Devils’ Tower: Temporary Escape From Death

After twenty long years, what I remember most is how cold it was. With a sunny, warm forecast and bright gleeful souls, the three of us started up Devils’ Tower, located in North East Wyoming, early in the crisp morning with ample time on our side, or so we had thought.

The monolith is striking, even from a distance, as the barren land is flat except for the anomaly. Indian lore states that the serrated marks were made from a mythical bear. The arduous climb would prove to be a bear that would change the course of our lives.

Stranded while descending, we all had time to reflect on the course of the days events. Dressed in dreaded killer cotton, which provides no precious warmth when wet, all three of us had clattering teeth and numb, blue hands. Mental facilities were waning. There was little hope that any of us would survive the night, as hypothermia had already placed her mighty grasp around our fragile bodies. Our footholds were mere bumps in the smooth, water slicked rock. The special climbing rope, which looses strength when soaked as thoroughly as it was, was wedged a hundred unobtainable feet above our heads. I was to blame.

Initially we were as excited about the climb like a rustled hornets nest. This was a special trip that had rejoined three college friends, who at the time lived thousands of miles apart physically, but were still joined at the hip. A group of four climbers, three husky guys and a pretty woman, were in front of us. While we had limited skills at rock climbing, they appeared especially slow. More than three hours into the steep, unforgiving climb, the reason for their slowness became obvious: they were drinking alcohol. Rock climbing is inherently dangerous: there are a lot of possible mishaps that are beyond any climbers’ control. To introduce alcohol while climbing Devils’ Tower is ludicrous.

After a major portion of daylight had been wasted straggling behind the drinkers, they decided to retreat before the halfway point. Now we were golden and the climb, while much later in the day than anticipated, proceeded without much delay. As we neared the summit, darkness was calling. A drastic change in temperature occurred and distant storm clouds were quickly proceeding in our direction. While the weather changes were significant, we were confident we would finish the climb. Just below the summit my best friend, someone I would sacrifice my life for, stated he had no reason to summit and suggested that the two of us go up ahead and sign our names on the paper in the sealed metal canister that lay chained down to the mighty rock. Time was rapidly becoming a factor and my friend and I had little time to relish our success on the top of Devils’ Tower.