Father's Day 2010

Preaux and I looked at each other intently. Young Anthony was at least 300 vertical feet above us. A fit 16-year-old, we knew he'd reached the Stokes litter cached near Lunch Rock above us several minutes before we would. The kid that had booked past us down the Tahquitz approach trail had been screaming about massive rockfall in the Northwest Recess.

We'd been looking forward to this climbing trip for awhile. Each knew what was in the other's head: "can we just put our heads down and continue on to the base of Angel's Fright?" We knew we couldn't. We started jogging up the switchbacks in time to see Anthony headed out with another climber, the litter stretched between them.

Rich had topped out on the first pitch of Edge Hogs (5.10c) when a leader on the adjacent route, Whodunit (5.9), stepped onto a refrigerator-sized block of granite. It cut loose. Tricia had nearly made the first belay on Edge Hogs when the block exploded on the ramp above her and Rich. She tried to move left, but the cam clipped to the rope above her prevented her movement. She leaned into the wall and tried to "get skinny."

In reality, Alicia was quite skinny. But not skinny enough to avoid the 3' square chunk of granite that hit her helmet, right shoulder and ribs. Rich lowered her to the ground and rapped. He knew she was in bad shape. Fifteen minutes later, Jeremy and I were coming into view.

We did what we are trained to do: made an assessment, stabilized her back and neck, treated her for shock, and started planning extrication. While we had a litter and basic first aid gear, I knew we couldn't get her down the mountain safely. We needed a backboard and a bird. Both arrived 180 minutes later, leaving plenty of time for us to monitor Tricia's vitals and worry about her right lung.

Hats off to the CHP pilot who risked his life (and ours) to get his helicopter positioned above the ledge with big trees on both sides and a rock wall at his nose. The tailwind wasn't helping...

As soon as the winch harness was on the litter, Preaux and I made haste across the ledge. We wanted to be out of harm's way. Tricia managed a smile as I said good bye. I told her she would be just fine and sincerely hoped it was a true statement.

We watched Tricia float up to the side of the airship. There was no room for her inside. The co-pilot stabilized the litter as the pilot turned and headed down the valley. She would be transferred to an air ambulance near Idyllwild.

I immediately began reworking our route to the top. White Maiden's Walkaway was a mere 50 yards away, in the corner of the recess. Anthony looked up the line and beamed with excitement, tinged with nervousness. I turned around to ask Preaux to bring my pack up and saw Rich pulling his rope. He had the post-adrenalin rush slump in his shoulders I've come to know. I shot a look at Preaux. He picked up Tricia's pack and I lashed Rich's rope to my pack. Rich was quiet on the scramble down the boulder fields.

Postscript: Tricia's doing great---out of the hospital and nursing four broken ribs and a banged-up shoulder. She won't make her climbing trip to Yosemite next month, but she has many years of climbing in front of her. Perhaps we''ll even tie into a rope together one day, if she's willing to climb a few grades below her ability and be patient with an old guy.

Post Postscript (7/3/2010): Tricia's back to work and feeling a better, but still sore. Our worry about her right lung was justified; she had a small pneumo-thorax, which the docs initially missed. I was thinking about her last Sunday while James and I were climbing at Tahquitz, particularly after we heard "rock, rock, rock" from above. It happened three times during the day. I think I'll eschew the North Face and Recess until later in the season this year. It's become really loose. There are some classic routes on the West and South faces and, when it comes to dodging rockfall, I have a hard time "getting skinny."