Heroes of Olympus - In Honor of Nick Hall

The gods have always been in the mountains.

Of course the most well-known was Mt. Olympus atop which lived Zeus and his soap-opera coterie of passionate, fickle, petty and occasionally (very occasionally) noble gods.

But from Moses receiving the 10 commandments atop Mt. Sinai to the Hawaiians' gods of fire (Pele in great Mauna Loa) and snow (Poli'ahu in the great Mauna Kea), to the Norse gods who live in Valhalla to Everest, known by the Tibetans as "Chomolungma" (the "Goddess Mother of the Land"or "She Who Rides the Snow-Lion Over the Sea of  Clouds") and by the Nepalese as Sagarmatha ("King of the Heavens"), the greatest of all peaks that was was considered until recently the throne of the gods - mountains have always been considered sacred. As such, one might argue that there is truly no more divine place on earth than the top of a mountain.

Last Thursday a Mt. Rainier rescue ranger named Nick Hall died while rescuing a team of 4 climbers making their way from the summit of Mt. Rainier down the Emmons Glacier, an area not considered technically difficult by any stretch but where several glaciers come together and, as is to be expected, filled with deep, deep crevasses. The leader of the 4 was a man in his 50's who's summitted Everest a few times and even completed a Grand Slam, bagging all 7 summits, the North Pole, and the South Pole in 1 year. The two who fell into the glacier, the back two out of the foursome roped together, were college girls, perhaps lacking experience but by no means unfit and certainly not for such a climb with such an expert leading them. Yet the weather was bad and the Emmons glacier is specifically poorly-suited for bad weather, east facing as it is. And perhaps the one girl, 18, was a bit young for such a challenge; one account is that they slipped, the back two but maybe they couldn't see it and they fell in, maybe a snowbridge collapsed; however it happened, such is a challenge of one's quest for the divinity in the peak. One of the two men who'd anchored in the ropes called mountain rescue which was up around 14k feet in about an hour and Nick was the Climbing Ranger who volunteered to help the injured climbers (injured because one can only imagine how the weight of such a fall can crack on the harnesses of the belayers, much less hitting ice) onto a helicopter. And after loading 3 in, Nick lost his footing and plummeted 3700 feet into a crevasse. Other rangers had to escort the 4th person, one of the girls who fell in, down by hiking.

The first thought must go to Nick Hall's family. There is nothing more heroic than giving one's life to rescue another's, much less rescue 4 people. Nick Hall was a 34-year-old man from Patten Maine. Described by his father as a bit of a loner in youth who overcame his solitariness as he found others who shared his love of the wilderness. Apparently he was also a sick skier amidst the avid outdoorsmen at Katahdin High School. He followed it up with 6 years working his way to a Sergeant in the Marines, followed then by extensive climbing and EMT experience, working at a ski patroller at Stevens Pass before moving to Rainier's Climbing Ranger program 4 years ago. When asked why he would pursue such a career - one for which he's paid next to nothing to put himself at very real risk of death helping complete strangers out of situations they put themselves into for the sake of a "pleasure cruise" - Hall supposedly told his dad something along the lines of "It's better than dying of a heart attack at a desk." And it is.

I've talked about a few others who've died this last year in extreme pursuits in the mountains - specifically skiers Jamie Pierre and Sarah Burke - but also I've mentioned in general the dangers of climbing and hiking. On Everest a few weeks ago a couple folks died trying to get back down. A sherpa died a few weeks before them which in a way is closest to Hall's death - Sherpas are true mountain men and rescue rangers/guides, amazing freaks of nature built like billy goats who walk upright, living in the mountains and able to carry their body weight in tourists' packs. And what I've said in regards to all these mishaps still holds true here - that they died doing something they loved, something they were proud of, and while their loved ones will miss them dearly, these amazing, brilliant, inspirational people would've never accepted the average risk-free life (I'm presuming here, not knowing any of them but knowing people like them - all due respect and envy to those who knew these amazing people personally). Giving up their lives for something decidedly less risky would have been a much worse death than anything the mountain could've dropped on them. And even more, with people dying every day in hospital beds of lung cancer from inhaling cigs and smog to car accidents where a person's last sight is an asphalt road and maybe the tail lights of hunks of steel and plastic to dying getting shot by George Zimmerman for wearing a hoodie, is it not better to die in such a place of divine grace and beauty as a mountain? For a person to live larger than life as obviously Nick Hall desired to (and did), there must be a risk of death and such is the choice, what makes one like him feel whole as a person and while we would like to see men like him grow old, to pop out their own baby Rangers someday or train the new generation, one can't help but realize his was the noblest and most honorable of deaths.

This will never be understood by those who don't seek excitement out of life, who eschew such things in the name of safety and security but just like they wouldn't want the Nick Halls of the world talking about them as soulless corporate viruses, insects responsible for this world's increasing lack of heart, so too should they not turn and rant about how senseless this is, what a waste of life and money rescuing these people was (and I've seen a bunch of comments saying that, though for the most part all comments on the topic of Hall's death and the foursome's rescue have been defending all involved and, even more, explaining that's just the nature of the life, that he wanted more than the standard routine accepted by a general majority, as did the hikers he rescued, and that such is the toll when you deign to play where the gods live.)

People climb for various reasons but they all have to do with a certain level of life-affirmation, with escape from the madness of society (no cars, no computers, no streetlights blocking out the stars or power lines filling the silence of night with the dull hum we've simply accepted as part of life), and with a (re)discovery of a person's own human strength. And this is achieved just by visiting, hiking, climbing challenging mountains.

Hall lived up there, up in the heavenly playground fallen to earth where every day he challenged himself, fulfilled himself as a mortal in Valhalla. And so he went out in a place he loved, doing something he was proud of and loved to do. Thus the reason his family made sure to emphasize the fact that they were "grieving and celebrating" the person he was.

This strikes a chord in my heart because in a little more than a month my brother, some friends, and I will be heading up Mt. Rainier ourselves. We have been preparing, hiking, practicing our rope skills. And we're all comfortable in the high alpine, all hiked Mt. Whitney last year with ice axe and crampons and all logged in a couple hikes above 10k already in the last few months. But this is a reminder that where we dare to tread is holy land, safe only for angels and gods. And as such we will show it respect.

Finally I come to crows. There's a belief held by mountain Indian tribes that a soul who dies in the mountains is reborn as a crow. When I see the great corvids above me on hikes it always calms me down; like a black guardian angel . Our dog is buried in the mountains, as close to us as a family member, a great hiker and guide on some deep forays into the woods and as such it must be noted that ever since, my wife and I always see a single crow following us whenever we go on our hikes. At the top of Mt. Whitney, 14,505 feet, almost a mile above the treeline we saw a single crow appear. It circled us, circled the summit, and with a wave of its wing disappeared back down below, checking in to make sure we were safe at the tallest point in the continental U.S.

To live like a god and in death fly like a crow. Thus is the life of the climber. The life in the hills. The Life Ascending, as goes the title to a brilliant movie about such livelihood, death, and beauty. The life Nick Hall so loved and gave to rescue a group of strangers. A true American Hero.

Hall's family says donations in his name may be made to two funds:

• Nick Hall Memorial Fund
• PO Box 431, Patten, Maine 04765

• MORA Search and Rescue Fund
• 55210 238th Ave. E., Ashford, Wash., 98304

Even if you don't climb, even if you still don't understand it, you must respect and honor it. The mountains are the home of the gods and as such all who live and die there are powerful and divine.

- Ryan