2 posts tagged “mountrainier”
Hiked to Camp Muir (10,080') on Saturday with J. It was my fifth and her fourth time up to Camp Muir this year, and my sixth and her fifth time to 10,000'. A lot has changed in the month since the summit attempt... there has been a lot of snow melt, and also some new snow has fallen. The weather was gorgeous, clear skies all around and in the 60's (F) at Paradise. The only exception to this was on the upper mountain, which was enrobed in a veil of cloud. It seemed like this might be the last "nice" weekend so we got up and headed out of town over the objections of our weary bodies.
The biggest consequence of our late start was that I forgot my National Parks Pass. So we made a $15 "donation" in the form of our entrance fee. No big deal... if there's one place that I don't mind giving extra money to it's Mount Rainier National Park. We got to Paradise pretty late, and didn't start off until after 11 AM.
The hike from Paradise to Pebble Creek was the same that we'd done all summer, though there were only a handful of people compared to the continuous line that could have been expected for a similar day in July or August. One of the groups that we passed along the way was a Boy Scout troop, out on the mountain to earn a merit badge. It was pretty cool to talk with their troop leader about the mountain and the experience. His group seemed pretty psyched about hiking up to the snow above Pebble Creek, which was their goal that day. He said that they might try for Camp Muir next year, and we were able to share some wisdom. It made me feel really good about myself to be able to provide insight on our experience instead of just absorbing from others.
Later on, we were on the receiving end of wisdom as we passed an RMI group coming down from a summit attempt. As it turned out, they weren't able to summit because of that cloud cap and the resulting white-out conditions on the upper mountain. It seemed like a real shame, since it was such a beautiful day all around. But up there, weather is a very local phenomenon, where one face of the mountain can have drastically different conditions from another. Or, in this case, one elevation vs. another. One of the guides coming down was the lead guide from our summit attempt, and we were able to chat for a minute or two about the conditions on the snowfield and at Camp Muir. Some crevasses had opened up on the upper snowfield, but there had also been some fresh snow since our last time up, so a lot of the sun cups had been smoothed out. This would bear out nicely for the descent.
There's something very cool about the mountaineering community and the flow of knowledge that occurs between people. Certainly it's not a unique situation... I've found similar communities surrounding similar groups of people, like the hang gliding community when I was a part of it. Then, as now, it's about freely exchanging information to help each other out: "watch out for the winds up at launch" or "there are new crevasses up on the glacier..." We also heard a lot of different languages on the mountain this time: Chinese, French, German, to name just a few. Very cool. What is it about greater urban or suburban society that makes us less inclined to feel that sense of community? Why are we so free with our wisdom just because the guy you're talking to is also carrying an ice axe up the mountain?
Anyway, the hike up to Pebble Creek was about the same as it has been all summer. From there, we noticed that there was new snow on the Muir Snowfield, but there were also areas where new rock was exposed due to melting of the snow layer. We spent a lot more time on rock than we have in the past, which slowed us down a little. Combined with our relative out-of-shapeness (you do lose it quickly... it's only been a month but I can feel it), we were a little slower than our goal: a little over 4.5 hours from the Jackson Visitor Center to Camp Muir. We also took some pictures on the way up... the cloud cap made for some tempting shots. I'm not sure my photos do it justice, but it was worth slowing down a bit to get some photography in.
On the upper snowfield, it got pretty cold. I put my gloves and fleece on at about 9000', a little later than I should have, since my hands were starting to get numb from the cold. At Camp Muir the winds were coming in strong, about 20-30 mph, and the temperature was around freezing. We huddled into the public shelter along with about two dozen other people. Since we got there around dinner time, there was lots of cooking being done. I was pretty hungry, so I downed my relatively inadequate PB&J sandwich and then just rested for a few minutes. I took a few photos of the Cowlitz Glacier at this point as well, which looked very different from the last time I was there. In the month since, the crevasses have really opened up, but with the fresh snow they looked less jagged. It was a sight I didn't expect at all, and I respected the mountain for not just how quickly things can change, but how much.
It was already getting pretty late (we started late since it was so hard to get out of bed), so we got going back down soon after. Like I said, the fresh snow made the descent much, much easier. We plunge stepped most of the way back with a couple of standing glissades thrown in. It was a fast descent too, 2.5 hours back to the car. My knee felt a lot better this time too, probably a combination of giving it some time off, along with the fresh snow, better technique, and better poles. Oh yeah, I should mention here that REI rocks... I went in a couple of weeks ago to return the REI Summit trekking poles that I bought back in March because the mechanism that holds the telescoping parts of the poles where you set them just wasn't reliable (I would have to re-set them at least a couple of times per hike), and finally, one of the plastic pieces separated from the aluminum pole section (making it impossible to twist the darn thing so I could extend it; worst thing was this happened in the field while I was hiking in Glacier National Park, probably 50-100 miles from any store where I could pick up a replacement... just good thing it wasn't a more critical piece of equipment!). Despite my having used the things for an entire season, they took 'em back no questions asked (I could see a lesser store arguing that it was "wear and tear" instead of just being cruddy), and gave me full store credit, which I used to pick up a new pair of Black Diamond Compact Trail poles. These are lighter, and instead of using the twist lock mechanism found in the REI poles, uses a "flick" cam mechanism, which in my humble experience seems easier to use and more secure. I'm pretty happy with the new poles thus far. And I continue to be happy with how awesome REI is about everything.
Anyhow, we got back to the car just as the sun set, lighting up the Tatoosh Range south of Rainier in glorious pinks and purples. And the mountain that we'd just come down from was awash in the glow. We stuck around for a few more pictures and then got out of there. Thanks to a fast descent, we didn't have to break out the headlamps. It's funny about the headlamps because if we make it down before we have to use them, I feel good about our speed, but if we don't then I feel good because I like using them. Hah. It's silly.
Well, there might be one more hike up to Camp Muir this year, but the weather may get pretty nasty pretty fast. So we'll see. If this was the last one, it was a great one.
Summited Mount Rainier (14,410', 4392m) just after 8:00 AM PDT, August 21, 2006.
The climb of the upper mountain really was harder than any other climb we've ever done, and there were many times when I thought about giving it up. But I kept coming back to the basics when those thoughts entered my head: breathing and taking it one step at a time. The reward was truly beyond words... I had to swallow back tears at the summit. It's hard to describe the feeling, because it was more than tears of joy, it was just an overwhelming tide of so many different emotions.
We met at RMI's "base camp" in Ashford at 8 AM on Sunday morning. In 24 hours, we would be toughing it out at 14,000 feet. After some brief introductory information from our team of 3 guides, we piled into a bus and drove the first 4000 feet to Paradise, where the climb began. The first part of the climb is now all too familiar, this being the fourth time I've made the ascent to Camp Muir. Only this time, it was for real.
Our team of 6 (A, J, K, M, R, and myself) were joined by a couple of women from New York and a guy from Texas. Unfortunately, almost immediately there were troubles. J had severe stomach pains, and by the first break on the Skyline Trail she was really hurting. After the break, she started falling behind the rest of the group, and I didn't see her again until we'd regrouped at Camp Muir some 4 hours later.
So it was that the rest of us made most of the trek up to Muir in concerned silence. The route we took deviated from the popular boot path that I'd become familar with slightly, taking us over some exposed rock at one point on the snowfield, but was otherwise the same as the route I'd done just about every other week since July 4 weekend. It took us over 5 hours to make Camp Muir, and to be honest, I didn't like the slow pace too much.
Once at Muir, we got a short briefing on the upper mountain, and some instructions on how to prepare equipment-wise for the upper climb. J managed to struggle her way up to Camp Muir, and made it before the cut-off that RMI sets for attempting the upper mountain. Unfortunately, she was in no shape to tackle the feat, not being able to eat and still in pain. I was surprised that she pushed onward to Muir, but it was good to have her with us, and I felt a solidarity in our party as I haven't felt before. So it was that she sent us off the next morning, in the wee hours, while she stayed behind at camp. It was a huge disappointment to her, and for the rest of us, as we'd all trained so hard for this. And frustrating that it wasn't a lack of preparation that prevented her from reaching the peak, but just bad luck.
I spent a restless evening in the bunkhouse, finally dozing off after the sun went down. But it was a short-lived nap, as the guides returned to wake us up not too long after midnight. I donned my upper mountain outfit: long underwear, shell pants, long-sleeve upper base layer, fleece, wool socks, plastic boots, gaiters, crampons, liner gloves, headlamp, and helmet. We were also supplied with an avalanche beacon. In my pack were my waterproof shell, snow pants, down parka, camera, food, 3 liters of water, heavy gloves, GPS unit, glacier glasses, goggles, and sunblock. We had ice axes in hand from Camp Muir on up. It was as light as I dared go.
Now the worst part about having poor vision is not having to wear glasses or contacts. It's having to wear contacts while climbing a mountain. It took me several tries to get my contacts in after we woke up, and my eyes were irritated for a long time, no thanks to the dust that we encountered at various points on the climb, and also no thanks to the high winds. My rope team consisted of our guide, A, M, and myself. I took the last position on the rope for the entire ascent, and most of the descent (except for one leg where we flipped the order). The "anchor" is a difficult place to be because it's hard to maintain any rhythm. You have to be very patient while the rest of the team negotiates a difficult stretch ahead, and then you have to quickly negotiate the difficult stretch because the rest of the team has made it through and is pressing forward at normal pace. I think I did alright, though.
The first part of the upper climb is the traverse across the Cowlitz Glacier. This was fairly straightforward, as we followed a well-established path, stepping around some crevasses, and onto the Cathedral Gap. This was a scramble up loose rock and gravel, with lots of dust being kicked up. Also, it was really the first time I'd used crampons on rock, which, I have to say, sucks. My poor new crampons... I could see sparks fly as I stepped onto rock at times.
Crossing the Cathedral Gap, we then ascended onto the Ingraham Glacier. We took our first break here, where I was already feeling more tired than I wanted to. Aside from combating the elevation and the physical demands of the climb thus far, I actually felt sleepy. It was very cold during breaks too... I was so glad I had my parka. Even though I used it for only 45 minutes (3 breaks) during this whole season, I was so glad I had it. It was hard to muster the will to eat, but I managed to down a Larabar on the Ingraham Flats before we put away the parkas and water and prepared for the dreaded Disappointment Cleaver.
The DC is the namesake of the route we took, and we'd heard reports from friends who'd attempted Rainier earlier in the season that it was a "bitch." A bitch it was. We got onto rock at about 11,000' and had to negotiate the loose, frustrating terrain for what seemed like 3 hours. At one point, our guide even took a slight wrong turn and we had to backtrack about 50 feet. It doesn't sound like much, but when every step is a gargantuan effort, 50 feet might as well have been 50 miles. While we were on the Cleaver, I thought about giving it up at the next break, which I knew was at 12,300' at the top of the Cleaver. That's where a lot of people throw in the towel, spent from the effort of making it up the rock scramble. RMI maintains a stash of equipment there, and they would have been able to set me up nicely in a tent and sleeping bag, and I could get some sleep and watch the sunrise in relative comfort. My legs were burning, my eyes were burning, my lungs were burning. What sane person wouldn't stop?
Instead, I thought about nothing. I focused the entirety of my consciousness into the next step, the next breath.
Finally, we pulled off for the break at 12,300'. I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and gulped down another 600 mL of water. And I just breathed. I was now higher than I'd ever climbed before, by an entire 24 feet. At this point, our guide switched A and M on the rope as M was complaining about tiredness and thought he might not be able to make it. To his credit, our guide is probably the only reason why M was able to make it to the summit of Mt. Rainier. If we'd been making this climb on our own, we probably would have turned around or at least sent someone back down with M instead of pushing him onward.
From there, I got into The Zone. After that break, we made the traverse to the Emmons Shoulder in order to avoid some nasty crevasses that had opened up on the upper Ingraham Glacier. This took us more northeasterly than the usual DC route, but I didn't really mind too much at that point. By the time we took our third and final break before the summit, at about 13,500', I was feeling great. The pressure breathing and just taking it one step at a time were working wonders, and I was able to take it in as the beautiful scene came alight around us while we maintained a slow, methodical pace. We watched the sun rise at about 13,000', and I was able to shoot five pictures on our break at 13,500' before my damn batteries gave out. I'd specifically installed fresh lithium batteries in my camera before the climb because lithiums are supposed to give the best cold weather performance. This turned out to be true in my GPS (still running at 90% capacity at the summit) but completely false in my camera.
After the break, M started to really struggle. I saw him actually fall over a couple of times, and later he told me that he was feeling very tired and that he might pass out. So our guide pulled us off at about 13,800' and let a few rope teams pass while M caught his breath. We were so close, there was no way he would let us fail now. By sheer will, all of us made it onto the crater rim just after 8 AM. I spent just a moment to get some water before I headed over with K and R (who'd been on a separate rope team and had their own trials and tribulations) to Columbia Crest, the true summit, with the lead guide. Just under Columbia Crest, there is a summit register, which we signed, and that's when I really started to get emotional. The last few feet up to the crest was just overpowering... it was the culmination of everything. In training for that moment, I'd climbed some 64,825' over 175 miles on 22 hikes and climbs this season. Also, I felt so bad that J wasn't there with us. At the summit, there was just a small patch of ice, rocks, and snow. Nothing special by itself, but when K got up there we just embraced like we'd just been through hell. The winds were overpowering, probably 40-50 mph, so we took a few pictures on K's and R's cameras and then got back down into the crater.
Here is the GPS Track and Profile of the ascent. There is some weirdness at around 13,200', and I'm not sure what caused this. Not like there were any trees in the way of a signal. Maybe just too cold? Also, the track ends at the crater, because in shedding all the possible weight I could for the last 200 feet up to Columbia Crest, I'd neglected to remember the GPS. And since I took no pictures above 13,500', I personally have no proof that I was actually there. I guess I'll have to rely on K and R's pictures for that...
As the guides reminded us at the beginning, we were but halfway. Now we had to make it down off of the mountain. On the upper mountain, this was actually very beautiful. Whereas most of the ascent from Camp Muir was in darkness, now we saw all the glaciers and crevasses and mountain features in the morning light. Next time, we are going to take some more time to enjoy the descent and take some photographs. The ice and snow up there is just incredible. There is really nothing like looking down into the blue depths of a crevasse and not being able to make out the bottom. It's just an environment that is like nothing else I've ever seen... being actually on a glacier is to be sitting on top of a living, moving being that is made of ice and snow.
In any case, we eventually made it back to Camp Muir, where J was waiting with camera in hand. Hopefully she's got some good shots of the weary team returning to camp. We spent a moment to rehydrate (I'd consumed the last of my 3 liters on our last break on the Ingraham Flats), and then packed up our overnight gear for the rest of the descent back to Paradise. The Muir Snowfield was again a bitch, as the glaring sun made it a very hot, difficult descent through mushy, uneven snow. My knee was acting up at this point and I didn't want to twist it worse than I did two weeks ago, so it was very slow going on the snowfield. By the time I reached Pebble Creek, I was starting to feel some effects of heat exhaustion. Fortunately, we spent a while just recovering at Pebble Creek and I downed another 600 mL of water. The rocky part of the Skyline wasn't too bad, as at least I had firm footing, but once we got onto the asphalt, I think I can say that it was actually the worst part of the entire climb for me. Worse than the Disappointment Cleaver. My feet were in so much pain by the time we got to the bus... at least on the DC I could concentrate on stepping and manage the pain, on the asphalt it was like every step just caused more pain! Of course, I'd known this was going to happen from my experience on Mt. Adams, but chose to bring only the plastic boots in order to save on weight. Oh well.
It's been an incredible experience, this entire season. From the first inkling of the idea back in March, from that first hike we did in the snow on Mt. Washington, to the highest point in Washington state. It's been an incredible learning experience, and somehow during this whole thing, Mt. Rainier became not an end unto itself, but rather a beginning. From here, the plan is to attempt Mt. Kilimanjaro next year, and probably Aconcagua after that. But first, I think, there is some unfinished business with Mt. Rainier. We all plan to return, and each of us for their own reasons. For me, I'd like to take the expedition school at some point and be able to climb the upper mountain without guides. I'd like to take my time next time and shoot photographs and just really take it all in without feeling like we're on a schedule. But that's next time. For now, back to reality for a while.
