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Dad's Climb

    I grew up hiking.  My Dad had dragged my brother and me across deserts and mountains well 
before I could read (I was way under 16).  I moved away for quite awhile, so when I got a chance to 
join Dad on a hike to Lone Pine Lake on Whitney in 2006 I jumped on it.  That was my first encounter 
with the Sierras.  I love it there!  Dad and I decided that we needed to really climb Mt Whitney.  
During the summer of 2007 I would be 40 and Dad 60.  We had a date with a mountain.  My brother who 
lives in South Carolina agreed to the quest.  I decided that we would each bring a buddy.  So I 
pursued and eventually got reservations for a party of 6 in October (I was pursuing August, oh well).

     After a camping trip above Big Pine in the fall of 2006 Dad got sick from some improperly 
purified water.  It was pretty bad.  A couple rounds of antibiotics.  As we rolled into the spring 
of 2007 we began doing training hikes and buying gear.  Overall we were very enthusiastic.  The only 
concern was that Dad had never quite kicked that stomach problem.  He lost 15 then 25 lbs.  We joked 
about how much people would pay for his beauty secret.  We hit a couple fairly difficult training hikes.  
Mt Baden-Powell was tough.  Dad had to take it a few hundred yards at a time.  He had to stop to puke.  
I walked behind him with my bamboo walking stick.  Showing him the same brand of Love that I got from 
him as a kid, I kept the breaks to a minimum.  Dad had been my wrestling coach.  He made it, of course.  
I was concerned.  Next up was Mt Baldy above LA.  Dad had lost about 40-50lbs at this point.  The hike 
did not go well.  Dad had to rest a lot.  It broke my heart.  Of course Dad gutted it out and finished 
the hike, but there was no way we were going make Whitney that way.  My Mom was worried sick.  My brother 
wanted to know what the doctors were really saying.  Dad and I talked about tents, boots, and our next hike.

     The next hike was White Mountain, a 14K’er.  Dad had begun to talk about camping at the 
portal while we climbed.  I did not want to hear that, but what can you say to a guy who has lost 
50lbs and can’t keep food down.  We all agreed that we would just see how White Mountain went.  A couple 
weeks before the White Mountain hike Dad caught a break.  The docs finally figured out that the outlet of 
his stomach was covered with scar tissue and he could not digest anything remotely complex.  Armed with a 
little knowledge, Dad began consuming liquids and very simple calories.  For the first time in months he 
had blood sugar.  He ripped up the side of White Mountain!  Passed quite a few 20 somethings on the way.  
I was ecstatic.  He was gonna make it, we were gonna do it.

     Not out of the woods his weight continued to slip.  The doctors finally announced that they wanted 
to do surgery two weeks before our Mt Whitney date.  Dad told them where they could put their appointment 
book.  We did Whitney.  Dad Rocked!  I had the privilege of sharing the Highest Peak in CONUS with a 60 
year old man who could not really eat and had lost about 60lbs against his will.  But his will got 
him to the top.  Since the hike he has had the stomach problem corrected and is easing back towards 
his fighting weight.  ~ELLS

Dad's Letter to Backpacker Magazine

DATE:		January 15, 2008

TO:		Backpacker Magazine

FROM:		Chuck Ellsworth

RE:		That’s My Story: Wheelchair hiker Bob Coomber finally summits 14,246
………………………………………………………………………………………………

I read the brief story of Bob Coomber climbing White Mountain (page 13 of the February 2008 edition) 
because his story of bravery and determination had a direct effect on me and the small group of hikers 
who summited Mt. Whitney on October 3, 2007.  When four of us climbed White Mountain on August 25th 
as a practice hike in preparation for the subsequent Whitney hike, we followed Bob Coomber’s wheelchair 
marks in the dirt and rocks the entire way to the peak of White Mountain.  Sleeping the night of 
the 24th at the 12,000 foot entrance to the trail, we talked with other hikers who swore they had seen 
him making his way to the peak.  Frankly, I was very skeptical at first.     

The White Mountain hike was pivotal for our group for a number of reasons.   First of all, this was 
the only test we had above 14,000 feet to make certain that the altitude would not turn us back or 
deter us from the similar height of Whitney.    On that score, all four of our party did well and passed 
the altitude test.  However, for me personally, the White Mountain hike was the final test of my ability 
to make a difficult hike without my medical condition stopping me or making me the object of a rescue 
mission, something I was not willing to do to my fellow hikers.   

Earlier in 2007 I had been diagnosed with a medical condition that blocked passage of food from my stomach 
to my intestines, resulting in nearly all food I ate being regurgitated every three days or so.  Under 
strenuous circumstances, the frequency increased accordingly.  In addition, due to my inability to process 
my food, I was diagnosed as being anemic, not having adequate red blood count to carry the necessary oxygen 
to my muscles.  The anemia I was dealing with by means of prescribed iron pills, but the digestive problem 
had me at the make it or break it point wherein how I did on the White Mountain trip would determine whether 
I summited on Whitney or stayed back to watch the camp while my two sons and some friends made the trip to 
the peak.  I refused to  hike Whitney like I had the numerous trips prior to August 25th, namely by hiking, 
then stepping off the trail to vomit, then getting back on the trail to force myself to the top of the 
various training mountains we had chosen for our training regimen.  

That is where Bob Coomber’s wheelchair tracks played a role in my own hike to the peak of Whitney.  As I 
stated, I was quite skeptical of the tales of a man in a wheelchair taking this trail to the top of White 
Mountain.  After all, it was the third highest peak in California and the 17th tallest in the lower 48 states.  
I was certain it was an urban myth, until I began to find the wheel tracks of two parallel wheels about the 
width of a wheelchair.  Naturally, I tested the theory that someone had dragged two trekking poles behind them 
to create the tracks, but soon discovered that did not explain the tracks we continued to find on the trail.  
At about 13,000 feet, I finally swung over to the idea that this was legitimate, although I wondered who the 
wheelchair hiker was and what gave him the incredible strength of character to keep on going.  It was obvious 
from the tracks that he had run into, and bounced off untold rocks along the trail.  No matter who he was, 
his tracks inspired me to push on regardless of my own condition.  White Mountain became the first hiking trip 
of our training session on which I did not slow down the group, or need to step off the trail to purge my most 
recent meal.  If this courageous man in a wheelchair could be somewhere ahead of me on the trail, then I refused 
to let my own problems slow me down.  Quite honestly, I thought I would never learn the name of my inspiration 
or any details of his courageous trek to the peak, but I did learn from him that nothing could stand in my way 
any more than he had let nothing stand in his way.

Following that hike, things went well and I revisited some of the mountains we had already climbed, this time 
determined to do them in better time and with more weight.  Our group met together at Whitney Portal on 
October 1st and we made it to Trail Camp on the 2nd.  On the final push to the summit, my sons and friends 
all graciously permitted me to take the lead from Trail Summit to the peak.  As the 60 year old member of a 
group of young athletes, that meant a lot to me and I pushed myself to the fastest pace on the snowy trail 
that I could manage.  We reached the peak around 11:30 and posed like giddy schoolboys for every imaginable 
picture we could think of.  I knew that I would not have made it to that moment without the inspiration of my 
sons and friends plus the personal courage that I had witnessed in the dusty trail to the top of White Mountain, 
left by a man I now know was Bob Coomber.  Without his bravery, I might not have completed my own quest to 
stand on top of the world with my sons and friends.  I will enclose one photo from the peak of Jeff Ellsworth, 
Jerry Ellsworth, and myself- Chuck Ellsworth.  I will also enclose one trail photo from White Mountain in which 
Bob’s track can be seen through the rocky trail.  This was not an easy trail for a wheelchair hiker.

Thank you, Bob. The tracks you left behind helped another hiker reach his own quest.

Sincerely,

Chuck Ellsworth

P.S.- Shortly after the hike my stomach condition became more severe, requiring me to spend a total of 30 days in Loma Linda Hospital and to undergo major surgery to repair my digestive system. In the process, I lost more than 60 pounds and reported to the hospital 15 pounds lighter than the day I climbed Whitney.