The Balance of Life

By Sean D Snowdon

One dilemma with me is that I hunger after adventure, the
rush of doing something I have never done before, probably
something that most won't. One weekend we were out

fishing, I decided that on one side of Doyle Island that was
just rock straight up about 200' - 300', I wanted to climb it.
I felt like I had nothing else in my life to give me a great
purpose of accomplishment. There was a small hole that
needed to be filled and just maybe this climb might do the
trick. It looked like it was very rough with many spots for
climbing so I was going to be a rock climber that day. It was
dangerous but I believed I could do it without difficulty.
After being dropped off on the rocks from a boat, I continued
on my journey upwards. It was easy, because there was an
excellent holding for my feet and hands everywhere I
looked. I started climbing higher and higher, grabbing the
next spot and lifting my body up to get a good foothold. The
thing was, looking at the mountain from the bottom it
presented an easy climb; as I ascended, the rocks for
gripping became farther apart and smaller. What looked
from the bottom like a couple of feet apart for a big solid
holding actually were farther apart with smaller holdings.
40' up, I realized I might be in trouble, for now I was having
a tough time finding a good hold, and with a couple of hours
left before dark I knew I could have serious problems soon.
I looked down at the rocks in the waters, my heart now
racing knowing that I had two solutions and climbing back
down wasn't one of them, for I tried climbing back down
and without being able to see much almost slipped. My
heart was racing and my muggy wet hands weren't helping;
one slip or a rock breaking apart I was gone. I remember
wondering why I put myself in this position. I'm not a rock
climber, what would possess me to be this stupid? If I
escaped this, there was no way I would ever be that dumb
again (of course now looking back, this was only one of
many dumb ideas I would experience). So what did I do? I
just sat there looking down every couple of minutes, not
wanting to go up, but not wanting to go down and most of
all not wanting to yell for help. This probably would have
been the smart thing, but I wouldn't look forward to the
humiliation for the rest of my days on the job, so I just sat
there, sweating and listening to my heart scream at me. I
kept looking down then upward knowing that I wasn't even
half way up. What if I came to a spot where there was no
more grip hold, then what?
"Buckshot, are you okay?" came from the guy in the skiff at
the bottom. He was circling the island for some time now
waiting for me to finish my insane idea probably wondering
what was going through my mind. No answer came out of
my mouth.
"Are you stuck?" was his next question.
"N... N... No!" came my shaky response.
"Do you want me to go and get some help?"
"N... N... No!" came a further respond.
"Are you coming back down?"
"No!" Is what I said, but "yes" was what I wanted.
"Are you still going up?" was yet another now worried reply
from him.
"Be quiet man" was what I was thinking but instead of
telling him that, I was only able to again reply the only
English language that I knew at that moment "NO!"
Again he replied "Do you want me to get help?"
And of course "No!" was what I replied, but YES, YES, GET
HELP was what I wanted to say. So he just started drifting
back and forth near by fishing waiting for me to figure out
what I wanted to do. For the next ten minutes all I did was
cling on to the side of the rock praying to God to help me,
while looking down and back up wondering what I was to
do.
I remember that sick scared feeling from being stuck on the
rock before, for I felt it once when I was around 16. It was a
completely different situation, but the feeling of being
helpless and scared was the same.
My best friend and I took off skiing for the last time in the
winter of 91 - 92. We drove for a couple of hours on
Vancouver Island to Mount Cain from Port Hardy. It was no
Whistler, but it did have close to 20 runs and when you lived
in the middle of no where and never skied any other
mountain before, it was the perfect place. It was around the
end of February and this would be the last time up for the
year so we made the best of the day. Conditions were
perfect, sunny with fresh snow the day before. It wasn't
packed so the line-ups were civilized with no waiting. We
skied all day and were disappointed we would have to wait
yet another year to come back, especially when the day
couldn't have been better. So around 3:30 with our gear put
away in his car, we grabbed some snacks from the shop
and continued our way down the mountain. We didn't get far
down, I had Josh stop the car, grabbed my gear from the
back and gave him this great idea that I wasn't done for the
year and wanted to do at least one more run. You see the
road goes down another km, then turns sharply and runs
another km parallel with the forest before turning and
disappearing in other directions. My plan was to ski down
the slope we were at, cut through the forest and re-appear
on the other side where the main road was. Simple, no need
to worry; it couldn't possibly go wrong. This was always
my problem, I was a very good thinker, but only for ten
minutes at a time. After that I never thought any more of the
future. Josh was always thinking five days in advance, so
for him to tell me I was crazy, was not a good idea, lets go
home... I should probably have listened. So with my skis
on, gloves and poles I said "see you in ten minutes" then
disappeared over the embankment. The thrill of skiing
through the powder all the way down, that no one had skied
yet was awesome for a couple of moments. The first
obstacle though was at the bottom of the hill, for there was
a small creek (just a little too big though to cross) that ran
parallel with the forest. Standing there and looking back up
the mountain, I knew it would take me 20 minutes to climb
back up, which is no fun, so it made more sense to follow
the creek and find a crossing path. If I couldn't then I knew I
would head back and climb up to the road.
Trying to cross country ski with down hill skis, sucks. I was
pushing through the snow and small trees and figure maybe
it would be quicker to walk, after sinking up to my knees
though, realized maybe not. I did find a path across the
creek not too far, so thank-ful that I didn't have to climb
back up, skied across the log and disappeared into the
forest. The forest, I thought, was about 15 minutes to push
through before I would come out onto the road, I knew that
Josh would probably be mad for what was supposed to only
take 20 minutes was now almost an hour. The sky was
growing darker, I wasn't worried in the least but did look
forward to getting in the car. The thick forest was now
finally coming to the clearing, I pushed back around smaller
trees and shrubs and then finally started to exit the woods.
What was on the other side though not only worried me but
terrified me. I don't remember even breathing, just sat there
stunned, cold and scared. I guess because I followed the
creek for a while, it seemed easy to go in a straight line
through the woods, but when vision is obscured, the sense
of direction also gets lost. Instead of going straight I ended
up going sideways and missed the road completely. I stood
there looking at a clearing of cut trees for as far as I could
see with no site of a road or any civilization. I was in the
cold, in approaching darkness, in the middle of the woods
with no sense of which way to go, not alone though; I knew
that somewhere out there was a possibility of a wolf, cougar
or other wild animal looking for food. Everything seemed to
spin.
So again; like being lost during the ski trip, I am in a life-
threatening moment, but this time a little more serious. It
was continuing to grow darker. Dark! Why did everything
have to happen to me in the dark? I knew I had to proceed
on, for there was no way I could do this in the dark, and I
did not want to get the farm out here helping me on the side
of the mountain. Anyway what could they possibly do? Half
a dozen more people here would make me more
uncomfortable and dangerous. I honestly thought a couple
of times jumping out as far as I could into the water, but I
knew there were rocks at the bottom. How far into the water
did they go, I wondered. I was too high now to think of that
as a viable option. I had to go there was no choice and now
just sitting, my arms started to get sore. I reached out and
grabbed the next rock formation and pulled myself up and
continued on-wards. Scared, I kept reaching out for yet
another rock formation so I could grab a hold. The higher I
got the farther apart and smaller the gaps appeared. I could
still get a good foot hold but I was now reaching out as far
as I could to grasp anything solid. I was in a bad situation
not knowing how much farther I was going to be able to go.
It was growing still darker and I was most likely about 30'
from the top before it started to level off. I was now
realizing I couldn't stop with my arms and fingers in so
much pain, I already slipped once half way up and knew if I
did again I was finished. It was very hard stretching to hold
onto the next rock formation and even harder to lift yourself
up for a good footing position. I was almost in tears and
trying hard not to let panic kick in. The one thing they teach
in diving over and over, is that you panic... you die. I
eventually did make it to the top with tears of joy, but saw
that my problems still weren't over, for ahead of me was
nevertheless another 80' of rock to climb. It wasn't straight
up like I just accomplished; however, it still was an angle
upwards covered with the odd small tree and with Salal
bushes. Even though I was now climbing the mountain with
more to grab hold of, I still felt nervous for as I pulled on
some of the bushes, one or two would come loose, so I
knew if I grabbed the wrong one or slipped on the wet dirt
rock, I would slide off the edge. Climbing up the rock, was
somewhat dry with at least something I new was strong
enough to hold my weight; now I was attempting something
a little easier but with more wet mud and unknown
branches, so how much safer was I? I hugged that mountain
as I tried climbing up, feeling the wet ground soak up my
clothes fast. I would try to get a good hold on something
with my feet while trying to pull on some bushes to makes
sure they were strong enough to embrace me. Pushing the
fingers of one hand into the wet mud and rock, I would grab
some bushes with the other hand and slowly raise myself
up a few feet to get another firm grip. My short finger nails
let the dirt mounds tear my finger tips, bleeding while I tried
to grasp anything for a solid grip. The sharp pain in my
fingertips was overtaken by my fright of falling to my death
as I slithered my body upwards hoping for another couple of
feet closer to the top. Now that the darkness was
approaching nearer, I knew my only chance was to stay
calm and keep moving at a safe and quick pace. Every foot I
climbed the easier it appeared. The farther I went, the slope
levelled off a little more, and there were a few more trees to
hold onto and a few larger rocks to provide a good footing.
Finally, it was dark, and I was up near the top, where I could
safely move and start my climb back down around the
corner of the mountain. This was at least something I could
do in the dark, for it wasn't as steep and there were many
larger, sturdier trees to hold onto as I climbed back down.
The ascend must have taken 3 - 3 1/2 hours, and the climb
down was more like 30 minutes and much less nerve-
racking. I finally came out at the bottom, climbed over the
rocks and sat my tired wet body in the skiff where buddy
gave me a scolding. How do you argue with him? I would
have been angry myself. In addition I was too exhausted
and now shaking from what I realized I just did. My body
was wet, tired and completely covered with mud, while my
fingers and arms were in agony from the pain. Getting back
to the farm was the one place I wanted to go. Everyone was
wondering where we disappeared to and were just starting
to worry. I told them what I did and of course "Buckshot,
you're an idiot!" they replied, then shrugged it off like
nothing had happened. I don't think they realized what I just
did or I'm sure they would have said a little more. The only
guy who knew was the one in the boat who didn't speak to
me for a while. I was happier about making it back than
caring what he thought of me. For the next few months on
the farm, I would look up at the mountain knowing I climbed
it and still from thinking about that experience I would feel a
quiver run down my back. Like the ski trip, this had been
the second moment in my life that I had my existence hang
on a ledge.
That day on the ski trip, I also had to find my own way out
of a tense circumstance. Some situations in life, I will never
fail to remember. Its funny how when scared I remember the
three quarter moon screening a glow, the shadows in the
forest behind talking, and what I was thinking or feeling
even 20 years later. All I could do was push forward and
pray that I hit that road somewhere out there. Skiing on I
kept going. The cold started to remind me it was winter and
I should be at home watching a movie or playing pool down
at the town's arcade. In the sun throughout the day, jeans, a
t-shirt and a winter jacket seemed fine but at dark
everything changed. My jeans were wet, my coat done up,
but with no hat on I was definitely feeling the cold. As long
as I kept moving, I was able to at least keep some warmth
in me. I skied for the next couple of hours and once to the
end of the clearing I was now back heading into the dark
forest in front of me. By now I was guessing it was around 7
pm. I knew for sure that Josh would be worried and
probably going back for help, but right then I didn't care
about anyone else's problems other then my own. I stood
there looking at the darkness ahead of me, knowing I was
about to enter but didn't want to push on yet. In the open
clearing, I at least had the moon to give me some light.
Going into the forest, I would lose that and by now I was
starting to let fear take over. I kept hearing noises and was
sure something out there was following me waiting for me
to drop so it could finish me off. Every movie I had watched
up to then didn't help, for I thought I was going to die a
horrible cold death. Looking back, I probably should have
hung about in the opening and the noises were likely from a
squirrel eating nuts and watching, but one doesn't know
how they will react until in a situation where life is on the
line and the dark makes one uneasy and alone. So I slid the
ski poles into the snow and pushed on forward with shaky
legs (not only from the cold but also freight of the
unknown).
I kept going through the forest, trying to adjust my eyes to
the very limitless light from the skies. The noises were
louder, the cold was digging in deeper. I was still not even
close to hyperthermia, but damn it felt cold to the bones.
Now I picked up a new reaction. I had a friend as I was
starting to talk out loud to anything out there. I remember
repeating, "I'm still fine, you will have a tough time fighting
me! I'm not weak yet." to anything I believed was stalking
me. As long as I kept talking, I sensed my sanity would still
be achieved. I kept pushing through the trees and finally
after what seemed like eternity, came out of the thicket with
yet another clearing. I at least had some light again;
however, knowing there was still no road and site of any
one out there looking, I started to panic. I had no idea what
to do. I felt if I stopped, whatever was making the noise
would leap out and grab me, I would freeze even more (not
imagining that I could get any colder). Do I stay put? Do I
go back? Do I continue on? Loosing my mind, not knowing
what to do, all that could be accomplished was to continue
on.
For the first time in hours, I felt a bit of relief when I
stumbled on something I thought was an old road. I wasn't
completely sure, but about 10' wide was just white snow
with about a foot of little tree tops sticking out in the center.
I knew from hiking in the day that a clearing usually had an
old road for the logging trucks and the really old ones no
longer used would have new growth taking over the road.
Sometimes the old road would still have 4x4 trucks using
them. This would kill off the new growth except for the very
center where the wheels never made contact. If this was an
older road and trucks still used it, then it had to go
somewhere. The 10' wide trail seemed to be consistent and
move in a straight line, so I thought the only thing to do was
go in the same direction. I spent the next hour following the
trail, feeling at least some hope, but still hearing noises and
thinking I was being followed. The path at least was going
more down hill than up so I knew at least I was going down
the mountain and that meant I was going to something out
there good waiting for me. The path eventually widened and
was definitely a road, and after a while I came around the
corner connecting yet another I recognized as the main
drag going up the mountain to the ski resort. As relief swept
over me, I threw myself on the road freezing and thankful
that I knew I would be okay. Still thinking that something
was out there though, I took off my ski gear and started to
walk on the road back up to the resort knowing someone
would find me on the road. After a 20 minute walk I saw for
the first time in almost six to seven hours the first site of
civilization as a pair of headlights came around the corner
shining light on my scared, cold exhausted but joyful face.
When I got to the passengers door, I was met by my best
friend (at that moment I don't think that he thought of me as
a good friend) who was relieved and irate at the same time.
Instantly, the driver got on the radio and confirmed that he
had found me and were on the way back to the resort. I
guess they had everyone out on Ski-Does looking for me
and after losing my trail some didn't think it would end well.
I didn't go all the way up, I got dropped off near the top, and
waited for Josh to get his car and pick me up five minutes
later. The thought of seeing everyone was something I
wasn't looking forward to and I figured another five min
more in the cold wouldn't hurt as much as my pride, if I
went up to the resort. Needless to say the drive back home
was very quiet and I knew this was one time Josh wouldn't
forgive me for a very long time.
My name is Sean Snowdon and this short story is one of
many out of the last 20 years of my life. I have experienced
many life threatening moments, new travel experiences and
the joys of raising a family, creating a business to almost
loosing everything I have ever worked for. Before a family,
my life was always second. This putting myself into
situations were I honestly didn't know if I would survive to
live another day, or die and leave the burden on others. This
is another one of the moments I truly thought death was my
only fate.