Washington, Old Snowy Mt. On 13 September Dale R. Cowen (58), Mary Ellen Cowen (55), Bernice Stearns (43), Una Davies (65), and Garnett E. Cannon (62), had been out for one day and were on their second day. They had a good night’s sleep and adequate food. They were experienced and had proper clothing. Trouble came to them on the second day on a north-ridge of Old Snowy. “Both Ding and Una had their wind pants on over their shorts,” Bernice related. “I did not until later when we were mostly across. The sleet was stinging my legs so badly, it forced me to put them on.” She was also younger than the others. She was wearing a short-sleeved blouse, wool sweater and parka. Her head was well covered. All had had a good breakfast.

At 11:30 a.m. all, with possibly the exception of Cannon, had a “nibble” —for energy—of dried fruit and candies. All of them had ponchos, Bernice said. The rising wind began to whip them cruelly. She was the only member of the party who had traversed this particular segment of trail.

It was on a narrow dangerous segment of trail, in whipping wind that Cowen first came upon Cannon leaning back against the cliff, stuporous, shivering violently. Said Cowen: “He was shaking like a leaf. His eyes were narrow slits. His hands were puffed up the size of boxing gloves. He was on his feet, standing there like this. (At a 30 degree angle.) I thought he was having a heart attack. I walked up to him and Mary Ellen started to massage his hands. Are you having a heart attack? I yelled at him. There was no response. I asked a second time, loudly. The third time I shouted. You have to tell us! Are you having a heart attack? “Finally he mumbled out, almost inaudibly: “ T think my heart is OK.’ “So I immediately told Mary Ellen we were going to get down as fast as we could. Una and Bernice were ahead.”

Cowen dropped his pack, caught up to the two women, and they counselled for a bit. They considered whether to go on over the ridge and get down into the Snow Grass Flats. Back out to the White Pass highway, although longer, was the “only choice,” said Bernice.

Cannon, meanwhile, supported by Mary Ellen, was till standing, but legs “like Putty,” according to Cowen. The Cowens took an arm each, and in a sidewise shuffle, assisted Cannon down the narrow trail. Bernice helped a bit, went on to Una, who had gone ahead. Mary Ellen later thought Una was acting funny, but she was busy with Cannon.

“He had no awareness of what was happening,” said Cowen. “He kept walking into the rock cliff. Every once in a while he’d fall. Twice Mary Ellen was on the bottom with the two of us on top of her.”

The task of moving Cannon across a rockslide was very difficult.

“Mary Ellen said she couldn’t bear up much longer. We didn’t know how much farther we had to go, to get to the timber. There was 50 feet visibility. I figured a half mile. Mary Ellen suggested we find a sheltered place and wrap him up and go for help.

“Bernice and Una went on down ahead. We were preoccupied. I never gave any thought to Una. We thought she was the healthiest of the group.”

Cowen said they came upon Bernice in a saddle of heather, about five feet below the ridge trying to put Una into a sleeping bag.

“I was surprised. What’s wrong with Una?” I asked. “Ding collapsed for the 20th time. He just dropped as he fell with his head down.”

Bernice related that she didn’t know what was wrong with Una, but that Una had asked her: “Where am I?”

“So we had two of them down,” Cowen continued.

“We weren’t in too good shape, the three of us. We made a quick decision, best to leave the two of them together. “It was impossible for us to get two of them down the trail. The mummy bags, three pounds of down, were not big enough for two in one, so we put Una in her own bag, which was dry, took her boots off and tucked her in.

“Having struggled with Ding two hours, his bag was soaking wet. (They had dropped his pack up above, but brought the sleeping bag.) Bernice took her bag for him, and we put his bag on top of him. We put Una’s pack at the side of him to break the wind.

“We had three tarps, Una’s, Bernice’s, and mine, and two plastics. They had foam mattresses as ground insulation, and we tucked them in all around, with rocks and Una’s pack for anchor.”

The two ailing hikers lay next to each other, feet down the slight slope through the heather, all covered in a little windward pocket under the ridge.

“We tucked his boots under his head. They were under-cover. Three hours we had been going through this. It was about 4 p.m.”

The three then went on down to McCall Basin where they had camped so happily the night before. They arrived about 6:15 p.m.

There they found Bichard Gordon, of the fish and wildlife service, Juneau, Alaska, on a week’s lonely outing with a week’s provision.

Gordon noted the “bad shape” of the three and said, “I can go out to the highway for help. I’ve been lying here all day. I’m rested; I’ve had dinner.”

Cowen didn’t want him to go alone, but the women argued he might slow Gordon up. The hiking party gave Gordon all their extra flashlight batteries.

Gordon, about 35, made it to the highway in about six hours, but fell once and hurt his back. He flagged a motorist, who transported him to a telephone.

Cowen and the two women huddled under Gordon’s tarp and went over everything they had done, or thought they should do.

They shivered for 16 hours. Cowen said the first rescue team reached the camp about 9:30 a.m. Monday.

“Bernice had wanted to go back up as soon as it was daylight,” Cowen said. “But it was blowing a blizzard all night, and 500 feet above us it was sticking slushy wet snow.”

The first rescuer was Lex Maxwell, president of the Yakima Savings and Loan Association.

“Yes, we’re O.K.,” Cowen recalled his own first words.

“Just tell me where they are,” said Maxwell.

“I described it as accurately as I could,” Cowen said.

“There’s two of us,” said Maxwell. There’ll be three more in five minutes. In 15, there will be two more. In two or three hours, a pack train is here—don’t worry.”

In five minutes, Lynn Buchanan, leader of the rescue group, arrived with two others.

“He asked our names and condition, and radioed them out,” said Cowen. “They wanted to know, who’s up above. They left their radio, and away they went. Then two more came in—Dorothy Wood and John Thompson Jr. Maxwell ordered them to take care of us. We stayed in the bags.”

Cowen’s fire starter finally helped the rescuers make a fire. “They got my primus stove going and some hot soup.”

Cowen said the rescue team got up to Cannon and Una about 11 a.m. Monday. It almost missed them because of the snow. They saw a lump from Una’s pack, kicked it and uncovered them. Cannon had tried to call to them, but they had not heard him.

Una, half out of her sleeping bag, was apparently dead. Cannon related he had talked with her some during the long wait, but that the last he heard in the morning was heavy breathing, “gasping a little.”

Cannon had once asked her if she had a candy bar. She had fumbled around in her bag, but couldn’t get it out. He had tried to eat some snow, remembering not to get dehydrated.

The rescuers, with some struggle, got Cannon’s boots on and brought him down to the camp, where everybody worked over him—with dry clothes, hot drinks, dry sleeping bag, rubbing.

His temperature, when first taken, was 88 degrees.

Source: Newspaper report and Ross Petrie.

Analysis: (Petrie) 1. In spite of the ages represented in the group, this was an exceedingly strong and most experienced party. 2. The terrain through which the group passed is typical Cascade country neither the easiest nor the most difficult. An excellent trail traverses the area making it a Sunday afternoon walk type of thing under average conditions. 3. September provides the Northwest with some of its best climbing and back packing weather and severe storms such as occurred here are not anticipated. 4. The first day of the trip went along under over-cast skies without incident. An excellent camp was made that night; all had a good night’s sleep; and all had an adequate hot breakfast the following morning. The weather did not become a factor for consideration until noon the fateful day.