2nd QUARTER 2003
EOG PEOPLE
B-6
Continued from previous page
feet. We know that we are off course, but cannot agree
as to where on the map we are. We are all well aware
of the dangerous crevasses and seracs out there for us
to fall into if we stray too far from the right path, across
the broad plateau, down the center of our gentle valley.
It is a dangerous situation.
We wander further, albeit slowly. Gerry, out in
front, naturally doesn't want to fall into something.
With the weather, it would mean a tough operation to
extract him, much tougher than in good weather. None
of us can blame him for feeling that way. We all know
we are close, but that danger lurks. We have already
seen Jobe slip into tiny crevasses hidden by snow. It's
impossible to see further than about 30-40 feet to a big
open crevasse. We curse the fact that we failed to enter
a GPS waypoint out in the middle of the plateau to
guide us towards the head of our valley.
9 p.m. Day 7. Gerry thinks we should hunker down,
and dig snow caves, and wait it out. None of us has
ever had to bivouac overnight on a mountain, not even
Gerry, King of the Mountains. We set about with
alacrity. Surely this will blow clear soon, and the
exercise will be spent merely to keep us warm. Larry,
Dick and I dig a cave, down into the slope, then
straight back, then up and widen it out. Everyone is
reasonably warm, as we are moving about. Gerry and
Jobe each dig their own cave, which actually turn out
to be deep pits which go down 4-5 feet, then turn and
tuck into the slope a bit. They actually breakthrough
and can kick each other between their caves.
Midnight Day 8. Definitely PM. Still windy,
snowing, cold, fairly dark. As dark as it's been the
whole trip, it seems. We can see what we're doing, but
it is eerily darker than normal. We all get into our
shelters. I am last into ours. I sit down, lean back, put
my arms up over my head, and Dick and Larry tug me
in. Jobe and Gerry seal us in with packs and
snowshoes. No one seems to be too claustrophobic. At
head level it's at least 40 degrees, colder by our feet.
We poke a hole up through 18 inches of roof with a
trekking pole, then a couple more. Spindrift snow starts
to fall onto me, then pile up. I brush it off before I get
wet. I reseal the hole above my head with a candy bar
wrapper. Larry has encouraged us to eat fatty foods, so
we snarf Dick's beef log and cheese, my gorp, Larry's
chocolate. Larry tries to light a tiny gas canister stove,
but either the lighter is wet, the stove is bad, or there's
no oxygen to accomplish this. We forego the warmth
and water it would provide. Gerry and Jobe presume,
incorrectly, we are living like kings inside our
mansion, as they shiver outside. I turn off my
headlamp, and we can see light come in through the
snow, especially where the shovel has put a crack in
the ceiling. Spooky. Dick is cold. I have wriggled into
my bivy sack, a $20 nylon sheet in the shape of a
sleeping bag, weighs nothing, always sits in the bottom
of my pack, wherever I go. I think I am warm enough,
and Dick only has one of those cheap micro thin space
blankets pulled around his legs, but it doesn't cover his
feet. Larry is warm too, although we all stomp our feet
to encourage Dick to do the same. I'm about to give
Dick the bivy sack, when we hear voices. You know
how they always say, if you're in an avalanche, you
can hear your rescuers, but they can't hear you, so save
your voice? Well, it's true. We can hear Gerry and
Jobe outside just fine, but they can't hear us at all.
2:30 a.m Day 8. Jobe rips the snow shoes and packs
off of our entrance. A rush of air comes in. Jobe says
we were completely sealed in by drifting snow.
Wonder how long before we all would have drifted off
Continued on next page
`We know that we are off
course, but cannot agree
as to where on the map
we are. We are all well
aware of the dangerous
crevasses and seracs out
there for us to fall into if
we stray too far from the
right path, across the
broad plateau, down the
center of our gentle
valley. It is a dangerous
situation.'
- Dave Covill
