Climbing Mount Rainier 2007

Below is my own account, mostly in note form and poor prose (I need a proof reader and editor). 

For a professional writers description of the same route (albeit in different conditions) this may be a better read:

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/getaways/312883_rainier26.html

For anyone reading this who was on the same climb - let me know if I've got timings and or sequence wrong - or indeed if you think I was on a different planet at the time.... and have got the whole thing wrong.  (Sometimes it felt like it)

Tuesday July 17^th

Mmmmm… breakfast…. Four whole (that’s 8 halves) English Muffins with Marmite, three Danish pastries and a triple venti latte then it’s off to the barbers… for a Rainier haircut.

Car is packed full of gear and provisions – I think I have too much food, but I can’t decide what to pack so I’ll err on the side of abundance.  On the way to the airport, I need to stop off at sports store to buy a toweling headband and The British Pantry for a couple of Cornish Pasties…. ooooh… and Cost Plus for some McVities Chocolate Digestive.  (They say you lose your appetite at 13,000 feet… so bring your favourite foods…. and the McV’s do have stacks of carbs.  I realize my main challenge will be making them last until I get to 13,000 feet, so I buy four packs….. at $5 each !!!!

Overcast on the way to SeaTac and the mountain is not “out” at all – although it is dry and reasonably warm.  Collect Bev off the plane and we’re headed down to Ashford.  It’s Tuesday mid afternoon and it seems every car in Washington is on the road.  The trip down Meridian Street in Puyallup is unending – and with so much hydrating going on I need to make frequent stops to create more hydrating space.

We arrive in Ashford about 5:30 and head for Pamela’s cabin where we’re storing Pasties, Sausage Rolls, Gatorade and Champagne in her fridge.

Then it’s off to Whittakers (www.whittakermountaineering.com) to rent our gear (I need boots, crampons, glove package and down-parka).  Burger at the Bar and Grill and, wow I’m so restrained, lemonade…. And we head to our room at Nisqually Lodge, which very soon looks like a bomb’s hit it…. Gear is strewn everywhere…. and where there’s no gear, there’s food….. and where there’s no food, there’s more food.  Bev says she thinks we’ve brought too much food.  I agree.    Have some more carbs…

Wednesday July 18th

Alarm rouses us at 6:30 (we’re due at Basecamp at 8), throw some light stuff (lunch and waterproofs only) into our packs head for breakfast (yummm… more carbs) and arrive at Whittakers’ just before 8.  Quick intro from John and Gabriel, our climb school instructors and we’re on the bus to Paradise – where it starts raining.  We hike off to the north east about 40 minutes arriving at a fairly (no, make that very) steep slope which we spend the next few hours alternately climbing up and falling down.  All the while learning how to step and breath efficiently and fall down safely and stop ourselves and or our teams.

On the bus, John and Gabriel (Scotland and Argentina.. now there’s a pairing !) brief us on what to expect for the next two days… and how to make best use of the last few hours preparation… and specifically, “not to focus on the whole thing…..just the next step / next objective”.  I’d heard that advice before… in Wales, in Dartmoor, in Scotland, in Cumbria many years earlier– and remembered its power.

It stops raining on the way back….. and we get to Ashford around 5pm, for a quick shower and return to basecamp for a briefing from Lou Whittaker.  This is the third time I’ve heard Lou’s pitch.  Pressure breathing, rest steps, food and water – over and over again.  That, apparently, is the key to getting up the mountain.  Well there’s a reasonable level of fitness required also, but it’s a bit late in the day now to affect that any more.

We listen, and ask questions and admire the man, and pose for photos.  Having seen the forecast, we ask about the weather and Lou says “ignore it” – it’s never right anyhow.

Then Bev and I head off for Copper Creek Inn – for Rib Eye steak, garlic roast potatoes, and, oh well, a few more carbs won’t hurt…. a couple of pints of Guinness.

Back to the room and time for some hard decisions.

What to take, what to leave behind.

We take some fairly drastic decisions on the food – and still probably end up taking too much – and I have a real dilemma about underwear.  To take two pairs of long-johns or not… and, if only one, which ones… the silk or the midweight…. And what about the fleece pants…. They’re relatively heavy and people say they’ve rarely had to wear them.  I decide to postpone the decision until the morning.

6am – Thursday 19^th.

I’ve slept soundly – apart from the 2-3 times I’ve needed to de-hydrate/re-hydrate – and we’re ready to go.  Breakfast…. mmmmmmm Pancakes…. Then back to the room to make Peanut Butter sandwiches (none of that jelly stuff for me…) and we arrive at Whittakers only 10 minutes late…. And are split into our climb teams.  We’re team A (Lead guide Melissa, with Stuart and Steve assisting, and Bev, myself, Jurgen, Linda, Gary, Bruce and Hugh) and the others are Team B (Brent, John and Gabriel as guides, with Lesley, Lyn, Barbara, Tina, Pamela, Larry, Mike, Jeff, Jason).  It’s raining – but not hard – and Brent suggests wearing GoreTex fullzip pants from the start.  I choose not to.  Still wrestling with the decision about the longjohns and fleece pants I ask a few opnions.  Concensus is mixed – so I decided to postpone again and carry them up to Muir.  Heck… I’ve carried 50 pounds up to Muir before, and I’m way under that today.

40 minute drive in the bus up to Paradise and it’s stopped raining and there are a few (very few) blue bits in the sky, but it’s mainly overcast and cool, but not much wind.  So I opt for a single layer on top and bottom.  Just regular hiking pants and regular lightweight shirt.  Quick squirt of sunscreen and half litre of water and we’re off – staying in a tight line with Melissa’s shambling pace up front.  Amazing where all the snow has gone since our first trip to Rainier in early May where it was piled 6 feet high around the paths at Paradise… now all is green meadows with wildflowers in abundance and several Marmots running about.

The trail is virtually snowless all the way to Pebble Creek (2 miles) which is pretty hard going with plastic mountaineering boots on.  The clouds start to close in – but it’s a nice temperature for hiking hard – compared to the 80 plus degrees of the previous 2-3 weeks.  Each rest stop we take a bit more time to learn more about each other and why we’re doing this.  Jurgen’s a 61 year old summitter from last year who wants to keep finding out if he can do it. Linda’s a late 20’s library student taking time out from running 17 (yes seventeen) marathons so far this year.  The rest of us are somewhere in the middle.  Bruce, an MD – who coincidentally had treated guide Stuart a couple of weeks earlier for frostbite – obtained on a guiding trip to Denali (amusing sidenote… he’d checked into Bruce’s Queen Ann practice on Seattle’s hottest day of the year seeking treatment for frostbite – on hearing this, the incredulous reception staff wanted to refer him elsewhere !), Gary, a desk worker, Laura a teacher, Hugh a retired Firefighter/Paramedic, Bev and myself.

I never thought I’d say this, but…. We actually cruised into Muir and I didn’t really feel tired at all.  We were halfway towards our objective…. And the real fun was about to start.

Late afternoon at Muir was VERY pleasant.  The majority of the clouds had cleared and, while we couldn’t see the summit, the panorama was stunning with lots of blue sky.  It was fairly cold though, so a parka was necessary outside of the shelter.

The shelter was cozy…. bunks layed out on three levels.  Bev and I grabbed the top level – which turned out to be fine.  We had a fair amount of space to spread out our stuff.  Noddles for dinner (yuk!) and a Cornish Pastie (yum!) and a few more digestives (yummier).

6:30 we head for bed….. I’m thankful of the advice (from John) to take lighter sleeping bag.  It must be 35 years old now.  Brent tells us he’ll wake us up in the wee hours.  Earlier means the weather's likely to be better… later means it’s worse.  Later still means we’re not going.

And so to sleep – well, I get no real sleep….. the natural human sounds are accompanied by an ever increasing roar of the wind outside.  I watch as minutes tick by and darkness gathers.  Then there’s no light outside at all – it must be about 10pm.  A few more hours and the noise outside grows ever more intense.  The shelter is a stone built building with walls a couple of feet thick but it feels like it’s going to take off any minute.  I’m pretty convinced Brent’s not going to arrive until daylight, so I better at least try to get some sleep.  Then lights on… it’s 12:30.

We’re going !

Rush rush rush… I’d heard the biggest time drag in the precious 50 minutes between wake up call and tie-on time is the wait for the outhouse…… so I’m up and out there first…..man it’s windy on the way to the loo… as well as the sit down….….…Back in the shelter I fill water bottles… make noodles… eat as much as can (tasteless)… know I really should have more.. wonder if that’ll come and bite me later…eat chocolate bar… drink as much water as I can (heeding Lou’s words earlier) and refill each of two quart bottles

Brent recommends layers… Jeff thinks it’ll be colder.. in the end opt for mid weight longjohns and fleece pants on bottom… (the same two articles I was debating leaving back at basecamp) lightweight underwear on top, regular hiking shirt, midweight fleece and goretex jacket… and lightweight gloves… no hat under helmet – and last minute decision to add the “Buff” as a neck gaiter (Good decision!!!)

Step into harness and tighten – make sure waist is extra tight so no chance of falling out of it in a fall

Fit headlamp to helmet… put on low power (paranoid about un-tested battery length).  Bev decides she’s not venturing out… find out I’m on rope with Stuart and Bruce…. works for me…

Out into the cold blustery weather.. parka off..stuffed into pack… crampons on…. tie into rope… and we’re off

Wind drops as we set off across Cowlitz glacier and duck down into shelter of rocks.  Wide glacier… leisurely traverse with, initially, only minimal elevation gain…. this could be quite fun…  until…  as we got out to middle of the glacier traverse and back into the full force of the wind…  glimpses of gaping crevasses in peripheral vision…. Choose not to look just yet… concentrating on keeping the pace right and rope not too slack.  Our rope team is last in line… I’m in the middle… keep an eye on the rope… and only occasionally look ahead… at the line of lights snaking up the glacier.  After about 20-30 minutes first group are noticeably higher and starting up steep section (Cathedral Gap) – wow that looks steep…  We leave the glacier, shorten the rope and start to climb….as we start to climb the terrain changes from ice and snow to cinders reminding me that we’re on a volcano…. wind strengthens very very blustery… cinders/pumice starting to be picked up and thrown into our faces… good decision (last minute) to rent (and wear) goggles… and good decision to wear ‘buff’ – which with one pull of the hand, converts from neck gaiter to face mask.  As we climb wind intensifies…. We’re frequently forced to stop and brace as the wind alternately blows us into the mountain… then sucks us off… then drops… then gusts again.  This is going to be a slow journey

Reach “Ingraham Flats” around 3am (1hr 15 minutes into journey) and sky is relatively clear – can make out the glow of lights from Yakima.  Bitterly cold when we stop…. Parka does its job admirably… pee break… no chance of aiming anywhere with the swirling wind…  Bruce and myself are good to go on to next section… though at this stage several drop out (particularly the lighter women who are being thrown about more than most)  John and Steve take two teams (7 in total) back to Muir and remainder (Guides Brent, Melissa, Gabriel and Stuart) press on with Bruce, Lyn, Jason, Mike, Jeff, Hugh, Gary, Pamela and myself.  Brent says next section (The Cleaver) is toughest and longest… and 1 hr 20 minutes… Stuart confides that’s undercalled and we should be ready for a 2 hour section without break.  Off we go…

A long traverse to get to the base of the cleaver…. when the wind drops its eerily quiet – except for the creaking and cracking of the ice on the glacier…. Glaciers are alive… fuelled by gravity and the elements… they creak and crack and grind their way down the mountain

Past the point of the worst climbing disaster in US history (in 1981 a giant avalanche buried 11 climbers…unless global warming takes a greater hold, they’ll probably emerge from the glacier in several thousand years) and site of rockfall/icefall area disaffectionately known as “The Bowling Alley”  - rope is long for the traverses, crevasses and rockfall/icefall sections… (for safety reasons to enable more ‘react time’ of others on rope, should one person fall or be hit) and shorter through the rocky sections to better follow the path of the upper climbers as well as to avoid snagging the rope

This is surreal….

The wind is cold and strong…. But I’m relatively warm (relatively !!!)…. Think I should probably put on some warmer gloves at the next stop… and possibly cover my head a bit better.

Cleaver is a real struggle… can’t keep a steady pace due to the wind…. Headlamp is working well…

Cleaver is STEEP… well up to the grade of Cable Line and Mailbox peak…. beginning to welcome the effects of training for this one….  Difficult to keep steady pace (wind continues to buffet and strengthen….) which is good since it allows a brief rest from the steep climb – but we’re making slow progress…..   Bruce is beginning to tire and apologise for keeping the rope tight… Stuart says no problem – but I hear Brent in the radio asking “Where are you?”, Stuart replies… “we’re a little behind”, “well get a move on then”… ha ha… thanks Brent… easier said than done.  We get to the top of the cleaver and the weather has closed in – no more lights from yakima no more lights of dawn just lots and lots of white….. and much of it being blown into faces.  We eventually find our rest stop – but we’ve not got long…. throw the parka on quickly – try to find some food…. The chocolate bar stowed in my parka for ease of finding is frozen solid…. The cereal bar unappetizing… but I know I’ve got to have something…. and water…  Bruce needs no encouragement from Stuart to question whether he should go on or not… neither does Pamela who is vigorously quivering with the cold.  I reach over to hug Bruce.  We’ve both just come through one of the most harrowing periods of our lives – and the emotional significance of having a family doctor on my rope is not lost on me.  I have difficulty getting out the words of thanks and to have a safe trip down.

They set out on their way down, with Gary…. With Stuart guiding……   I now have two new climbing buddies…. Melissa, our team’s lead guide, and Hugh.  Bruce yells to Melissa…. “He’s strong”.  I shrug and raise a thumb.  Melissa yells to me “I need VERY strong”…. Without thinking (dammit) I raise two thumbs, .....tie in and we’re off.  Melissa in front, me in middle, Hugh at rear.  We’re the third rope behind Brent, Lyn, Mike, Gabriel, Jeff and Jason.  Onto stage 3…. One more rest top (in about an hour and twenty they say – although by now I’m always skeptical of the guides’ timekeeping) though I do glance at my watch and see 5am (-ish).  It’s almost dawn – and reasonably OK to turn my headlamp off…. Seems to be plenty of juice left – so I needn’t have worried about using higher power to start off.  Although, I’m thinking the less I see/saw the better.

Stage three: Top of Disappointment Cleaver to “high break”.  We’ve left the rock behind and it’s all snow and ice… and not too steep… but we’re seeing more and more crevasses several tens of feet long and several feet wide and who knows how many hundreds of feet deep – we snake along crossing where we can – but never more than a 2 or 3 foot step across (simple in daylight, warmth, level terrain and the threat of a drop of only a few inches – a whole different story in these conditions…. But nevertheless not really a problem.  I’d worried the previous week about crossing crevasses…. Not knowing how big the ‘jumps’ would be… or how wide… or how deep… or how strong the snowbridges….  In the end, they really weren’t a problem.  We came to a section of huge seracs interspersed with crevasses and arrived at a running belay that the guides had set up previously.  This comprised anchors driven in the snow, to attach our rope to, a rope ‘hand rail’ to hold onto – while swinging down from one level to another.  Tricky to negotiate (and cost us about 20 minutes) but far safer, and quicker, than if it’d been unassisted.  Once past this we started to climb and zig-zag reasonably steeply.  We’re almost at 13,000 feet now…. The wind seems to be worsening…. I’m becoming aware that I have a VERY cold head, although the rest of me is OK…. Thanking my decisions to carry and waer the fullzip fleece pants (best $40 I’ve ever spent), and the buff (which is now soaking wet…from my breathing.  Pressure Breathing and rest stepping have now become almost second nature to me… all around me is whiteness and upness (and cold and wind) and I’m zoned in the The Rope just in front of my feet…  breath, breath, slide, step, pause, breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause, breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause.  Very occasionally I’ll look up and see Melissa step, pause pause, pause, step, pause, pause, pause… and down at the rope breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause, breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause  - this is my new world… I wonder when we’ll interrupt this rhythm with a rest break…  I’m completely unaware of what’s going on behind me, which clearly means the rope has some slack and that Hugh is in the same zone with the same metronome breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause, breath, breath, ropeslide, step, pause 

I glance at my watch… we must  be getting close to our rest stop… I need to put some additional covering on my head and need to pull out my warmer gloves….. and I’m getting REALLY thirsty… and starting to feel hungry.

I’m going to make the summit….. waves of emotion run right through me as I come to that realization – this is the hardest thing I’ve done… but I’m going to make the summit…. Who cares if I won’t be able to see anything.  I look up…. Lots of whiteness and upness…. Hmmmm…. I’m tired… I’m really not sure if I’m going to make the summit…. breath breath breath ropeslide, step, pause…. I feel strong I’m going to make the summit… whitenss, upness… damn I’m tired, not sure I’m going to make it…my head is reeeeely cold… my calves ache… apart from that I’m fine…

My ropes slacker… they’re reeling me in… I’ve arrived at the rest stop…. Parka on…. Drink… can’t find food, can’t find hat – next time only use one inner bag to keep things dry.  Hugh arrives at rest stop and we’re all pretty beaten up…

Brent’s made the decision to turn us all back – nobody argues.

We made it as far as we could… and I’d achieved my number one goal to not be truend back through lack of physical or mental preparedness.  The guides altimeters read 13,300 feet and they estimated 40 minutes short of the summit.  I looked around… the view was simply, er, non-existant.  The whiteness and upness unending it seemed.  So we turned…. Hugh leading on our rope – following close behind the footsteps of Gabriels rope, with me in middle and Melissa at rear.   Going down is easy.  Not true… it’s just a different kind of difficult.  I’d not had time at our break to 1) Put on a hat 2) Get some food  3) Get some water

As Lou had said – remember to keep pressure breathing.  It was now daylight although visibility was still only about 30-40 feet.  Coming down I could see fairly easily what Hugh was up to… and where the rope in front was headed.  It was still very windy and we were occasionally blown off our feet and off the trail.  At one such point Hugh took his eyes off the rope in front, only for a moment….. and I could see, at that moment, they’d headed off to the right.  When Hugh got to his feet, they were gone.  He called back to Melissa “I don’t know where to go” – and he was visibily and audibly (and understandably) shaken.  What he couldn’t know was that I (and presumably) Melissa had seen exactly the path taken by the lower rope team – so it really wasn’t too much of an issue to get Hugh on the right path again – but I can understand how scary being in front and ‘blind’ must have been.  I’m now VERY thirsty and longing for the next rest stop – but it seems we’re pressing on before the weather gets even worse (ha… as if that’s possible).  Going up the running belay is only a tad less challenging than coming down.  Wish I’d had my camera handy or there’d been time available to grab it.  The ice formations were stunning and the ‘glacier blue’ colour indescribably wonderful… the hundreds of feet drop, which were now clearly visible were quite frightening.  Apart from that our visibility remained limited…. none of those stunning landscapes, views of Little Tahoma or distant cascades – will need to steal some of those photos from last week’s climbers or crawl the web.  Now skipping over crevasses and snow bridges we reached the top of the Cleaver and a brief rest stop…. and very quick photo shoot… at last I find my iced water (after several searches)…. almost completely frozen… and drink as much as I can.  Can’t face any food (probably a bad move – but I know we’re less than a couple of hours from home (well from Muir anyhow).  After only a couple of minutes we shorten the ropes and set off down the cleaver.  We’re dislodging quite a few rocks which tumble down….. onto a rope team some way below us…  They yell back up to us… we pause until they pass out of the falling zone… and then head on at a reasonable pace.  But we’re still being buffeted by the wind which frequently forces us to stop and brace.  Down to more level ground and we let the ropes out again for bowling alley… until we reach “The Flats”.  Here we do take a proper (wow… must be 20 minutes or more) break to take photos, grab snacks, have a few laughs, and do our hair and make-up so that we arrive at Muir in good order.  Then its down Cathedral Gap (the familiar wind buffeting, clinker) onto the flat Cowlitz Glacier travers… hmmm… those crevasses look much much larger now it’s daylight…. And we arrive at Camp Muir in more of a blizzard than we left it about 8 or 9 hours previously.  Crampons off… into the shelter to greetings from our team mates who’d had the wisdom to turn back sooner and, WOW,  HOT COFFEE (thanks Linda!)

Hugh, an ex firefighter and paramedic – who must’ve had some pretty harrowing experiences in the past - is overcome with emotion at what we’ve been through.  Bruce, I learn, took a fall, lost his ice axe and was careening down the mountain until team-arrested by Stuart, Gary and Pamela… and is visibly shaken by the whole ordeal.  What stories to tell over some beers later.

The ice and snow caked to my fleece pants, goretex and gloves has now melted and soaked in.  I am wet through, and have nothing dry to change into.  Horizontal snow blizzard outside – but we’re all eager to get down to Paradise (so called, originally, by people coming up from the lowlands… though it sounded an extremely apt name to those of us coming down from the peaks).  The trip down was luxury…. relatively…. Marginally less wind, marginally warmer temperatures and freezing rain instead of snow.  Some short way above pebble creek we ran into “Climb 4” who were already wet through, and about 3 hours into their ascent to Camp Muir.  We exchanged pleasantries and insults and wished them better weather – although we all knew they weren’t going to get it.  As it happens they too were ‘turned’ about 20 minutes later.  The trip from Pebble Creek to Paradise seemed to take for ever.  I guess we were all tired and, like a watched kettle, ready to boil, but not quite there yet…  We arrived at paradise at around 3pm…. Hauled ourselves into the bus and headed down to Ashford.  It had stopped raining and the sky was starting to clear – but only for a brief moment.

Back in Ashford it was a rush to the car to make a quick getaway and be first in line for the hot water back at the Nisqually Lodge.  Ah… that shower brought back vivid memories of Cape Wrath and the Ridgway School of Adventure – first shower after a week in the wilds - from way back in the late 70’s.  As did the beer at Whittaker’s Bunkhouse Bar and Grill.

In fact much of the trip reminded me of cold bleak schooldays in Snowdonia, Cumbria, Sutherland, Dartmoor with driving rain and snow, poor visibility, bitterly cold winds, soaking wet clothing, natural hazards and wonderful, wonderful camaraderie.

And so to bed.

In emails to sponsors friends and family I wrote:

“All in all, probably the most awe inspiring, physically and mentally demanding, dangerous, scary, cold, wet and rewarding days of my life

The question remains would it have been more or less scary and more or less rewarding if conditions had been different in terms of cold, wet and lack of visibility.

I guess, one day, soon, I need to be able to answer that question.