Weekly Notes: Loss on the Mountain

In light of recent events in the park, this week’s post is a sad one. If you’ve got enough sadness in your life for now, don’t feel bad about skipping it.

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My husband Andrew Vietze has been a park ranger for 23 years. He’s steady, he’s brave, he’s always ready to do the right thing even it he has to put himself at risk, whether as a park ranger, a volunteer firefighter, or simply a citizen of the world. Earlier this week he was called on to respond to a tragic situation in our second home, Baxter State Park.

Alongside fellow Baxter rangers and other agencies who came to assist, he spent two days on top of Katahdin searching for two missing hikers. I sat by the radio in the ranger station, a nervous mix of feelings brewing in the pit of my stomach. I hung onto each word from the radio. I watched the helicopters come and go, knowing he was on one of them. I forgot to eat, I hoped for the safety of everyone involved, and I anxiously awaited my husband’s safe return from the summit.

Katahdin is Maine’s highest peak, a sacred site to the Wabanaki, and the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. In the mornings we look to the mountain from Andy’s duty station - either to greet it in all its splendor, or to cast a searching glance at the clouds that conceal it. At the end of the day I silently send up my best wishes for a safe descent for any hikers who might still be making their way down from their climbs.

It feels like a familiar friend. But it’s also a cold, hard, unforgiving landscape, and one that people often underestimate.

I am very sad to say that searchers recovered the bodies of the missing hikers on Katahdin. Their names were Tim and Esther Keiderling, and I’m so sorry for their family’s heartbreak. In the wake of the search, everyone involved must find peace with what lingers from their individual experiences. Family members are left to grieve, searchers are left to process, and the mountain remains ever stoic.

My park ranger is doing ok. He’s seen his share of tragedy in his many years as a first responder, and will be ready to respond again when he is needed. But I hope the next time is a better outcome.

I thought perhaps I would skip posting this week. But as I process my own emotions, writing helps. There is much to learn from this tragedy, and there will be time for that in the days to come. For now, a sadness hangs over the mountain, but the wilderness will nurture us all.

Hug your loved ones.

Lilly

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