'Mountain Rescue' on Rattlesnake Ledge trail

View of snow-dusted Rattlesnake Mountain from parking lot

With only mountain boots and no extra traction, I decided to take a run at Rattlesnake Ledge, realizing that I might turn back if there was slick ice on the trail. But there wasn't. In two hours I had reached the summit, only 30 minutes longer than my routine time (best was 75 minutes, I think), despite the snow. But it also took me two hours to make it back to the car, when it should have taken a lot less -- to be explained.

At the trailhead, there was a memorial to a teenage photographer, dying young,  who stood too close to an edge in March 2018 in order to frame a picture. Appropriately, a sign accompanied the memorial warning of the possibilities of falling.

To a photographer, dying young

Statistics for the day:

Distance: 4 miles
Elevation gain:  1,160 feet. 
Location: Rattlesnake Ledge
Conditions: Cool, clear skies, slush and packed snow
Load: 15 pounds
Statistics, year to date:

Distance: 45.7 miles

Elevation gain:14,730 feet

There was enough slick snow on the trail and at the summit to pose falling dangers today, and people were taking tumbles due to poor footwear. Several were wearing tennie runners or similar shoes with no grip or traction, and I found myself watching people slip and fall and advise them that walking in the deeper snow would be less risky.

The summit, shown below, may have provided opportunities to slide right off the top, but I didn't explore that possibility. In the distance on the right is the City of Seattle Watershed.

As I descended, one young man stumbled and fell beside me several times. I gave him hints on how to walk, and then moved on, only to pass the women in the photo below, who was wearing low fabric shoes with slick soles and gripping two walking sticks, as well as a large bag for her food and beverages. (Note the walking sticks discarded by other hikers behind her in the photo.)

Going downhill in snow is always more disconcerting than ascending, and she had made it more than halfway to the top before she discovered this -- and realized how far she had to walk to get off the slick trail.

Securing her walking stick with  my backpack, I guided the Honduran woman down the slick trail.

I can't tell you how many times she fell or almost fell as we walked together. When I first saw her, I realized she was in trouble and somehow we engaged. She said she was from Honduras, and so, in my broken Spanish, I offered help. In the process some neglected words came back to me.

I walked in the snow beside the trail ahead of her and stomped in places for her to step. Then she fell with a thud on her backside and I held her arm. She slipped and fell a few more times. Sometimes I didn't act in times and other times I was able to slow her fall. I carried her bag. Then I offered her my trekking poles and I carried her walking sticks while trying to support her by her arm. Sometimes where the trail was particularly difficult I arranged to have her glissade a few yards until the trail was more friendly.

 Finally I had a "novia idea." (I should have said "nueva." "Novia" is a girlfriend!) Testing the walking sticks for their strength, I managed to break and discard one. The other one I slipped inside the straps of my backpack so that it jutted out on both sides of my body and she held onto it like motorcycle handles. And slowly we descended. I paused at the slick spots or where there were steps. There were moments when I felt the stick pull one way or the other, but to the best of my knowledge, she didn't fall again. "Bueno?" I asked. "Bueno," she replied. "Lista?"  (Ready?), I asked after pausing to make sure she was ready to proceed.  ("Lista," she responded.)

I figured out how to tell her to keep her nose (nariz) over the front of her shoes ("sobre frente de zapatos") for traction. Really bad Spanish, but that didn't bother her. But she did clasp her hands and pray for a moment. I think she realized just how much of a pickle she had gotten herself into. And she kept saying "gracias" (thanks); and I kept saying "el gusto es mio" (the pleasure is all mine!).

It must have taken us a full hour or more to cover a mile of ground. But it was fun. When we started in tandem down the mountain I brayed like a jackass; I don't know whether she understood the joke. But at the end we exchanged phone numbers and names (she is Marleny Rios) and put a selfie like the one above on each of our phones. This turned out to be a really rewarding day.

I was curious as to whether Marleny was going to try this again, so I asked her what city she lived in. Well, she was up visiting from California. A Honduran woman with broken English who heads out in the country in a different state to climb a mountain in the snow. Wow. Spunky woman. But then she has already shown some spunk by coming to the United States in the first place. I'm sorry she lives so far away. She was fun. I would have a lot to learn from her.

The hike took me beyond the 14,411 feel of elevation gain equivalent to one Mount Rainier, so I'm putting the One Rainier symbol at the bottom of this post. Four more to go to train for Mount Adams this summer. Am I really going to try again to climb Adams after failing twice before when I was younger?