You know, snow doesn’t really quench your thirst.  I discovered that tidbit to be true while munching on the fourth snowball.  

“Let’s load up.”  Buddy yelled to me.  I turned to Sully-- he had a broad grin on his face.  We had been throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and enjoying this moment on top of our own private world.

“You know Pee-Wee, basically we are alone on this planet, except when we find a special person to share it with.”  He put an arm around me, not needing to say anything more.  I knew what he meant.  He and I were friends sure, but somehow he knew the real me; he knew that all I needed in life was someone who really believed in me.  Someone who could bring out whatever special “gifts” I had been given.  I didn’t know I had any, until I met Sully.  He patted me on my down covered butt, “Off you go, see you at the next stop!”

We went to our planes and before long were up in the clear blue skies again.  Every once and awhile the crackling of the radio would let me know Buddy and the other pilots were in contact.  I pointed the end of the hose towards my face.  The only heat in the plane was from the engine, funneled into a three inch diameter hose and placed next to Buddy’s seat.  Mostly it was the excitement of the adventure that kept me warm though.  I looked over the right wing to see Sully’s plane.  It wasn’t there now...I looked ahead, and behind and out to the left side.  Panic.  Where were they?

“Buddy...Sully’s plane is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, I can’t see it.”  He picked up the radio and began to call out for Sully's pilot.  He banked to the left and told me to keep my eyes open.  I searched the bright white landscape below.  I felt sick.  

“Sheila, see anything?”

“Not yet.  What could have happened to them?”

“Any number of things, but don’t worry, we’ll find them.”  I was not reassured.

After what seemed like an hour, but probably was only five to ten minutes, Buddy yelled to me, “Look, there they are!”  Sure enough down below us I could see their plane and it was intact with two dots standing next to it waving their arms.  I felt myself breathe as we made a pass and circled in preparation to land.

Sully and his pilot, Henry, smiled as we came to a stop.  They carefully made their way over to us and opened the small door.  “What took ya’ll so long?”  Sully said in his most Norman, Oklahoma drawl.  He was laughing.

“You scared the bejesus out of us.  What happened?”  

“We just started losing altitude, so Henry here brought the puppy in for a landing.  We’ve checked everything out, looks fine.”  Sully gave me hug.  

And to think I could have picked out that plane.  Note to self, go with red when given a choice.  

The two pilots were over at his plane huddled and I could tell they were laughing by the way their shoulders moved.  The turned around, Henry waved to Sully and Buddy hustled back.  

“See you back in town.”  Buddy said to Sully as they passed.  I guess it was probably a good idea we returned and he had the plane gone over.  One scare was enough.

That night back in town we partied in the bar.  Shots of whiskey, a local makeshift band, and a microphone was all we needed to have a good time.  I was the only woman in the bar and I danced so much I thought I’d need new feet.  

When we finally headed back to our motel room I changed, pulling off of the long johns last.  I was more sober than Sully, which wasn’t unusual, he was a hard partying man, yet the most together one of us in the mornings.  I don’t know how he did it.  

As he sat there on the edge of the bed, pulling off his down pants I had an urge...so yes, (after this picture) I followed through and tipped him off of the bed smack dab into his open suitcase.  It must have been his real tipping point,

Always the happy guy until he is out like a light!

because he "slept" there all night.  He was a very happy, affectionate drunk, the kind that slobbers sweet nothings hanging on you...yet it did nothing for his love life with me.  Those kind of drunks just make me want to sleep alone.  So, I pulled down my rollaway bed, and it was all good, for both of us; especially since I got to eat my leftover ham and cheese sandwich to soak up some of the booze before I fell fast asleep.

The next morning it was “hunt morning”.  It was clear, no wind at all, just a biting cold absolutely perfect day for it.  We got up very early, repeating the routine of yesterday, right down to the sandwich to go.

Cordova out my window. 

This time the others had gone ahead by ten minutes, so by the time our planes were up and an hour out of town we got the radio message; some goats had been spotted ahead.  Sure enough, on an outcropping, a cliff overlooking a huge frozen lake and seemingly endless tundra, we could see a small group of them perched securely in their perfectly balanced way.  Off white dots on the pure white snow. 

The plan was to land on the lake and climb up to them, conscious of any slight breeze, because they have an excellent sense of smell...and human scent would cause them to bounce off, seemingly effortlessly, out of our range.

Sully and I landed at the edge of the frozen lake.  We chipped a small hole in the ice and cupped our hands to get a drink.  The ice cold water was incredible.  I had never tasted water that good, and truth be known, I still have not been able to replicate it in my mouth.

One guide would climb with us, then the four guys followed by me.  I suppose they figured I could just drop off when the going got tough, and wait at the plane.

I was excited, but sort of scared.  I’d never climbed a real mountain before, and certainly never one covered in snow and ice, with rocks protruding and only a few sparse blades of dead, brown grass for relief.  The guys used picks and big knives to carve steps into the ice for climbing.  It was slow going, but they had not considered my shorter stride, which made it imperative that I carve in an extra “step-hole” between the ones they had done.  It was difficult, tedious work.  The distance between the guys and me was growing, and soon when I looked up they were a good 300 ft. ahead of me.

It was then I first turned to look down and I wanted a photo of the view from where I climbed.  You could just make out our planes at the edge.

The big view 

A close-up of the planes. 

I lost my balance as I put the camera away.  I fell on the ice and in the blink of an eye I slid down, spread eagle, terrified.  I began to kick furiously, reaching out to grab at anything I could find in a desperate attempt not to die this way.  The kicking helped, and though hands full of dry grass broke off in my hands I was able to steer myself into a less steep area where I finally came to a harrowing stop just before slamming into a huge, jutting rock.  I lay there for a moment, trying to process that I had just survived this fall.  

With the relief of having lived came a flood of tears, which rolled down my cheeks about halfway before turning to a half-frozen slush.  I looked up at the four mere dots.  They had stopped climbing, obviously noticing what had happened.  Then incredulously I saw the four of them waving...the kind of wave that could only mean one thing;  “Get up here, we’re waiting!”

What’s girl to do?  I brushed the snow off and began the climb again.  No way would I let them believe I was going to let a mountain defeat me, I'd come too far for that.

I took my time and when I had caught up they had rested and spotted the goats not far away, fortunately for me.  There was a slight breeze up there, but one that would carry our scents in the opposite direction.  Quietly we made our way a little bit higher, then snaked our way towards them, being ever so careful to not be seen.  Buddy scouted ahead, silently creeping and waving back to us to follow.  Finally we reached a point where if we crouched down we were above them and still downwind.  It was perfect the guys said. 

They had discussed among themselves and generously offered me the first shot.  I was pretty sure I would miss, but the first shot is the important one after the one shot the goats would scamper off, and nobody would get one.

Sully handed me the rifle, told me to look through the scope until I had the chest of one in my crosshairs, then pull the trigger slowly.  After all it took for me to get to this point, I was ready.  I was ready except as I squeezed the trigger the rifle’s kickback nearly threw my shoulder out of place.  It all happened in slow motion...the succession of another three shots nearly simultaneously...as I watched my goat fall off of the precipice, followed by one more.  The others bounded off.

“You got it Pee-Wee!”  Sully patted me on the back.  I think I was still in shock from the kickback.

“Really.  I just bagged a goat.  Huh.”  I don’t know what I felt, euphoria I suppose, but there was no time to decide.  It was mid afternoon and we were going to lose our light.  Time to make our way back to the planes.  The other guides had already gone to retrieve the two goats we had shot.

 Nobody had much energy left, the climb and the adrenaline had pretty much zapped us of our strength, especially me.  That is when I remembered my sandwich.  I extracted it from my pocket, the bread was squished and frozen.  Ditto the lettuce and ham and cheese.  I saw the other guys eyeing it.  “”Hey fellas, shall we take a food break?” 

Sully tackled me, “Yeah we should.  Come on guys, lunch is on Sheila!”  I guess he meant literally.

“I’ll share...” I said, giggling, all tensions gone.

The guys teased me mercilessly all the way down, “You know when you make the first kill, you have to eat the heart raw.”

Oh no I didn’t.  “I’m donating to the guides, without whose superb rescue abilities we wouldn’t even have the two we got.”  They all laughed, but I was serious.

As soon as we got down to the plane, the guides had our goats.  Even in the fading afternoon light I wanted a photo.

Me with my trophy mountain goat.

 We got back to town, and celebrated with the locals.  They had already heard that I had gotten a goat.  I was the first woman to have done so, and a large one of trophy proportions. 

At some point, Sully and I left the party and went for a walk on the pier.  I was high from the day, and felt I wanted to do something significant...and as we reached the end of the pier, in the pale moonlight I took my high school ring off and hurled it to the ocean saying, “Now I will always know where my ring is.”  After a beat, I expected to hear it splash, but instead we heard, “Ping...ping...ping...” as it bounced on the frozen sea.  We both laughed hysterically. 

The next morning Sully insisted I go down and have my picture taken with the goat again, just in case it didn’t come out.  I fixed my hair and makeup and got dressed, aware that this would be “the picture” I would have, should the other not have turned out.  So, without further adieu here I am in the infamous hotpants.

Hotpants in January! 

 Tomorrow I'll be putting in something special Sully and I did to commemorate the trip, it was too much to include it in today's post.