This may sound ludicrous, but I have never suffered defeat in an attempt to realize a goal. Ever. Until today. Lance and I had decided to summit Box Elder Peak in Lone Peak Wilderness (an area which is one of the gnarliest I have visited in UT). It was a 4000ft climb over approximately 5 miles and it wasn’t really a supposed to be a difficult hike. In fact, it wouldn’t have been if we were properly prepared and didn’t make such an error in judgment.

We gained A LOT of elevation in the first two miles. About 1500ft the first mile and 1000 the second mile. So this was exciting as we got the hard elevation gains out of the way, reserving energy for the summit. I didn’t bring my map so Lance was navigating with his GPS. We were staying on the clearly marked trail, but it came to Lance’s attention that we had started to walk away from the summit. Not knowing the exact route up we had to make a decision on how to approach the summit. We decided to go straight up and meet the ridge and follow it to the peak.

This was the error in judgment we made, and it cost us dearly. With a map we could easily see that the 600ft ridge we decided to walk up ends at a cliff and does not connect to Box Elder. In fact to reach Box Elder from the direction we went we would have had to drop down 800 ft and essentially start over. The traverse to the point where we realized this was very steep. According to my clinometer we were walking on a face whose upward angle varied between 40 and 60 degrees. We were traversing this face in an attempt to reach the ridge that would take us to the peak.

Walking across the face quickly became treacherous as the terrain turned into large fields of scree and loose, dry dirt. There were no solid rocks to hold onto so I found myself slipping frequently and digging holes into the dirt with my hand to create hand holds. I needed them as I couldn’t have supported my weight on my feet alone without slipping down the face. About 100′ down from where I was standing was an overhanging cliff that dropped down 400′ to the bottom.

I didn’t have waste straps on my pack that contained ALL of my climbing gear (rope, harness, locking biner, two belay devices, webbing, etc) and an MSR water pump so when I was on my hands and feet walking across the face my pack shifted a couple times throwing me off balance creating a large enough slide to put into perspective the gravity of my situation. I took off my pack and was going to throw it in front of me and attempt to let it slide down to where I was headed. As soon as the pack hit the ground it appeared as if it went into turbo mode and commenced rolling down the mountain full speed. I had a water bladder in the pack and it was spinning so fast that the water was being emptied and spraying in a circular fashion similar to a high powered water sprinkler. I could help but chuckling because at the time it was the least of my worries. The pack quickly disappeared from view never to be seen again.

I kept pushing on – a little disheartened – and was on one of the less declinated areas where I could stand and I lost my footing, went airborne, and landed my shin on the edge of a rock. I pulled the dime sized rock chip from under my skin and watched the blood flow. It was brief, but messy. Without my first aid kit or water to clean it up I kept walking. Lance was about 50 feet below me and every step I took pushed a mass of scree down over the ledge his way. “WILL YOU STOP WALKING BEFORE YOU KILL ME PLEASE!!” is what I finally heard. I knew he was frustrated and I didn’t want to hurt him so I took a break. Moving on, I eventually got to a point where I knew I couldn’t safely continue without roping in. So without rope, I began to descend.

I decided to scout the area where we think my pack travelled but with how fast it was moving and how steep the mountain was there was no telling where it stopped. The foliage and brush was also very thick, easily high enough to completely encompass a black backpack. The area we suspected it came to rest at was covered in low-lying pine trees, shrubs, and thorn bushes. It was also very steep and with all the brush I couldn’t see where I was stepping so I was constantly losing my footing. Too many dangerous factors to be able to justify the continuation of my search. Gear lost.

It was at this point I realized I had been absolutely defeated. I only wanted to get down from the face we were on at this point. Without water or food and the massive amount of energy exerted on our fruitless traverse we decided it would be wise to head back. Ouch. Defeat and humility burning a hole into my brain as I began my walk AWAY from Box Elder Peak. It wasn’t only defeat, but the realization that I am truly at the mercy of the mountains.

Some lessons were learned and luckily they were only at the cost of a gashed up shin and some monetary loss. I realize things could have gone differently but I am not going to doubt my decision to go as far as I did. I did decide to turn back when I hit the wall – a wall which I have never hit – where I simply knew was far too unsafe to continue. It is such a humbling experience, and while at the time I was feeling differently, I have a new appreciation for the gravity that accompanies walking into the wilderness. It is an appreciation that I hold in the same regard as the love that is felt when I am surrounded by the wilderness. I not only see a peaceful, serene vista that embodies love and soul, but also a turbulent, living, dynamic creature that is never, ever to be taken for granted.