More than any trip I have been on, this is a hard one to put into words. Some things do come to mind, though. As we moved up the mountain, ever so haltingly, I had a very strong presence that the mountain was guiding us. It almost felt like that childhood game of "red light -green light" - we were only to move up when the mountain allowed. For that reason -we found John - as, for some reason - we were meant to do.
Introspectively, I wish I could have done more for John when we found him - but I could not. We never know how we will react when we enter a situation.
Most importantly, we all participated in doing something very special - bringing closure for John's family. My belief in the human spirit is ever so stronger after the trip.
When I left for Shasta, I drove alone. When I returned to Portland, I did so with John's spirit in my heart and five new friends. I guess that is why we climb.
Jeff Keeney
Portland, OR
Many people seem to think that mountaineering is a very dangerous sport, and question why we would suffer or even risk our lives in pursuit of something so "meaningless." Yes, mountain trips often involve discomfort and difficulties, and sometimes danger...but it is just in stripping away the comforts and safety (along with the cacaphony and insanity) of modern life, that we can come to the place where we feel most connected to the earth and to each other. It is in the mountains, sharing the experience with good friends, that I have felt most at peace, and alive.
I hope that this feeling was (and still is) the same for our friend Zippo. May his spirit rest in peace, on the mountain that he loved.
Namaste,
Em Holland
Mill Valley, CA
From the little exchanges I had with John what I remember best is his friendly, outgoing demeanor and his love for the mountains.
His friendly energy was an excellent example to all. Even though he had never met me (and I was a tele skier) numerous times he invited me to ski with him.
John's love for the mountains and the pleasure he took from them has truly inspired me. As I descended from our high camp into Hidden Valley it became clear why John loved this mountain.
I had an excellent time being on the mountain with Michael, Jeff K., Em, and Bruce. I look up to them all.
I'm thankful - just as I'm sure John was - to live so close to Shasta. I will return again and I'm sure each time I'll think of Zippo. I will never forget this experience.
Jeff Huber
Santa Rosa, CA
John
******************************
Cold.
Hard to think. Shivering.
Craig. Where's Craig? Oh. That's right.
Gone on ahead of me, somewhere.
Wind. Darkness.
Later. No shivering.
Later. Warm. Where?
Wind howling over the top of the col. I'm on Shasta. Have to get
somewhere.
Up. Body stiff. Dark. Out of the bivy sack. get headlamp. hard to make
hands work.
Warmer.
Walking now. Feeling better. I can see now. See clearly. night.
walking
downhill. Don't need the headlamp. I can see the whole world in the
darkness,
glowing like the living thing it is. How come I could never see it
before?
Drop the headlamp. How could I ever need it again, when everything is so
bright?
Through the mountain, through the world, through the whiteout and wind,
through hands held up, see stars. "Whiteout": what is that and why did it
have me so confused? I can see everything so clearly now. See through
my closed eyelids. I see with my soul -- see all the other souls bright
like
the stars--
Have to go somewhere.
Not a voice calling, not lights signalling . Something? Someone?
A calling, a place remembered, somewhere before my life began,
before I knew I was me, or first heard the beating of my heart.
calling me back. back to warmth, warm darkness where night is unknown,
surrounded by brightness, basking in joy but knowing nothing else except
as a memory, the past, present, and future coalescing into what IS...
Expanding... No longer feel ice pellets blasting my face.
Wind no longer a vicious beast, hardly a whisper now as it roars over
the col... expanding awareness, the mountain so small inside me,
I search for something... for the bright stars in the web of lights I
have
touched... and have become... Family, each of us part of each
other's lives since before we opened our eyes for the first time to
look at the outside world...
and Doreen. and Sarah. and Joey.
Others so close... Troop 259... Friends... climbing partners met face to
face
or simply through the threads of communication stretching out like a
silver
web in the darkness between people. Everyone, everywhere I've touched,
still touching, still there.
Still expanding... the living earth within my borders now, and everyone
I have known bright stars I have touched a part of me now and I a part of
them... with them, of them.
Brighter... Still -- called? pulled? no, drawn. Drawn to what is
ahead,
if this place beyond time and space can have aheadness...
What have I learned?
smile in the darkness. Yes, it is good. Thank you all. We all learn
from
each other. We are all gifts.
Brightness. Joy. Love.
Coming home, to where it all started, before I was, full circle, seeing
this
place, again, not seen since before I was born, seeing again,
for the first time...
Bruce Bindner - fellow climber
Oakland, CA
