Community Corner

Wildwood Boy Honored by Woman Who Scales Yosemite Peak

Cathy Colucci tells her story, in which she raises $3,000 toward her $5,000 goal on behalf of the Andrew Olson Foundation. Andrew, a Wildwood resident, died in 2009 at age 9 from acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

On Oct. 3, Cathy Colucci of Kirkwood climbed Half Dome in Yosemite National Park as a tribute and fundraiser for Andrew Olson of Wildwood, who died in 2009 at age 9 from acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Andrew was the son of her best friend, Jacqueline Stallone Olson, who she met at Washington University 31 years ago. "When I arrived in St. Louis as a freshman, Jacqueline and her family quickly became my St. Louis family and have been there for me ever since." This is Colucci's account of her assault on Half Dome, 5,000 feet above Yosemite Valley and 8,800 feet above sea level.

In March, I decided to climb the Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. A friend had told me about her recent climb and it appeared to be a bit crazy, truly adventurous, and a real challenge. It sounded like the ultimate experience for me. And the timing was perfect, as I was interested in raising awareness and money for the recently founded Andrew Olson Foundation, dedicated to cancer research among children.

Andrew was one of the kindest, loving, giving and fun, little boys I will ever know. He fought so bravely and valiantly, being an inspiration to all those who knew him. I decided to take on this hike as a way to honor Andrew and his family. Inspired by Andrew’s courage and perseverance, I hoped to find the fortitude to reach the summit.

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So the preparations began. I was soon on a first name basis with the folks at  in Brentwood as I tried out boots, packs, clothes and all the energy bars….yum, yum. I started a bit of an unconventional training program: Wearing my backpack filled with weights as I mowed the lawn, power-walked through airports during flight delays, killed time through rain delays at my kids' ball games and climbed the steps, up and down, up and down, at work.

I went hiking at state parks, got lost, became familiar with the dangers of heat stroke and practiced running from bears. Also, I took on some of the more serious stuff. I began biking daily, hit the gym and learned to love, love, love the stepper and elliptical machines. Did I mention lifting free weights?

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SUFFERING THROUGH A WRENCHED BACK

Finally, on Sept. 5, I speak with my climbing companions, Linda Muchisky of Houston (my dearest travel buddy and friend from Washington University); and Kim Kelly (another fantastic friend and fellow market researcher) of Kirkwood. I say, I am ready to go. I’m feeling pumped and the adrenaline is already kicking in. 

Sept. 6, three weeks six days to go, not sure exactly how it went down, somewhere between that darn stepper and the elliptical, I wrenched by back. I can hardly move. Every day the pain increases. Off to the doctor, who says, "I’ll get you ready, but you must do everything I say, religiously."

Now I’m treading water and stretching, actually a bit relieved not to have to spend all my free time exercising, but more than a bit anxious as I continue to take painkillers for two weeks. And then off to London on business for 10 days, working nonstop, sitting all day, about as sedentary as you can get. Home again, one week to go, back beginning to feel better, but each morning never sure what the day’s prognosis will be. And then, bam, a stomach virus knocks me flat on that sore back. 

I have to say at this point I am more than a little anxious. I haven’t put any strain on my back for three weeks, and am wondering how much strength I’ll have once I recover from this little stomach issue. But the boots are bought and broken in, the permits printed, the array of necessary supplies acquired and packed. There is no turning back.

SHOCKED BY THE SIZE

Linda, Kim and I arrive at Yosemite on Sunday and scout out the trailhead so we will be ready to go at 6 the next morning. We travel to Glacier Point to get the best view of Half Dome.

It is grand and majestic and very intimidating, I say, wow, the photos don’t do it justice. To which Linda replies, ”No s**t! If the photos had even begun to capture this grandeur and austerity, we would not be standing here right now! This is OMG crazy!”

But, again, there is no turning back. That night, I lie in bed hoping I’ll have whatever it takes to reach the summit. Seems to be hours before I finally nod off.

Up at 5 a.m., the weather is perfect, but we don’t know it yet as we head off in the pitch dark. We reach the trailhead and start the hike before the sun even begins to peek over the horizon. As expected, it is all uphill at a pretty high grade, but we are energized. We reach Vernal Fall as the sun comes up, a beautiful sight. We have come only 1 measly mile.

We travel up the Mist Trail parallel to the waterfall on a series of very steep steps carved into the rock. The stepper machine has not done a good job of preparing me for this, but I am thankful that the water coming over the falls is minimal, meaning that there is not a lot of mist making the steps wet and slippery. Back is holding strong.

We continue uphill, now through the woods and into the Little Yosemite Valley. Looking left we can see the Half Dome looming above us. All I can think is, "Are you kidding me? It is still gigantic and far away." We stop to take it in; we’ve been climbing for three hours and it seems like we are nowhere close.

After what seems like forever, we see a marker stating "Half Dome, 2 miles to go." We yelp it up a bit, figuring we’ll be there in 90 minutes and trudge on. I am now feeling pumped to get there, but every switchback and then every step is beginning to be a struggle. After a bit we can see the top of Half Dome and the cables to the top; I get a queasy feeling in my stomach, we are still not even close. The people on the cables are so small, they don’t even look like ants.

I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever get there as we scramble over a rock field to the base of the Sub Dome. Yippee. We are here, at the end of the trail. Now it is just up the Sub Dome (800 granite steps of varying sizes) and then across the saddle (a narrow pass) to the base of the cables. The park ranger tells us the weather is good, no rain in sight, but the wind is intense. Good luck, take your time, be safe.

SCALING THE CABLES IN THE WIND

Groups of climbers are huddling trying to decide if they will attempt the cables or not. Many decide the wind is making them too nervous to continue. For me, there is never a doubt I am going up, I have been preparing physically and mentally for months, I am ready. I know I can do it, but it does look incredibly scary. Kim decides to go no further.

Linda and I start up the cables. It is slow going and it takes a few sections to get into the groove. There are support boards every 10 feet or so. Pull yourself up to the next board, rest, wait for the board to be free, pull up again. And never look down.

Keep going. You swear aloud, because there are people coming down the same set of cables. Move over to one side, let them pass, hold on, try not to bump each other, don’t look down. When I do look up, there is no way to see how much further to go. It is taxing on our tired legs and now our arm muscles are taking a beating too. Linda decides to go back down.

I ask someone headed down, am I almost there? About halfway he says. "Crap" is the nice version or what I am now thinking. It becomes a lot steeper. How is this even possible, I wonder, but on I go, and then I can see the rock beginning to level off and by God, I can see where the cables are anchored.

I funnel all my energy and scramble to the top. As soon as it is level enough to sit, I do. I am shaking, a combination of excitement and fear. I can’t help myself and I look down at the cable route. I feel completely nauseous. 

I am hoping I don’t leave a load of recycled trail mix at the top. My stomach settles and I continue to the level area on top. I see some new friends who I have encountered along the way, and we congratulate each other and have a mini photo shoot.

REMEMBERING WHY SHE'S THERE

I take a moment to remember my motivation for making the climb. I think of Andrew, his strength and fortitude in his long battle. I feel both great sadness for his life cut short, but also much joy in being able to honor him through the climb. I take a small rock his mother has given me from his collection and leave it at the top of Half Dome before heading back down.

I get to the base of the cables and stagger back across the saddle. Linda is waiting for me with a huge hug and congratulations. I am overwhelmed with relief and happiness. I travel back down the Sub Dome, so slowly I think Linda is wondering if I am coming or if I have fallen off. I feel mentally and physically spent, but unbelievably high, both literally and figuratively. 

We rest about 15 minutes before beginning the long descent. It is 2:30 p.m. It took six and a half hours to get to the summit. How long would it take to get down? I had always said, because of my bad knees, the descent would be the difficult part — and I was right.

We took a longer route back down to avoid the steep steps of the Mist Trail. It offered more beautiful views, but added another mile to the trek. Every time we turned the corner and encountered another switchback we moaned and groaned and kept on going. 

Finally back at the lodge, 13½ hours after we had departed, we ordered a pizza and collapsed on the couches. We decided to postpone the celebratory libations till the next evening. Who would have ever imagined that?

I woke up the next day elated to have made it all the way to the top and back and nary a blister. We were all a bit sore, but nothing serious, the training had certainly paid off. As we packed up and prepared for our rest and relaxation on the coast, I felt proud of my accomplishment, but overshadowing this pride was the awe I felt for the long and valiant battle Andrew waged. His vibrancy, never-give-up attitude, strength and compassion were an inspiration to me, not only on this monumental day in October 2011, but every day. Please visit the Andrew Olson Foundation to make a donation.

Colucci asked friends and other supports to make a donation before her trip to fund studies devoted to kids' cancer research. She has raised around $3,000. "My goal was $5,000, so I am still working to raise that total a little higher." She sends special thanks to her climbing companions, Linda Muchisky and Kim Kelly. "Their encouragement, support, friendship and companionship were vital for both the preparations as well as the hike. They are the 'magic potion' that turned this difficult and challenging day into an awesome experience."


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