Slipping on the Superstition

When I read about the death of an Olympic snowboarding champion who died today in a climbing accident, I immediately remembered the time I almost slipped during a hike through the Superstition Mountains in Phoenix. I wonder if my friend Bob remembers the incident like I do, but my mind occasionally goes there and replays the scene. Bob was visiting me shortly after I moved to Mesa when I began my year-long commitment in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. Hiking wasn't something either of us had any experience doing, but we were in our early 20's, and we were invincible.

We didn't have any equipment, and we didn't have a plan. We just grabbed a backpack, filled it with bottles of water and a few oranges from the trees surrounding the compound where I lived. You don't have to hike the mountains in the area; there are trails surrounding them, but the challenge kept calling us. We would switch the lead position every now and then, and find ways to avoid the difficult sections. The higher you get up the mountain, the more of the city you can see.

The day was typical for a Friday in January. Comfortable temperatures, clear blue skies, and visibility for miles. Bob and I talked, about what I cannot remember, but it was probably one of our more philosophical chats given the atmosphere. Just after a break, where we peeled and shared an orange, we challenged one another to go higher. Higher meant more risks.

The moment I almost slipped and fell, Bob was in front of me. He easily maneuvered himself up a steep ledge, and warned me about what lay ahead. It was only a split second, but I lost my balance and my right foot slipped. Somehow I caught myself, but as the memory replays itself in my mind, I think about how quickly it all could have ended. Sometimes when I repeat the scene, I do fall and I think about what would have happened next. I don't think I would have survived the impact of hitting the hard side of a mountain. I'm sure of it actually. I would have hit my head at the bottom, or even along the way. This was the early 90's so neither one of us had a cell phone or any mode of communication.

Bob would have had to deal with watching his friend die. He would have had to attempt to revive me, unsuccessfully I am certain. Not because of his lack of medical knowledge, but because my injuries would have been too severe. He would have found a way to carry me down the mountain. Soldiers never leave their buddies behind. He would have had to call for an ambulance, relay the story to the police, call my parents, tell our mutual friends. Grieve.

Karine Ruby--that's the 31 year-old Olympian--was training to be a mountain guide when she fell to her death. She had all of the safety equipment necessary to engage in the training she was receiving. She was tied to other climbers and another person died too.

I was simply taking a walk with my best friend. We were young and careless. I am sure there's a reason for everything.