Fall/Winter 2002 - 2003

Friends, fatigue, exhilaration and gratitude are all part of Mazama woman's Everest experience
by Midge Cross

Editor’s note: Last winter, Mazama resident Midge Cross was chosen to be part of a 5-woman team that would attempt to climb Mt. Everest under sponsorship of Ford Motor Company’s “No Boundaries Project.” The sponsors sought women who were not professional climbers, and who had overcome some obstacles in their lives. Cross, who was 58 when she was selected, is a breast cancer survivor and diabetic. Though an experienced mountaineer, Cross had never attempted anything like Everest before, and neither had her teammates. The expedition drew national news coverage. In the Spring issue of Trails, Cross described her preparations for Everest. In this issue, she tells us about her experience on the mountain. Now that she’s home, Cross is appearing at speaking engagements around the country, and plans to resume her dryland training and ski coaching this fall and winter. The extremes of Everest didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for climbing; in late summer she and husband Scott headed to France and Switzerland for a month of climbing in the Alps.

I left Mazama on March 24, to fly to New York for some media interviews, including an appearance on the Today Show. When I got to Wenatchee, I found my flight to Seattle had been canceled, and we were to be bused over Snoqualmie Pass in a Wenatchee city bus. I called Scott to whimper about this turn of events, and he responded, “Get used to it. You’re going to a third world country.” Oh, okay.

New York was a whirlwind three days of rushing from appointment to appointment in our block-long limousine. Our team included Alison Levine, who works for Goldman Sachs in San Francisco, Lynn Prebble, a physical therapist from Canon City, Colo., Kim Clark, and third-year nursing student from Denver, and Jody Thompson, an emergency room RN from Frisco, Colo. We stayed in a trendy downtown hotel, where all the help dressed in black and throbbing music was everywhere. Each team member has a two-room suite, and we all found fascinating the idea that we would be moving from this luxurious milieu to a country where the people have no bathrooms and burn yak dung in their stoves. We had great fun in the city; the highlight for me was rappelling from the rafters in the Javits Convention Center into the middle of the Ford display at the New York Auto Show. Finally, at the end of the third day, already exhausted, we climbed aboard a plane to fly to Kathmandu by way of London and Bangkok. Completely bedraggled by the time we staggered into our Kathmandu Hotel, we slept for too few hours, and left immediately the next morning, to be ahead of a threatened general strike. At the airport, we inched our way into the domestic terminal, much more chaotic than the international one. Our bags went onto a conveyor belt and through what was probably supposed to be an X-ray machine; we saw no evidence of actual function, and in any case, there was no one there to look.

Our little plane flew us into Lhukla, which has the shortest runway any of us had ever seen (but it is angled uphill for the landings, so at least if the plane didn’t stop when it was supposed to, it would run into the hillside, not off the cliff). There we disembarked under the watchful eye of boy soldiers toting large machine guns. We were very obedient.

Our trek into base camp took 9 days, which included three rest days. It was a wonderful walk, from the lowlands outside of Lhukla to the high and barren glacial moraine. The lowlands are heavily wooded, with hills, and it wasn’t possible to see the high mountains. When you do break out of the trees, at Namche Bazaar, the magnitude of the mountains is so great that they are almost beyond belief. They tower above the trails, laden with snow and ice; they’re so huge that it is difficult to imagine climbing them. We looked at the steep towers, seracs, glaciers, and overhangs, and wondered, “How on earth would you get up that? Where would you go?” After a few days of walking by the mountains, one becomes more accustomed to their grandeur, and they become more familiar. But never less intimidating. The mountains here, because they’re so much smaller and more intimate, are less forbidding. All the snowy peaks we saw in Nepal would be major undertakings. We figured most of them to be beyond our abilities. Even the so-called “trekking” peaks are substantial.

The trail we traveled was akin to I-5; filled with porters (their long distance truckers) carrying everything from huge loads of hay for the yaks to dimensional lumber and kerosene. Everything that goes into the countryside goes in on someone’s (or a yak’s) back.

We were accompanied by our trekking Sherpas and their sirdar, Ang Nima, who always ensured that he or one of his assistants acted as the sweep, lest one of us should go astray. Our diminutive cook, Jor Bahadur, cooked with care and enthusiasm, and smilingly acknowledged our applause and appreciation for his culinary skill. He baked a cake for Alison’s birthday; I have no idea what his oven looked like, but somehow he managed this feat, and the cake was pretty darn good.

On April 8, we hove into base camp, a tent city at 17,600 feet, squatting on the edge of the Khumbu Glacier moraine. The Khumbu makes a sharp turn here, after falling down the several thousand feet of the Khumbu Icefall; above us rose the perfect pyramid of Pumori and the overhanging seracs of the Lho La, which calved off regularly with spectacular sound effects. Our camp was comprised of two large dining tents and two other storage /communication tents. Our group had several computers, two satellite phones, cameras, batteries, and wires going everywhere; not the vision one might have of a mountain camp. International Mountain Guides was our logistics provider; Eric Simonson, one of IMG’s owners, was there to manage the camp and shoo away curious trekkers and other climbers. Each of us had her own roomy tent, although the proximity of the tents didn’t allow for great privacy.

IMG had hired 14 high altitude Sherpas to assist our women’s team and a larger group of IMG climbers. The Sherpas were delightful; cheerful, pleasant, charming men. The day after our arrival, they set to, with great good humor and laughter, to build us a shelter so we could pee in privacy. (Our toilet structure was only for solid waste, which was carried out by the poop man every now and then.) Of course, we were very appreciative of their effort, and clapped and cheered, upon which they doubled their efforts to move the largest stones they could heft and raise the walls higher.

And then began the endless waiting. The body becomes accustomed to higher elevation by increasing one’s respiration rate; this only happens with lots of rest. So rest we did. Six days after our arrival, we finally had our puja, the blessing without which one dare not ascend the mountain. A tiny lama arrived for this ceremony, which was held atop the stone tower the Sherpas had made. The lama seated himself with sheafs of paper, his prayer book, and commenced praying without cease for an hour. All the while, the Sherpas passed around tea, Coke, beer, and chang, seemingly oblivious to the praying lama. We weren’t quite sure how to behave; what if the choir handed out beer during the sermon? Do you take it? Drink it? At the puja, yes. Plates of rice grains were handed round, and we threw the rice up toward the heavens every now and then, so the spirits would broadcast our prayers. Some puja crashers hung around for free beer and allowed as how they didn’t climb, they just went to pujas and drank. All of this was quite wonderful and mysterious; luckily, no one stepped on the lama, and our puja went smoothly.

Finally on April 15, we went part way through the famed Icefall. The Khumbu Glacier tumbles down 2,500 feet from the Western Cwm to base camp; it’s the best and worst of mountaineering experiences. It is a jumbled, fantastic landscape of towering seracs, crevasses, blue ice; it sits beneath the towering ridge of Nupse to the south and the Lho La on the north. We had just crossed the first ladder bridge when one of the huge seracs on the Lho La plummeted down, bringing with it a huge avalanche, which cascaded down to the valley floor. Kim cried on Jody’s shoulder, and we were all sobered for a moment, feeling very small and unprotected in this bizarre place. We made it through most of the ladders that day; flat ladders, steep ladders, insecure ladders, rocking ladders, all secured by snow pickets and ice screws. The route through the Icefall is put up and maintained by a team of Sherpas, the Ice Doctors, and constant maintenance is imperative, as the terrain can change daily with ice blocks falling, avalanches, crevasses widening or collapsing. Back in camp, we were tired but exhilarated, ready to go to camp one, at 20,000 feet.

On April 19, we headed up to camp one, a small group of tents huddled among crevasses on the lip of the Icefall. We spent two very uncomfortable nights there, sleeping on thin mats over very lumpy snow. It was like sleeping on potatoes. After two nights of trying to find a flat spot among the snow lumps, we packed up for the 1400-foot climb to camp two. We were all pretty stupefied by the altitude and climbed slowly, but camp two was a delightful destination. Our group had two large dome tents there, one for cooking and one for dining/storage. Our Sherpa cook, Mingma, greeted us with juice on our arrival, and took great pains to tempt our appetites, somewhat jaded by two nights of military MRE’s (meal ready to eat), a small step above bad freeze-dried dinners. Camp two is also perched on a moraine, almost at the head of the Western Cwm, and looks directly up the Lhotse Face toward the summit of Lhotse thousands of feet above. We rested there for two days, then descended to base camp for more resting.

On April 26, we went up the mountain again, planning to spend five nights at camps one and two. At camp one, however, we were pounded by high winds and snow, and cowered in our tents for an extra day, finally getting to camp two during a lull in the storm, which hung on for another two days of wind and snow. Finally the weather cleared and we made plans to go part way up the Lhotse Face the following morning. That morning, we got word that a member of another party had fallen down the face into the bergschrund at the bottom and was presumed dead. Several guides went out with the victim’s climbing partner, a young Hungarian, to look at the body and make a decision about retrieving it. They brought up his pack and personal effects, and left him there to the mountain.

We were unnerved by this, and as we looked at the steep face, we were afraid and uncertain. The team huddled together that afternoon, offering consolation and support to each other, and resolved to go forward with confidence. We went part way up the face the following day; there are fixed ropes, but much of the climbing was on steep, blue ice, and our crampons barely scratched the surface.
Heading to camp three the following day we were all somewhat fatigued and climbed slowly, passing remains of old tents, ropes, trash piles. Camp three was comprised of small tent platforms hacked out of the ice bulges; moving around outside the tents required that we be tied in to a rope so as not to fall down the steep face. We all felt dreadful at 24,000 feet, with headaches and nausea, and no one slept much. The next morning we fled for camp two for another night and finally, after eight nights high on the mountain, we were more than ready to go down to the relative comforts of base camp (a protected toilet instead of a perch on a rocky outcrop, real coffee instead of Nescafe, and the luxury of watching a movie on a laptop computer screen with two inch speakers). Everything is relative.

Then we rested some more. Resting is not my forte, and I found the enforced idleness to be the most difficult part of the trip. Our dining tent was usually cold, although it did have the luxury of a small propane heater, so we often sat and played cards. Hiking back down the moraine was an option too, and we trekked the rough trail a few times. We visited other camps and had tea with an amiable group from AAI; two of our team were feted at the Swiss camp with chocolate (Swiss, of course), prosciutto and real bread. They had Cheshire cat smiles when they returned to our tent.

The weather continued fair, and we fretted in our tents as other groups headed for the summit. The IMG climbers left several days earlier than we, and they had prior claim on the tents at camps three and four. At last, on May 14, after five weeks in base camp, we started for the final push. A night each at camps one, two and three, and then on to the South Col. The day we moved from camp one to camp two was very hot, and we were climbing in long underwear tops and bottoms, sweating wildly. The next day, up the stifling Lhotse Face, I suffered exercise-induced asthma, which I had experienced a few times before, many years ago, and always associated with extreme heat and exertion. I had to stop, take off my pack, and wait to be able to breathe again. This was very worrying to me, and I fretted all night about the liability I might be to the team. Starting off from camp three the next morning, with our down suits on and oxygen masks covering our faces, I was immediately sweating and anxious; about half an hour later, I made the decision to turn back. And what a tough decision. Had I been by myself and able to shed my down suit, I would have gone on. I was afraid, however, that if I continued, I’d have trouble higher on the mountain, and jeopardize the team’s chance of success. With a heavy heart, I turned around and descended to camp three. Everyone cried. The team went on, and made a valiant attempt at the summit, to be turned back by incoming weather on the south ridge. We reunited at base camp with hugs and more tears.

Flying home was uneventful, although I got dreadfully sick the day we flew out of Kathmandu, and tottered off the plane in Wenatchee after what seemed like days of travel in the twilight zone. Three days of Cipro set me right as rain, and I was able to truly enjoy being back in this wonderful place.

Was it fun? No, I couldn’t say fun. Interesting, fascinating, educational, insightful, yes. Was it hard? Not technically, although the altitude makes the climbing tough. Would I do it again? I don’t think so; sitting around is not what I’m best at, and we all lost muscle mass and fitness during our idle base camp days. Am I glad I went? Absolutely.

People have asked me what I learned. I learned about Nepal and the wonderful, charming Nepalese people; learned about siege climbing and the vagaries of base camp living in a United Nations of climbers, learned about climbing with a group. The five of us “Ford Betties” went with the intention of working and climbing as a team, providing support and comfort to each other, and coming home friends. We did that, which is unusual for a Himalayan expedition. I guess, though, that what stands out for me most is how grateful I am to live in the Methow Valley and be blessed by my friendships here. Tears come to my eyes even now as I write this and think about the warmth of the emails people sent me and my team, and the loving welcome I received when I returned. That support sustained me through the difficult times, and I am truly thankful.

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Want to add some excitement to your ski outing? A new training trail designed by coaches for the Methow Valley Nordic Ski Team will offer some extra challenges this winter.

The training trail was created by the ski team coaches to give their skiers more difficult terrain on which to practice. It’s a one-way loop off the Community Trail in Mazama, just east of where the trail comes close to Kumm Road. The quickest access to the new loop is from Brown’s Farm.

The 3-kilometer trail includes short, steep ascents and descents, and tight turns, says Jay Lucas, MVSTA director. The coaches designed it to give skiers experience in some of the more challenging terrain they might encounter when they go to national competition elsewhere in the country. “There was nothing quite like this in the Northwest,” Lucas said. “If your weight’s not over your skis as you hit the bottom of some of those hills, you’ll wind up with your tips in your mouth.”

MVSTA will groom the trail, which is open to all trail users. The ski team will use the route for time trials for the ski team members, so they can assess their progress during the season. As of press time, the trail had not been named, but Lucas expected the name to reflect its challenging nature.

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Local biathlon enthusiasts organizing in the Methow Valley
First competition is set for Dec. 14 & 15

“Historically known more for its obscurity than its popularity.” That’s how the sport of biathlon is described in an article on the US Biathlon website. Even its supporters acknowledge that biathlon has traditionally occupied a pretty tiny niche in the overall world of sports, especially in this country.
It’s kind of ironic, since the roots of biathlon can be traced back some 5,000 years to hunters pursuing their prey on skis. That’s a lot older than baseball.

Biathlon, however, appears to be emerging from its obscurity. In Europe, biathlon has become one of the most popular winter sporting events among television viewers. And biathlon events at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City were expected to be seen by tens of millions of people, according to the US Biathlon website.

So, it’s not really surprising that the idea of bringing biathlon to the Methow Valley has captured the imagination of some valley residents. One of those people is Betsy Devin-Smith, who says she’s been intrigued with biathlon for many years. She says she began to think about bringing biathlon events to the Methow Valley about eight years ago, after she participated in a two-day biathlon event sponsored by the National Guard in the Methow Valley.

“It was great fun, and this was a perfect place to do it. That was the beginning of my real interest,” Devin-Smith says. She waited to take any action for a few years until her son Casey, who is now 10, was old enough to participate. Then she began talking to people in the valley about the idea of creating a biathlon program for children and adults in the Methow Valley.

Biathlon combines free-style cross-country skiing with rifle marksmanship. In a biathlon competition, a participant skis distances varying from 7.5 to 20 kilometers, and stops at a shooting range to shoot at targets two or four times. The distances and number of shots vary depending on the type of competition.
The challenge of biathlon is its combination of two very contradictory disciplines – skiing and shooting. Cross-country racing requires intense physical exertion over an extended period of time, while shooting demands extremely fine control and stability. When athletes arrive at the shooting range, they must shoot at a very small target, with a racing heart and heaving chest, because the clock is running even while they are shooting.

“It’s taking two such extremes – the fine-tuned concentration of precision marksmanship, and putting it with such a gut-busting sport. It’s a challenge,” says Devin-Smith.

In some parts of the nation, including Minnesota, New York and Maine, Biathlon is becoming more established. In Washington, the sport is growing slowly. The state Biathlon Association held about three events last year, including one at Stevens Pass, which Devin-Smith attended with her son Casey.

Valley residents Rick LeDuc and Dale Caulfield have teamed up with Devin-Smith to organize a biathlon program in the Methow Valley. They’ve been successful in achieving one of the major requirements of a biathlon – a location for the shooting range. Land for the range has been made available on property owned by Walt Foster near the Flagg Mountain in the Mazama trail system.

“The pivotal thing about a biathlon is the range. You need a place to shoot the guns that is safe,” Devin-Smith explains.

The range is where most of the excitement for biathlon spectators takes place, says LeDuc. “The range makes biathlon a much more spectator-friendly event than other endurance sports, because the stadium – shooting range – is where 95 percent of the action takes place. Combine this with the proximity of the skiing portions of the race, and chances are good a spectator located at the range will be able to watch the entire event from one position.”

The biathlon range will have 10 lanes, each 50 meters long and three meters wide. Skiers enter the range and shoot a .22-caliber bolt-action rifle, either in prone or standing position, at metal targets that flip up when they are hit. After shooting, skiers leave the range to continue racing. Devin-Smith’s husband Skip is helping build targets, and work is needed to build foundations for the targets and to smooth out the range area.

A representative of the U.S. Biathlon Association has visited the site and met with the local biathlon organizers to give them pointers on developing the program. LeDuc attended a summer biathlon training in West Yellowstone and has become certified to officiate at a competition. With these hurdles overcome, arrangements are underway for the first local biathlon competition, tentatively set for Dec. 14 and 15. The event will include both education and a competition, Devin-Smith says. The Washington Biathlon Association will bring targets, trainers and rifles, and offer a gun safety clinic and a practice session, followed by a competition.

“They are really excited about it. One of their goals is to get more people involved in the sport,” Devin-Smith says.

LeDuc says that if the winter biathlon is successful, organizers may also plan a summer biathlon event, with running replacing skiing. “We need to crawl before we walk, but after watching the summer qualifier at West Yellowstone, I am excited about the prospects of having some of this area’s top endurance athletes take a crack at the sport. I think they’d love it!”

During the summer and fall, several marksmanship sessions have been held locally for children and adults interested in biathlon. Local gun safety expert Kenny Carwile, who also grooms ski trails for MVSTA in winter, has helped create a target shooting program affiliated with 4-H for children.

Creating a youth biathlon program is a primary interest of the organizers, all of whom have kids who ski. Children competing in biathlon use air rifles until they are 14. While adult biathletes are required to carry their rifles on their backs while skiing, youth competitors leave their guns at the range and don’t start carrying them around the ski course until they are about 16, Devin-Smith said.

To really excel in the sport, a competitor must be good at both skiing and marksmanship. If skiers miss the targets while shooting, they are penalized with additional minutes added to their overall time, or by skiing a “penalty loop.” Even the fastest skier can’t overcome poor marksmanship, Devin-Smith says. “I spent a lot of time on the penalty loop at Stevens Pass,” she says.

The sport offers a lot to learn, Devin-Smith says. “I never thought I’d think shooting a gun was fun,” she admits. “I’m still at the point of saying, ‘Now here’s the trigger.”

She sees a great potential in the sport for children who are interested. “A lot of these kids are already really strong skiers. These kids could be really good.”

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Four steps to being a Sport Parent
By Pete Dickinson

Children and sports are a wonderful combination with many lessons that can be carried on throughout life. Some lessons can be good, others not so good. Since the manual on how to manage sport and kids somehow did not get placed in all birth blankets, I thought a few simple guidelines for the Sport Parent might come in handy.

Lesson 1: Winning is not the point.

Print media and television give us plenty of examples of poor sportsmanship and other negative behaviors at the highest levels of sport. The emphasis is on winning at all costs. A host of behaviors is modeled as being normal – from taunting to drug use for performance gain. Despite this dark side, sport can teach us many life lessons that are important. You might think that the whole idea is to win at the sport, but most of the lesson of sport has nothing to do with winning the game! With sport, children can:
· Enjoy an active lifestyle
· Develop a positive self image by acquiring skills in sports
· Learn to work as part of a team
· Manage success and disappointment
· Learn respect for others.

Lesson 2: Kids want to play, not sit.

Why kids do sports? An estimated 20 million kids 8-15 participate in sports. Unfortunately 1/3 will drop out each year. This happens when the reasons for doing the sport no longer are present. Studies have shown that kids do sports for the following reasons:
· To be with their friends
· Have fun
· Learn a new skill

When children ‘sit on the bench,’or stand around a lot at practice, they get bored and loose interest. Playing in a well-organized sport that has the kids moving around a lot, with plenty of positive energy, is a great way to keep them happy in the sport.

Yes, kids want to be with their friends. A sure fire way to have a child not like a sport is to push them toward an activity without having their friends present. Any parent, who has tried to introduce hiking to their kids, without a few friends along, will certainly understand the power of friends! The miles melt away when exploring the trail with your friends. Likewise, playing on a team with your friends strengthens these bonds, and teaches the skill of working together on a team.

Learning a new skill is very motivating for children. The constant pace of improvement can be a source of many positive comments from the adults involved. Kids get some of their self-esteem from the way adults view them. If they hear that the coach likes how they are playing, they feel good about it! For the parent, this means focusing on improvements in the task, not whether it was done to perfection.

Lesson 3: Keep your eye on the ball, not the scoreboard. Not all goals are created equal.

Every Parent wants their child to feel good about themselves. A positive self-esteem is central in creating good relationships, achieving happiness in life, and reaching goals in work or sport. One of the key ways to use sport to help accomplish this is found in the power of the task goal.

The two types of goals in sport are the (1) outcome goal, and (2) task goal.
Outcome goals relate to the result of a season, such as winning the state championship. While it is important to set high goals to a season, dreaming about winning the race or game will never contribute much to getting there. Success in sport comes from attaining the task goal.

Task goals are related to the skill necessary to excel in the sport. An example of a task goal in soccer is: Be first to the ball with foot contact prior to the ball hitting the ground. In Alpine skiing a task goal might be: Start edge pressure well above the turn while keeping the hands forward. Each task goal is individual to the athlete’s current skill level. By making skill improvement in small steps through task goals, the outcome goal is attained. Thus, the focus is not on winning, but on how you play the game. Parents can use improvement in task goals to help the child deal with the disappointment in losing a game. It also provides a constant source for positive comments by the parent in talking to a child in sport. It is by having a string of small successes through completing task goals that a child's self esteem is improved with sport.

Lesson 4: Be involved, just not too much.
Youth sports programs rely on parent involvement to be successful. By volunteering time, parents can model all sorts of positive behaviors that can have a lasting effect on the child. It shows that you care about what your child does. Being a parent coach, driving a car pool, managing the equipment, are all ways to help out and make the program work. It can be a way of giving back to the community.

A word of caution, however: Becoming over-involved can have a negative impact on a program. Danger signs are second-guessing coaching decisions, being overly concerned about the outcome of a game or race, spending a lot of time talking with the coach about player skill levels or the way they conduct practices games, and being requested to stop coming to practice. Helping out in a program also places the parent in a position to be a good role model for respecting the coach, opponents, and referees. Talk to the coach and other parents if you find it difficult to strike the right balance. Since you didn’t get the official Sport Parent manual at you first child’s birth, it’s OK to ask for a little help.

Sport can provide a lifetime of enjoyment and activity that is necessary for a healthy lifestyle. It all starts as a child, leaning how to play with others, and how to hit the ball. As parents, we can tap in to the best of sport to build our kids’ self-esteem and give them skills they will use the rest of their life.

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Mukilteo Coffee offers local blend to benefit MVSTA

There’s nothing better than a good cup of java, right? Unless that cup of java also raises money for one of your favorite causes – Methow Valley Sport Trails Association.

This winter you’ll be able to support your caffeine and recreational habits at the same time, thanks to Mukilteo Coffee.

Gary Smith, president of Mukilteo Coffee and a Methow Valley homeowner, has offered to make a special Methow Valley blend available for sale in the valley, with a percentage of the sales going to benefit MVSTA. Jay Lucas, MVSTA executive director, said Smith has previously made similar arrangements to benefit other organizations, and MVSTA is grateful to be selected as a recipient of the Mukilteo offer.

“This was a very nice gesture by Gary Smith,” Lucas said. “He called me and proposed the whole idea.”
The coffee will be sold by the pound by local grocery stores, and will have a name linking it to the Methow Valley. Local artist Laurie Fry desiged the label for the coffee packages.

Lucas said Smith has been in the coffee business for about 30 years. “He says he probably had one of the first carts in Seattle,” Lucas said. The company has a coffee roasting facility in Mukilteo, and is now building a new roasting facility on Whidbey Island. Mukilteo Coffee ships coffee all over the world, Lucas said. He said the Methow Valley blend is 100 percent organic and shade-grown, meaning forests in countries that grow the coffee are not cut down to increase harvests.

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