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Sonya Meldahl

Climbing for Carson

By 29029 Everesting

January 27^th, 2023

In April of 2020, my son, Carson, was diagnosed with aggressive stage 4 cancer.

Carson was the type of kid who found significance in insignificant things. He saw beauty all around him, always loving to immerse himself in the outdoors. The prognosis for his cancer was poor, but his decision was to give everything he had in fighting it.

8 months into aggressive chemo, the cancer was already starting to grow back, which is when he looked at me and said, “Mom, I want to go to the mountains.”

How could I say no?

“I don’t just want to go to the mountains, Mom. I want to go up a mountain, and I want to snowboard down.”

In March of 2021, as we loaded up to drive to Colorado’s mountains, Carson was in rough shape. The cancer had spread to every bone in his body, and his kidneys were starting to fail.

But that wouldn’t stop Carson from getting the mountain experience he wanted.

I had called the ski resort ahead of time, explaining a bit of Carson’s story, and asked to book the biggest and strongest instructor they had. Carson was so weak that simply standing for too long would be a challenge, so he was going to need a lot of help on the mountain.

“They don’t need to teach Carson to snowboard, they just need to help him get down the mountain so he can experience what it’s like to snowboard” I explained.

Our instructor's name was Big Mark, and he practically carried Carson to the chairlift for our first run. At the top of the mountain, as Big Mark and Carson slowly slid down the slopes, Carson was in awe! His eyes darted around the scenery, taking it all in. He was having a spiritual experience!

A normal run from top to bottom of the ski slope would have taken around 30 minutes. It took us 2 hours: a slow, challenging, and taxing 2 hours.

When we got to the bottom, Carson turned right, getting back into the lift line.

“I want to go again.”

This run wasn’t much faster than the first. It was another challenging trip down the mountain, but Carson still couldn’t get enough.

When we reached the bottom of the second run, our half-day snow lesson with Big Mark came to an end.

Carson turned to me and said, “Mom, I want to go again.”

We turned right, and got back into the lift line.

Without Big Mark’s help, we nervously boarded the chairlift, beginning another journey to the top.

We had barely started our descent when Carson fell. Without Big Mark there to hold him up, balancing on the board was a challenge.

Carson got up and made it a few more feet before falling again.

He’d get up.

He would fall.

He would get up again.

After one of his falls - a particularly hard one - he was in tears. I explained to him that I couldn’t carry him down the mountain.

“I’m going to have to call for help to get us down to the bottom," I told him.

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached his arms to have me help him up. After I helped him regain his footing, he started snowboarding down the mountain, this time going further than before. He wasn’t falling, he was snowboarding!

Of course, when we got to the bottom, he turned right.

“I want to go again.”

So we went again, Carson taking in all that the mountain had to offer.

As the sun started to set and our day on the ski slopes came to an end, I turned to him and said, “Carson, I want you to know this is your first trip to the mountains, not your last.”

It was my pledge to him that I would get him back up there.

Five months later, in August of 2021, Carson passed away.

Not long after, my best friend called me up and said, “Hey, I have something we should do. I want you to do it with me. We need to climb a 29029 mountain!”

As she explained the event to me, it made complete sense to me. 29029 was what I needed to do. It would be me climbing for a cause, and more importantly, it was my way of getting Carson back to the mountain.

I opened up a non-profit, Carson Confronts Cancer, to raise money for pediatric cancer, and I was going to use 29029 to help raise awareness and funds.

And when it came time to climb the mountain, I would bring a keychain I had made with Carson’s thumbprints. I was going to bring Carson back to the mountains.

At 29029, everybody wants to know your goal. What is your reason for climbing this mountain? What are you hoping to achieve?

For many, the Red Hat - Everesting - was the ultimate goal.

For me, my goal was healing.

I didn’t have my sights set on any specific mountain - how many ascents I accomplished didn’t matter.

What mattered was bringing Carson back to the mountain.

What mattered was letting go of the pain, grief, and suffering I had gone through over the past two years.

And finally, what mattered was taking in the beauty of the mountains, just like Carson did.

On each lap that I climbed, I focused on a different theme. Some of those themes were predictable: anger, regret, or sadness.

Another theme I focused on during one of my ascents was this is not hard.

Of course, it was physically challenging, but mentally, it had nothing on watching a child battle through a terminal illness.

It was during that ascent that it hit home: we can allow ourselves to succumb to our thinking in hard situations, but we don’t have to. We can lean on others for help. We can always keep going.

I saw a lot of that on the slopes of Stratton. Everybody on that mountain was being a ‘Big Mark.’ Just like how Big Mark helped coach Carson on the ski hill two years ago, everybody at 29029 - staff and participants - were helping each other out, coaching each other up the mountain with words, encouragement, and love.

As I worked through my themes on the mountain, it became clear that I wasn’t going to reach Everest. That wasn’t my goal, so it wasn’t a problem, but I did feel like Carson needed to make it all the way.

That’s when I decided to ask Sean, a new friend made from the 29029 community, to take Carson up the mountain on his final ascent.

Sean didn’t know much of my story or Carson’s, so I explained it to him as he donned his Red Bib, ready for his final ascent.

I placed the keychain in Sean's hand as I explained. This is my son Carson who passed away last year. When we left the mountains for the last time together, I told him I’d take him back. I want you to take him up to Everest.