Two Birds, One Mountain | Mt. Rainier – DC Route (2014-08-03) Well folks, here it is! Probably my final serious climb of the season, and what a memorable one! It’s Mt. Rainier again! This time, however, we’re looking at the Disappointment Cleaver route. This is the most popular route on the mountain. I was signed up with the fine folks at Alpine Ascents for this one. Well, what are we waiting for, let’s get started! After loading up the van, our group of 8 climbers and 4 guides drove up to Paradise, a popular destination for spending the day outdoors at the foot of Mt. Rainier. It’s also the starting point for the trail up to Camp Muir, which was our base camp for this expedition. As usual, Paradise didn’t disappoint, offering a breathtaking view of what was ahead for us. Ok, no more messing around, let’s get to the good stuff. Day 1 – Climb To Camp Muir The DC route is a standard route going through Camp Muir, where I’ve been multiple times (never spent the night before).

This hike gains roughly 5,000 ft of elevation, reaching just over 10,000 ft at Camp Muir. As I came to find out, Alpine Ascents actually has what is effectively a permanent camp set up at Camp Muir. Park rules don’t allow permanent camps, so technically, they share it with another company (IMG) and rotate, using each site on alternate days. But for all intents and purposes, it’s a permanent camp that lasts all season hehe. This means that unlike the usual trips I’ve been taking, we didn’t have to carry up any group gear. No tents, no stoves, no food (well, a tiny bag not worth talking about). It was a nice, pleasant surprise. Amusingly, when I told the other climbers how surprised I was, and how we normally all chip in on carrying tents, food, fuel, stoves, etc. people were shocked, like “whoa, you have to carry stuff?” Haha yeah, I felt pretty spoiled. :p Needless to say, the climb to Camp Muir was fairly simple. I had done this hike several times before, and this instance was the best I’ve ever felt on it.

I thought back to the first time doing this climb, last year. I was dead tired, having used everything I had to get up there with a regular pack (no added weight). By the time we came back down that day, it was dark. This, by contrast, felt like an easy stroll. Upon arrival at camp, we got to their private hut (shared with IMG). This is a big room, with bunk beds all around the sides, and foam pads ready to use. I took one of the top bunks, just for the hell of it. You’ll notice an empty Gatorade bottle next to my bed. This was my “pee bottle” that they recommended everyone to bring. At first I thought it was kind of stupid, but it turns out it was a great idea. It would have sucked to climb over someone, climb down the ladder, put on my boots, and go outside to the toilet if I needed to go. Putting on my headlamp and awkwardly peeing in a bottle was a lot more pleasant!

I was hoping I wouldn’t need to do it, but I was taking Diamox (for altitude, just in case – I would have been fine without it, most likely), and Diamox makes you pee. So yeah, achievement unlocked! It goes well with pooping in a bag. That evening, we walked over to the guides’ tent, which doubles as a dining tent. It’s one of those bigger, sturdier tents, which has an actual door (with a knob and everything). I hit my head on the top of the doorway just about every time I walked into our out of that tent. Anyway, they had some serious stoves in there, and were able to cook some awesome food. They made really tasty burritos for everyone. I must have eaten at least 3 of them. Oh man, SO good! The rest of the evening was spent chilling out outside in the perfect weather, taking pictures and getting to know each other. We only had to get up at around 6am, so we had lots of downtime. Normally, we’re always very busy on these trips, but when you have permanent camp setup, you can actually relax a bit.

Sadly, there were a few bush fires going on far away, and so the air was a bit smoky, which really reduced visibility. Eventually, it was time for sleeping. And peeing in a bottle, yay! Day 2 – Snow School, and Climbing To Ingraham Flats After waking up, we got packed up and headed over to the guide tent for breakfast. HOLY SHIT!!! THERE WAS BACON!!! Bacon and scrambled eggs and pancakes! This was a LEGIT breakfast!!! After breakfast, it was time for snow school, where we went over all the basics we were going to need: Footwork with crampons, self-arrest, and basic rope management. We also got our avalanche beacons up and running. With all that out of the way, we got into four rope teams of three (2 climbers, 1 guide), and started the real part of the climb! Let’s talk about the route for a moment.

From Camp Muir, the DC route looks something like this: Our mission on this day was a short hike: Traverse Cowliz Glacier, climb up Cathedral Gap, and get to Ingraham Flats, at 11,200 ft, where we setup camp. Of course, AA has a permanent camp there as well! It’s a much simpler affair, however; there were two-person tents, and a bathroom area (privacy wall). Still, not having to carry all the group gear was pretty awesome. This is also the point where we started getting up close and personal with crevasses. The landscape changes drastically from here on out. Eventually, we reached camp, and were greeted with a familiar sight. Well hello there, snowy top part of Mt. Rainier, it’s nice to see you again! Get ready, cause I’m comin’ for ya! What we’re looking at here is the Ingraham Glacier. This late in the season, it has a LOT of wide, open crevasses. Earlier on, there is a lot more snow pack covering it, so it isn’t uncommon for climbers to climb it all the way to the summit.

That route is known as the “Ingraham Glacier Direct” route. Needless to say, we won’t be doing that at this point. Instead, we’ll climb the feature to the right. This is Disappointment Cleaver: The route climbs the rocky portion on the right, makes its way onto the snow, and climbs all the way to the top of the cleaver. It then switchbacks to the summit in a fairly straightforward manner. Anyway, for the rest of the day, the guides worked hard to create a nice dining tent, while the rest of us moved into the tents and relaxed as much as possible. Wake up time was going to be 11 pm for summit day… Day 3 – Summit Day We woke up at 11 pm, with the goal of getting moving by 12:30 am. My, how I love these alpine starts! Wake up, boots on, go poop in a bag, get ready, eat some quick oatmeal, and go wait by the ropes… I was ON IT! It was time to go finish what I had started. Just a few minutes after 12:30 am, the rope teams were on the move.

With basically perfect weather (cold enough, but clear skies and low winds), this has been a setup for success the whole way. The climb was split into three legs, each of which lasted a bit over an hour and a half. The first leg was to get to the top of Disappointment Cleaver. This was the most difficult part of the climb. It was good to get it out of the way early. Getting to the cleaver was easy on the legs and lungs, but also had the scariest terrain of the climb. It wasn’t anything too bad, though. One portion involved moving along a narrow ledge, with a wall of snow/ice on one side, and a steep slope ending in a massive crevasse on another. There was a rope anchored to the wall there, to provide something to hold on to. There was also a ladder crossing, where we had to cross a crevasse, balancing on a ladder with pieces of wood attached to it. It’s an easy maneuver, but a bit unnerving to do the first time. After all that, we arrived at the cleaver itself.

The first half of ascending the cleaver involved climbing on a steep, rocky trail, with loose rocks, dirt, and narrow passages to squeeze through. After a while of doing that, we eventually made it out onto the snowfield. The snowfield portion of the Cleaver consisted of some of the steeper portions of the climb, but nothing out of the ordinary. After close to two hours, we were at the top of the Cleaver, taking a break. One of the four rope teams had to turn back. I give that team massive kudos, though. It was an older couple (one of them was 75), who enjoy traveling and climbing things. They had done Kilimanjaro earlier in the year (or the previous year?) but the Cleaver got them. It was really cool to have them on the trip. One rope team from RMI (another company) passed us at this point, but aside from that, we had the mountain to ourselves, since we started 1000 ft up from Camp Muir. The second leg was more straightforward, technically. It consisted of traversing to the Emmons Shoulder (on the side of the Emmons Glacier), and switchbacking up towards the summit.

It was tiring work. If anyone asked, I’d say I was “really tired, but quite functional.” That means I was feeling pretty damn good the whole time. Before long, we reached the point where we take our second break. At this point, I was getting cold, even sitting in my parka, so I opted to leave it on for the rest of the climb. I find I run pretty cool late in the climbs, where we start moving a bit slower due to altitude, and keeping the parka on never results in me overheating or sweating too much. It’s just perfect for the work. The third leg consisted of the last 1000 ft to the crater rim. I actually found it really easy. Once the twilight starts taking shape, and the sun starts slowly coming up, I tend to get a bit euphoric. It also helps that I was just excited about being so close to completing this epic climb. This was happening for real this time! Eventually, we got to the bergschrund. A bergschrund is a crevasse that forms where a moving glacier separates from the stagnant ice/snow near the summit. This can be a big challenge in mountaineering.

On this route, it was pretty simple. There was an area where it narrowed enough that we could just step over it. Looking into the mountain while stepping over it, we could see how huge these things can get. The other side was a steep slope, with a big gap mere meters from where we were walking, so for safety, there was a picket there in the snow, with a carabiner we would clip our ropes into while passing by. This provides an extra anchor in the event someone slips. FINALLY, after all that, at around 5:30 am, we reached the crater rim, and entered the volcano’s giant crater, just as the sun was coming up. There we were, but this isn’t quite the true summit. Most climbers that make it to the crater turn around at this point, especially if they’ve been here before, but the REAL summit is a bulge on the other side of the crater, known as Columbia Crest. Everyone was feeling great, so we got a party together and headed on over. There are vents with steam escaping constantly here. I expected the areas around here to smell like sulfur, but it just reeked of ammonia.

Anyway, after signing the guest registry, we continued on to the top of Columbia Crest, where the real summit was waiting for us. Alas, the sad thing about these climbs is, what goes up, must come down. As they say, going up is optional, but coming down is mandatory. That being said, after an alpine start, where you climb all night, the descent is where you get to see all the sights you’ve missed while climbing in the dark! Those last two pics are two of my favourites. We can see how tiny our high camp on Ingraham Flats really looks, next to the massive crevasses all around. Here’s another kind of nice one. If you look on the right side, the ladder crossing I mentioned earlier is visible. That ladder was damn wobbly on the way back, with the sun hitting it for a few hours! I think the hardest part of this entire day was descending Disappointment Cleaver. That rocky terrain is tough to navigate, especially when you’re tired, and especially-er when wearing crampons. It was slow-going, and was really messing up my feet.

Back at Ingraham Flats, we took a minute to relax, refilled some water, grabbed some food, packed our bags, and started heading back down towards Camp Muir. Once back at camp, we had a treat waiting for us. The guide that led the couple that turned around had some extra time, so he quickly went back down to Paradise, bought a watermelon, and hiked it all the way back up to Muir. Few people realize just how luxurious it is to get to eat watermelon at 10,000 ft. It also REALLY hit the spot, after that arduous work. A big thank you to Josh for doing that! After taking a short break, it was time to descend back to Paradise to finish off this amazing trip. On the way down, the smoke had cleared a bit, so we had a clear view of Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood, and a few others. The last mile of the hike was almost unbearable! My feet were toast, and the paved walkway right at the bottom of the hike was really not the right way to go.

Mountaineering boots are great for getting you up the big snow mountain, but they’re really not designed for a death march on pavement after a long hike. Eventually, we made it down to the van, where we could enjoy one of my favourite parts of mountaineering: Removing the boots after a really long day! Look how it shapes my shins! With that out of the way, we changed, packed things away, and enjoyed some refreshments. My refreshment was in a bottle I kept hidden in a brown paper bag. It was definitely not beer. Before taking off, I took one last look at the mountain from inside the van, and felt at ease, knowing that I had finally accomplished the big goal I had spent several years just dreaming about. Mt. Rainier Attempt – Emmons Glacier (2014-07-24) Well, here it is! My first go at Mt. Rainier. What an awesome trip! We didn’t manage to summit, but came pretty damn close, at 13200ft. Still, fantastic experience, great company, and beautiful sights! Here’s the play by play for this five day trip up the Emmons Glacier route.

Day 1 – Hike To Glacier Basin Campground The plan for the first day was straightforward. Simply hike up to the Glacier Basin camp, at roughly 6000ft elevation. This was a very short hike, and the whole thing was well below the snow line. Every day starts with circling up around the topographic map, and getting a handle on the route. After a fairly simple and uneventful hike during an overcast day, we got to camp, set up our tents, learned to use the stoves, and went to bed. There was a sign about bear activity, and it was not uncommon to encounter deer, just hanging out on the trail. The one amusing feature about the camp site were the toilets. Following the signs, and hiking off on the toilet trail for a couple of minutes, we encounter the glacier basin bathroom: Two toilet seats, prominently displayed on a platform. Note the stack of leaves that were left on one side of one of the seats. Somebody forgot to bring toilet paper. Day 2 – Hike To High Camp At Emmons Flats Upon waking up to a beautiful clear day, we could finally see the mountain from the camp site.

That’s not the real summit in that picture, but merely Liberty Cap. The true summit is hidden from view at this point. The goal for this day’s hike was to ascend to ~9600ft, and ideally establish high camp on Emmons Flats. The Emmons Glacier is the largest glacier on the mountain (by area), and summit day will consist of climbing Mt. Rainier via this glacier. High camp is to be established on a common flat campground area on Emmons, about half an hour past Camp Schurman. Since Emmons is very heavily crevassed at lower elevations, our route involved climbing up the Interglacier, a smaller glacier that sits in a “bowl” between Emmons and Winthrop glaciers. Behold, the bottom of the Interglacier! What appears to be the top in the above picture is just a bench. Interglacier goes on for a while. The bulk of the effort put in this day was in climbing this thing. Since this is glacier travel, we had to rope up. Once ready, the rope teams proceeded to climb to the top.

After a few hours of that, we found ourselves on the edge of the “bowl” containing Interglacier, and with some amazing views. To our left, we could see the lower part of Emmons Glacier. And of course, the rest of the mountain, looming in the distance. Here are our fearless guides. From left to right: Seth, Drew, and Glen. After taking in the sights, we proceeded down a steep, rocky trail, to the Emmons Glacier, and moved on up to Camp Schurman, where the guides checked in with the ranger to see if we can continue to Emmons Flats. From here, we made the final push of the day: The additional 600ft it takes to get to Emmons Flats, where we proceeded to setup our high camp. The rest of the evening was spent enjoying dinner, while watching the breathtaking cloud cover in the sunset. Day 3 – Snow School and Summit Prep This third day is meant to be a bit more relaxing, though we still had a lot to do. We went through various footwork drills, self arrest, and team arrest (which is when you have to arrest a fall for someone else on your rope team).

Before turning in for the day, we got our rope and gear prepped, for a quick setup when we start heading for the summit. All of our main meals have consisted of either granola/oatmeal (breakfast) or quinoa (dinner). Needless to say, all cooked meals were laxatives hehe. We were fairly regular on this day, so it’s good that as part of setting up camp, we had built a bathroom, with a privacy wall and everything. Bedtime was around 3pm. We wake up for the summit run at 9pm!! Day 4 – Summit Attempt This technically starts late on day 3. We woke up at 9pm, had some food, took care of any personal needs, and roped right up. We were moving up the mountain by 10:30pm. After the initial difficult part (warming up during the first hour or so), I felt great. We climbed through the entire night, and while I was certainly pushing myself, it didn’t feel like it was beyond my limits to any degree. I was ready for this both physically and mentally.

The scary dark steep slope effect didn’t bother me, since I knew exactly what to expect after having put myself through Mt. Shasta a few months back. Unfortunately, not everyone fared quite this well. Some people haven’t had the chance to do a night climb, and others were simply unprepared physically. There was constant tugging at the back of my rope, with people asking us to slow down, even though we were already going at pretty much the minimum acceptable speed. The problem with going slowly is that other rope teams then want to pass you, and it takes a LONG time for a team of four to pass another team. We wasted a lot of time just standing still, waiting for other groups to go around. Moving very slowly tends to snowball into long, unnecessary delays. After many hours of climbing, when the sun was starting to come up, the lead guide announced that we would have to turn back. At the pace our three rope teams were going, we would be reaching camp in the early evening, which means the sun will have hit the snow bridges over the crevasses for long enough to make them dangerous. Even with the early withdrawal, my leg punched through one of them.

So, it was decided we’d push up to just below the bergschrund (crevasse where the glacier starts to separate from the top), and use that as our high vantage point. While very disappointed about not being able to push all the way to the summit, this arrangement allowed us to enjoy the most beautiful sunrise ever, from about 13200ft. 1400ft short of the summit. After taking this all in, we began to descend back towards camp. Descent was slow-going, for reasons similar to those mentioned earlier. It was also very beautiful. There’s something about looking down into a deep crevasse. It wasn’t the kind of terrain where one can just take out one’s camera, so no photos. Next time, I’ll have a GoPro or equivalent to capture some of those moments. Sometime in the very early afternoon, we made it back to camp. We were all incredibly tired, and wanted nothing more than to pass out in our tents. As I settled in, lied down, and started to relax, my tent mate screamed, “MOUSE MOUSE!!!” It turns out some kind of a mouse had gotten into our tent, and was running around!

So much for passing out and relaxing! The mouse kept running around the tent, and under our sleeping mats. We had to be careful not to squash it. Eventually, we managed to get it to run outside. After all this commotion, we got some rest, woke up for dinner (and pooping), and got back to sleep. We all slept like logs that night. Day 5 – Descent To Trailhead On the final day, we packed up our belongings and headed all the way back down the way we came. I had taped up a pinky toe blister, which was acting up all throughout the hike (especially once off the snow), so it was a bit of a painful descent, but after clearing the snow, we made some good headway. A final look back onto the mountain. From this vantage point, it looks like we made it really far. Next time, we’ll hit the summit! Mt. Adams South Climb (2014-07-04) Day 1 – Getting to Trailhead As much as I love beer, steak, and fireworks, I had different plans for this July 4th weekend. Since conditions were looking pretty good, Naren and I decided to tackle Mt.

Adams. This climb went without a hitch, and we’ve met pretty much every timing goal we had set during the entire trip. It felt good to just know what we’re doing and plan everything ahead. While not the highest I’ve ever climbed (well, second highest, so still awesome), I think this is definitely the prettiest peak I’ve reached. That was the view we were presented with on the way to the mountain. Mt. Adams is a pain to get to, since the drive typically involves going all the way into Oregon, then heading east, only to come back up north. Peaking at a respectable 12,276 ft, Mt. Adams is one of the biggest mountains that’s reasonably driveable and not a technical climb; its south face has a non-glaciated route all the way to the summit. Early July is a really great time to climb it, because most of the route is still covered in snow. This actually makes the climb much more pleasant. Later in the season (e.g. mid-August), the snow line moves up in elevation, and most of the route is on boulders and rocks. I much prefer the consistency of snow.

In any case, we took off at around noon on Friday, July 4th, and eventually arrived at the mountain. The last 5-8 miles of driving are slow-going, on a poorly-maintained, windy gravel road. After stopping by the ranger station in the Trout Lake area to get our permits, we got to camp at around 6:30pm (right on target), and got our tent setup at the trailhead. The trailhead sits at roughly 5,500 ft, so we had a long way to go to reach the summit. It can be done in one day for those in great shape, but most people do it in two, which is what we did. Next time, we’ll go for the one day challenge. Day 2 – Climbing to Lunch Counter The next morning, we had some breakfast, packed up camp, used the restrooms at the campsite (last chance until poop-in-a-bag territory!!) and were on our way up. The hike up to base camp was pretty gorgeous, offering beautiful views of Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens. It was also a pretty good warmup challenge.

At this point, while we had a very clear day, the Mt. Adams summit was not looking too pretty. These mountains tend to break the mold and create whatever weather they feel like, on a whim. What was awesome to see, though, was the determination of people no matter what. Here, we see droves of climbers, working to reach where ever they can reach, and hoping for things to clear up by the time they reach there. They are, no doubt, stepping in each other’s footsteps, which is why it looks like a line of ants. As it turns out, things never cleared up that day, and people were huddling up on Piker’s Peak (a false summit), waiting for things to look better. Going for the summit from Piker’s Peak is an additional hour and a half or so, and not necessarily the best idea in whiteout conditions. In any case, we eventually reached Lunch Counter, at roughly 9,500 ft. Lunch counter is a camp site, where there are many flat areas designed for tents, with rock walls built to shelter them from the elements. The wind was consistently coming from the west.

We were able to find a pretty nice site, getting an entire rocky island all to ourselves. Our camp site offered really easy access to snow (for melting), some rock formations that were shaped like really uncomfortable toilet seats (think Game of Thrones, except it’s a toilet seat), and was pretty high up (less to climb tomorrow). Here is home sweet home: It was around 5:30pm, so the rest of the time was spent on a few activities, such as melting snow for water. Naren was doing the melting and pouring, while I was doing the snow-shoveling and disinfecting with iodine tablets. After getting the water going, having dinner, and packing our bags for the next day, we headed to bed at around 6:30pm. It’s not easy to go to sleep when it’s still sunny out, and your backyard looks like this: Day 3 – Summit Day! After discussing timing on the previous day, we decided to do a relaxed alpine start, and wake up at the tender hour that is 1:30am.

It’s always nice to look outside the tent before turning on any lights, so you can get a glimpse of the mountain before your eyes adjust to the headlamps. To our great joy, we were greeted with a completely clear sky, stars shining nicely. I love the night sky, out in remote areas. I could see lights from what was most likely Portland, to the southwest, and a large field of randomly-blinking red lights to the southeast. I assume that was a farm of wind turbines. Looking around, there were maybe two other groups milling about, based on headlamp movement in the distance. After breakfast, and an uncomfortable round of the aforementioned Game of Thrones, we did a quick gear check, making sure everyone had everything they needed, and off we went! We started moving in the dark at 3:00am. By 3:30am, we were near where things start getting steeper, so we equipped our crampons at that time. Rather than go straight up the mountain, especially when there weren’t any very fresh footprints to use, we worked on our box-stepping, and slowly zig-zagged up the mountain for an hour or two.

Eventually, the sun started to come up, which is always one of my favourite parts of a climb. It feels like the scary darkness is over, and now things get real. Right about here is where this climb gets more difficult. Steepness increases, and the air is a slight bit thinner. At this point, we had found some fresh footsteps from one group that passed us, and were using them as stairs going straight up, so we don’t need to keep kicking out the snow. Not having preexisting footsteps is actually fairly tiring. However, going straight up is also tiring, so we really slowed down and took our time. As always, it’s important to remember the old mantra, that this is a marathon, and not a sprint. After what is the hardest push of this climb, we finally, at long last, arrive at…….. The false summit! Piker’s Peak, which is that thing that looked like the summit, engulfed in clouds in previous photos, is actually only at the 11,500 ft mark, and there is an additional 750 to climb. This is also where the wind really picks up.

The wind isn’t too terrible while climbing afterwards, but this little area has pretty high winds. It was likely in the 40 mph range. Enough that heavy jackets will be lost if you don’t hold onto them tightly while not wearing them. After a pretty short break here, we were on our way across a flat area, and back to climbing. Here is Piker’s Peak, from a few hundred feet up. You can see the footpath we took from there: At this point, it’s not far. Here we are, goofing off while taking a break before the final push, and a shot up at what’s left to cover before reaching the easy hills to get to the final summit plateau. And finally, the summit! We reached the summit at around 8:45 am, so we made pretty decent time. The summit offers absolutely majestic views all around! Rainier, St. Helens, Hood, and a few other usual suspects, all clearly visible. It was windy, but quite tolerable, and a great place to hang out for a bit. It wasn’t an ideal spot to have lunch or anything, so we took off after celebrating and taking some more pictures.

The most amazing thing is, we’ve only encountered three groups coming down from the summit. This means, assuming no mountaineers were attacking the tougher, glaciated routes on other faces of the mountain, we were the fourth group up and down the mountain on that day! That’s pretty cool, given that we’re normally the slower climbers. The Descent One of the coolest things about Mt. Adams is that it’s very glissade-friendly. You can slide down on your ass pretty much all the way from the summit! A lot of people will climb up with their skis or snowboards and just ski down, which is even cooler, but I’ll take ass-sliding over walking any day. This is why the GPS data for the descent looks so trippy, all the way down to Lunch Counter: On the first chute, I actually lost control (it was pretty frozen), and a slight turn threw me out of the chute, so I was sliding down the side of the mountain, on the jagged ice. I had to self-arrest to put a stop to that. My ass got pretty scratched up from that whole thing. It was worth it for that sentence, though.

I maintained much better control over the rest of the glissades, and it was really nice to simply float down the mountain. What took us almost 6 hours to climb, we descended in mere minutes. Since I’m a pretty big dude, I tend to accumulate a lot of snow, and eventually, you’re just riding a controlled, mini-avalanche. I wish I had taken out my camera to record that. It was really cool! As I’d fly by climbers, I’d yell, “I am the avalanche whisperer!!!!” Here, you can see the glissading chutes going all the way down from Piker’s Peak. Our arses were the last thing to grace them, as of this picture! After a longer break, and some much deserved lunch, we broke down camp and headed down, back to the trailhead. There were a few more glissade chutes here and there to help us get to where we needed to be, but by and large, it was more efficient to just plunge-step down, since it wasn’t steep enough for a very quick ride. After packing up and using a real toilet again, we could go sign out at the ranger station.

They also handed out certificates to those who summited, as long as we can provide picture proof. It’s kind of dumb and gimmicky, but why not, right? This was a very well-executed trip overall, and everything worked out beautifully, especially the weather conditions. Next time around, I’d love to challenge myself to do the entire climb in a single day. Mt. Baker Attempt (2014-06-27) All throughout the last week of June, we were anxiously refreshing the mountain weather forecast on our web browsers, along with the soccer scores. The plan was to have a nice 4 day trip to Mt. Baker, to practice our snow skills, and eventually summit. This was a trip that was scheduled with the fantastic folks at KAF Adventures , and its primary focus was for us to get some snow skills lessons in with the guide company that will eventually guide a large portion of the Asha group up Mt. Rainier. In other words, it’s not something you can just reschedule due to dubious weather. Also, with the exception of summit day, these trips tend to be rain or shine.

The forecast showed something along the lines of, “mild to medium showers, and then it clears up a bit on summit day.” Great, we thought. We’ll go, deal with some clouds and rain, get our snow skills practice in, and probably summit, with maybe some crappy visibility blocking our views. Alas, mother nature had a different plan for us. Day 1 – Climbing To Camp The goal for the first day was to climb to a decent camping altitude and set up camp. No problem, that’s easy stuff. Light rain at the trailhead, but we were all stoked and happy. The first part of the Mt. Baker trail (via Squak Glacier) is a nice, easy slope, with a tree cover. Generally very easy to navigate, and has some neat features like streams to cross. Nothing to really write home about. There was one giant fallen tree trunk blocking the way, which we had to climb around. In only a short while (hour and a half or so), we started hitting snow, and eventually left the trail entirely. The trail loops back, and we want to go up. So, we set out in the snowfields up the mountain, looking for a good camp site.

It was starting to rain a little bit, and the wind was picking up. After a while, we arrived at a place that would serve as a fantastic camp site. At roughly 5900′ elevation, there’s a nice flat area where we could set up camp. And best of all, it has a bathroom! And by bathroom, I mean “a secluded wooded oasis area” that will provide some privacy. Sweet!!! At this point, it started raining a lot harder. It was somewhere between freezing rain and sleet, and it was coming at us basically sideways. As we later found out, two pressure systems were colliding right where we were, and it was causing messy, unpredictable weather, which would last for the duration of the trip. So now, the name of the game was, “get your tents up and GET INSIDE!” Not counting the guides, there were 9 climbers and four tents (one three-person tent, and three two-person tents). It was unfortunately pretty slow-going. We had never practiced staking a tent in the snow before, and these weren’t exactly ideal learning conditions. The stakes can’t just go into the ground like if you’re setting up a tent in the dirt.

You have to bury them deadman style, and it took a couple of tries for us n00bs. At this point, disaster struck. The team that was putting together the three-person tent had some trouble with the poles, and two of them broke. After some deliberation, the guides decided that the best course of action would be to abandon that tent, at least for the moment. We _needed_ to get out of the elements pretty soon at this point. All of us were soaked. My rain jacket was starting to soak through. Same goes for my shell pants, which don’t have sealed zippers. Water was dripping down my legs, and into my boots. It was a full-soakage situation! Of course, abandoning the three-person tent meant cramming a third person into each of the two person tents. At that point, we didn’t care – we just needed to get out of the elements. After another little while, we finally got our tents up, and started filing in. Well, not so fast! From all the delaying in the rain, with our tents on the ground getting rained on, we had a giant puddle in the middle of our tent!!

One of us went inside and started mopping it up/using a cup to throw out the water. That took an additional 15-20 minutes. At the end of that, we could FINALLY move into the tents, drenched beyond belief. Shedding our wet layers and getting into dry stuff felt like heaven! Still, it wasn’t pretty out there. This was the last picture I was able to take with my camera, as the lens was fogged up for the rest of the trip. Normally, we’d get involved with the food and all have dinner together, but given the conditions, the guides decided they’d just cook food and bring it into the tents for us. I would have completely understood if that were impossible, and would have been quite happy simply snacking on our protein bars and what not, but they insisted on sitting out in the terrible conditions, cooking a warm meal for us. That is the most amazing act of courage and kindness they could impart, and i am forever grateful. We got to eat warm chili. It was veggie chili, but tasted absolutely amazing! After risking the elements for another minute or two to pee, we were in the tents for the night.

The tents were a bit leaky, and corners kept popping off. The lead guide came around and bomb-proofed all of them before they headed to bed. Probably the worst sleep I’ve ever gotten. Sleeping width-wise with two other people, in a two person tent, with no ability to extend my legs, and with wet clothes all over was not fun. My base layer was sitting next to me, wet and cold. I had noticed it half way through the night, and realized I needed to wear it the next day. I made the executive decision to pull it into the sleeping bag with me. That’s the standard practice to get damp clothes slightly less damp overnight. It was cold at first, but worth it, since it was mostly dry the next morning, and at a decent temperature. Sweet! That’s more than I can say for my pants, which were too drenched to risk pulling into the sanctuary of dryness that was my sleeping bag. Of course, the howling wind didn’t help either. Day 2 – Snow School Day 2 was a lot better than day 1. For about half of that day, the weather cleared up, allowing us to get some good snow schoolin’ in!

The morning was the one bad part. I had to… put on the pants! The drenched, cold pants! But even that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. After getting outside, having some breakfast, and doing some jumping jacks, I felt pretty good! It wasn’t raining anymore, and everything other than my boots were fully dry! Breakfast was delicious. It was oatmeal, but using granola and milk powder, instead of the regular “oatmeal” sliced oats. It was cravably good! Our tents had been nicely bomb-proofed the previous evening. All our hiking poles and ice axes were in use, holding down the tents and rain flys. Next up, snow school! Here we are, getting a lesson on footwork. You can see camp in the background. This picture, from Paul’s (lead instructor) phone, depicts the best visibility and conditions we had during our stay! We made the most of it, though. That day, we covered all basic footwork, with and without ice axes, and some more tidbits. Sometime in the mid-afternoon, conditions started to degrade again, so it was into the tents with the lot of us!

For the rest of the day, the instructors rotated into the tents, giving mini-classroom-lessons on various topics, like decision-making, weather, and “leave no trace” principles. It was a brilliant use of the time/resources we had there. That night, dinner was done the same way as the previous night, due to conditions. Pooping in a Bag Does this topic really need to be covered in detail, in its own section? Yes, yes it does! That second evening was also my first experience with one of the things I dreaded the most about these trips: Pooping in a bag! These parks where we tend to camp/climb usually have a “pack it out” policy, where “it” is “your poop.” It’s also very unhealthy to leave that stuff around on glaciated mountain terrain. It won’t really go away, and might contaminate a water source. So, you gotta carry it out with you. The thing I found so amusing with all of this is, I thought I was the only one dreading this, and that everyone else was fine. Hah, turns out it was everyone else as well! After carefully reading the instructions very slowly, I announced I was going out there and trying this thing out.

Not 10 steps in, I hear footsteps behind me. One of my tent mates is coming along, holding his own wag bag. Then, the third roommate comes out haha. In the bathroom oasis, I found a great area to lean against relatively comfortably. As comfortably as you can lean against something while shitting in a bag. The others did the same, well out of eyesight, but still within earshot. Our tent was a tight-knit group, but never have we felt closer than that moment we shared, pooping in unison. Day 3 – Descent On the morning of the third day, which was to be summit day, had weather been more cooperative, conditions were bad again. After breakfast, we all huddled together and had a chat about how we all feel and everything. The instructors were constantly monitoring how people feel, to catch any hypothermia before it becomes bad. Everyone was cold, and today’s lesson was going to involve roping up, tying knots, etc. It was clear that people wouldn’t be able to pay attention in these conditions. After a quick deliberation, the guides agreed that it was time to pack up and go.

We broke down camp in an hour and a half, which was record time, and were on our way. About half-way down the snow part, things started clearing up just a bit, but we knew we had made the right decision to take off, with the timing. Descent showed some pretty views of the glacier, and the occasional glimpse of the summit. At the trailhead, we were presented with an interesting challenge. We had one day left. However, the cars are right there, and the allure of heading out then and there was pretty strong. Some people really wanted to go home. Luckily, after a team discussion, we unanimously decided to stick around. So, we drove to a nice “car camp” that had real bathrooms, and running water. Since the weather was warming up at this point, the instructors offered up their three-person tent, and slept outside, so we all had a more comfortable night. Day 4 – Rope Training and Packing Up And so, we reach the final day. This was a very relaxing, comfortable day. We spent most of it working on rope skills, and learning basic crevasse decision making. It was really productive and educational. There isn’t too much to say about it otherwise.

Lots of fun, and no bag-pooping whatsoever. After class was out, we broke down camp, packed up, and slowly left. In the rear-view mirror, we could see a clear sky, and Mt. Baker, with no clouds anywhere near it. The Asha group that went up just a couple of days after us had a lovely, successful summit. Here is the kind of view they were graced with: Nevertheless, this was a really useful trip, and while it wasn’t exactly comfortable in any kind of way, I feel I learned a lot of things I would not have been able to learn had we had smooth-sailing all the way. A big Thank You to Naren, Santhosh, KAF Group and Sandeep for helping me supplement my album with additional photos. All cameras were pretty fogged up during this trip, so we had to pull together to get some kind of album. Training Update; 3 Hikes, 1 Day Just a quick training update from last week (June 21st). My buddy Naren and I have managed to squeeze in three hikes in a single day. Here’s the GPS data to prove it, too!

We started by hitting up Mailbox Peak, which has been our standard warhorse for the last while. Then, off to Mt. Si, and eventually Rattlesnake Ledge for dessert. The solstice was a beautiful day, with amazing visibility. Not too many interesting pictures, since we’ve done these trails to death already, so the focus was just on training, but there was some nice wildlife and nice views of Rainier. This was likely the last day of “regular training hikes” before Rainier, since everything else we have scheduled from here on out are more badass mountains that often require spending the night, or having special gear. Camp Muir Hike (2014-06-07) A bit behind on trip reports here, but let’s go back to early June. We had a BEAUTIFUL day to go up to Camp Muir, the standard base camp for Mt. Rainier climbers. Here’s Mt. Rainier, from the parking lot at Paradise, ~5500ft elevation: Excellent clear, warm day, AND the snow started all the way from the parking lot. This makes it a lot more fun.

Hiking in snow is so much nicer on your feet when wearing mountaineering boots. There really isn’t very much to add. The hike was beautiful all the way through, and unlike last year when we did it, I felt great the whole time. Not really tired/exhausted, even with the extra training weight in my pack: That’s a lot of water, man! People at camp really appreciate it, too. Melting snow can be a pain, and distributing training water saves people a lot of time out there. Throughout the hike, we could see Mt. Adams in the distance: It looks really imposing in the distance. At 12,281ft high, it’s considerably smaller than Rainier, but a great climb in itself… We’ll get to that one this year, if time/weather permit it. We were able to glissade a lot of the distance on the way down, making it a really fun descent as well. Here are some of my fav pictures, and a link to the full album: That’s all for this one! Check out the full Camp Muir album for more photos! Mt. Shasta Ascent – Avalanche Gulch It’s time to up the ante once again!

This past memorial day weekend, I went on my biggest, toughest hike yet! Mt. Shasta wasn’t just a “training hike” for the Rainier goal, but really, it was a goal all in itself. A good buddy who had climbed it last year talked me into going for it, and that late May was a great time to climb it. Well, I thought, why not? It would be good to go for a 14K peak well before Rainier. Even in the worst case, that’s still lots of great experience and an early warning about the pace of my training. In the best case, as it turned out, it’s an awesome climb with a beautiful backdrop! I did have to work very hard to push all the way to the top, but it’s very nice to know I can handle something with a Rainier-like elevation gain. The Mountain, The Route The basic facts are these: Standing at 14,179ft, Mt. Shasta is the second tallest mountain in the Cascades (behind Mt. Rainier by just a couple hundred feet). It’s also the largest by volume.

The climbing route of choice was Avalanche Gulch, which is basically a large valley formed by glacial erosion on the south face of the mountain. There currently isn’t any glacial ice on there, so the climb didn’t require glacier travel. We did the climb in two days. First day just involves casually hiking to Helen Lake (actually quite a bit below Helen Lake), which is the standard camping ground for folks making their summit attempt on the south side. It’s a really crowded area, and people can sleep better at lower altitudes, so our guide company ( Shasta Mountain Guides ) usually chooses a lower elevation camp, maybe around 9,500ft. On summit day, climbers switchback up the gulch, make a decision about whether to go left/right at The Heart, get to the top of the Red Banks, proceed to climb Misery Hill, and eventually make the final push to the summit. The Team Originally, three of my friends were going to do this climb with me, but all had to bail a few weeks before, for various reasons. So, it was all me! I opted to save some money and just drive the 9-10 hours from/to Seattle.

They had no problem filling the three spots, so we had a full group of 8 climbers going up. We also had three guides with us for the trip. I’m glad we had that kind of ratio, because we would not have been able to make it to the summit with any less! Preparations Friday (the 0th day) just involved some local hiking by myself, and preparing my pack. Organizing a backpack is one of those annoying chores that is so easy to procrastinate on. On an awesome tip from my buddy Ravi, I bought a large pizza, ate half for dinner, and packed the other half to eat on the trail during the first day. Having something tasty to eat makes a huge difference. On Saturday morning, the group met up behind the Fifth Season (local REI-esque store). We went through a quick intro, gear check, splitting up and packing the shared gear, and proceeded to head on over to the trailhead. The Bunny Flat trailhead is a short drive away from the town. The Climb – Day 1 The hike up to base camp was very easy.

Our packs weighed roughly 50lbs, but the elevation gain to base camp was no more than maybe 2,000ft. The guides set a very nice, slow, super-sustainable pace. Once we made it to the camp site, the rest of the day was pretty simple. The guides did all of the tent setup, snow-melting and cooking work, while we hydrated and relaxed. There was a one hour snow school session to go over some of the basics, like French stepping, self-belay, self-arrest, etc. Since there is no glacier travel on this route, and we were going to short-rope all the way up, the snow skills lessons could remain very basic. Here’s some more photos from camp. For dinner/eating, we had a nice square ditch all dug up, acting as a bench and a table. Here’s a shot of our fearless leaders at dinner. From left to right: Razor (Ryan), Matt, and Brian. Brian was the head honcho for the trip. After a tasty meal of corn chowder and mac-n-cheese with vegetables and sausage, we all went to bed somewhere between 6-7 pm. I didn’t sleep at all.

It turns out you don’t need to; as long as you are horizontal and relaxing, your body is recovering, and that’s what really matters. That’s good, because I seriously didn’t sleep a wink! I’m generally pretty bad at sleeping in tents, but I was also really excited about what was coming up next, early in the morning. Very early in the morning… The Climb – Day 2 On Sunday “morning” (if 1 am qualifies as morning), the guides started going around camp, waking everyone up. I went through the moves I was mentally rehearsing for the last few hours: Open sleeping bag, sit up, turn on headlamp I had already attached to my helmet, grab the longer sleeve base layer sitting on my left and put it on, put on a hoodie, stretch, open inner tent door, hope the boots I stupidly left out in the vestibule didn’t freeze (they were fine, if a little cold), put them on, get into my gaiters, climbing harness, crampons, helmet… Outside, folks were putting the finishing touches on their packs, eating some oatmeal the guides had been making, and generally getting ready.

Since the snow was a bit punchy (thin layer of frozen crust with annoying soft snow underneath), we decided to leave ice axes on our packs, and start the trek with our hiking poles. And so, a little bit after 2am, we all head off, ready for a long day of climbing. There was a nice clear sky of stars, and the night was just bright enough that we could faintly make out the mountain, though the headlamps drowned all of that out. About an hour into the hike, things started getting a bit steep, and it was time to stash the trekking poles. We ended up just leaving them there, lying on the ground, to be picked up on our descent. I thought were were farther along than we were at this point, but it turns out we had just reached Helen Lake. One of the important mental aspects of climbing in the dark is not to psyche yourself out by getting hopes up about how far you’ve gotten, because chances are, you’ve gotten seemingly nowhere. Another hour in, and things had gotten steep enough to finally rope up. It is also at this point that the first turn-around happened, where one climber decided he would not be able to complete the climb.

Every time that happens, a guide has to go down with them, so they asked if anyone else felt they need to turn around. Two more people raised their hands and said they want to turn around. So, after a bit of rope-switching, we were already down to five climbers and two guides. Onward! The two rope teams slowly continued to advance. The night was getting a little bit harsh, and there were some strong gusts of wind. Nothing that would knock anyone over, but enough to have to stop and brace yourself until it stopped. Another hour or two in, the sun started to come up, and the beauty that surrounded us literally came into light. One of my favourite sights was seeing Mt. Shasta’s long shadow in the sunrise. Looking down, we can see the climbers coming up in droves from the Lake Helen camp site. It’s a bit discouraging to still be able to see where we came from, but then you realize, “wait, I could see all the way up to Red Banks from camp, so of COURSE I can see all the way down to camp!” The most challenging thing, at this point, was organizing myself while taking breaks.

We’re on a roughly 45 degree slope at all times, and I was very paranoid about taking my pack off during breaks. I would bury my ice axe into the snow, always be holding it with one hand, and always be hooking my pack to it. Perhaps in the future, I’ll have a carabiner on my harness that I’ll use purely for backpack paranoia on summit day. One of the decisions that has to be made on this climb is whether to go left or right at The Heart. That’s why the route I drew above has a fork in it. Going right at the heart is a slightly less steep journey, albeit longer, because you have to travel across the Red Banks. Going left is shorter, but much steeper. Depending on the season, some folks can go in between, and climb up one of the chimneys of the Red Banks. The main driver for the decision is rockfall. When a lot of people are above us right of the heart, there is a heightened risk of rocks rolling down the mountain, and our guides understandably didn’t want to contend with that stuff. Since there were a lot of people on this day, we decided to go left of the heart. That’s the hard way.

At about this point, a few discouraging things happened. Firstly, one of the climbers announced he was not feeling too good, and wanted to turn around. At about the same time, one of the other climbers had a wardrobe malfunction involving his crampons not being fitted quite right. It took a good 20 minutes to get it fixed on the slope. With that taken care of, Brian went down with the one climber that had to turn around. We were now down to four climbers, and one remaining guide (Matt). Now, since the sun was coming up, we needed to make sure everyone had their glacier sunglasses ready to go. Somehow, one of the climbers had… crazy 80s aviator glasses (!!!) instead of proper glasses, which are darker than normal sunglasses and have proper shielding/coverage around the edges, to ensure no sunlight bounces off the snow and into the eyes from the sides. This is very important. With the sun blazing in a snowfield, it’s basically the same as having two suns, and the light bouncing off the snow can do a lot of damage over time. Matt was able to get some ghetto-style side-shields going with duct tape. Awesome, we’re off, finally!

And then, it happened. This climber turned to look at something, and… one of the lenses from his 80s aviator glasses FELL OUT! It just fell right out, and started rolling down the side of the mountain. It’s gone. Anything you aren’t holding onto is as good as gone. They drilled that in early. That water bottle you set down next to you while you take a picture? Good as gone! Eye protection is mission-critical on these climbs, so that means he has to turn around. While it sucks that this happened to him, I’m really glad it happened so soon after the previous climber turned around, because we were able to walkie-talkie Brian and have him wait for us to come down to him. There goes another half hour of progress. After a final check that everyone had everything they need, we headed off. We were now down to three climbers with a single guide. We all knew that there was no more turning around. There is no G.I. Jane “ring out bell” at this point. If one turns around, we all turn around, and that’s that. None of us wanted to turn around, and we were probably all very tired; I know I certainly was.

I just repeated to myself the mantra, “it’s a marathon, not a race,” because getting impatient with the slow pace and being tired is the worst mind trap I could fall into. I was very determined to keep fighting for this, and not turn around. It would have taken my body completely giving up from altitude to stop me. Until then, it’s one foot in front of the other. We were on a bit of a time crunch, from the various little time-wasting incidents, and turn-around time is 11:30am. We were cutting it close, but also progressing at a great rate. If we kept up the pace, and were strict about breaks (1 hour on, 10 minutes off), we would make it to the summit, no problem. The left-of-the-heart steep terrain was relentless! Especially that last hour, where it got even steeper. Eventually, we cleared it, and it felt like a huge accomplishment all in itself.

One of the more experienced climbers said something to the effect of, “I’ve climbed Denali and Everest… what the hell, that was so steep!!!” At this point, we had a little bit of flat terrain, and across that flat terrain, we were greeted with the last tough segment of this climb: Misery Hill. It’s a good name for it, too! Here’s Matt, with Misery Hill in the background. Climbing Misery Hill is, all things considered, not too terrible. It’s easier than what we had to push through over the last couple of hours. What made it challenging was our mental state. After climbing up what was physically the hardest part of the climb, I started thinking of the victory as already achieved, so I had to get myself back into marathon mode after the small celebration to be able to push through it. The wind was also picking up. While it was a beautiful day, they did forecast stronger than normal winds (40-50mph). I had stupidly forgotten where my buff was (not sure why not on me), so I had to breathe into my free hand covering my face to warm up from the wind. During one segment, it was like being in a wind tunnel.

It looked like an area that constantly has wind, from the shape of the mountain around it. The snow on the floor had frozen into shiny ice, indicating that the area is basically constantly being hit by wind. It was a little bit surreal walking through there. Beyond Misery Hill, we could FINALLY see the summit. It looks more daunting than it really is, and we just needed to walk up another hill. As I got up there, signed the registry, and looked around, I felt an immense surge of pride for having pushed through this difficult climb. Here we are, the remaining four (of eleven) having made it to the summit: And, of course, I had been joking the day before about saving a slice of pizza for the summit, so I ended up doing just that. Turtle Power! The Descent Going down the mountain was difficult. It was physically considerably easier and faster than coming up had been, but I had given my all in coming up. I was also very carefully rationing my water, drinking only “2 fingers” during the breaks, but I probably could have had a little bit more. I felt a little dehydrated coming down, with dry mouth. I did start drinking more water on the way down.

The way these climbs are timed is, you climb at night, while there is still a decent freeze, keeping the snow more solid to walk on, but then you come down around 11:00-noon, with the sun having had time to melt it a bit, which means there is ample opportunity for glissading. That’s the technical term for “sliding on your ass” and it’s a lot of fun. We first had to climb down to the foot of the Red Banks (and we took the “right at the heart” route coming back; too dangerous to come back the way we came). During one steep segment, we had to rope back up, and I actually tripped and fell. The point of short-roping is that the guide (always the most uphill of the group) can simply catch you if you fall, but I also got a chance to practice my ice axe self-arrest in the process. From the foot of Red Banks, we were able to glissade down all the way to Helen Lake, which made for a quick descent and a nice change of pace.

Once back to camp, and the proper amount of congratulations and fist-bumping were exchanged, we tore down camp, packed up and took off. This was also pretty hard. It’s not easy to motivate myself to move after all that! One of the aspects of the Rainier climb I’m looking forward to is spending one more night on the way down, so we can rest before packing up camp and heading out. The walk back to trailhead was an easy, uneventful downhill hike. Lessons and Take-Aways Slow and steady! The number one thing that got me to the top is, “it’s a marathon, not a race.” Much of our training hikes have a very “go-go-go” hurry-up-and-wait nature. This is fine for training, but in the real deal, we’ll likely hit a slow but steady pace. It’s important for pace to be maintainable, and when it comes to mountaineering, that pace will be slower than many anticipate. Know your gear! And while we’re at it, have proper gear. Don’t cheap out, and don’t go ghetto style. Make sure you’ve tested everything, and make sure everything fits.

Don’t kill your climb because of a stupid and preventable wardrobe malfunction. Not all elevation gain is the same. It’s very easy to look at summit day as if it will be easy, based on elevation gain during training hikes. “4,000ft? That’s just another mailbox, plus I have a lighter pack!” Not quite the same thing hehe. Yay altitude! I’m really happy that even on a short trip like this one, the altitude didn’t really get to me. Yes, the air is thinner, so I’m sure I got tired more quickly, but I wasn’t passing out from sickness. Of COURSE, that doesn’t necessarily mean much, because it can hit anyone at any time, but it gives me one more positive data point. The Rainier trip will be done over five days, rather than two, so all signs are looking good on that front. Ok, enough out of me! You can also check out the full Mt. Shasta album , for pictures not shown on this trip report! Mailbox Rivalry Oh man… Mailbox! Also known as “fuckin’ Mailbox!” It’s a love-hate, it really is.

Mailbox Peak has quickly become a favourite for training, with its nonstop steepness, unkempt muddy slippery slopes, and its patented “moment of false hope near the end” if it’s your first time climbing it. When the Washington Trails Association’s description starts with the words, “Wimpy hikers, turn the page. This trail offers nothing for you but pain and heartbreak,” you know you’re up for a good time. But why a rivalry? Why is it like playoffs? Well, it all started when we first climbed it in summer 2013. Yeah, it was tough. I’d say two of the three hours on the climb were mostly mental. There are marker diamonds along the path to mark the trail, and all of them have some kind of encouraging note that someone wrote on it with a sharpie. The one that caught my attention the most the first time was, “Pain is weakness leaving your body.” That became my mantra while slogging through the never-ending steepness. Eventually, things get nicer for a bit, and you start seeing that familiar “thinning” of the trees. Yes!

I’m near the end… so close… I must be close, look at how there’s no more trees… Hmmm, NOT! As you emerge from the bush, the sweet taste of victory turns into the agony of a hopeless pit of despair, as you witness what sits in front of you. Huge mass of rock, with the trail leading up it. There are dots moving up there in the distance, very far away; damn, I think it’s people! Time to push through the last bit! By this time, I was completely exhausted, but at the top, some amazing views open up. There is also a mailbox, filled with barter goodies. By then, this being the first such arduous climb I’ve done, I was completely tired. And well, with the exhaustion and the heat and everything, at the time, it felt like there was only one thing left to do… … … Haah I’m not even sorry! After all that, I thought that was it. Mailbox makes a nice story, but it’s a once-a-year-max ordeal… right? right? Well, not exactly. At the time, we were training for Mt. St.

Helens, and we were worried that we would get bad weather, since our climb permit was for mid-October. So, we figured it would be best to test our gear in soggy, colder weather. And what better place to go to do a St. Helens dry-run than fuckin’ Mailbox? So we drive to fuckin’ Mailbox on a rainy day and start climbing. Well, my pants aren’t great, and my friend’s gloves are garbage, and just the rainy weather was enough to make us very cold. Obviously, the gear was no good. AND it was a late start, so we were worried about whether our car would get locked in by the time we got back down. So, we decided to turn around. You win THIS round, Mailbox! But wait, this means… we’re breaking even! The score is 1-1! And my OCD doesn’t like that! We can’t have… loose ends!!! Fast forward to 2014, and our Rainier training. Sure enough, Mailbox gets its turn on our training list. Eeexcellent, I thought. Time to settle the score for good! Heavy pack in tow, we head up the mountain.

Oh mailbox, as hard as I remembered it. I was already tired from the heavy pack on the steep trail, but the MUD!!! The mud made all the difference. I must have fallen on my face like 4 times in a 15 minute period, muscling my way up the steep open segment around the middle. Eventually, I decided to ditch the extra weight (25-30lbs of water in a big jug). After that, climbing seemed pretty easy, though I was noticing it getting colder as I got closer to the clearing of false hope. Upon reaching the clearing, the rest of the group was already turning around. We had decided to turn around. Why? Because it was SNOWING SIDEWAYS!!! Damn you, Mailbox, now we’re at 2-1! That’s it! Now it’s personal! Well, for the next several weeks, we kept coming back to Mailbox, and kicking its mailboxy little ass! It wasn’t long until the score was up to 3-2, and my Mailbox score was finally above the line. But there was still something missing. After all, it’s NHL playoff season, and that means you have to win 4 out of 7.

That means one more Mailbox climb. Well, that time, we decided to really test ourselves. We won’t just climb Mailbox; we’ll put it in its place! How? By climbing TWO peaks in a single day, not just one. It was a great way to push ourselves, but also a way to say, “Hey MB, not only can I climb you, but I have enough in me afterwards to do… one more full hike and climb another mountain!” 4-2, bitches! And that’s how we won the Mailbox Playoffs, and showed it who’s still King! The Training So Far… Wow, it’s been a while! I’ve been wanting to write up my chosen path of training for a while. My strategy of choice is a two-pronged approach, combining consistent hiking with a heavy pack, with a good amount of Crossfit thrown in for good measure. The idea is, you get that hiking in to build up long-form, paced endurance, while getting the CrossFit in to generally increase strength and max output. Hiking With the Asha group, we hike at least once a week. And this ain’t no “fair weather” deal either.

This is rain or shine… or snow, or dark… or locusts! Bring it on! We’ve been hitting basic hikes like Mt. Si and Mailbox Peak, with ever-increasing pack weights. The most we’ve done so far is two hikes in a row (Mailbox + Si, back to back on the same day). The more we advance, the more time/distance we want to be able to cover in one day. CrossFit Man, I am TOTALLY hooked on this stuff! CrossFit successfully bridges the gap between Going to the gym and Things I look forward to doing! The format of the classes is really well put together, and the place I go is right across the street from work, so it’s incredibly convenient! The classes are usually split with the first half focusing on strength and skills, and the second half being the workout of the day, which is usually some kind of all-out workout that completely drains you in 15-20 minutes. A typical workout might consist of several rounds of running + olympic lifts, giving it an awesome high intensity interval training feel, with more variety in the exercises.

I’m definitely noticing a difference in my endurance, what with all the squats (and wall balls and burpees, oh my!) As long as I keep increasing the intensity of both these approaches and building up momentum, I’m completely confident this will get me to the top of Rainier. We’ve also got a couple of scheduled bigger climbs to really test our meddle along the way.

Question: A mere 2,134 feet shorter than Mt. Rainier, what is the second tallest peak in Washington?
Answer: Mt Adams