"There's a certain amount of risk in life. When it comes down to dying I want to know what it's like to have really lived." - Lou Whittaker.
Mount Rainier has a powerful grasp on my heart. I think about her every day...really. Just
thinking about her brings peace and calm to my mind. On a clear day, when her rocky blue and snowy white presence is visible, I feel secure in knowing that she is close and I can visit when needed. On Saturday, I needed to.
It had been a month since the kids had been to their dad's and I longed for the serenity that comes along with silence and lack of obligation. Finally, I had one and a half days to do with as I saw fit. Having hiked up to Camp Muir the past two years, it was definitely on my summer bucket list of things I wanted to accomplish this year. However, life throws curve balls and it hadn't happened yet, so this was how I was going to spend the first day of fall.
Friday, after school let out, the kids got picked up by their dad. I kissed them each farewell and breathed a relaxing breath of freedom. After cleaning up my classroom, my house, and my backpack, I went to the movies with my sister, Emily, and then to Safeway to by light, packable food for the climb.
By the time I got home it was after 10 pm. I packed up and laid out my clothes for the hike and fell into bed knowing it may be difficult to wake up early enough to be at my parents at 7 am to meet my fellow hikers. I am fighting a head cold, but my stubborn temperament was determined not to let it get in the way of my plans.
My 5:30 alarm came awfully early. Struggling to get out of bed, I text Emily to bid her Good Morning (actually I text her to make sure she was still coming, I worried she would back out of our plans due to her own worsening cold). She, however, was already drinking her first cup of coffee and motivated me to get out of bed and make a cup of my own. Barely able to breathe out of my nose and ignoring the nagging beginning of a sore throat, I got dressed, drank my coffee while reading a book written by legendary mountaineer, Lou Whittaker (whom I met last week). This both energized me and filled me with excitement for the day ahead of us.
The climbers today would be Emily, Aaron (to my surprise due to his cold also), and Maura, a family friend that goes back to my infancy. Maura has inspired me more than she knows. Originally from Ireland, she is a healthy and active grandmother, and the neatest lady you'll ever meet. I never tire of hearing her talk and listening to stories of her adventures both near and abroad. She is a true inspiration.
I drove my trusty van, which has become the adventure bus. The way up to Paradise, on Mt. Rainier, we listened to Maura tell of her ghostly experiences and hiking with Sherpas in Kathmandu. The hour-long drive went by quickly but our anticipation morphed ever so slightly to hesitation as the fog became thicker and thicker the higher we drove. About half a mile from the parking lot, we could barely see the road. It hasn't rained in over sixty days, but my windshield wipers were needed. We figured we'd hike what we could, but not push it.
Much to our delight, no more than three minutes after we parked the van, the fog cleared and the sun shone through on the mountain. We all stood in awe of the beauty that surrounded us.
The shock of the colder air had us piling on layers of clothing, and soon we were loaded up and ready to go; but only five minutes into the hike we were shedding the layers like a dog in the summer sun. The first 100 yards of the 4.5 mile hike is oftentimes one of the most difficult parts. Not only did our lungs have to get used to thinner air, but the paved trail that leads to the rocky trail further up is just so darn steep we were all panting like we had just ran a marathon!!
Before long our bodies adjusted to the altitude enough so that our hearts calmed down and our breathing slowed. Each one of us hiked to his/her own pace. Nobody minded that although we came together, it was as though we were on a solo hike. Every now and then we'd regroup and see how everyone was doing. About half-way up to Camp Muir at Pebble Creek right before the rocky climb turned to a snowy/slushy walk straight uphill, Maura decided she had gone as far as her body would allow. She was smart to know and respect her limits.
The rest of us chugged along. We had reached the Muir Snowfield and, being late in the season, all of the clean white and packed snow was melted and what remained was slushy, dirty, and wet snow that gave way to large and small crevasses here and there. All around we could see water running in little rivulets that will eventually form crevasses if the snow doesn't start falling. When we reached the point where we could hear water flowing directly below the ice under our feet, Emily decided she didn't want to go any further. That, and having forgotten her asthma inhaler, she was feeling the effects of high altitude more than Aaron and myself were. She insisted we continue and decided to rest on the warm rocks and wait for us to return.
By this point the landscape around us was other-worldly. It looked more like something you'd imagine on the moon than anything you'd normally come in contact with on Earth. The trees were gone, all you could see was ice, craggy rock walls and snow. The mountain grade was so steep that you could not see further than the white ridge above us; and beyond that ridge awaited.....another ridge. I remember thinking to myself. "Ok, I know I'm out of shape...but I don't remember it being this far!" When one gets up that far on the mountain, their strides become incredibly short and the pace slows way down. A technique call "rest steps" is used, and that is basically focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. It didn't help that with the snow so slushy, many steps forward slid backward half a step. We were moving in slow motion.
As slow as I felt we were going, we kept pace with a crew that was climbing to the summit of Rainier. The nine person team left minutes before us and we actually beat them up by a few minutes, so I guess, we went at an average pace. The distance between Aaron and I increased as my legs seemed to acquire a hundred pounds each. Once I reached the dirt that surrounds the actual camp. I was so tired I could barely lift one foot in front of the other. I had to call on every last ounce of energy I had to climb the stairs to the top where I collapsed on the warm rocks and laid down. My body was spent. Nothing was clear to me and I couldn't focus on anything. Lying down I could have fallen asleep right there amidst the other climbers, but I knew, if I did, I could possibly be there for quite some time. I tried to sit up to feed and water myself and as I did, I could hear Aaron snoring nearby. I woke him up and we sat in silence for awhile...too tired to speak. The thought of standing up and making it the whole way down was more than I could dare think about. After awhile, however, we knew we should be leaving and our energy slowly returned.
Less than in years past, but in several spots, the snow was cooperative enough to make great glissading chutes. We simply sit down, shove off and away we'd go!!!!
What took us about six hours to go up, took only about two hours to descend. We reached Paradise by 6:45 pm....exhausted beyond words. My legs felt like rubber, like at any moment they would buckle from my own weight. My clothes were damp, my toes were wet and my fingers were numb, but I never felt better. The
process of climbing Camp Muir when you are out of shape and fighting a sinus infection isn't exactly what I'd call
fun, but the feeling of accomplishment is so worth it.
The day was a delight to my senses....well most of them. My sense of smell was a little disapointed. There is some wild weed that grows in the mountain that gives off a disagreeable scent. It is reminiscent to the smell of stale laundry....when you've forgotten to take the wet clothes out of the washer and they end up sitting in there a couple days (come on now, I know I'm not the only one who has done this....right?). Yes, I didn't take pleasure to the mountain smells. However, after you get above a certain altitude, there are no smells...and your other senses take over. The sound of rocks or ice falling on the other side of steep ridges, the water bubbling under the snow, the cool alpine breeze on my face as I reach the top of a new ridge, the sight of the summit...so close; all these things added to the enjoyment of the day. Above all, knowing I pushed myself to my limit, and that now, my limit has expanded....
I plan on climbing Mt. Rainier, my only hesitation is my children. When I told Isabelle I plan to climb the mountain, she burst into tears, fearing I would never return. Many people have attempted it and never returned, and yet, many more have climbed it many times. How easy it is to risk your life when you have only yours to look out for, but my children came to mind many times the day I climbed to Camp Muir. There are many risks I would have taken if their little faces hadn't entered into the forefront of my conscience mind. My life holds more value now than it did in my past so I plan on exploring my mountain with caution.
There will be a time to ascend it's icy ridges and look out at the world from its crystal clear heights, but for now, the only mountain I will be climbing is the mountain of laundry that threatens to turn stale if I don't attend to it soon.
Happy Fall Everybody,
love,
Gina.
P.S. I had to add the picture of the kids and I with Lou Whittaker taken the week before at the Rainier Mountain Fest. He was an amazing climber and is the nicest guy. I asked him if he does any climbling anymore and he responded, "Til the day I die....in and out of bed!"
