False Summit

On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow
-- Friedrich Nietzsche


Ed Viesturs is the only American to climb all fourteen of the world's highest peaks over 8,000 meters without the use of supplemental oxygen. He is also the first to follow the rules of the mountain knowing that there are "No Shortcuts to the Top." The great climbers like Ed will tell you that the summit is not at the top of the highest peak, but that you must have enough to find your way back down safely.

Saturday night wake up call just before midnight. For a moment I completely lost sense of where I was. My breathing was strained. Was I in a hotel? At home? As my head cleared I realized we were at Camp Muir, 10,200 feet above sea level on Mount Rainier.

We had arrived at Camp Muir early Saturday afternoon just in time to eat an early dinner, prepare our packs for the "alpine start", and make an attempt at getting some rest in a cramped and crowded climber's hut. Most climbers prefer an early start to avoid the rock falls that can occur later in the day once the snow warms up.

This was the second year with my childhood friend Chris Lloyd in participating with Summit for Someone, an organization that raises money for under-resourced teens and helps to broaden their horizons.

We had convinced our friends Brian, Dennis and Tim to join us on this latest adventure of summiting Mount Rainier, the most extensively glaciated volcanic peak in the continental United States. Our climb started at the Paradise trailhead at 5,000 feet in elevation and would eventually reach its high point of 14,400 feet on the north rim of Rainier's crater.



It was the dark of night when we began our push to the top of Rainier. The moon was almost full and we were just above the clouds. The wind was howling and gusting. Chris and I were in the last rope team with our guide Kate and could see the "freeway" of lights in front of us from the headlamps of the other climbers.

The first twenty minutes took as across a mellow section of the Cowlitz Glacier to Cathedral Gap. This is where we got our wake up call. To get across the Gap we had to switchback our way up a fairly steep, rocky section in our crampons. Add to that gusting wind and blowing sand, and you had the recipe for elevated heart rate and labored breathing.

After successfully crossing the gap we had a short section on "The Flats" of Ingraham Glacier. I was growing a bit leery of the possibility of a successful summit. The wind was getting stronger and I could make out the formation of a Lenticular cloud near the summit. Lenticular clouds are usually associated with severe wind and the possibility of precipitation.

With every step you had to make sure your stance was wide and well balanced. After a very short rest break to take in some water and food, our friend Tim and a few others decided to turn back with one of the guides. The wind and the altitude was taking it's toll.



Normally the route from here takes you directly over Disappointment Cleaver and straight towards the summit. Unfortunately, due to poor and dangerous conditions on that route, we had to drop back down 400 vertical feet, cut below the ridge, and climb back up. After an hour of fighting the wind we found ourselves at the same elevation as the previous rest break. Demoralizing.

At the next rest break we suffered more casualties with Kate taking back our friend Brian and two other climbers. Chris and I now joined the rope team of lead guide Dave Conlin and began our way across the Emmons Glacier. I have to say this was the craziest part of the climb. At 11,500 feet we traversed across a ridge that dropped away from our feet and into the night. At one point we had to jump across a crevasse, "Cliffhanger" style. The gusting winds and the dark night made you really respect this section.

We next pointed ourselves straight uphill and into the teeth of the wind. The gusts were now getting worse and the slope was very steep and icy in sections. I wasn't physically tired but it was a mental struggle, constantly focusing on each footstep, being certain that your crampons and spike of your ice ax got a firm hold in the snow. I guess Disappointment Cleaver is a good name because just at the top of the ridge the guides determined conditions were just not safe enough to continue. Back down we came. What a bummer.

As the first light of day pushed it's way over the horizon, the view was something to behold. 12,000 feet above the sea, above the clouds, above the surrounding mountains, close enough to touch the flying planes overhead.




Since we were not able to summit, our guides offered us the opportunity to experience a crevasse rescue. Basically they would drop us on a rope into a bottomless hole in the glacier and demonstrate how to pull someone out safely. So it was not safe enough to summit, but you want me to willingly drop into a one-hundred foot deep gash in the ice? Of course we tried it.



After a long descent, sushi and sake in Seattle, and a plane flight home, the latest adventure was over. Being one for four in summit attempts above 14,000 feet, I found myself feeling a little empty after this latest attempt. Yes, I enjoyed the time with my friends and the satisfaction of raising money for a great cause but I had really wanted to reach the top.

I thought about all of my "successes" in life, all of the adventures that had gone well. I realized that all of these experiences had one common thread and I suddenly felt content.

What did I realize? I remembered that the true summit is not at the top of any mountain, but back at home. At home with the ones we are loved by.

Thank you to all of my friends and family that have supported me in two years of raising almost $9000 for the Summit for Someone organization. It is with your love and support that truly makes any adventure worthwhile.