Eldorado Musings

When the wind picked up, Charlie shouted that he needed me to relay back to him what our rope team leader was saying. “We’re crossing between two crevasses. Step EXACTLY in my boot prints.”

After months of training, planning, and fundraising, and a year after our previous failed attempt, the summit of Eldorado Peak lay up a 100-foot-long knife edge ridge. Thousands of feet steeply down both sides, 25 degrees, 30 mph wind gusts, numb-cold hands and feet, we had to put away our fear and pain to finish what we started.

On every climb, there’s a moment when you ask yourself: What thaaa heck have I gotten myself into?

I thought about the $20,000 this team raised for Cancer, MS, and COVID research at John’s Hopkins. I thought about my mom and sister, survivors, and so many other women in my life affected by cancer. I thought about how all of the problems we’re facing today could be solved if we all just listened to each other and worked as a team.

Then I looked at the men and women I was tied to on this long rope -- literally connected with for dear life -- grateful for their strength, capabilities, and dedication, and took a step forward.

All I could hear was my labored breathing. All I could see was 20 feet ahead, then a white-out.

Ascending in treacherous conditions is scary, but not undoable. We had taken the right precautions, setting anchors every 30 feet. As we slowly moved along the rope, one step at a time, we continually checked in on each other. Then I heard the team cheering me on from the tiny platform summit, and I was surprised at how quickly we had done it.

Thank you to everyone who supported us this year. Prayers of health and healing to those who are sick or giving care.

We’ll get through this if we just remember that everyone is climbing their own mountain, and while we may not see the ropes, we are all connected.