by Bobby Akart
Chapter 15
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
Jake dropped himself down eighteen inches at a time, moving one hand below the other to lower himself along the rope. He looked down only once to confirm he would land on the ledge where Rita was located. What he saw was nothing short of a miracle.
The nose of the Sikorsky rested perilously on the edge of a rock outcropping barely large enough to fit the wreckage and still provide a place for him to land. His rope was pooled at Rita’s feet, only two yards from the cliff’s edge. The front end of the helicopter had been crushed. One pilot was badly mangled and clearly dead. The other was missing altogether. Jake glanced to the bottom of the mountain and estimated the drop to be a thousand feet or more.
As he carefully descended the rope, he took advantage of this perspective to weigh his alternatives for the return trip. The angle of the rock wall was slightly inverted from the edge of the cliff to the point where the outcropping met the mountain. He visualized a clock face and imagined the minute hand pointing towards eleven. It would require an upside-down climb to an extent.
Returning Rita to the top would require a straight-up tug, something that would require all of his strength and possibly Ashby’s assistance. He didn’t have any pulleys, nor could he locate any in the wreckage. It would take a herculean effort to drag her through the air and then up and over the cliff’s edge. But first things first.
“You’re like Tom Cruise in that Mission Impossible movie,” Rita began cheerfully, clearly glad to see Jake making his way down to rescue her. There was only a slight hint of trepidation in her voice. “You know, the time he broke through the ceiling to steal some diamond or whatever.”
“I must’ve missed that one,” said Jake with a chuckle. To maintain the lighthearted mood, he continued. “Would you rather I go back and summon Tom Cruise for you?”
Rita laughed as he was almost next to her. “Um, no. You’ll do fine under the circumstances.”
Jake hit the ledge with both feet, but before he let loose of the rope, he allowed his knees to flex somewhat and pushed down to make sure the ledge wasn’t going to fall out from under him. One can never be too sure.
He stepped toward Rita and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She began to cry. “Jake, I thought—no, I knew I was going to die. Twice, actually. But I feel bad. The pilots. They saved us, and look what happened to them.”
Jake slid between the cockpit wreckage and the rock wall to take a better look at the dead pilot. Without a doubt, neither of them could have survived the impact of the chopper with the granite.
He came back in front of Rita and began to prepare the ARV. A rush of warm, ash-filled air washed over them, causing Jake to stumble and the cockpit to wobble somewhat.
Rita shrieked, and the tears began to flow. “Jake, the flow is catching—”
Suddenly, the ground shook. Rocks began to fall out of the side of the cliff and pelt them on the head. Jake ducked and instinctively pressed himself against the rock wall to avoid the debris.
Then came a thunderous sound from the direction of Yellowstone, and the entire mountain shook. Rita began to scream as the wreckage bounced on the rock outcropping, inching closer to the edge, which provided no safety net this time.
Jake quickly moved to Rita and pressed the release on the safety harness. Nothing happened.
Rita said, “It doesn’t work. I tried to open it to jump as we were sliding down the hill. It’s stuck.”
“Hold still!” Jake pulled his knife out of its sheath and began to saw away at the safety harness, using the serrated edge on the blade. Being careful not to cut Rita with the point of his knife, he ripped into the webbing and struggled somewhat, as it was reinforced with minute strands of steel.
The ground continued to shake as the entirety of the Northern Rockies was feeling the impact of the latest Yellowstone eruption.
“Jake, we’re slipping toward the edge!” shouted Rita through the loud rumbling sound of the earthquake.
“There!” One strap was loose, and he began working on the second located on the other side of her waist.
“Hold on,” Jake muttered with determination. He picked up the pace as the debris falling around them became more frequent. He’d almost cut through when a large rock landed on the front of the wreckage, causing it to bounce. His knife accidentally poked into Rita’s abdomen, drawing blood.
Rita was terrified. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Please, Jake, don’t let me die.”
She began screaming and kicking her legs as more debris began to fall from above them.
“I’ve got you,” he said as he cut through the second strap. “I just need to get this last one between your legs.
“Jake, hurry! I can’t die yet. Puhleeze!”
Jake kept sawing through the webbing. “Rita, look at me. Look in my eyes. I won’t let you die.”
He kept sawing.
Almost there.
“Jake! Look out!” shouted Rita, causing Jake to look up. An avalanche of snow and rock had slid off the cliff and was dropping on top of them. Jake ignored the threat and continued to saw at the strap.
“Got it!” he exclaimed as his knife cut through.
Just as he was about to pull Rita down through the top two harness straps, a mixture of heavy snow and ash hit him, knocking him to his knees. He fought off the snow and tried to scramble to his feet, but it was too late.
He lunged for Rita’s legs, but they slipped through his grasp. The weight of the debris hit the wreckage and forced it over the edge.
“Jaaaake!” Rita shouted continuously until the sound of her voice was overwhelmed by the roar of the upheaval around him.
Jake scrambled to the edge and shouted, “Noooo!”
The last thing he saw was Rita’s legs kicking the air as she dropped to her death.
Chapter 16
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
Jake pounded his right fist onto the rocky surface, drawing blood as he tore his skin open. He didn’t feel the pain of his fist, only the broken heart of watching someone he cared for die. Someone, like another he’d once loved, whom he promised to save. He immediately began to cry as he lay sprawled out on the ledge. Only a falling rock, which struck him on the calf, reminded him that his life was still in danger.
Jake tried to stand, but the unstable surface quickly changed his mind. He could lose his footing and slip off to his death, which was just as likely as the continuous barrage of rubble carrying him over the edge.
He looked up, hoping for a respite from the carnage, only to be greeted with more wet snow. He wiped his face, clearing off the cold snow and the warm tears. Jake moved toward the rock wall, taking advantage of the inverted slope, which allowed the bulk of the debris to fall several feet past him.
Jake waited for the rumbling to stop. He checked his rope to make sure it was still taut in the event the rock outcropping fell out from under him. Finally, he allowed himself to close his eyes and mentally apologize to Rita for letting her down. He shook his head from side to side as the tears appeared once again. He’d failed her. And next, he’d have to find a way to tell Ashby and Dusty.
The seismic activity finally subsided, and Jake looked upward to determine if the debris had stopped falling. He was anxious to get off this ledge, some of which had chipped away under the onslaught from underground.
After a moment, he took a deep breath and readied himself mentally to hoist his way back up. It would be a hand-over-hand climb to the top, much like the method he’d used to drop himself down. Only this time, he’d have to use muscles and especially stamina, something that was in short supply after what he’d been through today, to pull himself to the top.
Jake stepped out onto the ledge and tugged the rope once again. That’s odd, he thought to himself. Where did this slack come from? He adjusted his waist belt and the leg loops, which he pulled down and tightened further. Confused, he tugged the r
ope again and looked upward.
That was when he saw the tops of the trees. The first of several hemlock trees, which had toppled over during the earthquake and subsequent landslide, slid over the edge of the cliff. Slowly, they begin to inch forward and, eventually, gravity took hold. They began to soar past him, carrying dirt, gravel, and snow in a contrail of debris.
He pulled the rope again. More slack.
Then he saw it. Two more trees fell over and careened over the edge of the cliff above him. He could make out his orange rope as it swung across the sky and trailed the hemlock that it was tied to.
“Oh, hell no!” he shouted as his eyes grew wide.
He nervously fumbled at the carabiner with his cold, trembling hands. He glanced up and saw the tree sail toward the ledge. Jake quickly pushed in the clasp and rotated the hook to unleash him from the tree as it rocketed past his position. Jake dropped the rope and slammed himself against the ledge wall just as the tree, rope, and carabiner sailed out of sight.
He stood frozen in shock for a moment. Jake closed his eyes and covered his face with his cold hands. Sweat was pouring off his forehead, and his body shook uncontrollably. He’d almost died, joining Rita in a gruesome thousand-foot plunge to the rocky surface below.
So many things rushed through his mind as he tried to regain his composure. He thought of his life growing up, and how he’d become estranged from his family. He thought of the fiery red-haired girl named Julie he’d met on the reality television party circuit. She’d brought him to Wyoming to meet her parents. They’d contemplated marriage. And then one fateful day, their romance had ended, ripped away from them by one unnecessary act. A stupid, but deadly mistake.
Now Jake wondered if he was cursed. He’d lost another person in his life. Another one he’d promised to save. Then he recalled the words he’d said to Ashby that day when they stood by Sentinel Creek together. She’d almost taken a sip of the contaminated stream when Jake stopped her.
Ashby had gently patted his bare chest and said, “Are you ever going to stop saving me, Sir Jake?” To which he’d replied, “As long as I’m around, I’ll save you if you need saving.”
Jake cursed himself for his self-pity. His life, his future, was at the top of the ledge in a cavern, where she might also be in danger. There’d be time to analyze and grieve later. For now, he had to do something he couldn’t do before when it was necessary to save the only other love in his life.
Jake had lost his ropes when the trees fell over the cliff. His extra rope had fallen victim to the landslide of snow and rock that carried the cockpit over the edge. Jake’s only means of escaping the ledge was to undertake a free solo climb to the top.
Free soloing was for the mentally insane, as far as Jake was concerned. Monkey-climbing, as Jake often referred to it, was the method of climbing a rock face with no harness, rope or other safety equipment. Very few experienced climbers tried it, and many died trying.
Jake had the proper footwear, but he also needed to muster up the mental toughness to undertake the near impossible task considering the conditions were wet, he had no talc or chalk to keep his hands dry, and the earth was prone to shaking without notice.
However, he had no choice, and if he slipped, lost his footing or grip, it would be the worst eight seconds of his life as he plunged to his death. One thing was certain, Jake couldn’t stop to reflect on the monumental task ahead of him. He couldn’t look down, because whether he fell a hundred feet or a thousand, the result was the same. There simply was no margin for error.
Jake emptied his mind of the events of the day. He even put his love for Ashby in the dark recesses somewhere. A free solo climber who thought too much would plunge to his death. His climb would be concluded—alive—by achieving a series of goals—one grip and one step at a time.
He leaned back from the cliff’s rocky wall and studied his route. He was looking for long runs of footholds and jutting-out rocks to grip. The first thirty feet would be a predominantly vertical climb. It was the last nine feet that would prove the most difficult, as he would have to be inverted to an extent.
Jake chuckled as he thought of the last leg of the climb. Inverted, as in upside down, like freakin’ Spider-Man.
“Piece of cake,” he muttered aloud as he found a foothold and pushed himself up to grip the wall. His climb had begun.
With gritty determination and a survival mindset, Jake made his way up the wall. He looked for edges in the rocky surface—slight protruding steps in the granite that were nothing like the steps most people would imagine. Most edges were between one-eighth and two inches in width. A two-inch or greater edge was cause to celebrate.
Throughout the climb, Jake constantly flexed his hands to avoid cramping, and took advantage of good footholds to rest. He practiced deep-breathing techniques to slow down his heart rate, which was racing as adrenalin poured through his body. Adrenaline could also produce anxiety, and anxiety resulted in rushing through the process, which could be deadly. This was not a race to the top. His effort was not being timed.
Had it not been for the circumstances and the altitude, this climb would have been ideal for training someone to free solo. A good mix of pockets, sidepulls, and pinch handholds were employed by Jake as he made his way up those first thirty feet. Before he began to turn toward the ledge, relatively upside down, he steadied his nerves and made sure his hands were dry. Climbing the roof, as free solo climbers referred to it, required a combination of good technique and energy. It was a short distance, comparatively speaking, but his entire body weight would be working against him.
He gave his route a quick glance and identified several points to grip and hold. Jake was ready.
He found his first grip and reached out, making sure to keep his arms straight. He also kept the center of his body pulled in to the wall to avoid his butt sagging and putting too much stress on his arms.
Using the stiff, curved souls of his shoes, Jake dug into the cracks and crevices available to him. He applied as much pressure to his toes as possible to force his hips toward the wall.
With each handhold and step forward, his eyes scanned ahead, plotting his next move. His arms began to burn from the constant tension placed upon his muscles. His abs, which had been held in a constant crunch since he started, were starting to cramp.
Jake was almost there, but the most difficult maneuver was ahead of him. He had to climb over the protruding ledge to safety. There was no helping hand waiting for him. No rope to grab and hoist himself up. He had to hold on to the roof with one hand while he found something to grip with the other.
He positioned himself, took a deep breath, let go with his right hand, and desperately searched for something to grab. He found a tree root.
It was wet and slippery, but with a tug, it appeared to be stable. Jake didn’t like it. It was too risky. He looked for a grip underneath the ledge that could advance him farther so that he could look for something more stable.
He spied a pinch—a knob that protruded between two small openings in the rock’s surface. This would work, giving him the additional elevation needed to find a better grip on tree roots or, better yet, solid rock. However, he’d have to abandon his foothold and rely solely upon his upper-body strength.
Jake gripped the tree root and pushed off with both feet as he grabbed the pinch. His lower body swung away from the roof and dangled beneath him. He was careful not to sway, allowing his body to hang freely.
With another deep breath, he got a firm grip on the tree root and pulled himself up slightly, allowing his left hand to release and grip for the ledge.
“Yes!” he shouted as he found a hard, flat surface. But his hopes were dashed as the granite began to splinter under his grip.
He pulled on the tree root again and tugged himself a little higher. He reached with his left hand, frantically searching for something to hold onto. He found the top of a hemlock that had fallen during the landslide.
It’s holding! It’s suppo
rting my weight!
The tree had toppled, but enough of its root system was embedded in the ground to avoid being tugged loose by Jake as he pulled himself up to the muddy soil on the ledge. Like a frightened animal scampering from a predator, he crawled on his hands and knees until he reached the two massive boulders upon which the cockpit had landed initially. It was at this point that Jake finally relaxed and looked back to the ravine, thanking God for keeping him alive.
PART TWO
Escape from Sheep Mountain
Chapter 17
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
Jake’s day had required facing one monumental task after another, but none compared to the emotional undertaking before him. Exhausted and physically spent, he slogged through the snow and mud with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was trying to find the words to say to Ashby when he arrived at the cavern opening without Rita. Jake had never attended a funeral, formally. He was forbidden to attend the one funeral where he should have been beside the casket. But he was there. Standing behind several oak trees at the Natrona Memorial Gardens in Casper, Wyoming, where he’d watched his first love laid to rest.
As the mud and snow changed to loose rock, Jake caught a glimpse of Ashby walking back toward the cavern entrance with her arms full of wood. She had a natural beauty about her. He was certain she never wore makeup, or at least not that he could tell. Her face was tanned, yet her skin was soft without showing the telltale signs of working in the outdoors.
In his mind, she was flawless, which was the way a man should look at the woman he loved. Jake hadn’t felt this way in thirteen years, and he wondered if the world would ever stop spinning, or shaking, long enough for them to explore a relationship together.
He walked up to the opening and dropped his gear with a thud, allowing the noise to announce his arrival rather than speaking. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Ashby was bent over a pile of wood, trying unsuccessfully to start a fire. After the bag dropped, she snapped her head around, and her face immediately beamed when she saw Jake.