On the way
A slight breeze stirred a scent of sun baked weeds, ripe berries, wildflowers, and pine. It was a cool morning and the sun was warm as I balanced my way up the White Pass railroad tracks toward Denver Glacier. I sampled various odd berries and gnawed on jerky along the way. It was easier to walk along the rails than try to match my stride with the ties…until it was easier the other way around. So on and off I switched walking the six miles to the Denver Glacier trail head and then another three and a half up a river to the glacier. From time to time the tracks hugged cliffs, spanned bridges and tunneled underground for long sections. It was quiet with only a slight breeze or few birds chirping here and there and the sound of gravel under my feet. I was certain I could hear an approaching train, though occasionally I’d sneak a glance over my shoulder anyway. I don’t believe I ever felt so much like Huck Fin as I did this day; I had on a plaid wool shirt and some duck Carharts, a good pocket knife, all the time in the world and nothing to do but explore. I came across a hole in the ground off to the side of the tracks, and it being early, around six in the morning, I went to investigate. I felt a cool breeze coming out of the hole, so excitedly I removed my pack and lying flat on my belly squirmed through into the darkness. The hole opened into a small cave and I flicked on my head-lamp to have a better look. It was small but large enough to walk around on my knees. I located the source of the wind again and down I went. The tunnel opened up into another small cave and continued half way up the opposite side. I peered through and could see that it opened up again to another cave; the hole being like a small window between two rooms. I cleared a few small rocks and started through. The tunnel narrowed a bit more and my chest started to wedge top to bottom.
I could just barely reach a good foot hold and my arms pressed against my head out front could not bend enough to find some rock to pull or push on. With dreams of finding some old miners’ cash or a vast underground world from some Grandpa Willie tale I decided I could probably make it through. I let the breath out of my lungs to make room and shoved forward using the one foot that had access to some stone and moved a few inches further into the cave. The plan was to find some other purchase for either my feet or my hand but I found none. My arms were now free but dangled uselessly inside the next cave. I couldn’t rotate my head and could only see my one arm and a bit of rock beyond and hardly that as my head-lamp had twisted askew in the process getting stuck. I could swing my feet all around but there were no more rocks or walls to push or pull off of. I tried to breathe in but my lungs could not expand being held shut by the rocks. My personal best at holding my breath is about three and a half minutes--that being with lungs full of air floating face down in a pool on a warm summer day, not deep underground wedged between rocks with empty lungs. Though I have practiced for such situations, it can’t be called holding your breath as your lungs are empty so let’s call it holding for breath. Give it a try, it’s much harder. My record is somewhere around a minute though I think I broke it this day. I wondered if anyone would find my body, my backpack clearly marked the entrance to the cave, however it was more likely someone would swipe my pack giving no thought to who owned it other than they weren’t anywhere to be seen? I wished them well, squirmed a little more, tried to breathe again but to no avail. I thought of a line from my patriarchal blessing that gave me a little hope although the seconds were still adding up. I never did go into panic mode that I remember, albeit I did have quite a bit of dirt in my mouth that I couldn’t remember how got there. Did I bite my way out? I don’t rightly remember how I got out but the air tasted good. Sitting there on the floor recovering I debated with myself as to rather I should give it another try. Perhaps if I cleared a bit more gravel and went through on my back finding some different leverage points? Though an unforeseen but hoped for future, a beautiful wife, and adorably naughty little girl and a fat little squealing boy, had me back out in the fresh air and sunlight hiking toward some new perils - ice-caves.
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