The Mt. Hood tragedy recalls the “near death” of Dr. Bernie Dahl on Mt. Washington in New Hampshire

As the Mount Hood tragedy of three missing climbers in Oregon and in the media unfolded, I was once again forced to revisit my own near-death experience on Mount Washington.

I was very lucky when Mike Pelcher, the leader of the rescue team, made the statement to his beleaguered team: “There’s a man dying up there. Let’s give him five more minutes.”

It really was a dark and stormy night, maybe the darkest and stormy night of my life, because I was five minutes from death. . . my death. . . because my rescuers were about to give up! As a physician and pathologist for more than 30 years, he had developed a close professional relationship with death and dying. . . but not with my death. . . certainly not with my own death.

Rescued from his near-death experience, I, now a motivational speaker and seminar leader, went on to share my “Lessons for Living from a Mt. Washington Misadventure.” In my inspirational talks on self-discovery, he warns: Prepare to die! Have a plan to live! Do it now!

In New Hampshire, Mt. Washington is known for its fierce and unforgiving weather, and the New England media, prompted by the Mt. Hood story, contacted me about their rescue from the mountain.

Your calls have rekindled my interest in finishing my book, a hybrid book about the mountain story, the admonitions and the philosophical part, ‘Journey Into The Self’. I have presented my story at keynotes and workshops over 50 times. From the scripts, I have drafted a book, tentatively titled simply ‘Misadventure’. “

My story of being lost on the mountain, the successful use of my cell phone, and my dramatic rescue was the subject of a later re-enactment that was filmed by The Discovery Channel Network for their series Storm Force on The Learning Channel.

This is the beginning of Chapter 1: A Simple Walk. . . a deadly quest:

Without a moment’s hesitation, I turn onto the new path. Now I am ascending on the howling wind towards the summit. This is not the goal of the new plan: the goal is to find the Auto Road and get down the mountain, as fast as possible.

The snow pricks my face with its fury. Frosty ice, formed from fog or clouds frozen by the scorching wind, covers my clothes, face, and glasses. I notice that the burial mounds, the piles of rocks that mark the path, are now wider and taller and closer together, an ominous sign that this area must experience some really harsh winter weather. I take each step slowly and carefully, because this road is much rougher now; it appears to be composed of large boulders covered with varying and increasing depths of snow and ice.

My heart is beating fast, more out of fear than effort, because my ascent is so slow, so deliberate. Despite the roar of the wind, I can hear my heartbeat beating in my ears. Even though I know I’m close to Auto Road, I also know I’m in big trouble. I search feverishly for the second sign, the one that should direct me to Auto Road. Where is it? Is it covered in frost? Has a hiker taken it as a souvenir?

I must continue walking even though I am still ascending against the wind. Worse still, now it’s too late. Soon, the night will envelop the mountain and me. My open world is now closing. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind and snow hits me…then again, like the icy breath of an angry mountain god. I am now in true whitening condition. Where is the next cairn? I continue desperately: five steps, then ten. No cairn. I retrace my steps to the last milestone. I find it. If only I had a hiking partner, we could take turns finding the next cairn, which is usually 15-20 feet apart. Together, we could jump our way to Auto Road and home. I start this process again… and again… I can’t find the next cairn.

I’m alone. I’m stuck. I stop.