I had read about the people involved in dramatic rescues on the mountain every year, but never thought it would be me. I bivied, initiated a rescue with GPS coordinates, and laid in wait with my headlamp pointed down the mountain and set to strobe.
Sustained 50mph winds tore away my tarp. My down sleeping bag became saturated by a foot of fresh snow and exposure began to take its toll. I shouted into the tempest until my voice went hoarse, my body’s violent shaking subsided to stillness, and I began to slip into a dreamlike state.
A calmness came over me and I decided that this was probably how I was going to die.
I slipped in and out of consciousness. It was close to midnight and I had been on the mountain for 24 hours now. Then, something changed. My mind briefly cleared and I realized I still had some fight left in me. I managed to stand again, clenched the headlamp, and started blowing the whistle that was integrated into the strap with everything I had as its light continued to strobe into the furious wind-blown snow.
I owe my life to the brave team from Portland Mountain Rescue and everyone else that coordinated on the search, but also to my Petzl Tikka Plus, without which, I may have never been found.
more at link ...