I’m married to a man who has epic gear failures. Long ago when we were telemark ski racers, he finished a race in Steamboat Springs, Colorado and remarked that something felt off with his ski boot. He took off his skis and looked at his boots: somehow, he had cracked the entire plastic shell during the race. When he took it into a ski shop in hopes of a repair, the technician laughed. He then sent a photo of the cracked boot to the manufacturer in hopes they could help before his next set of races. They were mystified like the tech and surprised that the boot failed so epically. He was simply skiing around gates, not smashing it with a sledge hammer. They only resolution was to get a new set, which wouldn’t alleviate the immediate issue, so he borrowed a pair of boots from a teammate and made the best of the situation.
From that day forward, he became known as “Broke Boot Schneider” and although we no longer telemark ski, Cole continues to compete in a range of running and ski mountaineering competitions and breaks his bindings, ski poles, and other items that make finishing rather difficult. He’ll come home from the Whitefish Whiteout bearing a great grin and a good story about how his poles broke during the descent. Or hold up a binding that shouldn’t be in so many little pieces. He’ll finish, find a way to repair the gear and try again.
On our second wedding anniversary we went climbing in Many Glacier and it wasn’t until we reached the car after a day in the mountains when he discovered the rear pocket of his climbing pants was missing. And so was the wallet held in the pocket. He ditched the pants, cancelled his credit cards, and figured he had only $40 in the wallet. He figured the wallet and whatever was left of his pocket were residing on a rock ledge belong to Grinnell Point. He was most disappointed that he lost the actual wallet, a slim nylon type that the company no longer makes.
Last week, he and my brother were climbing in Glacier and somewhere near the summit of Heaven’s Peak, the straps of his backpack shredded. He had one good strap that he tried to retie to make the pack more secure, but it wasn’t successful. On the descent, he decided to lower the pack to the rock band below him because he didn’t want it to rotate off his shoulders and throw off his balance. The backpack hit the rocks and then kept going, and Cole watched as his bear spray and water bottle flung from the side pockets. It kept going and going until it was gone. For a moment, he and my brother were shocked, a combination of relief that it wasn’t either of them that went off the cliff and then panic that the car keys and cellphone also took a dive. Luckily, car keys and phone were somewhat safe in his pocket, and they determined the pack was too far off route and likely landed on a section that was too risky to navigate. Cole came home with the happy news of a successful climb but also shared the news about his backpack which was now missing on the side of Heaven’s, along with several key items including his satellite communication device. He was worried that his peanut butter and honey sandwich would be a bear attractant.
Once again, a case of epic gear failure. Now he’s Broke Backpack Schneider!
This week I got a message from a woman who said she was climbing Heaven’s Peak and found a backpack. She activated the In Reach and found my phone number listed as an emergency contact. Smartly, before she left Glacier, she turned in the pack to the park service in case there was a true emergency. Then I got a call from a park ranger inquiring about the backpack and the safety of the person it belonged to. The water bottle and bear spray weren’t recovered, his extra clothes were wet, but the sandwich was still intact and left safe from the jaws of an animal.
I may have the Doherty family curse for my frequent inquires, but Cole also has his own curse. Good thing most of his gear comes with a warranty.