“What do I do?! What do I do?!” I exclaimed.

“Hold on!” Alex yelled down, just seconds later right by my side with an anchored rope. We were both in shock and couldn’t believe that actually just happened.  Running on pure adrenaline, I was able to find some mobility. With Alex supporting my belt, and a death-grip on the rope, we got across the scree to a small area safe enough to lie down. It slowly began to set in, I was above 9000 feet and I couldn’t move.

The weekend adventure began with a barbecue at Papa Rask and Miss Laura’s. It was an particularly great Friday night of family laughter, great food and moto laps with the nephew around the yard. I still can’t believe I finally own dirtbike. And yes, ironically I can’t ride it right now. Sitti and Laura Laura made it down too! After dinner and hugs, Alex and I made our way to our quarry spot to camp for the night, in the Mt. Hood National Forest.

We decided to skip the hammocks and just rolled a tarp out on Mother Earth. The stars were absolutely incredible. Waking up Saturday morning we headed to Bend for breakfast, a last minute REI stop, and then off to the trailhead. Shout-out to Lindsey for the great breakfast recommendation. If you’re in Bend, head to Strictly Organic Coffee; you won’t be disappointed if you seek out healthy fare like I do.

Once we finally got to the trailhead and signed in, we trekked along the approximately 4.5 mile path to Green Lakes. This gorgeous hike winds up Fall Creek, passing by Fall Creek Falls before reaching Green Lakes in the center of the Three Sisters Wilderness. Never in my life have I seen so many butterflies. I recommend this portion to hikers of all ages and skill levels. The elevation gain is only about 1200 feet to the lakes. Note that there are many smiling faces on the trail this time of year.

Figuring out how you’ll setup camp while drinking well-earned brews we’d packed, is a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. We set up our hammocks and took a seat gazing at tomorrow’s mission. We discussed the route ahead and after some freeze-dried meals and watched sunset from our hammocks. We woke up early Sunday morning to begin our summit climb. Okay, fiiine. Alex woke up early, poked at me, wandered around for the absolute BEST “first light” pictures, and returned to coax me out of my hammock.

We stopped for a snack after a couple miles up the ridge and took some pictures. This was the last picture taken of me before I became bionic… and I absolutely love it. Captured so well, this smile is why I spend my weekends on mountains. As you hike in and up grueling elevation gains, you find yourself wondering why you are doing this. What for? Typically, then you reach the summit  to experience an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, finding yourself proud of the struggle you’ve endured for this view only like-minded humans get to experience. It’s tough to explain, but mountaineers know it well. You walk away with a sense of self-worth. It’s as if self esteem increases with every mountain peak. Struggling with self worth for many years, the forest and mountains have quickly became my dream home. The life hack, it’s making yourself proud. Thanks for this shot Alex!

Shortly after this photo, just a few minutes from summit, I saw the route that I wanted to climb. I grew up following my pops to all the fishing holes, down river’s edges and jetties. I have a soft spot for a rad rocks to climb. It’s almost eerie in hindsight, as I can recall Alex up ahead using a different path. Well, I put my hand as high as I could reach, then with the other hand, pulling to feel the rock. This was very typical along the climb up this lava rock so cleverly named “Broken Top”. There were many times where you’d fish around for a bit, until you find a hold that doesn’t crumble. With both hands on solid holds, I put one foot on the rock, pushing to assure it would hold. I stepped onto the rock, bending my elbows and pulling myself up.

Queue the scariest moment of my life.

I’m 9000 feet in the sky, the rock has broken free, and we’re both falling backwards together. My memory is blank and I have no recollection from the moment I was floating backwards, to the moment when I stopped tumbling and thought, “I’m not that hurt-,” which was immediately interrupted by the loudest crunch I have ever heard. My climbing partner recalled the even as follows:

To the best of my memory, I was standing about 30 feet away. I don’t know exactly what triggered it, but she had been traversing a steep, dished section. The dished area was a mixture of rocks of all size, partially embedded in the loose basalt surface, at about 40-60 degrees of incline. She was moving diagonally, rock to rock, up the dished section. I remember her moving across it quickly, hardly within my periferal. Once she had reached the top of the area, the next obstacle was a three to four foot rock “wall”, which she could easily hop up, with a little assistance from the hands.

She reached out and put hands on the rock. The bottom of the rock was roughly her shin height, and no taller than her head. All she needed was a little tug from the hands and a quick side step and she’d be onto the next thing. It felt trivial, but that is not what happened. And this was not a vertical climbing scenario. The rock, which appeared to be cemented in along with every other rock around it on that “wall” shifted and I’d say dropped a few inches, at that exact moment she literally jumped backwards. She was prepared for a landing, but still several feet in the air. With nothing but a couple sizeable rocks and a steep scree surface below her, her landing wasn’t that clean. But, after hopping back she landed and slid to a stop on her feet about 5-10 feet below. I doubt she got a single scrape from that. But at that point, her eyes darted up hill, landing on the rock which was in motion. Several other rocks broke free, ranging from the size of a baseball to a watermelon, but I know we were both looking at the same one. My initial thought was that it would just barely miss her. In that single moment, I almost could have chuckled… in the weirdest way. In the very next moment, I watched the only natural reaction there was time for. It was a sort of twist to the side and ducking, which protected the head and exposed the back for a direct impact. But it was faster than that, it was as if the body was sacrificing itself for the head. I know there was no time for a jump to the side, there was no way to avoid it, but there was still a worse scenario that was avoided by this confusing motion. I can’t quite wrap my head around it because she stuck one of her arms upward at the same time, which did very little to stop the boulder from crushing her. She was facing such that her right side was on the uphill, based on her injuries and my vivid recollection, I think her right side took more of the initial impact and then her left side was driven into the earth. She was not bent all the way over when the rock first impacted her back; her torso was probably still at 45 degrees, but that 45 degrees was instantly reduced to zero, from my point of view. Luckily, the rock had some horizontal motion and continued to roll. Due to being pressed down against the ground by a moving object of that size, she sort of stuck to it.  As her left side was being pushed down into the sloped surface,  and consequently downhill, her right raised back up behind the rock and she sort of reexpanded as she was rolled over. I think she tumbled nearly backward over end, but regained some control. Then a final twisting motion was needed to reorient the feet and begin engaging the brakes. During this Sarah fell an additional 10-15 feet, which included a couple more 3-4 foot shelves, which is really just rock to rock in that loose dished area. It was about that time that I was finally able to yell, “Hold on!” I remember how stupid it sounded. As if she was planning of letting go.

The Dave Matthews Band lyrics raced across my mind, “Take me back, to just before I was spinning… Take me back, it’s amazing what a minute can do.” I can’t believe this has happened. It quickly became clear I wouldn’t be able to hike out. I was in excruciating pain. I couldn’t even sit up and needed to call for help. After discussions with Alex, I assured him I’d rather sit alone than not contact anyone, so he ran back to find service we had earlier during the hike. Within moments, a climber with search and rescue experience had just gotten up to us when we were looking for cell service (another huge blessing). Brandon Marshall was climbing with a friend when he heard the fall, and saw the boulder rolling down the mountain, at which point he began hustling. He had cell service where I was and instantly got connected with 911. Luckily he had the experience and know-how to convey the situation clearly and make it clear that a helicopter was needed.

The wait began as climbers trickled in. I remember being impressed by the community of mountaineers. I think at one point I was covered in seven puffy jackets, as I was stuck in the shade and freezing. The sun was nearing the top of the mountain, and ironically I’d be sunburnt by the time I’d reach the hospital. Someone had given me their gloves, another their hat. Evan gave me a helmet to borrow when the helicopter came (which he in turn gifted me). Everyone who joined in the recovery was generous, kind, and extremely helpful. One of the rescuers, Neil, had heard about the incident while on South Sister, a nearby mountain. Upon hearing the news he promptly began descending to climb Broken Top and help out. Another climber, Carmen, was providing so much comfort and making sure my head was comfortable and that I could relax as best as possible. More than a few times, she made sure my climbing partner was alright as well, making him eat and drink. Alex never left my side and I owe him big for that. As a person who doesn’t scare often, or I’d maybe go as far as saying a few times in her life, that was comfort that could not have been provided by anyone else. I felt safe and I knew I’d be alright. 

It was six long hours before the National Guard’s Blackhawk crew arrived and my knight in shining medic gear repelled down from the helicopter. After they secured me to a stretcher, a litter was used to secure me to the helicopter’s hoist. Getting me situated on the board was suspenseful. The medic had to stand on the edge of the small ledge I was on, holding onto the mountain over the top of me. I was terrified the situation was going to escalate or he was going to fall. There were lots of folks on that 3 foot by 2 foot spot we were working with. Most of the six hours waiting, I had my legs bent. To fly up, they had to plank me out, which put the most pressure on my lumbar yet.

The hoisting experience was a little bitter-sweet. I jokingly told my parents in the hospital that if I wouldn’t have been hurt, I would have paid for that! And yeah, humor is my coping mechanism. The adrenaline seeker in me was like, “No way! I’m getting lifted to a helicopter. How cool!” Meanwhile, my body is reminding me that I have shattered my L2 vertebrae, broken three ribs, and poked a small hole in my right lung, which is easily the most pain I’ve ever been in. Then at the top of the hoist, the litter begins to spin uncontrollably. I instantly think something is wrong and imagine the fall if the cable were to fail. The engineer took over at that point and I think I actually smirked at once instance during the spins. Once I was loaded in the Blackhawk, they sent the hoist down for the medic, and once we all were loaded up we headed to the hospital. The awesome crew put plugs in my ears and after a short game of charades, took off the dreaded knee strap. Man, helicopters are LOUD. I want to thank them again for trusting me and taking off the neck brace. I’d never been in a helicopter and I wanted to look out the window. I couldn’t believe for someone who owns a Columbia Helicopter hat and looks forward to getting the annual calendar (thanks Matt!), that I had never been in one. Now, my first experience and I can’t even see outside. Big thanks to that amazing crew for their efforts (and for coming in to work on an on-call Sunday). 

Once at the hospital the real crazy began. While Alex was hiking down and packing up all of our combined gear, I had nearly nine people looking, talking, or poking at me at the hospital. The vibe as I rolled into trauma was exactly that, traumatic. It was like a movie scene with the bright light behind silhouetted heads. That said, I’d never even had a bracelet or laid in a hospital bed before this. After some scans and imaging, surgery was scheduled for the following day. There’s a funny shot of me the day after surgery, smiling from ear to ear as my feet touch the floor for the first time in days. They felt like balloons. Crazy that you can go from broken back can’t move, to walking down the hall in a day’s time. A huge thank you to the folks at St. Charles Hospital. What an incredible surgery team and recovery staff.

I am forever indebted to the folks that gave their time and energy assuring I was safely off that mountain. Reflecting about this experience has certainly left me feeling extremely grateful. Thank you to my family, for instantly coming by my side and caring for me during recovery. Thank you to my climbing partner. Alex never left my side and made me feel safe at, hands-down, the scariest time of my life. He also didn’t ask for any kudos for packing out both of our gear, calling my sister, driving my Suub to the hospital, sleeping in the hospital room, and staying there until I was on my two feet again (not to mention all the movie nights while in recovery mode). I have som pretty incredible friends. Thank you to the Oregon National Guard and the helicopter crew for their amazing rescue. Thank you to the climbers who were simply out recreating, who made it their mission to get me safely off that mountain. I don’t know that I can name them all but Brandon, Cory, Neil, Erin, Evan, Carmen, Ryan, thank you so very much. If I missed you, please know your support (and your warm gear) was appreciated. moment below so I can buy ya a beer! Thank you to the Bend Knitterbugs, who were at Jackson’s Corner when they heard my story. These kind-hearted ladies knitted me a blanket, had it blessed, and delivered it to the hospital with organic fruit! They heard I was from out of town and wanted to help provide comfort. Incredible! Thank you to my amazing workplace. Not only has the US Army Corps of Engineers Hydroelectric Design Center supported me completely and entirely, they’ve gone above and beyond to assure a healthy recovery. Thank you to my coworkers who have provided so much enthusiastic support. The cards have been incredibly encouraging and have truly helped in a very trying time. Thank you to the Portland District Commander Col. Aaron L. Dorf for presenting the helicopter crew with Commander’s Coins of Excellence. It meant a lot to me that the Army Corps showed appreciation for the efforts of the National Guard crew. And a huge thank you to each and every one of you that reached out to send love, or came to visit me during my recovery. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have not only survived this crazy experience, but to have come out with so much gratitude. So Damn Lucky.

Did I leave something out? This is my first take on adventure story sharing so please share your thoughts using the comment section or by emailing go@sarahraerask.com. Thank you for reading. Cheers!