Mt Rainier (with photos)
You know, carrying a 50lb pack isn't easy. But that pack went 10,000' up (leaving bits of weight behind). Just missed out on the final thousand.
We started out on relatively flat trails through the trees. Due to past storms and government funding, the trail occasionally passed through White River. But eventually, we reached the end of "maintained" trails. Then it was on to the snow.
The snow was a little tougher. We passed a couple groups roping up due to the crevasses, but the boot path appeared stable enough (along with the almost mandatory glissade chute).
We eventually settled onto a patch of dirt to stop and rest. Even set up some tents, melt some snow, and eat. Mike and I claimed this patch of dirt as our own.
It even had a view. We relaxed. The weather was nice. Then about an hour before sunset, the winds shifted direction by about 45 degrees and picked up by 10+ mph. Conditions were no longer pleasant. We called upon large rocks to further anchor the tent.
The next day brought us to actual glacier travel.
It was a short (< 2 hours) to get to Camp Schurman. Once there, we had most of the day to rest (read pretend to sleep) before we needed to rise again at dusk. We found a ready made kitchen, where we could kick back, eat, etc.
And then darkness. Headlamps illuminated our path. It was cold. Air temperature was around 20 - 25. The winds were steadily rising in strength as we ascended. Gusts of 40+ would knock you off balance. One such gust sent me down and forced my Nalgene from the external pocket. It shot off down the mountain and fortunately failed to strike anyone as it bounded into oblivion.
We gave up our attempt with sustained winds above 40 mph and possibly as high as 60. Another climbing group turned back when one climber's cornea froze.
In daylight, the path may have looked like this:
Or this:
Only in climbing, can you realize just how huge is the mountain. And just how small you are. The following photo shows a ridge of snow about 50' in height that we passed.
Back in camp, I crashed and held very still for a couple hours. My neck would remain sore for days from constantly looking down all night while climbing. After further rest and additional food, we disbanded camp leaving little remains of our camp.
On descent, we would occasionally look back and point saying, "we were there". Except for photo taking, there were few stops. Done with granola, done with boiled water. Down there was food and drink with taste, flavor.
After glissading down thousands of feet, the final bit down I did at a run, as I sought the water fountains. My food and water were low, I was ready to be done.
We started out on relatively flat trails through the trees. Due to past storms and government funding, the trail occasionally passed through White River. But eventually, we reached the end of "maintained" trails. Then it was on to the snow.
The snow was a little tougher. We passed a couple groups roping up due to the crevasses, but the boot path appeared stable enough (along with the almost mandatory glissade chute).
We eventually settled onto a patch of dirt to stop and rest. Even set up some tents, melt some snow, and eat. Mike and I claimed this patch of dirt as our own.
It even had a view. We relaxed. The weather was nice. Then about an hour before sunset, the winds shifted direction by about 45 degrees and picked up by 10+ mph. Conditions were no longer pleasant. We called upon large rocks to further anchor the tent.
The next day brought us to actual glacier travel.
It was a short (< 2 hours) to get to Camp Schurman. Once there, we had most of the day to rest (read pretend to sleep) before we needed to rise again at dusk. We found a ready made kitchen, where we could kick back, eat, etc.
And then darkness. Headlamps illuminated our path. It was cold. Air temperature was around 20 - 25. The winds were steadily rising in strength as we ascended. Gusts of 40+ would knock you off balance. One such gust sent me down and forced my Nalgene from the external pocket. It shot off down the mountain and fortunately failed to strike anyone as it bounded into oblivion.
We gave up our attempt with sustained winds above 40 mph and possibly as high as 60. Another climbing group turned back when one climber's cornea froze.
In daylight, the path may have looked like this:
Or this:
Only in climbing, can you realize just how huge is the mountain. And just how small you are. The following photo shows a ridge of snow about 50' in height that we passed.
Back in camp, I crashed and held very still for a couple hours. My neck would remain sore for days from constantly looking down all night while climbing. After further rest and additional food, we disbanded camp leaving little remains of our camp.
On descent, we would occasionally look back and point saying, "we were there". Except for photo taking, there were few stops. Done with granola, done with boiled water. Down there was food and drink with taste, flavor.
After glissading down thousands of feet, the final bit down I did at a run, as I sought the water fountains. My food and water were low, I was ready to be done.