Miracle on the Mountain

Jacob and Josh Gately saw the storm brewing from the top of Mount of the Holy Cross. The brothers from Lee's Summit had just reached the 14,005-foot peak in the Colorado Rockies, known for the iconic snow-filled cross scratched on its northeastern face. It was Saturday, October 13, and light snow began to fall.

The thin Colorado air had made the final 1,500 feet a wind-sucking struggle. Every 20 seconds, the Gately brothers stopped to breathe.

But they had conquered the mountain.

Jacob and Josh snapped pictures to prove it — Josh with his unshaven mug pressed next to the U.S. Geological Survey's seal, Jacob in his tie-dyed thermal underwear.

Ominous dark clouds obscured the panoramic view. They couldn't see wilderness or other mountains in the distance. Jacob guessed the snowstorm was a half-hour away. The temperature was 15 degrees and falling. They knew they had to move quickly. If they waited too long, the boulder field they had just passed through would be too slick with ice to climb down.

Josh, 24, was visiting his younger brother in Colorado Springs, where 23-year-old Jacob had spent the past three months installing a copper roofing system at Colorado College's new performing-arts center. Josh had picked Holy Cross — a challenging climb both physically and navigationally — from a book of hikes and trails.

Jacob was an experienced hiker with an adventurous streak. He had always been the first to try any outdoor sport. At his grandparents' house at the Lake of the Ozarks, Jacob would go tubing, water-skiing, boogie-boarding and air-chairing. He had been hiking Colorado's backcountry since his 18th birthday and spent weeklong vacations in the northwestern corner of the state.

The night before, the brothers had set up camp on Half Moon Pass. They knew a snowstorm was coming, so they planned to climb Mount of the Holy Cross early Saturday, before the weather turned. After reaching the top, they would return to camp, tear it down, hike out and spend the night eating pizza in a hotel room 30 minutes away in Leadville. Sunday, they would sightsee in Colorado Springs, and Monday night they would fly back to Kansas City.

At daybreak, the Gatelys downed a breakfast of energy bars and tea. They packed a couple of water bottles and some energy bars, leaving most of their gear at the campsite. Jacob stashed a water purifier in his daypack. He left his cell phone behind because he wasn't getting a signal.

Jacob wore a stocking cap on his clean-shaven head, blue jeans, a hooded raincoat, thermal underwear and a fleece shirt. Unlike his brother, who was wearing hiking boots, Jacob wore just a pair of tennis shoes.

"That would just kill my feet," Josh said.

Jacob shrugged off his brother's observation.

Jacob's clothes didn't stop him from scaling the mountain. They hiked up a trail that gave the brothers glimpses of the snow-filled cross. There were three other camps of hikers on the mountain that day, and they were all on their way down when the brothers were heading up. Jacob and Josh made it to the top at 2:30 p.m., about an hour and a half behind schedule.

On top of the mountain, Josh noticed a stone marker engraved with a woman's name. Michelle Vanek was a 35-year-old mother of four who attempted to climb the Mount of the Holy Cross on September 24, 2005. Thirsty and exhausted, Vanek sat on a rock and urged her hiking partner to finish without her. When he returned, Vanek was gone. A seven-day search with dogs, helicopters and more than 700 rescuers and volunteers failed to find a trace of Vanek. The mountain had swallowed her.

After about 15 minutes at the summit, the Gately brothers began their descent of the mountain's boulder-covered spine. On the way down a few minutes later, Josh accidentally hit the send button on the cell phone stashed in his pocket.

Back in Lee's Summit, Jean Gately's phone rang at about 4 p.m. Central Daylight Time, but no one spoke when she answered. Jean, a full-time grandmother and Jacob and Josh's mother, recognized Josh's cell-phone number.

Jean loved the thought of her boys hiking together and bonding in the woods. She and her husband, Jim, an engineer with Burns & McDonnell, grew up in a large, tightknit families. But Jean also worried about her boys scaling a mountain.

Jean called Josh back.

"We did it," Josh said. "We summitted. You don't have to worry anymore."

"That's great," Jean said.

"We just came down the most dangerous part of the mountain," Josh said. "We'll be back at camp in a couple of hours. We'll call you when we are at the hotel, eating pizza."

Josh's reassurance calmed Jean's fears.

Five minutes later, they hung up, and the men continued. But Jacob and Josh couldn't find the path marker for their trail. They kept moving diagonally down the mountain.

The brothers were dwarfed by truck-sized boulders. Descending down the boulder field was like scaling over loaded dump trucks. The ground was slick, and ankle-breaking cracks threatened to halt the brothers' progress.