Video Report Descending the Mountain

Check out video from Rainier!

Success on Rainier, 14,411

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Dear Supporters:

It has been a few weeks since my last post and I apologize for my absence. Since then, big things have happened. Life continues to roll on in the lowlands and up high. Down here in the city I have a new place and work is going strong. Up in the mountains, the real accomplishments are taking place. I successfully summited Mt. Rainier on July 22 at around 7am! The climb was a total success! Here's a brief recap of the experience:

On Saturday the 19th I flew up to Seattle, where I met Kyle MacDonald, founder of BAWT and fellow climber. We went through the normal motions of renting a car, then headed up in the darkness to Ashford and the Rainier Mountaineering Inc. basecamp, the Whittaker Bunkhouse.

Sunday morning, after downing cups of coffee and bagels, the summit team met one another and the three RMI guides that would lead us up the mountain and around crevasses and rockfall zones. After some talks and gear checks, the team headed up to the national park and Paradise, our trailhead for the expedition. At Paradise, we all donned our double plastic mountaineering boots and began walking a short distance up snowfields to some steep gullies, perfect sites for snow school. This year the Pac NW received a ton of snow, "fattening up" the mountain. The result was a dearth of beautiful, green meadows even in late July. Much of the lower mountain still lay blanketed in feet of snow.

Snow school is great fun, and more importantly, it acts for many as the first experience that people have learning about proper mountaineering techniques such as walking with crampons, managing rope teams and most importantly, catching someone's fall with a self arrest. Self arresting basically involves driving the pick of an ice ax into the snow to stop an uncontrolable slide down an icy slope. This technique is life-saving if done properly and is the last defense should someone on a rope team fall into a crevasse or down a slope, keeping the rest of the team from being pulled off the mountain.

By Sunday evening, the team, equipped with bronzed faces and new skills to stay alive on the mountain, headed back to basecamp to prepare gear for the climb that started early the next morning.

Monday brought another team busride to Paradise, this time with the entire team equipped for the climb. By the time we arrived and made our way through the throngs of tourists in the parking lot outside the lodge. Outside in the parking lot we lathered ourselves in sunscreen and started marching slowly to our high camp, Camp Muir. Step by step our team inched higher on the mountain and into view of massive glaciers, the Wilson, Nisqually and Nisqually Icefall. By 3pm, the team had arrived at Camp Muir, an eclectic collection of plywood huts, stone windbreaks and scattered expedition tents strewn about the surrounding glaciers and snowfields. The team dropped our packs, filled up on water and prepared dinner. By 6pm, all of us were down, snug in our sleeping bags in our windbeaten shelter. The climb would start later that night at 11:30pm.

I passed out quickly. Somehow I've managed to sharpen my skills in falling asleep anywhere on command. I woke up at 11:30 refreshed and ready to tackle the mountain. My other compadres weren't so fortunate. Many complained of light or nonexistent sleep thoughout the evening period.

After guzzling down oatmeal and coffee, we were off at around 1230am. By headlamp my rope team made our way over glaciers, through avalanche and rock zones in the predawn darkness. One of the cool things abotu climbing high at night is seeing people ahead on the mountain. Only headlamps are visible as small specks of light high on the mountain. At first glance, the view of these lights so high makes you take stock of the efforts still ahead of you on the climb. You see them and think, "damn; I will be pulling myself to there and beyond."

The coolest thing about climbing in the darkness is the serenity. Yes, I was part of a rope team. However, when alone in the dark, your world is limited to the light of your headlamp and the rythm of your breath. It's almost meditative to feel the cold entering your nose and mouth, your breath, the crunch of the snow and the bright white light off of the snow. It's beautiful.

Adding to the beauty was the moon that shined over us on the climb. We weren't totally in the dark as a 3/4 moon illuminated much of the glaciers and rocks that surrounded us. Details were impossible to distinguish, but you could see the outlines of rock cliffs and the white faces of glaciers and icefalls above. I remember walking beneath an immense white wall and feeling this looming, intimidating presence over my shoulders. Our guide Andres' command of, "we need to cruise through here" reaffirmed my exhilaration and distrust of the face above.

By daybreak our team had moved far above the icefalls and high onto the Ingraham Glacier. As daybreak illuminated the mountain, I finally could get a real perspective on how high we had come. At one point I felt dizzied as I looked down onto the silver blanket of clouds below. To the South, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams and Mt. Hood were all poking their peaks out of the clouds. We took a quick team break to down water and masticate Clif Bars. Scenery absorbed, we had to now refocus our attention on navigating through a field of crevasses that guarded the last 1000 vertical ft. of ice above us. At one point, gathered on a large serac--detached block of ice on a glacier-- we had to cross a series of crevasses on weak snow bridges. Andres, our guide approached the most challenging of these crossings, set an anchor, then informed us in his Columbian accent, "small step, BIG consequence." Wise words. As I took my turn leaping off the serac and over this crevasse, I decided to take a peep down to see what the big consecuence would be: an abyss that beautifully transitioned from glacier blue, to dark blue, to back. No bottom in sight. I took a breath and leaped over the void, hoping the snowbridge that I landed on would hold my weight. It did and I felt like I had a new lease on life... until I had to cross it again on the decent.

More slogging up stiff snow in the low light of morning finally took us to the summit crater and Columbia Crest, the summit of Mt. Rainier. Of the 7 members our team, 4 arrived at the summit, one, stopped short at the summit crater only 200 vertical feet from the top. Excited, we all pulled out flags representing our repsective donors and snappend shot after shot of our success. The moment was magical and I had to restrain a few tears as I walked away from my team on the broad summit, all of Washington spread beneath. Oddly enough, I felt better than I ever had above 14,000ft. Like on Mt. Hood, I don’t remember being out of breath at all...

Celebrations over and tired of taking summit shots, we regathered and began the decent down the mountain. My thought immediately shifted to thinking about passing through the sketchy parts of the climb, epecially that damn crevasse and weak snowbridge that would by now be further weakened by the warming sun. Soon enough, we arrived at that snowbridge and with another deep breath and a sinking stomach, I lept over the void and onto solid footing on the serac below. Step by step, we continued downward.Four hours later, the team rolled back into Camp Muir where we received a warm welcome from our compadres that had come down early. We did it and all felt immense satisfaction. During the next few minutes at camp we packed and sorted our gear for the rest of the decent. Not surprisingly, the conversation changed from talk of the summit, to how delicious pizza and beer would be once we got down. When we finally arrived at basecamp, we devoured four pizzas and pitcher after pitcher of cold beer: our celebration feast.

Climbing Rainier was spectacular. I can't wait to get back to Seattle to do it again. A winter ascent sounds especially attractive. For the time being, my physical goal of acheiving the summit has been attainted.
There is still room to go in order to reach my fundraising goal and I need your help to get me there. By September 1, I need to have raised $3800. Right now, with your support we've raised $1460. Time is closing in. If you haven't donated yet, please head on over the website and donate now! Only you all can help me acheive the other summit of this endeavor. Your generosity and support goes to help inner city kids get outside and enjoy the benefits of wilderness.

Cheers,

Steve