Mount Baker

August 20/21.  Easton Glacier route.  Park Butte trailhead.  Josh W. and Andrew C. 

My cousin Jimmy got married on Friday night before our climb. I watched the sun set over Mt. Baker while I sat in my white chair during the ceremony at the Homestead County Club in Lynden, WA..  Shadows illuminated pink and blue reflections on the volcano snow.  I looked at the mountain wistfully, and felt comfort knowing I would be sleeping there the next night. 

I met up with Josh and Andrew in the parking lot of the National Park Ranger Station near Sedro Woolley.  We rolled to the trailhead together. 

The approach route led us to the Railroad Grade trail; a nearly direct route to the Easton Glacier.  We hiked to the high camp and pitched my tent on the rocks.  I wasn’t sure how she would hold up using rocks and boulders as makeshift stakes.  After setting up camp, we boiled water, ate dinner, and shared stories.  Mostly we talked about our mutual loves for total immersion in the mountains.  During dinner Josh decided he was not feeling prepared to summit the next day.  The singular other gentleman camped in our rock area agreed to be our third rope team member.  Jacques was his name.  During the climb, we learned he was born and raised in Croatia, having learned skills climbing in Eastern European hills.  Warm, inviting, and personable fellow.

We crawled into our sleeping bags after twilight.  Alarm set for 1 AM.  We agreed with 

Jacques we would be ready to climb at 2.  We readied ourselves quickly upon waking.  The air was unexpectedly warm and humid; freezing level was reportedly above 10,000 feet.  During a test stomp, the snow crunched beneath my boots.  It was firm enough to warrant fastening our crampons.  None of us were confident of the path of the route; looking straight up the mountain revealed a large crevasse directly in front of us.  The question we debated – do we move to the left or right of the opening?  It was decided that we would wait for one of the guided groups to move ahead of us.  We were the first team to move up the mountain that morning, and we had no boot pack to follow.  After 30 or so minutes, a group of 12 moved in front, to the right.  We followed behind for the ascent.   In the darkness, I could see the city lights of Bellingham, Everett, and Seattle.  The moon provided enough light; my headlamp was not necessary.   We came to the crater at the crest of sunrise.

The true summit of Mt. Baker lies above the crater and ‘Roman Wall’.  We continued onward, and hit the summit at approximately 7:30 AM.  It was cold, and windy.  We had views of the Sound and San Juan Islands, Canadian Cascades, Glacier Peak, Mt. Rainier, the Olympic Range, and Bellingham.  My first true summit of the summer.  The sense of accomplishment was more dull than I expected; getting to the top of the mountain was a percentage of the experience.  Part of a process that doesn’t have a definitive end point. I felt myself wanting to continue motion, and thought "my life is propelled by the momentum of my emotions and thoughts.”  And, in this moment, while viewing this beautiful backdrop, that no longer seems acceptable. 

We returned to camp around 10:30 AM.  Josh greeted us, we dropped our gear, refueled, and napped for an hour before making the trek back to the car.  Perfect weekend. 

Enchantments

August 12-14 with the ladies.  My family for the weekend was Leigh, Deb, Stacy, and Catherine.  Leigh entered the permit lottery earlier in the year and won a spot in the Stuart Zone.  We hiked in to Stuart Lake Friday afternoon.  Saturday was spent giving Deb birthday props, and day hiking to Colchuck Lake.  Our ambitious fantasy was to hike to Colchuck, then ascend Asgard Pass and explore into the upper Enchantments.  We nixed that idea after hiking to the far end of the lake and jumped into the water.  Well, everyone else jumped into the water.  I spent an hour submerged, moving slowly to my navel before abandoning the effort.   After we sunned at the lake, we hiked back to camp and ate dinner.  Stacy made and carried in brown butter-salted rice crispy treats for Deb's birthday treat (they were as tasty as they sound).  The mosquitoes were thick, and we crawled into our tents before nine.  After a lazy breakfast on Sunday, we hiked back to our cars.  Humorous, brash, and witty group.  Relaxing, restorative, invigorating weekend.

second chance - part 2

On Saturday (July 30), we aimed to leave camp at 11 PM for our summit attempt.  John (Kaster, my tent buddy) boiled water and we filled our bottles after our day trip to Ingraham Flats.  I put a couple of my homemade date/nut/seed/carob balls in my pack, along with a couple of liters of water, extra layers, and my camera.  We crawled into our sleeping bags around 6 PM, and set the alarm for 10 PM.   There is a lot of human traffic in and out of Camp Muir throughout the day,  and it can get noisy.  I put ear plugs in and actually slept for about three hours.  We woke, boiled snow for warm drinks, and dressed.   The sky was clear as far as I could see, and the sky was littered with stars.  No moon in sight.  For the climb, I wore a thermal layer of pants and top, waterproof pants, fleece, waterproof shell, gaiters, climbing harness, knit cap, gloves, mittens, helmet (rock fall), headlamp attached to helmet, boots, crampons.  Ice axe in hand.

We made it to the top of Disappointment Cleaver before sunrise.  It was windy; compared to two weekends ago, it was a 6 out of 10 versus 8.  The path was wider and carved deeper into the mountain.  I did not feel as afraid as I did the first time.  Perhaps it was the added experience, different weather conditions, or brighter spirit.  Regardless, I felt more confident and comfortable during the climb.  Sunrise was beautiful; clouds began closing in approximately 2,000 feet from the summit.  From that point onward, wind thrust snow and ice in our faces.  By the time we arrived to the crater rim, our outer garments were covered in ice.  It looked as though our clothes were white.  When were were approximately 1,000 feet from the top, I had a moment where I felt ice frozen to my cheeks, and wondered if my skin was going to be frostbitten.  I smiled at the irony, having grown up in Fairbanks Alaska without incident of frostbite, only to voluntarily place myself in frigid conditions and get cold injury while doing something I deem 'fun'.  Fortunately, the drama remained a creation of my mind and I did not get frostbite on Rainier.  
The crater conditions were similar to the ascent; windy, freezing, low visibility.  I pulled my camera out to take a photo, and discovered the cold drained my battery.  Kirsten's lens was frozen; we got no pictures at the top.  When I finally did stumble into the crater I felt dazed at first.  Eight hours of climbing and then stop.  The effort halted.  The 'true summit' on Mt. Rainier lies 300 feet above our terminus of that morning; a 30-45 minute walk across the crater from where our route deposited us.  The weather dictated where our summit would be that morning.  In that moment, I wanted to go farther and touch the absolute highest point on the mountain.  So I could know I went as far as possible. Going farther was not an option; so we hugged, stood in shock and watched other groups enter the crater, then turned around and headed back down the mountain.  The pictures below were taken with Kirsten's camera on the descent, at the top of the cleaver and Ingraham Flats.
The bummer of the trip was discovered when we returned to Camp Muir, approximately twelve hours after we left the evening before.  Wind was as strong at Muir as we felt higher on the mountain, and Ben's tent blew out of camp carrying both his and Kirsten's sleeping pads, bags, and extra clothes.  As far as I know, none of the loss has been recovered.  Rangers told Ben that the tent were to be found, he could be given a ticket for littering and fined.

second chance - part 1

July 29, 30, 31. Weather conditions looked favorable for the third scheduled 3 Summits climb of the season.  Eddie invited the local members of the two unsuccessful summit attempts (my route, Disappointment Cleaver, and the Emmons Glacier route) to join the third climb.  The original group headed up to camp Muir early in the afternoon on Friday.  Kirsten drove me and our rope leader Ben down to Paradise later Friday afternoon.  The three of us hiked up to Muir together, arriving just after 8:30 PM.

 I accepted the outcome of first summit attempt, though felt unfulfilled.  When offered a chance to try again, I canceled plans I had for the weekend and took the afternoon off of work.  All of the preparation and focus I dedicated to the climb seemed suspended; I had not attained my goal.  There was no climax, the build-up was waiting for a release.  Going into the second weekend, I intuitively suspected I would have the opportunity to relieve some of the pressure of a self-directed desire to get to the top of the mountain.

Lovely Kirsten, near Pebble Creek en route to Muir.

View from camp at sunset.

On Saturday, we roped up (sans crampons) and took a day trip to Ingraham Flats.  To get to the flats, we crossed through a sketchy rock-fall area near Cathedral Rock.

Giant crevasse.  The crevasses were opened much wider than two weeks ago.

At Ingraham Flats.  In the picture below, the visible rock area below and to the right of the summit is called Disappointment Cleaver.  Our route will lead us through the rocks to the top of the cleaver, followed by a short traverse around the mountain until we begin a slog more or less directly up to the top of the crater.  Some teams choose to camp at the Flats as opposed to Muir.  It is approximately 1,000 feet higher than Muir.  Other teams camp at Muir for a night, then move to Ingraham for the evening before a summit push.

The other rope teams were: Eddie (our dedicated leader, pictured below with Little Tahoma in the background), Flora and Wei.  John Kaster, Mina, Carlie, and Shannon.

THE weekend

The big climb arrived.  July 15, 16, 17.  We hiked up to base camp Muir  On Friday afternoon with sunny albeit chilly and windy conditions.
My good friend Tracy Wilson was my rope leader.  Tracy was my inspiration for joining 3 Summits - this year marks her third climb with the group, and first time as rope leader.  (she completed her second IronMan Triathlon a couple of weeks before the climb.  Get it Tracy).

Our rope team was filled out with Mary, one of Tracy's pals who flew in from North Carolina for the climb.

Thats Mary on the right, Leigh in the middle.  Glad to be at Muir, ready to drop the heavy packs.  Leigh shared my red tent with me.  I felt a mild headache when we reached camp.  My headache turned into sinus and chest congestion and shortness of breath mid-way through the night.  By the end of the next day, my body acclimatized to the altitude and my breathing returned to usual.

High winds greeted us on Saturday morning.  The original plan was to take a day hike up to Ingraham Flats for practice with the ropes and self-arrest.  Due to the cold temps, we spent the day relaxing and eating in our tents and congregating in the leaders' tent.  Alex reviewed tying knots with a few of us.  Abi assumed water duty and boiled snow for the team's water supply.

Twilight on Saturday; we napped for a couple hours before 12 AM wake-up call.  Target departure from camp was 1 AM for summit push.    We left about 1:30 AM; headlamps on.  A trail of glowing bodies lined up for hundreds of feet could be seen from camp as other teams started up the mountain ahead of us.  The scene was reminiscent of planes circling the sky awaiting an open runway at an international airport.  The moon was nearly full and provided a brilliant light to view the mountains and valleys below us.

Sunrise.  Our team made it to the top of Disappointment Cleaver, and across a traverse on the side of the mountain before turning around due to high winds and visible descending grey storm clouds. (the picture above was taken minutes before we turned around).   We felt strong, physically, and none of us experienced ill effects from the elevation.  Our rope team was solid.  Tracy did an excellent job of keeping us mentally strong.  Soon after we started our descent, the winds picked up and pushed me into the side of the mountain.  I panicked, and froze.  I stopped moving.  There was a team behind us also trying to get down the mountain.  I paused for probably ten, twenty seconds, It felt like an hour.  Tracy moved into a self-arrest position against the mountain to emphasize her point, and hollered compassionately at me "its solid!  You have to keep moving!" I snapped out of my mental paralysis and followed her the rest of the way down the mountain.  Our altitude at the highest was approximately 12,700 feet.  Originally I thought we made it past 13,000 feet and later was corrected.

Some shots of the hike from Muir to Paradise.

The group - Tracy, me, Mary.  Leigh, Deb, Jesse, Leslie (Seattle locals).  Alex and Abi drove in from Wyoming.  Kevin and David flew in from Colorado.  John drove over from the Olympic Peninsula.

No summit this time.  Enhanced mental agility, flexibility, and endurance.  I felt satisfied with our accomplishment, even though the stated goal wasn't reached.  We stopped in Ashford for group lunch before parting to our respective destinations.

beach backpacking

Olympic Peninsula.  July 2-4.  With Brenda and Katie V.   Memory highlights of the trip include B's backward's trucker hat (see picture below), our collective inability to remember more than two lines of any given song we attempted to chorus during our walks, my goofy leg sunburn from beach meditation, stripping down to basics and jumping in the ocean, purple starfish, road trip rap music... the nostalgia is fresh.  The trip was a welcome reprieve from action and agenda; we meandered along the beach and cliff trails to our campsite the first day.  Near Strawberry Point.  We camped on the beach, and set fire to driftwood at night to warm ourselves and cook Field Roast dogs.  Our second day was spent exploring the beach and rocks during low tide, practicing yoga in the sand, relaxing, and watching the beautiful sunset.   We left camp relatively early in the morning on Monday the 4th, so as to avoid heavy ferry traffic and return to Seattle early-ish.  Brenda is a professional photographer.  She took some amazing shots during the weekend that might show up on www.bergreenphotography.com .

Being on the coast was a dramatic change from the prior weekend's mountain adventure on Shuksan.  Snow to sand.  Layers to bare skin.  I feel more like myself when I'm in the backcountry camping.  During this particular trip, I noticed that I had no mirror to look into.  Without a reflection, I felt more in touch with my insides.  There is so much emphasis on the external world in my life; what I look like being only one facet.  External identities consume much time and energy; my profession, my attire, personal relationships, speech, living environment, financial means, and on...   When I go hiking and camping for a night or more, I remember the peace in simplicity and space.  And how little space I give myself in my usual life.
I also noticed how much I enjoy being immersed in nature, even when not pursuing a high-intensity goal.  Typically, my adventures have an outcome attached; reach a summit, hit a certain mileage per day, complete a trail, reach a target destination.  While my inherent nature moves me towards 'get it', I now know that a slow pace fulfills me.  Balances.  I wanted quiet and stillness going into this weekend.  Felt that desire inside, though wasn't able to put it into words until I felt the experience.

Mt. Shuksan

June 25/26.  Training climb for Rainier.  Overnight snow camping, and ice climbing.  Group of nine.  Eddie led the trip, with Andrew and Cal leading two other rope teams.  Eddie and Kirsten were on my rope team.  Leigh, Flora, and Andrew on the third.  Cal, Deb, and Wei on number two.  We hiked to high base camp on Saturday, approximately 8,200 feet.  The summit is just under 9,000 feet.  We hiked mostly in white-out conditions the first day; couldn't see our surroundings beyond our immediate steps.  We woke up to clear skies on Sunday, with a spectacular panoramic view of the North Cascades National Park.   My rope team made it to about 300 feet below the summit before Eddie made the decision to turn back because snow was melting at  rapid rate.  Wet snow = dangerous down climb.  Given that myself and Kirsten were inexperienced mountaineers and ice climbers, I was supportive of his decision.  I felt grateful to have been given the opportunity to be on the mountain and learn new skills.

Familiar difficulties and irritations with group dynamics entered my mind throughout the trip.  I opted to settle on the thought "I wouldn't be here without these people.  I can't do this alone."  Shifting my focus from frustrating at how long it took people to get ready on summit morning, to appreciation for where I was helped me stay joyful and light.  There were a few humbling moments during the summit climb, notably when my ill-fitting crampon came off my boot a couple hundred feet up the climb.  I freaked out and a rush of critical, panicked thoughts flew thru my mind "what am I going to do? I can't get this back on.  All these people are waiting for me, I can't believe I didn't put it on right.  I'm screwed.  I can't believe you did this."  Kirsten noticed my panic and called to me "Dre, how are you doing?  Its okay, you're going to be fine!"  I paused; the pause felt like an eternity, likely it was 10 seconds.  I dug my ice axe into the ice/snow in front of me, and used it as leverage to balance on the spikes on my still-attached left boot/crampon combo.  I used one hand to slip the device back onto my foot.  Success.  The entire team did have to wait for me.  I held them up.  And it was fine.  I felt rattled for the next hour of climbing, and eventually was able to settle back into a routine.  Kirsten's support made a huge difference in my ability to solve the problem under stressful circumstances.  She was there to support me, and I want to support my team, too.   When they are slow, and I'm fast, and when I'm slow, and they are fast.  The point is that we all want to get up and down the mountain safely.  In our way, how we know how to do, and how we can.