The Mount Baker Ordeal

by

Dorothy Heiret (Bob's daughter)

in response to

"The Stuff of Which Nightmares are Made"

by

Dr. Robert E. Plucker

Dear Dad,

            It was a beautiful summer day, when I was about 14. We were hosting a foreign exchange student, Aileen, for a few weeks, and decided to take her sight-seeing.  After a long ride in the car I was anxious to do something active.  Mom, Ginny, and Aileen were content to walk the asphalt paths, but you were more adventurous and wanted to get into the snow.  I decided to go with you. I was wearing jeans, presumably a T-shirt, tennis shoes, and a ¾ length red jacket which I had not zipped up.

            You started off ahead of me.  I don’t recall walking side by side.  I think we were just ambling around in an uphill direction.  At one point we came across a snow bank on a steep slope.  The snow was compacted and had been there a while, and it was probably fairly slick on top because the sun was shining.

             I remember trying to walk across the snow, but after a few steps I slipped.  I was face down in the snow with my arms and legs spread-eagled, trying to get a grip of something as I was sliding downhill.  I remember sliding for what felt like a long time, but I don’t think I was especially scared at the time because I couldn’t actually see how high up we were.  It was more like a sledding experience.  I could feel the snow on my bare skin since my open coat was splayed out on either side of me.

            Suddenly, I landed on my feet in a little piece of land that jutted out beyond the snow bank.  It was then that I realized how close I had come to falling off the side of the mountain.  I looked down and then I looked up, and saw you watching in horror from above the snow bank.  I had no idea how I was going to get down, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to go on the snow bank again.

            Somehow, you made it down to my ledge without sliding off yourself, and you held my hand.  I don’t remember what you did to convince me that the only way back would be to climb up that snow bank, but you succeeded.  I don’t remember a thing about the trip back up or the way home.

            I do remember you hugging me like there was no tomorrow later that evening.

            I have never been back to Mount Baker.

                    

Love, Dot