The Longest Night

 

“I am so grateful to each and every one of you. You guys were definitely beacons of hope for me from the time I saw your headlamps at 1 am in the treeline to the moment you crested over into the crevasse to the hot cocoa and warm gear. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am glad you are all safe as well” – Alison Fountain in regards to the Corvallis Mountain Rescue

 

After that fateful second, the second in time that changed everything, that second in which Tommy slipped and fell, tumbling down a slope until he landed in a crevasse, things would never be the same. Once Tommy slipped, in the back of my head I knew we were in a bad spot. I did everything in my power to not slip as well. I would put my ice axe in and in then toe in with my crampons for three steps down, then ice axe again and then toe in. With my ice axe still embedded in the ice and my right hand gripping that ice axe so tightly, I would try to reach in to my pocket to grab the cell phone and check the status on any communications with my mother regarding search and rescue attempts. When I got her message about needing to confirm, my heart sank. It felt like I just had a big empty hole in my chest where my heart should have been. What else do you do in this situation? Well, I kept going. Ice axe, toe in. Everything was racing in my mind from dropping my gear, to trying to traverse to be faster to even sliding down on my butt, like glacial glissading. I knew these were all bad ideas. So the slow process of my safe descent remained in effect.

Once I made my way to Tommy, an hour and a half after the fall, I was torn. A huge piece of me knew we weren’t in a good spot but another part of me thought that we both just might make it through this. I was tearful in panic and adrenaline that I went into survival mode with a flair of trauma nurse mode. At one point, I even started thinking of ways to decrease the pressure in his head. We carry vicodin with us in the event of a minor injury and thought that could be beneficial to him. I went into the top of his backpack where the pills were and instantly broke down. Everything in the hood of his back pack was demolished. The pill bottle broken, the pills pulverized into powder, headlamp in pieces. I lost it. To see the force that could cause all of that....to understand what my poor husband had just been through, it crushed me.

 

I also moved him from the center of the crevasse, where we were still in harms way from falling ice boulders from higher up on the mountain. I tried to keep him as safe as I could and as warm as I could. Constantly checking in with him, “Tommy, are you still with me? I love you. Help is on the way.” His responses were always, “I’m here. I’m with you.”

 

Once the first helicopter came at 7pm, I was ecstatic, crying with the thought of help arriving. I was elated that Tommy was going to get help, I could care less if they would’ve left me up there over night. I just knew that he needed to get to a hospital and get help. I remember running over to the opening of the crevasse, jumping up and down, flagging my arms, and flashing my head lamp at them. When the spot lighted me, I dropped to my knees because I knew Tommy was going to be okay. He was going to survive. Then, they disappeared into the darkness of the night.  I couldn’t stop yelling at them to come back. Sobbing and yelling. Now I had to return from the opening of the crevasse and tell Tommy that they left and that we must now prepare to spend the night up here.  I remember telling him that if we were going to make it, we had to make sure to keep each other warm. At this point, he still had the majority of my clothes on including an extra pair of pants that I found in one of our packs. I had to help him put the pants on, he wasn’t able to do hardly anything. After the first helicopter left, my brother sent a text saying they were trying to get the national guard out there that night...again, I had hope. I knew they were stationed in Salem and I know their capabilities (They have helped down in southern oregon with quite a few long line extrications that we then rendezvous with them to get the patient). I knew if anyone could get Tommy off the mountain, it would be them. I told Tommy everything that was going on, his confusion was increasing so I had to frequently reorient him and tell him that they are working on getting the national guard out and they will be here soon. I knew they weren’t coming...I just knew but I didn’t have the heart to tell Tommy.

As the night and his confusion progressed so did his difficulty breathing. I sat him up, leaning him against the side of the glacial wall to help him breathe. He was beginning to have signs of respiratory failure, so I tried the only thing I could think of to assist his airway. I tried to open his airway by performing a basic jaw thrust maneuver; however, he was too agitated and mildly combative that it was causing him more agitation that it was doing good for his airway. Increasing his agitation level would just make the swelling in his brain even worse. It was then that I did my next reassessment and told him to look me in the eyes, that’s when I saw  what I was dreading to see. His left pupil was “blown” which means it is completely dilated and it was unresponsive to light. His brain was swelling too much that it was impinging on the brainstem. At this point, I knew Tommy’s death was impending. His breathing continued to worsen. He couldn’t speak but garbled mumbling. I straddled him and just held him in my arms and couldn’t stop saying, “I love you Tommy. You are so strong. I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so much. You are my soul mate. I love you baby. I am so glad we met. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you honey. ” Within minutes, he took his last breath while in my arms. I held him and kissed him, uncontrollably crying. The finality of what had just happened was beyond devastating. The time: 8:44 pm. A time and date that will never be forgotten, forever burned into my memory.

After that dreadful moment in time, I texted my brother to let him know that Tommy didn’t make it. Minutes after that, I texted him to “please come and get me. I can’t be on this mountain anymore.” The messages never went through.  I knew I now had to prepare for the longest night of my life. What kept me going? Tommy. Tommy wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He was always so proud of how strong I was and how determined I could be. I just knew I had to make it. I survived to keep living the life Tommy and I always imagined. He wouldn’t want both of us to go. I did it for Tommy and I plan to continue to honor Tommy in all that I do. I set up my beacon at the opening of the crevasse. I laid out gear at the mouth of the crevasse so rescuers could see a debris field in case I couldn’t run out there fast enough. I tried to prop myself off of the snow as best as I could. I used both pairs of our snowshoes to create a platform for my legs. Used his backpack as a makeshift bivy, placing my legs in the pack and then tightening up the drawstring around my knees. I would lay with my head on Tommy’s chest and lap, knowing it would be my last chance to do so. I would always tell Tommy that my favorite place in the world was when I was laying on him, where his arm meets his chest. I just wanted to lay in that spot as long as I could but then the reality of everything would set in and the cold would force me away from my favorite spot. To the laps I went. I would walk laps from Tommy to the opening of the crevasse to not only keep warm but to also look for signs of rescuers.

 

Once the ground crew was on their way, I would frequently check their progress and then return to Tommy and lay back down with my head on his chest. I would still speak to him, tell him what was going on and also tell him when I was too cold and that I would be right back. I knew I should’ve tried to save my headlamp batteries but I also couldn’t tolerate the darkness and the isolation of being alone in this crevasse. It almost felt like I wasn’t alone as long as that light was on. I remember going out to check on the rescuers when it was still night fall and I recall them flashing their light at me. They saw me! They were headed in the right direction. Watching their headlamps and their progression served as beacons of hope for me throughout the worst night of my life. Then back to Tommy I would go. I did this routine from midnight until morning. Once dawn was upon us, I knew my flashing headlamp was of no good anymore, so I tied a red bag that we had in our packs onto my ice axe and left that at the opening of the crevasse. I needed to ensure that the rescue team still had some sort of visual point to aim for. At one point, I stopped going out to check on the rescuers because they were one crevasse below me and I just wanted to get all the time I could with Tommy before we were taken off of the mountain. I remember the first rescuer cresting over into the opening of our crevasse and he said, “Hi, my name’s Tyler, I’m from Corvallis Mountain Rescue. I will be down in just a few minutes with hot food and drinks for you both.” That’s when I lost it yet again. I looked up from Tommy’s chest and cried out, “He’s dead!” Tyler  turned back to say something to the rest of his team, something I did not hear but can only imagine what it was. He then immediately unclipped himself from his roped team and ran down to me. He gave me the most genuine hug and condolences that I ever could have imagined. He stayed with me until the National Guard was able to air lift me off of the glacier. In our time together, I had mentioned to Nate that there were a few items that were very special to me and that I had to have them. He told me I couldn’t take anything with me during the air lift but he would make sure I got them. He helped me pack my bags, paying special attention to those special items. I got my bags back when they recovered Tommy’s body off the mountain. I couldn’t look through my stuff, it was too raw. But the next day, I was left to my own devices for a moment and I started looking for a few of the items that I just had to have...they were gone! They weren’t in my bag where Nate and I packed them...I lost my mind! My brother called the Sheriff and they called the rescue team. The rescuers personally took my prized possessions to ensure that they did not get lost. They boxed them up and I was able to retrieve them later on. Everything about the Corvallis Mountain Rescue is amazing and special. I cannot thank them enough. They were truly my knights with shiny ice axes and headlamps. There will always be a special place in my heart for the 5 rescuers that day; not because they assisted me off of the mountain but for their kindness and sincerity and amazing spirits.