled and swung down now held only by a single nail. The word "omen" came to mind but I let the thought move through my conscience as I began slogging in deep powder. It was the last trail marker I would see. I followed what seemed to present itself as a trail but no markers were in sight. Here is when I contemplated my options.

Turn back. Follow my still visible footsteps back to the trail markers and follow it back to the trailhead. Then hike 2 miles back to the drop point where there would be no one waiting for me and therefore hike 3-5 miles more to the nearest house and make a call to the Stowe Ski Resort to have them notify Kristi to pick me up. At 2 mph for 6 miles, it would mean 3 hours to even reach a phone. That would put me well past sunset and very late for my rendezvous.

Continue on. Without trail, put my map and compass skills to the test and bushwhack my way up the mountain in the direction of the trail and maybe pick it up again. I figured I had little over a mile to go and while the going was slow and strenuous, it would still be quicker than turning back.

I continued on, a little nervous about being technically lost. At first I began following the easiest routes through and around dense patches of balsam fir trees. But quickly I realized that navigating this way could mean I wind up on the miles from where I thought I was. I paused to check my compasses. I pulled out my map compass using it as the gold standard. It had been bubble free when I started. It was no longer bubble free but it did confirm what my key chain compass was saying. I was headed due east, straight up the mountain. The trail headed northwest so I began moving to the north as I climbed.

Around 15:30 I found myself standing at the base of large snowfield flanked by trees on both sides. Clouds were low and visibility was poor so I couldn’t make out the length of it but it was about 20 yds wide at the bottom and got wider as it went up. I continued up the southern flank until I reached a suitable crossing point. There were small patches of scrub brush mid way across and the field was only 30 yds wide. I picked out a sturdy tree on the far side and started moving toward it. I started above my target tree knowing that I would have to descend as I moved across. It was really a lateral crawl on all fours. The hands were dug in first until the reached the stable base layer of snow. Once anchored, I moved my knees ahead always careful to stay tight to the mountain. I’ll admit that I did look down about ½ way across. I looked up to and began to see the source of this snowfield. There was a large rock face staring at me with fangs of ice that were dripping steadily. I put my mind back on my work and crawled across. As I moved up the northern side of the snowfield it became obvious that the rock face was actually a broad escarpment that ran in both directions and stood blocking any further attempts at ascension. I moved north below the wall until it began to break up into large boulders. The clouds were still low and darkness was falling faster. At 17:00 I ducked inside a cave made by the boulders and stopped. Once again I thought things through. It was dark now and my headlamp, without fresh batteries, was failing. Sporadic yelling only confirmed the insignificance of my voice as it was absorbed by the heavy ether. Here I contemplated my options again.

Hunker down. I could use this cave as shelter and spend the night. At the present, I didn’t feel cold and my body presented no signs of hypothermia. The temperature was 20F which was not life threatening in the short term, but if your lucky enough to fall asleep, will you still be lucky enough to wake up. Or will your core body temperature have dropped enough to shut down the brain’s alarm clock. Then there is the mental dilemma. Could I really sit in a cave and listen to the wind for 12 hours without going goof?

Continue on. I was warm because I was moving. I was wet from sweat because I was moving. If I stop moving those two facts converge to make me cold. I hate being cold. Besides, I was still ahead of my curfew and if I could reach the gondola barn around 18:00 I could call off any rescue procedures that had been started.

After 3 pieces of fudge and a good amount of water, I pulled myself out of the cave find myself staring at the Champlain River Valley. The clouds were beginning to lift and I could see all the way to New York. This was a good sign. Visibility improved greatly as the contrast between snow and not snow sharpened. I could make out the massive shoulder of Sunset Ridge. But looking up the mountain, there were still trees above the boulders, which meant I hadn’t cleared the tree line at 4000’. The crampons on my snowshoes now became detrimental, as I was literally bouldering my way up the mountain. Here and there sparks would fly as the flint in the rock met my steel crampons. As treacherous as the rocks were, it still felt good to be out of the snow. The higher I climbed, the more exposed I became and the wind which had been absent buffeted by the trees, now blew at me with full force. I pulled my watch cap down tight over my balaclava and held both on with my hood. I was feeling better about things then lifting clouds revealed a huge discouragement. I had navigated well and now was looking up at the Lower Lip covered in frozen drool. The escarpment I had to move around earlier was meager compared to this enormous kisser. But as I looked up at the Lower Lip I noticed the glow of light behind it and took heart. I was finally able to make out the summit ridge. It was now 18:30.

As the Team started to form at the Operations Base, I was introduced to Bill, Mountain Manager, and Rod, the General Manager, from what I understood. One of the first steps they took was getting the night ski lights turned on, in hopes of guiding Bret to safety. The lights came on around 6 o’clock, but from the window, I could barely make out any of them. The mountain remained dark and ominous. The State Police had been contacted and Officer Buckley made the decision to drive to Underhill State Park. The Team wanted to be sure that Bret had not turned back. Upon Officer Buckley’s survey of the scene, he determined that Bret was not in the vicinity. He then contacted me at the Operations Base to fill out a Missing Person report. While he asked me questions about Bret’s physical attributes, gear and clothing, my sense of detail became acute. He even asked me if Bret had recently experienced financial trouble, family feuding or trouble at work. I remained rational in thought and action, but it was becoming very clear that this entire situation was extremely serious. After ending my conversation with Officer Buckley, I knew that his siren would be going off every 10-15 minutes for quite some time. The Team continued to inform me of all actions taken. They remained very calm and professional. I was encouraged by their words. It was as if they took Savannah and I under their wings, caring and nurturing us. Bill offered to let Savannah and I spend the night as his home, since the search was expected to continue through the night. Jack had unexpectedly had lunch at the restaurant earlier in the day, and offered us his homemade lunch, should we get hungry. John went out to his car to retrieve his own children’s toys so that Savannah would have something different to play with. Never once did any of these men complain about their duties. It was very obvious to me that they were in the business of searching and rescuing. Savannah played along, seemingly oblivious to the happenings around her, but she often looked up and said, "PaPa?" when the door would open or close. Still, I had a hard time believing that this was happening to me. I felt as though I was living in someone else’s life or at least in a movie. These kinds of things don’t happen to me.

After the final piece of fudge and more water, I set out for the summit and "moved toward the light". The going was easier, mentally at least, and I was somewhat surprised at how well my body was holding up. I had now been climbing through 36" of fresh snow for over 2 hours and yet I still found energy to keep going. As I reached the summit, the rules of the game changed quickly. Since 13:20, I had been arduously working to move forward even a step at a time. With 60-mph winds and gusts of 75 mph I now had to work to keep from summitting and descending all in the same step. Again feeling very unstable with metal crampons on frozen rock, I crawled to the summit and down behind a rock ledge to take cover from the wind. Once on the western side of the summit I could make out the lights from the ski trails. Not sure exactly where I summited, I contemplated my options one last time:

Head north toward the Chin.I knew the Gondola barn was closer to the Chin than the Nose but if I ascended farther south than anticipated, the barn would be north of me.

Head south toward the Nose. I knew there was a restaurant at the Nose and all light led that direction. However, it was good ½ mile to the Nose and the western face was to sharp to allow me to pass below the ridge. That meant fighting the wind for a ½ mile.

Head east down the mountain. I could see the northern most lights clearly and could make out the ski trail. Worst case scenario, I would have to hike down a ski trail and save a few bucks on the Gondola ride.

I began descending the eastern side of the mountain through snowfields. The powder was so thick that glissading was out of the question. I would have to work to get down too. After 6’ drop off a rock ledge and 20 more yards in a snowfield, I took a step with my left foot and went all the way down. The 3’ of powder gave way and so did the base layer until my leg stretched out fully. My right leg, stopping at the base layer folded and my knee came to my chin quickly. I began to pull my left leg out like I had done countless times before but it didn’t budge. I rested for a minute and heard the sound of running water. I had been walking on water and was pretty sure that my left snowshoe was close to the stream. I began digging myself out and carefully worked my leg free. While I was digging, I stopped to look up and noticed a railing about 60 yards away. It was the Gondola barn.

When I arrived I found everything was dark and had been shut down for the night. I circled the building to the receiving garage and found a light on in the operator’s shack. I climbed up and tried the door. It was open and there on the desk sat 2 phones. It was 19:40.

I had been told at one point that the Hazardous Terrain and Mountain Rescue team had been called, and that Neil VanDyke was the chief of the team. They told me that once they had done a sweep of their side of the mountain, they would then notify Neil of their findings. Neil would then take control of the operation and be the final decision-maker. At 7:30 pm, Rod called me into the conference room for a de-briefing. He had me sit at the head of a rather large conference table, with key people sitting around it. There was Bill, Mountain Manager, Kevin, Head of Operations, John, Head of Ground Ops, Jack, Head of Machine Maintenance, and Rod. Rod did all of the speaking. He told me that their efforts, thus far, had not turned up any information. Neil VanDyke had made the decision to form a Mountain Rescue Team, and that the team would be setting up their base in the conference room at 8 o’clock. Neil was planning to send 5 of his top members up the mountain to do an initial sweep. Upon completion, Neil would, possibly, make the decision to wait until daybreak to continue the search and the last resort would be to call in the National Guard for helicopter search and rescue. Rod continued to tell me that Neil was the best in the business, and that everything was going to work out. He told me that I would soon be seeing a lot of trucks and machines outside, along with many men moving in and out of the building. I looked around the table, and all of the faces looking back at me were filled with serious concern. Rod concluded with, "You’re holding up really well. You’re doing a good job." It was then that I said, "Thank you", and felt tears starting to roll down my cheeks. Jack quickly came to my side with a hug and a handkerchief. We got up from the table and moved back into the general office area. While everyone was awaiting Neil and his team, a call came through on their radios. It was the front desk of the lodge stating that a guest was at the Gondola Barn looking for transportation down the mountain. It appeared that the guest thought night skiing was available. Bill quickly said that they had forgot to contact the front desk, letting them know a search was in progress for a missing hiker. The men returned to the conference room to get more information from the front desk. That’s when I heard someone say, "Ask him what his name is. Is it Bret Johnson?" Rod walked out of the conference room and said, "He’s found. He’s okay." They asked if I wanted to talk to him on the radio, but I declined. The relief that I felt was quickly making it’s way throughout my body, and talking would not have been something I could have done easily. It just so happened that a CAT had just come down for refueling, so the decision was made to send that CAT up to pick Bret up and bring him down the mountain (1.25miles). Soon after, my relief turned to anger. What was he thinking? Why did he make such a bad decision? Neil and 2 of his team members arrived. Neil asked me a few questions and then stated that they would be talking with and questioning Bret when he arrived at the Operations Base.

It was a reunion unlike Kristi and I had experienced in the 13 years since we'd known each other. We had never had so many unknowns between us and there had never been such risk of one of us being in danger. I could sense the relief in Kristi as we embraced but I could also sense the anger for being put through such an ordeal by a simple lack of planning and common sense. This expedition brought us closer together as we both agreed that we would plan future expeditions together and we would both be involved in the details.

Savannah was excited to show me a picture she had been working on and though she didn't comprehend the entire situation, she knew that everyone was happy again.