Mount Abbot by goingsolo
The obsession with Mount Abbot began before my time with the hiking crew. In June, 2007, we went on a day trip, hiked Lookout Peak and the rest of the group went on a Mount Abbot scouting mission while I stayed behind and napped. Despite the fact that we didn't quite know the route and there was no trail, we went back in July 2007 for a one day Mount Abbot climb. Granted, this was a lofty aspiration for one day (especially since I flew in from sea level the day before and had a fine combination of jet lag and altitude sickness), but we were armed with ice axes and crampons so at least we looked like we knew what we were doing. We began at some extremely early hour, 4 a.m., 5 a.m., who remembers and hiked out to Little Lakes Valley, up and over the rocky slopes to third lake and then up to the base of Mount Abbot. We took a break and then put on our crampons and began heading up the icy base of Abbot. My journey would end here. After staggering up a few hundred feet, slipping and falling on late morning ice turned to snow, I had a revelation while lying on the ground after falling for what seemed the 100th time in 30 minutes. I didn't have to do this. There was nothing I needed to prove. It was such a freeing moment. I wished Justin luck and headed to the base of Abbot to wait with his brother who'd already decided that sane people from the suburbs do not attempt things like this. Official excuse: his crampons didn't fit right. I didn't buy it.
Unfortunately, neither Justin nor Dave, the other member of our weekend warrior quartet, did not make it to the summit. They made it up the slope from hell, and to the next part which Justin said was much steeper and almost to the ridge. But they wisely decided to turn back as it was late in the day and Mosquito Flats and, more importantly, the car, were miles away. We'd already headed back in that direction, communicating by portable hand held radios that screamed to anyone passing that we were not mountaineers but city people with lots of technology (we didn't pass to many, fortunately) that we were heading in the direction of the car, Tom's Place, saner pastures and not necessarily in that order.
So, I didn't summit Abbot. And, all joking aside, I don't regret it. There was nothing in me pushing me forward, creating that drive that's needed to push past fear and pain (and, again, not necessarily in that order) to keep going higher. Perhaps back in July, 07 I felt I'd journeyed as high as I needed to go, in mountains and in life. Then again, maybe my crampons didn't fit right either.
