Sam was pleased that he had gained Marsh's agreement to make the climb with him and the others. He knew that exertion toward a short-term goal could sometimes let a stormy mind settle. He hoped that his cousin would see that his parents had done what they thought best for him even if they were mistaken, and he hoped that Marshall would find his normal energy. Maybe Klickitat would speak to his cousin; perhaps he would hear the whispering voice.
Just before sleep, he reminded himself to check with JT about any replies to the ad they had placed for JG.
He stood on the summit of Klickitat, a stratovolcano flattened at its peak by eruptive activity from two vents. He was holding the time orb, which pulsed blue light against the white snow. He looked around for the sort of avatar that had spoken to him in previous dreams, but he was alone. The orb was pleasantly warm, and Sam tried to concentrate on getting back home. Nothing happened. Then, in the background he detected a rustling noise, almost a light whisper. Gradually he found himself able to understand as the noise resolved into a voice.
"You will keep the promise made long ago. My brothers will tell you what you need to know. We are nearly together again. I will take you to the jungle, and then later, you will go to the library to read your book."
"Who are you?"
"You? This word means nothing to me."
"Are you a brother to Prithvi, Agni, Vayu, and Jal?"
A rustling laughter answered the question. "Every sound emanates through Akasha, the sacred ether. None of the others manifest themselves except through Akasha. You have a father. Ask him about the field that gives rise to every manifestation."
The orb shone with a steady blue light that obliterated his sense of his surroundings.
Sam awoke Thursday morning, refreshed. He knew that Akasha awaited Marshall, and he knew that he would have to ask OD about the "field that gives rise to every manifestation." Field was a word he had heard from many physicists and in connection with the search for the Higgs Boson.
#
Vee looked across her room at JG's house where, beside the other bed, Jamie was turning back the covers. Her guest had just finished in the bathroom and was dressed in long pajama pants and a T-shirt. Like all the girl's clothes, these hid the contours of her body. Vee was reading a paperback volume of poetry by Paul Goodman from her grandfather Tom's office library.
Jamie looked over at the preoccupied girl and thought her very precocious. Vee hadn't evinced any hesitation about having Jamie stay in her room and treated Jamie as she would any girl sleeping over. She had never assumed she had the right to an explanation of Jamie's gender identity.
"How come you aren't uncomfortable having me stay in your room?"
"I have sleepovers with friends all the time. I'm not a recluse."
"No. I mean, because physically I look like a boy."
"No one can see what you look like physically, and why should it matter? It would be stranger if I had a boy sleeping in here."
The comment brought a smile to Jamie's face. "I guess my clothes do help me hide, and I hide because transition for kids is pretty controversial. I started taking testosterone blockers with a little estrogen just before puberty."
Vee felt as if Jamie had given her a green light. "When did you know?"
"I've always acted as if I'm a girl because I am a girl. When I was six I told my parents to stop treating me as if I were a boy and to change my name. They blew a fuse for about six months until they understood how miserable trying to be a boy was for me. Then they learned as much as they could about transgendered people. By the time I was six and a half and after six months of me seeing a cool shrink, they began to try to help me. I had to get a diagnosis of Gender Identity Disorder before I could be cleared to take the drugs. It pisses me off that my situation is defined as a disorder. That took another year and a half. Sorry … I'm rambling."
"You are so cool about it. You seem really clear."
"Well, it's not like flipping a coin. I'm just trying to act and look like who I am. For me it's been easy — I mean I identify as a woman, and eventually I hope to find a man to build a life with — absolutely vanilla. For some of my friends who identify as gender-queer the road is a lot rockier."
"Yeah, I don't get the whole binary, gender-identity thing."
"I can't believe how much you know about gender-identity issues. You're eleven, right? You guys — I mean your families — are really special. I'm glad I came."
"Dad says I have a powerful curiosity about almost everything. So … if I'm getting too personal, shut me up, but are you going to have surgery?"
Jamie didn't normally talk with people about her transition plans, but she felt as though she was talking with a girlfriend. "I probably won't be able to have the surgery until I'm eighteen, but yes, I will."
"Thanks for letting me pry."
"Hey, I started the discussion." After a long pause, Jamie said, "I felt so bad about Marshall's friend."
"Thanks. As much as he irritates me now and then, my brother is the finest person I know, and I know a lot of fine people." She paused at the warmth that thought gave her.
Vee continued: "Marsh told me you're going to play bass with them."
"Very badly, I think."
"It doesn't matter. When my cousins say to have fun playing, you should do just that. Stay loose and go with the flow; be a rock star." Vee smiled warmly and turned back to her Goodman; Jamie drifted off to sleep after thinking a bit about mountain climbing. If she succeeded, she would stand on the second highest peak in the Washington Cascades. At least the climb would keep her mind off the performance.
#
Thursday after lunch, the climbers gathered for the drive to Cold Springs where they would camp and from which they would begin the climb. Jeff's van barely held them all, and the back was filled with tents, camping supplies and climbing equipment. The plan called for them to be underway up the mountain about 3:30 a.m. the following morning. Because they were climbing during the week, the campground and the route wouldn't be as crowded as they would be on Saturday.
Jim had picked up the climbing permit from the ranger station in Trout Lake a few days earlier, detouring from his drive to The Dalles. Sam and Marshall had agreed that Sam would lead the party and Marshall would bring up the rear. Jeff had agreed to position himself in the middle. Sam had been embarrassed after he asked Jeff about mountaineering experience and discovered that Jeff had climbed peaks in the Hindu Kush.
Jeff drove the van to Trout Lake and then up Forest Road 80, which became FR 8040. He took the narrow, packed dirt and gravel FR 500 as it meandered and switched back until it reached Cold Springs. The weather at 5500 feet was cooler than Goldendale's but comfortable as they began to set up camp.
FR 500 ended in an oblong loop about 250 meters on the long sides. The group found a site on the south side of the loop about 100 meters east of the Spur trailhead. Everyone helped grab the tents, leaving the sleeping bags and cooking gear for later. As Sam was pulling the last tent out, he accidentally lifted the carpeted deck covering cargo spaces below the main compartment. He saw the ends of two flat cases, one long the other short. He let the cover fall back and looked over at their site where Jeff was dropping equipment. Jeff had some kind of bag hung over his left shoulder and cinched on his right hip by a thin strap. Sam couldn't know that the Maxpedition Versipack bag was the same one Jeff had carried during his encounter with the shooter. As if he felt eyes on him, Jeff almost immediately looked back at Sam and then walked to the rear of his van.
"You all right?"
"Sure." Sam couldn't help but glance down at the cover to the cargo space. He almost questioned Jeff about the cases, which he thought might contain guns, but thought better of the impulse.
Jeff thought the boy guileless. "They're empty."
"Oh, okay."
"I wouldn't leave a weapon in the van while we're up there," he said nodding toward the summit.
"Look, it's none of my business."
"Yes, it is. Dr. Jansen was very clear about not having weapons with me while I stayed with you."
"Look, Jeff, I'm happy with you doing whatever you need to do. That agreement is between OD and you." Jeff grinned at Sam.
"We can't avoid work any longer. Let me give you a hand." Jeff grabbed the last tent and the two walked to their site. Sam wondered what was in the little bag Jeff carried, but he wasn't going to ask.
Their efforts to set up three two-man tents varied between efficiency and slapstick. The visitors had never camped in the wilderness, and the seasoned campers hung back while the newbies struggled with the tents. Markie and Ray got one of the tents assembled to find that they'd missed a crucial loop for the main cross-poles for the tent ceiling. Jeff was pleased that Ray reacted with laughter to the mistake, which took only a couple of minutes to fix.
Sam and Marshall figured that they and Jeff would each be a tent mate to one of the visitors.
When the tents were set and the rest of the gear assembled, they explored the campground in the fading light, walking to the trailhead and to the all-important primitive restroom facilities. When they returned to their campsite, Jeff volunteered to get dinner started while Marshall and Sam distributed light backpacks for the water bladders and other equipment they'd take to the summit. After letting Jamie, Ray, and Markie practice with the bite valves at the end of the tubing from the bladders, Sam handed each LED headlamps and lightweight Grivel crampons in Osprey bags to attach to the packs. Marshall produced a worn Green Trails map with their route highlighted, and everyone but Jeff looked it over.
While dinner cooked, Marshall and Sam insisted that everyone try on the headlamps and learn how to put the crampons on over their shoes or boots. They wouldn't encounter a lot of ice and snow until they were near the summit, but the crampons were essential for safety. Finally, the boys distributed ice axes. Even though they wouldn't glissade coming down, the axes could be used as support while they climbed. By the time they were through and dinner was ready, the three first-time climbers were a bit daunted. Marshall reassured them that they would be safe and would have fun getting to the top of the mountain.
Markie asked Sam, "How many times have you done this?"
"Eight or ten times."
"How old were you the first time?"
"Alone or with Uncle Jason?"
"Alone."
"When I was ten. I'd been up with the Uncle Js four times by then. I wasn't really alone. JT and Marsh were with me. Uncle Jason stayed here at Cold Springs in case he had to come up and get us. He didn't. We've done other more difficult routes, too."
She looked at Sam with new respect. "That's amazing."
After dinner and minimal cleanup, they decided the tent assignments. Jeff quickly volunteered to stay with Ray. Markie would tent with Sam and Jamie with Marshall. As the sun began to set, Sam reminded everyone that start time was 3:30 a.m. and that they needed to try to sleep. The last equipment distributed was a set of earplugs for each camper because climbers would arrive at the campground close to their group's departure time, and some wouldn't be quiet as they prepared to climb. The group paired off and climbed into their tents.
The mountain moderated the warm east wind, and the temperature dropped into the upper forties. The three newcomers who had been skeptical of bringing long pants to wear on the climb were now thankful they had them.
#
Ray thought that Jeff must be a long-time friend of Sam's parents; other than that assumption, he had no idea about the older man. He and Jeff were lying on their backs on top of their bags. Jeff was in a T-shirt and his quick-drying hiking pants, and Ray could see the contours of the man's body: six feet tall with lithe muscles that were well-defined. He wondered how old Jeff was and thought he was maybe in his late twenties, but the baby face suggested younger. The close walls of the tent made Ray feel a little claustrophobia, and he also felt his heart rate accelerate. Looking over the man's front, he wondered how well hung he was, and a brief fantasy of sucking him arose and departed.
"How long have you known Lucas, Jerry, and Sam?"
"Not long." Jeff didn't elaborate. He didn't think Ray needed to know details of his connection with Dr. Jansen's family.
After a long pause, Jeff said, "You're a quiet one."
"Me? I don't think so, but I guess I'm a little shy in a new place."
"Shy or guarded?"
"I don't know what I'd be guarding." Jeff noticed a bit too much bravado in Ray's answer.
"You glad you came?"
"It's strange. All the adults at the farms are in couples — gay or straight, they're married. It's like they have to reflect straight society."
"You don't want that?"
"Hell, no. I'm as queer as it gets. I have no desire to behave like straight people. I mean, I guess a lot of straight guys play around, too. I don't think I'm marriage material. I like variety too much, and I'm not into maintenance." To Jeff, Ray's answer sounded smug but also practiced.
Jeff no longer thought that Ray might present a security problem. He now thought that Ray's insecurity had originally triggered his attention. When Jeff had left the Marine Corps and joined Homeland Security, one of his supervisors had seen the same sort of insecurity in him. The man had become his mentor and learned that Jeff was gay. His mentor had recommended a strategy of confidentiality coupled with honesty where Jeff's sexuality was concerned and had been pointed in his insistence that Jeff would be held to the same standards as any straight agent. DHS wasn't a celibate priesthood, but the agency required reasonable discretion. Jeff thought of the meeting in DC before he and Kesh had come to Goldendale, a meeting where his mentor had sat in the corner with his omnipresent legal pad. Jeff wondered if he might not help Ray in the same way he had been helped.
Jeff knew well what physical pleasure meant to young men. Ray probably got as much as he gave in his fleeting and perhaps anonymous encounters. Jeff was in no position to judge the boy. "Well, I suppose there's something to be said for keeping things casual."
"Is that how you do it?" Ray was reaching into parts of Jeff's psyche around which Jeff maintained firm boundaries.
"I travel a lot for work. Doesn't make a steady relationship possible." That was more than he usually disclosed to anyone.
"What do you do?"
"I'm an errand boy for a large concern."
Ray knew that Jeff had put his employment situation off limits, so he switched tacks. Maybe he could get something started with the man; he had done straight men before. "None of my business, I know, but are you straight?"
Jeff thought a few seconds and then answered, "No." He didn't like where the conversation was going and knew that the boy was hitting on him, but he had learned long ago not to think with his dick. Besides, Ray didn't attract him in that way. Rather, he saw his similarities with the boy: untethered, unwilling or unable to form lasting relationships, and engaging in dangerous activity. With Jeff, the danger arose from his profession; with Ray, from constant casual sex that in one unguarded moment could undo his life.
Jeff recognized the similarities because, as a teenager, he had been forced to adopt a similar approach — good male Mormons didn't fall in love with other Mormon boys. Jeff's experience with gay sex in his youth was furtive, not a badge of honor as it was for Ray. It wasn't until a sexual venture went nearly awry that he backed off from his search for "variety." He thought it ironic that his chosen profession restrained him from developing a permanent relationship — something he thought he wanted, and more so after seeing the relationship between Lucas and Jerry. He had only occasional casual — and careful — sexual encounters that scratched an itch but left him wanting more.
Ray was trying to approach a part of Jeff that was vulnerable, and maybe Ray was vulnerable in the same way.
He tried to turn the conversation. "You feeling all right about the climb."
Ray was trying not to be too subtle. "You're here to take care of me."
"You need someone to take care of you."
Ray couldn't mistake the irritating fraternal tone. "I know what I'm doing with my life."
"Do you, now?" Jeff sat up as if performing an abdominal crunch. "Try to get some sleep. I'm going to walk for a bit."
"Want company?"
"No, thanks. You should try to sleep. You'll love the climb, but the mountain will kick your ass."
When Jeff returned, Ray was asleep, and Jeff turned in as well. In the morning, he discovered Ray snuggled up to him — not like a 15-year-old boy but a child seeking protection.
#
In their tent Sam and Markie were in their underwear, facing each other, he on his right side she on her left. Since arriving in Goldendale, she'd become more comfortable with hanging out with Sam and his cousins in underwear, but she felt a newer kind of intimacy in this setting. She was happy that this new intimacy didn't make her anxious. She had watched Sam deal with Marshall's loss and sadness and realized that, in addition to finding Sam physically attractive, she admired him and loved him. She felt badly that, before they had left Pasadena, she had teased him about being interested in Marshall.
"Is Marshall doing all right?" She knew Sam might become distressed at her concern for his cousin.
Sam answered without any apparent distress. "It's like his joy in life is gone. I think he's sad and tired, but I think he'll be okay. His coming with us is a good sign."
Sam thought a bit and then felt as if he should try to clear up Markie's misperception of his cousin's sexuality. He had no reason to be upset with Marshall because Markie might be interested in him. "Just so you know. You're wrong about Marsh; he isn't gay."
"I don't care about that."
"He's as good a friend as I have, and if you're interested in him, you should understand him."
"Sam, I appreciate you trying to set me … straight, but although he's very nice to look at and he's a very good guy, I'm not interested in him that way."
"Right. You don't want a boyfriend."
"Maybe I'm changing my mind." She reached her hand out, waiting for Sam to take it. When he did, she drew a deep breath. "You're as close to a boyfriend as I want now."
They put their earplugs in.
#
Though she knew him the least of any of the cousins, Jamie couldn't help feel pain at Marshall's loss. When he sang "He Was a Friend of Mine" in the barn yesterday, she had wanted to comfort him. Then, she felt that comforting him wasn't her place, but she realized she had been comforted by relative strangers occasionally, and now felt she should try.
"We don't really know each other, but I want you to know how sorry I am about your friend. I've never been close to anyone who's died, so I can't imagine how you're feeling, but I can tell he meant a lot to you."
"Thanks." He looked into her eyes, thinking that amidst all her struggles, she had the capacity to empathize with his pain. "You're a lot like my sister. That's a compliment."
Jamie smiled. "I have two brothers who can't quite get that I'm their sister, so thanks for that."
"I admire you for doing what's right for you. I don't suppose that's very easy for you."
"My shrink says I'm unusually decided about my place in the world and that I have been for a long time. I have enough friends and support that I don't feel as if I have to struggle all the time. You know what that feeling's like, don't you?"
"You'd have to know my grandfather and understand how he and his husband started the family. They had to struggle, and so did my uncles. Other than the fact that I have a bunch of gay uncles, my family is pretty vanilla."
"Trust me, your family is anything but vanilla, regardless of sexual orientation. One reason I came to visit is that everyone at SMYRC knows about Lucas and Jason and Jonathan. It doesn't matter whether or not people are queer or trans or straight; what matters is who they stand up for. My family sticks up for me, and I know yours does for you and all of us." She saw him smile for the first time since she had met him.
"Talking to you has really helped me. Thanks." He thought about his parents: they had always stuck up for him, even if they made mistakes sometimes. He was still going to give them a piece of his mind, but he wouldn't have to borrow Jerry and Lucas from Sam.
They put their earplugs in.
#
For most of the climbers, anticipation battled with sleepiness for the remainder of the night and early morning. Just before 3:30 a.m. Jeff's voice was heard at every tent entrance, "It's time." Maybe everyone was keyed up and that let his quiet voice penetrate the earplugs. When everyone was dressed in layers and gathered near their tents, Sam told them to hit the restrooms and be back in ten minutes. When they all had attended to calls of nature and brushed their teeth, they ate trail mix and drank water before donning their packs and headlamps and collecting the ice axes. Jeff who wore his Maxpedition pack along with his hydration system smiled as Sam gave them a final pep talk.
"We're going to help each other out as we go. Climb and descend in the order we set — I'll lead followed by Markie, Ray, Jeff, and Jamie, and Marsh will bring up the rear. Don't lose sight of the person in front of you. If you need to stop or if you are injured, sing out. Once the sun rises, the scenery will be spectacular, but while we're in the dark, keep your attention on the ground in front of you and use your axes for balance, like walking sticks. We're not going to be near any precipices, so if you fall, you'll fall almost like you would here. You're going to love this, and you'll be higher above sea level than most people ever get. At the top, if the clouds cooperate, you'll see two states, a big river, and four or five big volcanoes as well as the place you're staying now. Questions?"
Jeff continued to smile, remembering a hundred little conferences before missions in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He would trust Sam as he had trusted local guides in the 'stans, and Ray would be immediately ahead of him, although he thought he could read the boy now. No one asked a question. Before they walked to the trailhead, Marshall added, "My Grandma Vi says the mountain whispers to people, so keep your ears open." He looked at Sam, who nodded, and they lined up for the walk to the beginning of the ascent. Trail 183 would be well marked until it crossed Morrison Creek at about 7,000 feet; then, Sam's memory would guide them. The creek would be nearly dry in August. He knew how to manage the terrain so they wouldn't be climbing steeply the whole way. As they walked quietly past other campsites, people were beginning to stir, preparing for their own climbs.
The trail began as packed dirt, crushed volcanic rock, and needles from the trees that sparsely occupied its margins. They were close to the tree line which lay at the old, no-longer-used Timberline Campground, a mile or so ahead. At the beginning, the trek was like any other walk in the forest, and the first-timers were heartened by the gradual incline as they headed east before switching back to the north to keep them atop McDonald Ridge, where the ground fell off fairly steeply to their left as the trees became scarcer. Jeff and the cousins had walked on the knife-edges of steep ridges in the past, but this one had a gentler drop-off, and the trail was wide enough in places for a couple of people.
They turned northeast away from the ridge and encountered an almost flat meadow with a few trees and wild flowers occasionally apparent in the beams of the headlamps. Sam looked at the Suunto watch on his left wrist — 4:20 a.m. — and then switched it to the altimeter mode — 6,350 feet — halfway to the top from sea level but less than a thousand-feet elevation gain from their camp. He stopped the line of climbers and looked back to check with Jeff and Sam who were watching for any difficulty the visitors were experiencing. Both nodded to him, and he began to climb again.
The horizon slightly east of the peak was beginning to glow with the promise of sunrise; Sol was 10 degrees below the horizon. The summit was beginning to resolve as a shadow above them. The climb out of the meadow was gentle, and each of the visitors thought that the walk wasn't much of a challenge, although Markie knew from talking with Sam that they would be tested in the next four hours. As they walked without speaking, all but Jeff carried on a monologue. Jeff was simply attentive in his silence.
Ray wished he could have been behind Jeff, but he felt somehow comforted by knowing that Jeff was behind him watching out for him. He had a growing desire for Jeff to be somehow his role model, someone he could talk to as he grew through his teen years. However, watching that ass for half a day would have been a fine distraction.
Instead, he saw Markie ahead, and as he put one foot in front of the other, he wondered about whether she and Sam were a couple or just friends. All of his friends were fuck buddies, and although Markie did nothing for him, he thought Sam was cute if young. He was in good shape, and if the rest of the climb was like what they were doing now, it would be a breeze. Whispering mountains; what a crock.
Markie was aware that she was plain happy to be doing this with Sam. She wouldn't have come but for sharing the climb with him. She loved the horses, but this she could take or leave. He was different from other boys she knew, except for JT and Marshall. They didn't seem to have anything to prove to each other or anyone else, and although she knew she had been responsible for tension between Sam and Marshall earlier, the boys seemed to have resolved the issue. She loved Sam's quiet nature, which masked a basic confidence that he could deal with anything. She knew that confidence came from his fathers, and she envied his relationships with them. Jerry and Lucas were so different and yet so connected to each other and to Sam.
She had been thinking more and more about sharing her first sexual experience with Sam, but she didn't want to screw up what they had. Sam did turn her on, a fact that she wouldn't share with him yet. She listened to the soft crunch of her boots in the ash and dirt. The sound was a whispered chant. Is the mountain talking to me or am I just talking to myself?
For Jamie, being different even in a minority was almost a full-time occupation. So much of her life was taken with explaining herself — to her parents, to her therapist, to the kids at the Center, to her schoolmates. Because she was articulate and together, she was often asked to be on panels and presentations on LGBTQ issues. She had almost become a go-to T representative. She found the role oppressive and stereotypical. She loved being here on the mountain, being herself. She really liked the kids from Goldendale — all of them, but especially Vee and Marshall. When she returned to Portland, she would have to see if she could learn to climb on Mt. Hood. Maybe Vee and Marshall climb there. She let go of her little burdens and smiled as she climbed and listened to the passing of the breezes as the air began to warm to the coming sunrise.
Looking up the line of climbers, Marshall thought, The time I spent with him was enough. Part of him will be with me forever, and I think I helped him. There are so many shades of love.
At 6,800 feet, they crossed the nearly dry bed of Morrison Creek and headed toward the Crescent glacier, which they would skirt on its left. The incline was steeper now, and Sam knew that in a couple of hundred feet, the first-timers would find a physiologic wall. Seven thousand feet was the altitude at which the thinning air began to take its toll on untrained climbers. Often their perception of the difficulty of the task turned sharply as they crossed this arbitrary boundary.
The trail now was unclear except where marked by cairns and by Sam's memory. At 7,400 feet he took them east for a few hundred feet until they reached a ridge on which they began to ascend very steeply. Sam pointed toward Mt. Hood in Oregon, behind them and slightly to their right, as the sun began to paint its flanks. The successive ridges of basalt, dacite, and andesite stretching to the Columbia River and beyond told the story of how volcanoes and water had created this landscape. The tip of Mt. Jefferson was just visible to Hood's south and east. Ahead, to their right, they could see the tongue of the small Crescent Glacier which they would skirt as they moved to the summit.
Now all the newcomers were panting with exertion as the ridge rose sharply before them. Sam stopped them for a brief rest. He smiled at Markie and suggested, "Don't think about how far we have to go. Concentrate on making a step at a time." She nodded to him, and he was pleased that her breathing rate slowed quickly as they waited. Markie looked over toward Oregon and found herself overwhelmed by the view. Behind her, Ray was bent slightly forward, breathing hard and not recovering as quickly as Markie.
Behind him, Jeff was breathing normally. "How easy it is to make it in the world alone, Ray, depends on what you've made yourself. I'm not sure you know who you are." Ray stared at Jeff, but through his anger at the man's presumption, he wondered if Jeff was right.
Punctuated by deep breaths he spat out a reply, "I don't trust anyone but myself."
Thinking of the way he conducted his own life, Jeff said, "That's a tough place to live. If you're going to manage, you're going to have to test yourself more often — with tests that risk something of importance. Hiding isn't self-knowledge."
Jamie was surprising Marshall with her quiet tenacity. She was struggling, but struggle didn't set her back on her heels. She just pressed on as if difficulty was a natural component of her path, but then he realized that it was. She smiled down at him from her place above on the steep ridge. "I love this."
"You're a tomboy," Marshall kidded.
"Maybe just a feminist."
As Sam started them again, the sun was beginning to define the summit ahead. From Goldendale, the mountain seemed one large lump with clear unbroken slopes to its top. Standing on the south side of the mountain, they found a series of intermingled flatter and steeper grades that they couldn't see from the Goldendale farms.
The sun was revealing the summit as almost a smaller mountain atop the one they had started to climb. Sam called back to them, "The air is drier up here; drink more often." Jeff repeated the advice to be sure that everyone had heard.
In forty minutes they were passing the small glacier nestled in a horseshoe depression with a col in its south wall at 8,000 feet. Now, Sam kept them just east of the irregular ridgeline and the grade became gentler again. The climbers labored less and their breathing was easier even as the oxygen level dropped. The air pressure here was the same as the pressure in a passenger jet, and their eardrums experienced numerous pops as the pressure on either side of their eardrums equalized.
At 9,000 feet, Sam took them east, and the grade became even shallower. They made better time now over the gentler rise, and in an hour were at the Lunch Counter, a flat meadow at 9,500 feet. Ahead, the summit in the clear summer air waited. They stopped briefly and saw that some climbers had camped here and were either ahead of them or preparing for the morning's climb.
Sam took them in a gentle arc, first slightly northeast and then slightly northwest, and the terrain steepened again as they left the meadow. As they approached 10,000 feet with the Ridge of Wonders to their right, all the newcomers began to doubt that they would make it to the summit. If 7,000 feet was the physiological wall, 10,000 feet was the psychological wall.
Sam had slowed their pace and stopped them when they were beside the headwall of the Klickitat Glacier with its startling blue-tinged ice rising from its bed like a huge rock formation that seemed to course endlessly toward the summit. The wonders of their surroundings distracted the newcomers from their struggles.
Jeff said softly to Ray, "You're with us. With us, you'll make it. Relax and look around you. You won't see sights like these again for a while."
Marshall could feel the wind from the east as the mountain warmed in the morning sun, and he thought of the ancient mountain and Armin's brief life as of one piece. The wind whispered to him about the illusion of time and loss, causing him to smile as he looked ahead to Jamie relentlessly plodding toward the goal. Like her, he would turn his attention to challenges ahead, not challenges bygone.
Between 10,000 and 11,500 feet they slowly scaled the steepest part of their remaining route. They had long ago stowed their headlamps, and the sun was high enough that Sam, Jeff, and Marshall had packed their outer layers in their backpacks. Sam stopped them briefly more frequently, and at the most recent stop, Jamie had shed her fleece. For the first time, her clothing allowed her curves to show, and Marshall thought she was beautiful.
They had started three and a half hours earlier and were ready for the last push. To the north, they could see Mt. Rainier, called by Indians Tahoma, and behind them, Mt. Jefferson was clearer behind Mt. Hood. Mt. St. Helens with its flat-appearing top was clear to the north and west. Every geography lesson about the Pacific Northwest the newcomers had sat through became clear.
At 11,600 feet, Sam turned them again slightly east of north, and as a big ridge rose to their left, they relaxed on an almost flat part of the route. They walked twenty minutes but were still at 11,600 feet when they swung slightly west and began the final 600 feet of elevation gain. Before striking for the summit, they put on their crampons. By now, they were used to the variation in the route's grade, and they all began to think that they'd make it. Even Ray was smiling. He thought that this was the first time in his life he didn't have to choose between self-sufficiency and enjoying membership in a group. This was his accomplishment and the group's.
At last, they were on the final ascent and only the clear blue of sky was beyond their destination. This push was joyful and hard, but in an hour, they were at 12,278 feet. Nothing loomed above them, and atop the mountain they could see the full panorama of their surroundings. As they recovered their wind, they hugged each other and stared in silent wonder for a few minutes. Although they weren't alone on the flattened summit, they had room to sit, eat, and hydrate while they tried to see Portland across the ribbon of the Columbia River and Goldendale to the east. Marshall dropped down beside Sam and said, "Thanks for inviting me. I feel a lot better."
Ray said to Jeff who never sat down, "Thanks. I think I know what you mean."
Markie huddled against Sam as the east wind pushed gently against them. Jamie, with arms outstretched, twirled about, showing herself to the world so far below.