Bonanza!

Mary and I had been talking about this mountain, highest non-volcanic peak in Washington, for a while, and she had been there previously with a friend who convinced them not to bring the right equipment.  It's located on the eastern side of the Cascades, and we decided to go the long way,  22 miles through an area called Spider Gap which I'd heard was beautiful, instead of the "short" way up Lake Chelan and through Holden Village.

Forecast: Hot and sunny.  Sweet!  We crossed over Spider Gap early the second day to some amazing clouds pouring over the mountains to the east.  Beautiful meadows down below, amazing alpine lakes, and dramatic peaks for a backdrop.  Hmm.  Wonder what those clouds are going to do...

On the third day we bushwhacked around the head of the lake and up the classic Cascade configuration of scree field, rocky cliff, start of glacier, crevasse navigation, and dicey transition to rock.  We'd heard many things about the rock - loose, hard, easy... In the end, it was a great 4th class scramble (ie no ropes needed, but don't fall) up fun features to the sharp ridge and summit.

Unfortunately, the vista that greeted us as we gained the ridge included a big thunderstorm not too far away and headed, yes, directly for us!  We don't get thunderstorms much here, hardly at all, but the unusually hot weather was breeding cells in the east that were moving west.  

After a few minutes on the summit trying to convince us both that it wasn't headed straight toward us, we got off there as quickly as possible - I had never had a near thunderstorm experience, and was entirely OK with that!

The rain started as I headed down the first rappel, light and sound coming closer and closer together as the storm moved in.  I was at the next station getting the rope sorted out when that characteristic buzzing started (more like a series of tiny pops between the metal in my helmet) and saw and heard the strike at exactly the same time.  Looking up 150' of rope to where Mary was still perched on the ridge, just 40' below the summit, I yelled up, "Are you OK??"  She was, though we're both pretty convinced it hit the summit, just meters from where she was.  Wow.

She came down and we continued rappelling as the rain eventually stopped and the storm moved on.  Another cell just side-swiped us, dropping a little rain but no big strikes.  Whew!  We took our time down the rest of the route, making our way back to camp in the dark.

The walk out gave us more of the afternoon-rainshower experience as we passed many dayhikers from nearby Holden on our hike out the long way.  My favorite image: five cotton-clad hikers smooshed in next to a tree trunk, doing their best to hide from the downpour and stay warm before making a 6-mile dash for it.  I donned my garbage bag-cum-rain skirt and we walked on...

Back in the saddle

Two weeks, four climbs, and my faith has been restored in guiding.  Back in Seattle and the Cascade mountains for the summer, I finally had some good trips and am ready to go.

The nice things about the DC route are that we don't have to carry much equipment (read: light packs!), there are lots of people to see and talk with on the mountain - our guides, other guides, rangers, enthusiastic independent climbers - and with a little work the route is short and sweet.  Throw in some in-shape, prepared and interesting climbers, and climbing Mt Rainier is fun again!

The weather is beautiful in Seattle, even hot, and it's peach and cherry season.  Cotton dresses and amazing fruit - what more can a gal ask for??  

First summit of the season!

Had to take some time off and climb on my own with friends Mary and Erin.  And anyone who knows us individually, let alone collectively, could probably guess that this would not be a very serious affair...

The ladies' climb somehow ended up incorporating the ridiculousness of plastic tiaras, and the Independence Day holiday necessitated flags and pinwheels as well for camp decoration.  My theory: You don't see too many all-women climbing parties, for whatever social reasons.  If other climbers see us climbing with such silly accoutrements, they must realize we aren't too concerned about our chances of making the summit, and are comfortable in this mostly-male environment.  Plus it's a good conversation starter.  *grin*

The Emmons route on Mt Rainier is less travelled than the other common route, the Disappointment Cleaver (the one I'll be on the rest of the summer) for two reasons.  One, you can't see the trodden path leading all the way to camp from the most popular visitor center in the park - it's a hidden path leading through the trees to a camp you can't see until you're there.  And two, it's longer, with more elevation gain - over 10,000' from trailhead to summit.

We hiked up 5,000' to Camp Schurman on the first day, then took the next day, July 4, off to talk with the rangers, sleep, enjoy the view, and watch the fireworks twinkling down below once dusk fell.  You can see the balloons of sparkle from Seattle and the casino in Auburn, and countless little fountains of light from countless small towns and private homes.  It was windy, but we occasionally dashed out from the ranger hut to check it out, then bundle back in where it was warm.

And we almost didn't make it out of the hut.  Warm and cozy and full of people to talk to, we almost just stayed and hung out in the tin-and-stone ranger cabin - summit schmummit.  But Mary rallied us, we went and made our "breakfast" oatmeal, and set out into the wind for our climb.  Seven hours later, as the sun rose higher over the Cascades and Puget Sound, we wandered onto the summit and had some kind stranger take our (slightly ridiculous) picture.  Yay!  Cold - let's get down!

Back to Schurman, four-hour nap, and a long slide down the snow slopes to the three-mile hike back to the car.  Stinky (it's amazing how smelly you can get in three days) and tired, I slept in the car while Mary and Erin stayed up for the drive back (thanks!!).  Good to be out with friends...

Konichiwa ... Sayonara

Wow - that was an interesting trip.  Three weeks on the glaciers, two different languages, one very frustrating trip, and no summit.  Actually, the weather was not too bad (one 5-day storm at high camp, but not crazy) and everyone seemed to leave OK with how things went, but we had the perfect summit day and weren't able to capitalize on it.

The problem: an older group with inaccurate expectations combined with a trip leader/translator who wasn't willing or able to guide effectively.

Denali is perhaps the hardest of the well-known mountains to climb.  Everest is higher, harder to make it to the top, but Sherpas carry all your gear - you don't have to haul heavy loads, just stay healthy.  Denali is two weeks of carrying 60+ pound packs, often coupled with 40-pound sleds - not an easy thing even if you've trained for it.

Instead, several of our climbers kept asking for lighter loads and slower travel speeds.  But you can't leave your food behind (and I'm not paid enough to carry a 120-pound pack), and we were already the slowest group on the mountain.  There are some things you can't change if you want to make it.  35-pound packs were referred to as "heavy" and our already conservative pace was too fast.  Not a good sign.

We lost one climber on a carry to 16,200' to chest pain - not good in an older smoker!  His teammate went down the next day when he couldn't make it to the first break without sitting down in a heap in the middle of the trail.  The rest of us made it to high camp (17,200') just in time to wait out the storm, but in all honesty it wasn't brutal, just long.  Our fearless interpreter nearly lost heart, but our last possible summit day dawned clear and calm.  Sweet!

Unfortunately, one of our climbers pooped out after half an hour, and park regulations require that clients be accompanied by a guide even in camp.  I turned around with him and another we didn't think would make it and warned repeatedly: If anyone else has to turn around, we're out of guides and the summit bid is over.   If you don't think you will make it the whole way, spin now or risk the group's success.  Sure enough, two hours later another climber was done and the only person who actually should have been on the mountain (the guy with the vodka below) had to come down without the summit.

What to take from this?  Robert and I are both pretty culturally sensitive, have travelled extensively, and want to get people to the top if it can be done safely.  But we couldn't communicate directly with the climbers, and the translator often wouldn't manage the group as we knew needed to be done to have a successful climb.  He hadn't been on the mountain before and didn't like to be the bearer of bad news - a bad combination for a place as demanding and potentially dangerous as Denali.

But I met a bunch of other guides and rangers I'd seen in passing before, built some relationships with them and got more comfortable on the mountain.  Robert was great to work with, and everyone came back with all their fingers and toes (how do you ask if someone can feel their fingers if you don't know their language?).  My nose didn't fall off this year, and we flew off the mountain just in time.  So we'll send some extensive notes to the office, hope there are more realistic expectations next year, and avoid the Japanese trip if not!

It's beautiful in Seattle and I'm back, and life is good.

Off to Denali, round 2

I had gotten time off this past weekend to go do a triathlon with Mary, but this spring's injury meant I couldn't train.  So Mary, after an epic time getting a functional bike at the race location, rocked the house without me.  (Nice work!!)  Instead, I did a reprise of last year's glacier skills weekend with some friends I'll be climbing Rainier with after Denali.  More beautiful weather in the mountains!

This stretch of sun is more than a little unusual for Seattle, and everyone is a little loopy with it.  The highs in town were up into the 80s, and the day I flew to Alaska the forecast was 90 degrees!  Heat advisories were being issued, skirts and shorts and bikinis were being wantonly flaunted, and I finally wore the pink dress that I bought in India last fall.  Yes, pink!  Especially crazy is that 90 F (32 C) is relatively balmy in most of India, but in Seattle, a heat advisory is actually probably a good idea.  Ha!

A few days here in Talkeetna, packing food and getting ready for our expedition, however, has made us ready to fly into the land of glaciers just to escape the mosquitos.  Mosquitos!  So many of them it's hard to sleep; I'm looking forward to being in a tent just so I'm not woken up by their signature whine and inopportune landings.  The lack of night in town means eyeshades are a necessity; on the mountain it means we don't have to bring headlamps.  Ever.  It's so light at 2am you could read a book outside!  Wierd.

Track us at http://www.alpineascents.com/denali-cybercast.asp  We're Team IX, Rob and Suzanne with the all-Japanese team.  Yep - should be interesting.  See you on the flipside!

Too good, too bad...

The weather has been preposterously nice for the past three weeks, but that doesn't mean all is well.  No storms, no sideways snow and buried tents, but my first summit climb was stopped cold by a serious (though injury-free) crevasse fall, and the second by the shifting snow and no-visibility of high winds on the upper mountain.

But the sun does bring out the silliest in us after a hard, cold winter.  We're thinking about publishing a calendar of Alpine guides...

The chopper finally flew, poop from the outhouses down the mountain in big barrels, supplies for the season up.  Nice to have good weather and a heli crew up where we couldn't see the next building last week.

So up to high camp, and up the mountain, and then 10 of us walked across a snowbridge that collapsed under our 11th team member, jerking one guide back several feet and eventually leaving our climber dangling unhurt but shaken about 15 feet into a wide crack!  A large section of the bridge had fallen in, but once he realized he was fine and we'd get him out soon, he was singing and taking pictures down there!  Back on the surface, the weather was too warm to continue up after such a delay, so we headed back down.

Second trip, another two beautiful days getting up to high camp.  Lounging in the sun, enjoying the unexpected warmth in May, a typically tempestuous month.  Summit morning, some high clouds started to block the starlight, then strong winds collecting snow over cracks and obscuring a safe route turned us back.  On our way down we walked out of the lenticular cloud that now sat atop the mountain and headed down in sun but continued strong winds.

Ah, well.  I won't mind leaving the mountain for a month and waiting for things to settle out, the summer route to be established.  The weather is almost too good, very unusual for this time of year, and is making us wonder when the hammer will come down.  Better run off to Alaska for a while...

Start of the season

Headed up to teach an 8-day course on Mt Rainier, one designed to cover skills required for going on a guided Denali climb.  As usual, the mountain decided to do a pretty good impression of Denali weather.  Fortunately, we were able to utilize the stone-hut public shelter to get dry and warm and do lectures.

On one of the first sunny weekends of the summer, tons of people were out at Mt Rainier, hiking around on the snow in various dress shoes, jeans, sunhats, and other inappropriate mountain gear.  So close to the trailhead you get all kinds, many of whom had never seen people like us hauling extra gear on sleds.  People-watching goes both ways, apparently.

Our first night was nice - great view from low camp, perfectly still winds, everyone excited to be on the mountain.  The next day, we decided to move to Camp Muir to avoid the incoming weather in the form of rain - getting high would make it snow, much less uncomfortable.

Ah, the incoming weather.  Four days of sideways snow (is this sounding familiar?), winds of 50 miles an hour or more, trying to make life pleasant in our limited sheltered space.  At the height of the storm, the last night, our climbers were shoveling around the clock trying to save the tents and themselves.  Well, that's how it can get on Denali...

The weather finally broke into two beautiful days, and we put all the rope travel and crevasse theory into practice by running through crevasse rescue techniques on the Kaulitz glacier.  Most people find going into an actual crevasse to be one of the highlights of the trip.  I mean, really, how often do you get to safely do that??

Best of all, we used our sleds to speed our descent on the last day - funny to watch a whole rodeo of mountain sledders heading down the slope!  Beats walking down any day...

Now headed up for two summit climbs before getting ready for Denali, and the weather is actually supposed to be decent for much of the time.  Here's to good climbing!