I started up the center of the bowl. My routine was six steps and then a look up to check for falling rocks. The snow conditions were quite nice. 45-50 degrees of incline and the path was straight up into the over cropping rocks. While climbing, I recall taking six steps...looking up for falling rocks....did not see any...refocusing on my steps...and immediately a large rock whizzed by. Rocks always startle me...especially when traveling at high velocity.
The rock was only the size of a large grapefruit, but it passed about one foot away rolling on the ground. This reminded me of a rock encounter on Mt. Baldy sometime last year. I was listening to my iPod and trudging up the bowl above the Hut with perfect snow conditions. I recall hearing a whirring sound similar to a helicopter. I looked behind me and saw a wheel-like rock, about two feet in diameter, rushing away down toward the bottom of the bowl. The deathrock was a bit disturbing, and I only forgot about it because when I turned around and looked up, there were five other rocks about the same size closing quickly. Fortunately, all I had to do was "not move" and all the rocks flew by, all with the same whirring sound that I believe I will never forget.
The memory of last year's more severe rock encounter reminded me of something that happened when climbing Aconcagua in Argentina. The guide service we used had decided to establish Camp One (above Base Camp) in a spot where they had never camped before. It was below as rather "steep slope" and the thought was that the clients would fair better on the mountain if the first camp did not require ascending the "steep slope" on the first day out of Base Camp. The new Camp One was located at the bottom of a large sheer rock cliff. While at Camp One, Tim and I shared a tent, and at some point during the night we woke up to the sound of a loud crack...followed by the sound of what was clearly a large rock crashing down the sheer cliff. I recall the sound of each subsequent contact point being louder than the previous crash. As we sat in the tent listening to the approaching rock, the sound changed into more of a tumbling sound...and it was clear the rock had reached the bottom of the cliff and I remember thinking how ironic it was that we were also at the bottom of the cliff. The tumbling sound then changed into a dragging sound, more akin to an approaching train growing louder and louder, and eventually it seemed to stop right outside our tent.
Because it was dark, Tim and I looked at each other and went back to sleep. The next morning, this rock was outside our tent. I think we sat on it and ate breakfast.
...anyway....a rock the size of a grapefruit flew by me today on Mt. Baldy.
