Early this June, Jenny and I, along with our friends Sam, Chris, Sharon, and Nigel, attempted to climb Mount Rainier again. We had trained for the last few months, felt pretty strong, we had permits, and the weather looked good. Chris had summited twice before, just like Jenny and I. We didn’t make it this time.
A few things are different, compared to our 2017 climbs. The biggest change, of course, is that we are parents. That meant training is very different. We couldn’t go on as many hikes as we used to, and we never actually made it out into snow-covered mountains. Jenny and I did a few Mount Si hikes with weight, but we couldn’t hike them together. Sam also trained on Mount Si, and a couple of times he and I hiked together, once we even did a Double Mount Si. Still, we were strong and fast. In fact, I was faster than eight years ago: 1 hour and 28 minutes up.
Most of our training was not really mountain-related, though. Jenny carried a 50 lbs backpack, filled with our old college textbooks, up and down a local hill ten times several days a week. I took the stairs at work, averaging over 100 floors three days a week, later also with a 30 lbs backpack. And whenever I could, I also rucked with the 50 lbs backpack. It’s still different than actually training on snow.
Our friend Dana watched Kate along with her and Sam’s kids, and that all went great. Kate had a blast. We dropped her off Friday night, and then drove to Paradise at 4 AM on Saturday morning. We needed to pick up our backcountry permit, and the ranger station opened at 7 AM. We had decided not to pick up the permit the day before, which would have meant either a 7 hour round-trip drive for Jenny, or camping somewhere nearby. We really should have camped.
We got to the Paradise parking lot just before 6:30 AM, just as planned, and got ready. There was a long line for permits, however, and only one (very busy, very friendly) ranger working. We didn’t get our permit until 8:30 AM, which meant we started hiking a full two hours later than we did in 2017.
The ranger also informed us that it was very warm. We knew that from the weather forecast, of course, and had planned to leave at 11 PM from Camp Muir. The freezing altitude was over 15,000 ft, which meant the whole mountain was melting.
We started hiking up to Camp Muir, with a couple of stops. The ground was still snow-covered all the way down to Paradise, and the sun was beating down on us. Once we got a little higher, we fortunately caught some cold breezes rolling down the snow slopes. The only steep part was below Panorama Point, leading up to the pit toilet there (which was snow-free but closed), but it had a good boot pack and ascending it was easier than in 2017 when we climbed with Vicky.
In general, I thought the ascent to Camp Muir went well, and I felt strong. Once we were on the Muir snowfield, at around 8500 feet, we allowed the group to spread out a little, as long as we stayed in line of sight. Chris and I got to camp first at 3 PM, after about 6.5 hours. We were a tad bit slower than in 2017, but not too bad.
We claimed three tent platforms and set up the two tents we were carrying, then waited for the others to arrive. Unfortunately, we couldn’t start melting snow yet, because we didn’t have the stoves.
By 5 PM, we had melted enough snow to fill up and purify most of our bottles and pouches again, cooked our dinner and then went to listen to the rangers’ safety briefing. The rangers said that we were in record heat days, and that the teams that had the most success had left camp at 10 PM — yet another hour earlier. And there was a crevasse, the “High Crack” above Ingraham Flats and before the Disappointment Cleaver, that was so large that two people had to be on the snow bridge while crossing it.
At around 6 PM, we talked. We now had lost about 5 hours (2 hours before we started hiking, about an hour en route, and 2 hours due to the earlier alpine start), and we still had to filter more water and prepare our ropes. That would leave us about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, to try to sleep. Not very much. I felt physically strong, but mentally not fresh at all.
The crevasse really scared me. We had three-person rope teams, and had practiced for a crevasse fall of one person. If two fell, one person probably wouldn’t have been able to stop the other two. Sam, Jenny and I had planned to be on one rope, and the idea of a total loss terrified me. The thought of Kate becoming an orphan opened cold, frightful depths in my gut.
At first we discussed still roping up and getting going at 10 PM, so we could take a look at this crevasse. But when I realized that we’d not only have to cross the crevasse at 2 AM, when it’s still relatively cool, but also at around 9 AM, when it would be much warmer, and that we could get trapped on the other side, my resolve dwindled.
There are things we could have done, like the third climber giving the first two a belay, but I didn’t feel sharp enough to actually do that. And we still weren’t done preparing and hadn’t even had a chance to try to sleep. And I was worried about summit fever at the crevasse, the temptation to say “let’s just go” even in the face of high risks.
In the end, I said I didn’t want to go and make the attempt beyond Camp Muir. I felt too mentally tired to do my part in securing the rope teams, and admittedly, I was petrified by the thought of leaving our daughter without us. My suggestion was to stay at camp, scramble Muir Peak, and then rope up and do a glacier exploration at 7 AM, without any chance of making the summit, just to see the Ingraham glacier and get a feel for walking as a rope team.
Some of us were definitely disappointed, some maybe also a bit relieved, but we had agreed that we would go as a team, that our risk tolerance as team of parents would be low, and that one person turning around would mean the whole team would turn around.
We scrambled Muir Peak in the evening, then got a good night’s sleep in our tents, while we listened to other teams getting ready. In the morning, we scrambled Muir Peak again and watched a beautiful sunrise.
Sharon and Nigel decided to pack up and head down, while Sam, Chris, Jenny and I roped up for our exploration. We used Chris’ 40 meter rope, with Chris in the lead, followed by me, Sam, and Jenny. We started walking on snow that felt pretty good. Far softer than the styrofoam-like snow that is perfect for crampons, but not too slushy yet.
The rock section known as Cathedral Gap, which separates the Cowlitz glacier from the Ingraham glacier, had seemed nearby from camp, but it was half a mile nonetheless. The lack of recognizable features on the glacier and the cliff face played tricks on our eyes. Once we reached the rocky section, we took in coils of rope to avoid dragging the rope on the ground, which could cause rock fall, and looked back: Our tents were tiny, allowing us to properly judge the distance. The Cowlitz glacier was already littered with rocks, big and small, which had tumbled down from the Cadaver Gap, something we were reminded of frequently during the evening and, surprisingly, even at night, when it was the coolest.
The rock section was short, only a few turns, which was good, because we had left our crampons on (we also would have left them on at night, had we attempted to summit). Stepping with crampons on rocks feels like dragging nails across a chalkboard. Fortunately, most of us had steel crampons that could be sharpened. While we were on the Cathedral Gap, a group of three climbers descended, having successfully summited. We congratulated them; I admit I had very mixed feelings.
Then we crossed over onto the Ingraham, allowing us to see the expanse of a much bigger glacier than the Cowlitz, with its big crevasses like the High Crack and the even bigger one under the Disappointment Cleaver. Shockingly, there was running melt water at 10,500 ft elevation, and a near constant rock fall coming off the north face of the rock band between the Cathedral Gap and the Cadaver Gap, at about 8 in the morning. It was warm, and the glaciers were melting.
We turned around at 11,000 ft on the Ingraham, from a place where we could see the High Crack crevasse, the Disappointment Cleaver, and portions of the route on the upper mountain above the cleaver.
We made it back to camp, packed up our tents, harnesses, crampons, stoves, and all the other gear, and then headed down. Chris left a bit earlier and was heading down by himself, while Sam, Jenny and I decided to do some snow skills training on the way down. Sam proved to be a fast plunge stepper, and Jenny and I sometimes struggled to keep up. We also did a decent amount of glissading, while we practiced proper form: Ice axe in your dominant hand, with the pick facing outwards, away from the body; braking was done with the non-dominant hand grabbing low, close to the spike. We also trained rolling over into self-arrest position while glissading, and performing self-arrest in general. Finally, we built a few snow anchors and showed how strong a deadman anchor and even a vertical picket is.
Ignoring the disappointing fact that we had planned to summit and didn’t, it was a very enjoyable trip. I felt physically strong and realized again how weirdly much I enjoy carrying a 47 lbs pack up 4600 ft. We had good conversations, met generous fellow climbers who gave us water and granola they didn’t need anymore (6000 calories in one bag, holy smokes!), watched a gorgeous sunset, and came back healthy and safe (with just minor sunburn on the tip of my nose and some very chapped lips).
But I also met a new part of me. I hadn’t expected that I would be the one who says the risk is too high, but in the end, it was I. We had two more permits for the following weeks, but I didn’t want to go, because it would have meant missing the end of year celebration at Kate’s school and her kindergarten graduation. I had always scoffed about things like kindergarten graduations, thinking they aren’t real, they aren’t important, but I realized they actually are important to me. I want to be alive and present in Kate’s life. This is only kindergarten, but it was a year of lots of change and growth for her, and I want to celebrate with her. This is the only time Kate finishes kindergarten, but the mountain is still going to be there.
It was difficult to get over feeling like I had disappointed the others, that I had ruined the trip for them. The weekend that we decided not to go, perhaps 30 climbers crossed the snow bridge twice. Since then, it has certainly been over a hundred. I have seen pictures of the crevasse and the snow bridge, and it is more substantial than I had pictured it in my mind. But it was not straight-forward either, with an awkward, angled crossing. I think we probably could have made it, but I felt mentally too fatigued to take the risk. I have come to accept my decision. It was still a beautiful weekend in the mountains.
Looking forward, there are a few things I would do differently:
- Most importantly, we should have picked up the permit the day before and camped there the night before the climb. That would have allowed us to start hiking as early as we had liked. I know why we didn’t do that, because it would have meant another night away from Kate, but this climb just isn’t a one-night trip for me. It wasn’t for me in 2017 either.
- We should have practiced some more glacier skills, like boot-axe belays or belaying off a picket, and spent more time as a rope team walking with proper rope management and slack. I think that would have given me more confidence.
- Perhaps Jenny and I just can’t be on the same 3-person rope team. Maybe the risk is just too high for me.
- We sent Chris and me ahead with tents, in order to claim tent platforms, but then we couldn’t melt snow. I should have given others some pickets and crevasse rescue gear and taken the stove.
I think we’ll give Rainier another shot next year. I’m going to have to figure out how I can be a climber and a parent. I thought I had, but I very clearly learned what persona is more important to me. I’m a father first and foremost.
