Mt Rainier climb for MS with George Dunn
A climbing story by Markus Linder - 2010
Well Folks, we made it up and down all in one piece. The anxiety and exhilaration is over and now it’s time to recover and recall the story. Without a doubt climbing Mt. Rainier is a wonderful but wild and formidable challenge. We didn’t meet up with a sasquatch and I didn’t see any UFO’s, but more than once we were almost forced to turn around and head back.
First it was the possible loss of 2 of our 4 guides. The call came in Friday around 1p.m: an injured climber needed help off a cliff we were approaching. If our
guides had to carry the subject all the way down, we couldn’t proceed. But it was a spinal injury and considered life-threatening, so a Chinook helicopter (twin-rotor; big) flew in from McCord air force base near Tacoma and airlifted the subject to safety, all right before our eyes. Soon after the evac was complete the guides were with us again. That was Friday evening, the night of our planned summit attempt, and we bed down around 7pm.
Then, just after waking up at 11 and while gearing up to hit the trail, what did we see and hear on the other side of the mountain? Thunder and lightning! I swear the thunder was telling us…DO-NOT-GO-FUUURTHERRR! STOP WHERRRE YOU ARRRE! And seriously, no way we were climbing a fully exposed ridge full of loose rock if an electrical storm was going to bear down on us. So we waited to determine the direction of the storm, and before long it was clearly moving more east than north, just about 10 miles south of Mt.Rainier. That was enough clearance, and so we started out. As we climbed a thousand feet up the ridge called “Disappointment Cleaver”, we were accompanied by moonlight, lightning, sometimes severe wind, and rolling thunder. It was surreal, hardly believable. During the few brief times that afforded a look around, it was so awe-inspiring to see the storm drift to the east and the many places where lightning had struck and forest fires were now burning. There’s quite a contrast between yellowish city lights vs the orange light of fire. But those minutes to pause were brief, and we had to press on.
Near the top of the ridge yet another unexpected obstacle shook its fist, threatening our intentions. At around 12400 ft, the wind became fierce and with it came…lots of snow. A frickin blizzard in the middle of summer! Wowzers! Was this the end? I didn’t bring goggles! For some time we carried on, plowing
through it and forcing ourselves upward, ice axes and crampons clanking in the night, the snow accumulating all around us and on us. Before long I was turning white, and I must have looked like a snowman. I shook it off and kept up the pace; a little snow wasn’t going to stop me. But about a half hour into the
blizzard, George Dunn (on his 500th climb of Rainier) was saying we should turn back. The blizzard would only get worse the higher we went, and he and his rope team even started back. So we stopped while radios buzzed and crackled and the guides discussed the situation. We put on more clothing, ate and drank whatever we could. Everyone was checked for stamina and strength and condition. One smart man on our team had already turned back because his heart was racing at a pulse of 180bpm and it wouldn’t calm down. What about the rest of us? Was anyone going further than they could return from? Was anyone dressed in cotton or suffering from dehydration or losing their senses due to AMS? Was anyone simply feeling beyond their limits? What to do, what to do. The guides only know so much and accurate info can be hard to determine. And then, almost as quickly as it started, it ended. The squall had blown by. All was still, quiet, and awesomely majestic again. We stood there in the night slightly bewildered and numb, but it was clear we could proceed again. The mountain was letting us go further.
The next couple hours were just hard breathing and one step at a time, one foot in front of the other, in rest-step form. Up and up and up and up. Occasionally the train would stop, and you could look down behind and see the many headlamps of other climbing teams following our trail, and the lights around camp 3000ft below, and the lights of Ellensburg way off. Occasionally the moon would peak through the storm clouds at the tail end of the electrical storm now way off in the East. Now and again we’d come upon a crevasse that had to be negotiated with one large step or 5 or 6 small steps over a ladder. If I’d thought about it I wouldn’t have done it, but we had to press on.
At around 5am and 13500ft the distant sky began to bloom and the beautiful sun began to shed its miraculous light over everything. I think that’s when I began to wake up as well. Up until that time I’d just been a robot, dynamically but instinctually adjusting to changing conditions and shifting gears as necessary. Now we were approaching the summit. A couple more mind-numbing crevasses to step over, another half-hour of labored breathing, a few more gusts of wind to endure, and we were at the crater’s edge. After that another 20 minutes and we were on the other side of the crater, standing on the Columbia Crest, having gone as far as we could. We let out a woop and a yell, took pictures, hugged and did high-fives. We had “threaded the needle” on a roller-coaster ride and were now standing on the highest point in Washington state. It was all so awesome, surreal, exciting and humbling at the same time.
(See pics) After signing the registry, noting some of the iceless areas where steam was rising from the crater, and forcing some food down despite the
AMS-induced nausea, it was time to go down. Within 8 hours were on pavement again, strutting through the mayhem that is Paradise Meadows during travel
season. Finally it was off with the boots and into my glorious Birkenstock sandals again. Ahhhhh.
As for one of the main reasons we did all this, to get matched by Microsoft in a monetary gift to the National Parks Foundation, nobody can say we came up short. People like you, friends and family, previous climbers and even strangers, have altogether collected a total of just over $27,000. The WNPF will be thrilled to have such a gift matched by Microsoft, and they will certainly put it all to good use locally, keeping the 3 national parks in Washington clean and accessible and safe.
Once again, thanks so much for your support in helping us make this year’s MS Climb a great success. We hope you get out there, safely enjoy the wonders and wildness of creation protected in our national parks, and then leave no trace. The parks are cleaner and better protected now compared to 25 years ago, even with more and more people visiting them each year. Let’s keep it that way!
Pictures from the event are here on Windows Live Skydrive.
Donations are still being accepted until Friday, here at FirstGiving.com.
If anyone has any questions about the climb, please contact me at mark@gonealpine.com
Rock On,
Markus
First it was the possible loss of 2 of our 4 guides. The call came in Friday around 1p.m: an injured climber needed help off a cliff we were approaching. If our
guides had to carry the subject all the way down, we couldn’t proceed. But it was a spinal injury and considered life-threatening, so a Chinook helicopter (twin-rotor; big) flew in from McCord air force base near Tacoma and airlifted the subject to safety, all right before our eyes. Soon after the evac was complete the guides were with us again. That was Friday evening, the night of our planned summit attempt, and we bed down around 7pm.
Then, just after waking up at 11 and while gearing up to hit the trail, what did we see and hear on the other side of the mountain? Thunder and lightning! I swear the thunder was telling us…DO-NOT-GO-FUUURTHERRR! STOP WHERRRE YOU ARRRE! And seriously, no way we were climbing a fully exposed ridge full of loose rock if an electrical storm was going to bear down on us. So we waited to determine the direction of the storm, and before long it was clearly moving more east than north, just about 10 miles south of Mt.Rainier. That was enough clearance, and so we started out. As we climbed a thousand feet up the ridge called “Disappointment Cleaver”, we were accompanied by moonlight, lightning, sometimes severe wind, and rolling thunder. It was surreal, hardly believable. During the few brief times that afforded a look around, it was so awe-inspiring to see the storm drift to the east and the many places where lightning had struck and forest fires were now burning. There’s quite a contrast between yellowish city lights vs the orange light of fire. But those minutes to pause were brief, and we had to press on.
Near the top of the ridge yet another unexpected obstacle shook its fist, threatening our intentions. At around 12400 ft, the wind became fierce and with it came…lots of snow. A frickin blizzard in the middle of summer! Wowzers! Was this the end? I didn’t bring goggles! For some time we carried on, plowing
through it and forcing ourselves upward, ice axes and crampons clanking in the night, the snow accumulating all around us and on us. Before long I was turning white, and I must have looked like a snowman. I shook it off and kept up the pace; a little snow wasn’t going to stop me. But about a half hour into the
blizzard, George Dunn (on his 500th climb of Rainier) was saying we should turn back. The blizzard would only get worse the higher we went, and he and his rope team even started back. So we stopped while radios buzzed and crackled and the guides discussed the situation. We put on more clothing, ate and drank whatever we could. Everyone was checked for stamina and strength and condition. One smart man on our team had already turned back because his heart was racing at a pulse of 180bpm and it wouldn’t calm down. What about the rest of us? Was anyone going further than they could return from? Was anyone dressed in cotton or suffering from dehydration or losing their senses due to AMS? Was anyone simply feeling beyond their limits? What to do, what to do. The guides only know so much and accurate info can be hard to determine. And then, almost as quickly as it started, it ended. The squall had blown by. All was still, quiet, and awesomely majestic again. We stood there in the night slightly bewildered and numb, but it was clear we could proceed again. The mountain was letting us go further.
The next couple hours were just hard breathing and one step at a time, one foot in front of the other, in rest-step form. Up and up and up and up. Occasionally the train would stop, and you could look down behind and see the many headlamps of other climbing teams following our trail, and the lights around camp 3000ft below, and the lights of Ellensburg way off. Occasionally the moon would peak through the storm clouds at the tail end of the electrical storm now way off in the East. Now and again we’d come upon a crevasse that had to be negotiated with one large step or 5 or 6 small steps over a ladder. If I’d thought about it I wouldn’t have done it, but we had to press on.
At around 5am and 13500ft the distant sky began to bloom and the beautiful sun began to shed its miraculous light over everything. I think that’s when I began to wake up as well. Up until that time I’d just been a robot, dynamically but instinctually adjusting to changing conditions and shifting gears as necessary. Now we were approaching the summit. A couple more mind-numbing crevasses to step over, another half-hour of labored breathing, a few more gusts of wind to endure, and we were at the crater’s edge. After that another 20 minutes and we were on the other side of the crater, standing on the Columbia Crest, having gone as far as we could. We let out a woop and a yell, took pictures, hugged and did high-fives. We had “threaded the needle” on a roller-coaster ride and were now standing on the highest point in Washington state. It was all so awesome, surreal, exciting and humbling at the same time.
(See pics) After signing the registry, noting some of the iceless areas where steam was rising from the crater, and forcing some food down despite the
AMS-induced nausea, it was time to go down. Within 8 hours were on pavement again, strutting through the mayhem that is Paradise Meadows during travel
season. Finally it was off with the boots and into my glorious Birkenstock sandals again. Ahhhhh.
As for one of the main reasons we did all this, to get matched by Microsoft in a monetary gift to the National Parks Foundation, nobody can say we came up short. People like you, friends and family, previous climbers and even strangers, have altogether collected a total of just over $27,000. The WNPF will be thrilled to have such a gift matched by Microsoft, and they will certainly put it all to good use locally, keeping the 3 national parks in Washington clean and accessible and safe.
Once again, thanks so much for your support in helping us make this year’s MS Climb a great success. We hope you get out there, safely enjoy the wonders and wildness of creation protected in our national parks, and then leave no trace. The parks are cleaner and better protected now compared to 25 years ago, even with more and more people visiting them each year. Let’s keep it that way!
Pictures from the event are here on Windows Live Skydrive.
Donations are still being accepted until Friday, here at FirstGiving.com.
If anyone has any questions about the climb, please contact me at mark@gonealpine.com
Rock On,
Markus
