It was about 6:30 AM and I had not yet left timberline, when I picked up my cell telephone and called home.   My wife answered and I told her that I was starting my assent.  "I  will call you when I get to the top." Says I.

"Please be  careful." chided my wife

I assured her that I would, as I took off on my mountain adventure.

Five hours or so later, I arrived at the top of Mt. St. Helens.  My thoughts at that time were "climbing this mountain is a 'piece of cake'".   The view was spectacular, and I started to understand why people climbed mountains.

I picked up my cell telephone.  I notice that I had maximum signal.  I could see Portland and Tacoma.  I punched the numbers in for home..  Nothing.  I had a signal, but for some reason I could not  get it to connect.  This frustrated me to no end.   I ate my lunch, I took some pictures, and started down.

It was then that I discovered that mountain climbing was not "A piece of cake".
Most of the party had already left.  The route was loose pumice and ash, and did not make for easy walking.  I slid, I slipped.  I twisted my leg.  I jammed my toes, I started to hurt.  I was hiking with my Company Commander, and he ask me if I was all right.

"No, I am not".  I replied.  "I've managed to jam my toes and twist my ankles.   

"Follow me, I know an easier way down." Said my hiking companion as he took off through the loose ash in a different direction than the regular climbing trail.   

He disappeared, and I stood there and thought to myself:   "If I'm smart, I should probably stay on the main trail." 

Life is full of choices, and at that moment I made a bad one; I followed. 

The next thing I knew is that I found myself  sliding on my butt down the side of the mountain.  There were rocks bouncing along with me, and I looked below me, and I saw a crevice, a big crevice.   I started flailing my arms in an attempt to grab for solid ground and I managed to stop sliding before I went over the side. 

I painfully continued down the side of the mountain, my "climbing companion" was no where to be seen.  I slipped again, I slide some more, and still continued on my way down.  I finally reached a point where I could see timberline.  I could make out  what appeared to be people, and I suspected that they were waiting for me.  It was at this time that I noticed that my back pocket was missing, and along with it my wallet.

"Oh lord what should I do?" Thought I.  I only have about $20 in my wallet, but I had my drivers license, lots of credit cards and other important things.  My whole life was in that wallet.

At this point, I turned around and start following my footsteps back up the mountain.   

The people at timberline were watching me with binoculars,  and were having difficulty trying to figure out what I was doing.  Fortunately the route that I took  was not a well traveled one, and I was able to follow my own footsteps back.  I found my wallet.

I limped back, and the people greeted me.  Two of the heftier troops helped me walk back to our vans.  A Lieutenant suggested that if we cut off the tops my boots, he seemed to think that it would make it  easier for me to walk.  The boots cost me over $150, and with that thought in mind I, respectfully declined.

I guess it was a big honor to be able to climb that mountain.  My climb did give me somethings to remember them by.  Every time I take a shower, I look at the misshapen nails on my big toes, and I am reminded of my Mt. St. Helens experience.

Lots of people climb Mt. St. Helens.  Believe me when I tell you that the way down is harder than the way up, and it is by no means  "A piece of cake".