Chutes and Lovers
By R. ALAN KUEHN

Long, slender, and exotic, I was immediately drawn to her. The Leuthold Couloir lifts gracefully from the Reid Glacier ascending between Yokum Ridge and the buttress of Castle Crags. On that first day, decades ago, that my eyes and heart first looked upward to her, she held me captive and helpless in her power. I knew right then that the Leuthold and I were made for each other.

It was her eyes and smile, mostly. The way her hair flipped off her forehead. Laura was everything I was looking for to fill the void left by a recently failed relationship. We became famous, or infamous, for the 14 or so months we were an item. Climbing and skiing together. We were striking.

A perfect névé, Leuthold took my crampons and axe well. Roped to my then regular partner, Ralph, she granted me permission to share this moment. We moved fast passing a few others and reached the choke before anyone else. We were young, strong, and moved well together. It was a dance. I knew even then that this one line and I were special to each other. Each ascent afterwards drew my attention to the obvious. This line had to be skied.

It was inevitable, as inevitable that our relationship would burn strong and then burn out. Laura wanted to climb the Leuthold with me. As dawn broke in hues of pink over Mt. Hood, we crossed the Reid Glacier and moved quickly to the still shadowed apron. Not pleased that I would bring another love to her, Leuthold tossed a barrage of rocks toward us. Relentlessly. It was impossible. Laura and I were not to climb the Leuthold, and I should have known better. We reach the summit by a different route that day, and somewhere I have the picture of us standing on top. Laura's smile is still etched in my memory.

Gone was the normal collection of tents that fill Illumination Saddle on any spring morning. I bivied alone that February. In darkness I stepped off the security of the saddle and climbed down the headwall. Drawn again to her. As light graced us, spindrift poured down from above the choke. Soft, cold, dry snow. Mid-calf deep. I climbed close to the walls of Yokum Ridge, not wanting to mar the perfect canvas I was to etch. Sunlight greeted me as I reached the Queen's Chair, a shoulder where the Leuthold, the Sandy Headwall, and Yokum Ridge connect. Here the route ends, really. Skis replaced crampons. A quick left turn followed by an equally quick right, and I swung into her. I smiled as she held me soft and light, slough pushing from each edge set. It was our greatest dance. It was perfection.

The last time I saw Laura was maybe nine years ago. She walked into the mountain shop I managed. Our eyes met as they had that first time many years before. It had not ended well. Seems relationships rarely do. We talked. She bought me lunch. We parted finally as friends. Closure. Our dance was over.

I still see the Leuthold each time I make the drive to Government Camp headed east on Hwy. 26 from Sandy. Sometimes she teases—showing only an ankle hiding behind a veil of cloud. Other times she is bright and full in contrast to an incredibly blue winter sky. Long, slender, and exotic, she pulls me to her as she did the first time decades ago. Our dance continues. Some loves are eternal.


 Discuss this story in our Workshop forum