The token trailhead photo
June 30th, 2008 10 AM
(L-R: Troy, Pat, Marco, Rich, Matt, Adam, Chris, Aaron)
It was a beautiful Monday morning in Ashford, Washington. The sun was shining at full intensity, and only a slight wisp of cirrus clouds clung to the majestic summit of Mt. Rainier. The 8 of us stood in wonder and stared at our objective towering above. The emotions ranged from excitement and bewilderment to anxiousness and trepidation. 10 months of hard work had led us to this point, and here we were, face to face with a dream, a challenge, and a metaphor all at the same instant. After re-packing for the last time and checking in with the climbing rangers, we were off to make high camp at 9,400'.
The first hour of hiking was more strenuous than most thought. Still, it gave time for the blood to really get flowing through all the muscles. We finally reached our first point: Panorama Point, where one could see Mt. Adams, Mt. Saint Helens, and a faint glimmer of 2006's objective, Mt. Hood. We had gained our first 1,000 vertical feet, only to start descending 400 feet to the Lower Nisqually glacier. Once we reached the morraine, we took our packs off, applied more suncscreen, and roped up for our first glacier crossing as a team. After what seemed like an endless walk across a blank white surface, we reached the base of The Fan.
Our first impression of The Fan was slightly ominous. There was a significant amount of rockfall at the base and looking up at the staggering volcanic rock formations above us, not one of us wanted to stand still here for any longer than necessary. We entered The Fan and started a sustained climb on 45 - 50 degree snow slopes, constantly on the lookout for rockfall.
By 4 o'clock that afternoon, we were at 8,200' and had gained just about 3,000 vertical feet over the course of 5.5 hours. The camp we were aiming for on Day 1 was still another 1.5 - 2 hours away. Without ego, Rich spoke up and said that he was doubtful he could continue on from this point today. After resting and rallying, we dropped 100' and set up Camp Rich, a beautiful flat vista which would give us all a chance to melt some snow and start making dinner. By morning, Rich was not feeling any better, and had not slept much, if at all. Once again, abandoning his ego, he began to ask if someone could take him to the glacier crossing so that he may get back to the car in the parking lot. All the while, Rich was constantly saying to everyone that he did not want to cost them their summit attempt. In their own individual
way, everyone supported and reassured him. In what would prove to be the most selfless gesture on the mountain, Chris volunteered to take Rich to the parking lot and stay with him. Matt agreed to take over for Chris as the 2nd rope team leader. After camp was broken down Chris and Rich tied in together, and the 2 teams of 3 did the same. In a bittersweet moment, words of apology and empathy were spoken, and Rich and Chris began there descent while Matt, Aaron, Troy, Adam, Marco, and Pat started their trek to high camp at 9,400'.
An uneventful 2 hour trek led the remaining 6 to high camp (editor's note: high camp was dubbed "The Penthouse" due to it's top floor feel) where camp was set up on a nice bed of pumice. This day was spent resting and relaxing as we would start our summit attempt at 12:00 a.m. This whole time, our idea had been to summit Rainier by a route called The Fuhrer Finger. We were able to get a better look at this route from high camp and noticed that the rockfall seemed to be higher than we had anticipated. Looking through the guidebook and our surrounding terrain, we decided a less objective hazard laden route would be the Kautz Glacier route, due north from our camp. Had we known then what we would experience attempting this route, we probably would have thought something else entirely.
The alarms went off at 11:00 p.m. and we awoke and started stoves for "breakfast" which constisted of everything from instant oatmeal to Pop Tarts to Clif Bars and chocolate. The gear was laid out and everyone was ready. We stepped out of camp, onto the snow again, flipped on the headlamps, and started our midnight ascent of Mt. Rainier.
day was now fully happening. Things were going pretty slowly. Total darkness was only interrupted by 6 bobbing beams of light, which made finding our route incredibly difficult. We finally made it to about 10,300' when we needed to stop for a, er, bathroom break. What came next cannot possibly be fully expressed by words. Standing in a wide open space in the middle of the dark, we heard the thundering roar of icefall. I'd love to be able to say that we collectively stayed calm and looked out for each other; however, the reality is that total fear took over and every man ran for shelter. The ice never came anywhere near us in the end; though with the fear experienced by all, you'd have thought we narrowly escaped a harrowing fate.
Recollected and calm(er), we continued for another 1,000 feet, climbing on frozen snow at consistent slope of 50 degrees. We came to a rocky outcropping, where there was soil, pumice, ash, and loose rock. The route passed through this, but when I came across a fixed anchor and a cache of rescue gear, I quickly told the others. After speculating if we were all still on route, we swallowed some pride and asked the party behind us if we were on the right route. The other party confirmed that we were dead on. I then told everyone what lay beyond the anchor and gear: a 30 foot cliff dropping down into total darkness! There was no way to know what was at the bottom. Visions of Touching the Void came through my eyes as the thought of being dropped into a crevasse was a certain possibility. I looked from person to person.
Each of these 5 guys had worked incredibly hard to get here. They had each raised over $1,000 on their own to have the chance to stand on top of Rainier. Now I had to be the one to tell them we had to turn around. On the downclimb to camp, I reflected on what the journey had been like to that point, and while everyone crawled into their tents at 5:15 a.m., I stayed awake to watch the sunrise coming over the eastern horizon.
As difficult as it was to make that decision, it turned out to be the right one, no matter how many times I've second-guessed it. We were awoken at 6:30 later that morning by a Chinook helicopter. It was flying to approximately 11,400' to rescue a climber from the Kautz Glacier route who had fallen into a crevasse, smacked his head, and broken a few ribs. Later on in the day, during our descent back to Paradise, we learned that a guided party had also turned around at the same impass we had. These happenings made the decision easier to bear, though still uncomfortable. We made it back to Paradise via lots of glissading (i.e. sliding on your butt) and smiles. When we got there, we were greeted by hugs, smiles, and Rainier beers from Rich and Chris.
This was the Climb for Cancer Care. All 8 of us together on the mountain, though in different places, and even without a summit, we had a huge amount of success. Everyone made it off the mountain safely and back home to their families. When it comes right down to it, that marks the true marker of success in the mountains: going home so you can come back another day. For four of us, that day came sooner than we had indeed anticipated.
