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McGregor Mountain Hike, Stehekin, 1997
A decade after that fateful day, Olivia stopped on the trail up McGregor Mountain. I, lost in thoughts of Anya, nearly plowed into her.
“Whoa there, mister,” she said.
“Sorry.” I panted, the joy of that long ago afternoon fading into the heat of the day as sweat stung my eyes.
“Let’s take a break,” Olivia said. She stopped at a wide spot in the trail. She folded herself down onto a large rock and pulled out her canteen. Kathy sat beside her. Olivia took a deep drink, then studied me as I sat on a fairly flat grassy spot.
“How are you doing?” Olivia asked.
“Good,” I said. “It felt tough at first then I finally got, how do you say in America, in the groove?”
Olivia snickered. “You must have been in the groove because you almost ran me over.”
“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “This is good, the hike. It’s a good workout in a beautiful place.”
We sipped from our canteens and took in the view. Across a chasm of forest, distant rocky mountain peaks reached up to an impossibly blue sky.
Kathy pulled out a bag of mixed nuts and dried fruits—she called it trail mix—and passed it around. “Luka, I heard you were an Olympic gold-medal winner, but I don’t know any details. Fill us in.”
“I competed in Los Angeles in 1984 and won my race. Then again in 1988 in Seoul, South Korea.”
“I think I’d be too nervous to compete like that,” Olivia said.
“All athletes are at the top of their game by the time we get to the Olympics. On race day, little things make the difference. Who slept well the night before. Who is having a great performance. Who is lucky.” My breath had slowed as we chatted, and I wiped the sweat from my eyes as I cooled down.
“You and West met in Denmark?” Kathy asked.
“Yes. My sport has given me opportunities to see some of the world, like this beautiful place. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t met West at that race near Copenhagen.”
“You must have started training very young,” Olivia said.
“Twelve years old when I joined the boat club. For some reason I was successful from a very young age, winning races around Yugoslavia and later, throughout Europe and the world.”
“Very impressive.” Kathy stuffed the trail mix back into her pack.
“You’re the first Olympian I’ve met,” Olivia said. “And I’ve met a lot of very successful people.”
Kathy was ready to go, so Olivia and I donned our packs, and we all set off again.
Each step was a tread up a never-ending staircase, each footfall uneven on a trail that had become dirt and rocks. The trail folded back and forth in switchback after switchback. We trudged on for another hour, then stopped for a break, then another hour until we finally came upon a wooden sign that read Heaton Camp.
Olivia dropped her pack on a grassy spot and walked to an outcropping of rocks. Kathy and I glanced at one another. Images of Olivia standing on the precipice above Agnes Gorge crossed my mind. I joined her.
“Take a look.” She indicated the view, looking smug, as if she alone was responsible for the panoramic beauty.
“Below is the Stehekin River Valley where the Ranch is,” she explained, then pointed to snow-covered peaks to the south. “That’s the Glacier Peak Wilderness.”
Ragged white mountains punctured blue skies above. It felt as if we stood on top of the world.
Kathy joined us. “We’re almost seven thousand feet here.”
The view was stunning. “The Dinaric Alps in Croatia are 1,800 meters, about six thousand feet,” I said. “But I never hiked up them. I was always down below, on the water.”
Although it was late June, leftover drifts of snow nestled in the shade of rock outcroppings. Long fingers of snow reached down steep slopes—the lingering remains of winter snowfields.
“We’re to the final part of our hike,” Olivia said. “The most challenging part, if you’re up for it. It’s rocky and steep. We can stop any time you say. If you’re not comfortable, just speak up, and we’ll turn around.”
There was no way I would be the one to stop our ascent. How could I look myself in the mirror if I let these two women out-hike me? “Let’s go,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.
“How about lunch first?” Kathy suggested.
“Luka?” Olivia asked.
Grateful for the brief postponement, I said, “Yes, lunch sounds good.” I dug out my peanut butter sandwich, which had seemed like a good idea when I packed it, but each bite seemed to suck the moisture from my mouth.
Olivia watched me, then handed me a small bag of dried apricots and apples, which helped. We rested for a while, then stood.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“Only a thousand more feet,” Olivia said, donning her pack. “But it’s a tough thousand feet. Like I said, any time you want to stop...”
No way would I stop. Kathy led the way, followed by Olivia, then me. We emerged above the tree line and into the full force of the sun. At first it felt good, but combined with the exertion, it soon became nearly unbearable. Sweat soaked my shirt and stung my eyes. I thought of my many kayak races on hot summer days in blazing sun, but on a river or lake there was always a cold spray as paddles submerged in the cold, refreshing water. In marathons, I would dip a hand into the cooling water, risking a slightly slower time but worth the trade-off of keeping cool. Here there was no respite. Just another step up, a stumble over a loose rock, and the relentless heat. Then the trail gave way to a slope made of broken rock. No more dirt, then no more trail, only broken rock littered on a heart-stopping, precipitous slope.
I stopped. “What is this?” I called out to Kathy and Olivia.
They both stopped, and Olivia returned.
“What is this rock?” I complained. “Where is the trail? I don’t see a trail anymore.”
“Scree slope. We’re going to the left of those cliffs,” she pointed up to jagged rock outcroppings. “We’ll be looking for orange arrows that mark the trail. This is it, Novak. Do we proceed, or call it a day?”
I wanted with all my being to turn around and go back down the trail. Back into the cool shadows of the forest. But my damned male pride couldn’t let me. “Proceed,” I said weakly.
Olivia studied me with a curious look. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Proceed.”
She turned back and followed Kathy, and up and up we hiked, stumbling over the damned loose rock. As we wound our way up and around the cliffs, the slope beside me dropped away. I tried not to look, but my heart slipped and tumbled down that deadly slope as loose rock skidded out from beneath my boot, clattering down a drop that never stopped.
If I slipped, I’d be ground hamburger before I made it halfway down. I stopped. My feet refused to budge. I couldn’t take another step. Throw me in a lake or a raging river and I’ll find a way to survive. But this—this was madness. I swallowed my pride. “You two go ahead,” I called. “I’ll wait for you down the trail.”
Carefully I turned around and picked my way through the loose rock until the trail turned to dirt once again. I descended a short way until the trail widened into a flat, grassy spot. Relief flooded me. I took off my pack, gulped down some water, and found a rock to sit on, firm and stable.
I waited, dreading having to face Kathy and Olivia. For the first time in my life, I felt like a coward.
And then another sobering thought swept in. A realization. This was the first time since Anya that I had cared enough to be afraid, that I cared whether or not I lived or died.
***
“We made it!”
Olivia bounded down the trail.
Embarrassed, I stood slowly, ashamed. “I couldn’t stand up straight—” I began.
Olivia shushed me gently, the soft sound a kind librarian makes to noisy patron. “Don’t beat yourself up. You did what was right for you. No shame in that.”
Kathy showed up a minute later, but simply glanced at me and smiled. Kathy had said we were here to keep an eye on Olivia, in case she got it in her mind to do something crazy again. What a laugh.
“The view from the top was spectacular,” Olivia chattered on.
She and Kathy took a short break, ate a couple bites of trail mix, and drank water. Then they shouldered their packs again.
“Let’s go,” Olivia said, and took off down the trail.
Kathy waved me ahead of her, and as I started out, she said softly, “You did very well, Luka. Most people don’t go to the top. It’s dangerous. Don’t give it a second thought.”
