Mount Rainier Trip Report

Mount Rainier Trip Report

Disappointment Cleaver route with MS Climb team and Alpine Ascents International

June 14-16, 2008

At 5 pm on Friday night, the eight Microsofties met up at Alpine Ascents’ office in downtown Seattle for the gear check. We met one of our guides, J.J., who was headed out of the office when we arrived. J.J. looks like a Marine drill sergeant, barrel-chested and with a shaved head. From initial appearances, he looked eminently qualified, so that was cool. Benches were around the perimeter of the room, with a name tag for each of us on the wall behind a bench. A big plastic bin sat at each place, filled with the rental items we had ordered a month before. Gear check was run by a guide who would not be part of our party. He provided us with a lot of detail in each area, which was great, but the end result was that we took four full hours to do the check-in. By this time, I was STARVING. Basically our host took the gear checklist (that I agonized over for 2 months) and went through it line-by-line. Ok, everybody show me an ice axe! And we’d all hold it up.

Boots took the longest, because most (all?) climbers rented these, and invariably they required a minimum of one swap to get a good fit. These are double shell plastic mountaineering boots, so they take a while to put on. Before long we were all stomping around, climbing the stairs, and kick stepping into individual stairs.

We also adjusted our crampons and then learned how to strap these on, which took another chunk of time. After all that, lots of folks had to swap sizes on rental items, like jackets and pants. We duct-taped all of our “sharps” (ice axe, trekking poles, crampons), wrote our names on the tape, and put the bundle in the sharps bag. When we finally left at 9, we left our packs in the office, and took home the layers we would wear in the morning. (long underwear layer, soft shell pants, soft shell jacket). Letha made me a delightful spaghetti dinner, which I was finally enjoying at about 9:40 pm.

Got to bed by 11:30, but it was a mostly sleepless night. I just could not chill out. Fortunately, I’d slept well the previous few nights. After at most one or two hours sleep , the alarm went off at 4:40. I had some cold cereal and a banana to get the engine started. Letha dropped me off at 5:50, back at the Alpine Ascents office. Weather was spectacular. We met our second guide, Mike, and said hi to J.J. AAI has a big van that tows a little two wheel gear trailer. After loading the trailer, we hit the road at about 6:30. We arrived in Ashford (20 miles outside Mount Rainier National Park) around 8:30 and stopped at a small café for breakfast. I had an egg, cheese, and sausage bagel, and a coffee. We glanced through Lou Whittaker’s guiding retrospective, since it sat on the table in front of us. Looked around the room at awe-inspiring mountaineering posters. On the way out of the café, we met Skip Yowell, the founder of Jansport, who is an avid mountaineer. He wished us well as we stood in the early morning sun. J.J. then gave us an intro to the mission. If successful, this would be his 139th summit of the mountain. He explained that we would climb single file and take hourly breaks, described what we should wear on the way to Muir, told us about rest stepping and pressure breathing, and gave us a little history on the park. He also told us about Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa, one of our guides whom we would meet at Muir, who happened to be the world speed record holder for summiting Mount Everest.

The winding road up to Paradise is where I started to feel a little nervous. The banter in the van quieted down, and most folks were craning their necks trying to get glimpses of the mountain as we rolled around hairpin turns on our way up to 5600’. We arrived in Paradise at about 10:30 and spilled out of the van. I loaded up on sunscreen, put on my boots, gaiters, Buff, hat, adjusted my trekking poles, strapped on my ice axe. We hit the bathrooms one last time, and I chugged a whole Nalgene of water. Put on the glacier glasses, slathered on the lip balm. We had a final coordination check with J.J. at the last stretch of sidewalk, and we marched onto the snowfield at 11. It was hot and bright. We focused on breathing. J.J. recommended not using the “pec strap” on the backpack, so I popped that loose and was amazed how much better I could breathe. After about an hour, we took our first break. A member of our team declared he needed a blue bag break, which earned my sympathy. What a bummer, at the very first break! I sat on my pack and ate trail mix and chugged water. After the break, we practiced the rest step going up the next slightly steeper grade. J.J., not pleased with our progress, had us fan out in a line and demonstrate our rest stepping step-by-step. Since we wouldn’t hit glaciers until after Muir, we weren’t roped up, but J.J. and Mike wanted us to travel closely as if we were. Taking breaks approximately hourly, we eventually arrived at Camp Muir (10100’) at about 5 pm.

There, we met our other two guides, who had just come down with another party. Jeff would bunk with us in a small wooden cabin filled with three levels of sleeping areas, thin foam pads carpeting each layer. The guides had a separate, free-standing large tent around the bend, where the cooking operations were set up. We set up our sleeping areas, hit our “private” pair of outdoor latrines, and reported to the guide tent for “hots” (hot drinks), and dinner. For dinner, I brought my insulated mug, a collapsible bowl, and my Lexan spoon. Dinner was quesadillas, filled with chicken, tomatoes, cheese, peppers, beans, and other veggies. We met the great Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa, a slender man of 39 who looked amazingly normal for one of the top athletes in the world. He was shoveling snow from a Hefty bag and boiling it in a giant crock pot on a gas flame. The gas stove made a cozy whooshing as it burned. I chatted him up a bit, and he gently told me he had been up Everest 17 times. I admired his boots, a yellow one-piece boot/gaiter ensemble made by La Sportiva. I drank a couple of powdered hot apple ciders, and a hot chocolate that didn’t dissolve too well.

J.J. taught us that hots are the way to go for fast metabolism of liquid. Even if you are hot, drinking cold liquid forces your body to burn energy to bring it up to a usable temperature. We had to pack out our own trash, so my pockets started to accumulate crumpled empty packets. I opted not to have tea, because I didn’t want to be responsible for toting a spent tea bag! Washing dishes was basically pouring a little hot water on the bean and cheese remnants and trying to drink it, then wiping with a square of TP that you then carry off with you. Lhakpa Gelu grabbed a chunk of snow from outside the tent and wiped that around his bowl with his bare fingers. I sucked down another hot or two, trying to rehydrate to help the non-committal headache, also did some pressure breathing for the same. To pressure breathe, pretend you are blowing out birthday candles, keep your mouth in a small O, and blow all the air out forcefully. Do this several times in a row, frequently. Hydration and pressure breathing were J.J.’s two recommendations for getting adjusted to the altitude. I didn’t feel too bad, just the transient small scale headache. Loaded up the mug with a hot for the road and headed out.

On the way back to our hut, the sun was lower, and it was noticeably colder. I positioned my mug on an outdoor table directly before the dropoff down the Muir snowfield, and snapped some pics. Then I got installed in the hut. AAI had told us to leave our Thermarests at home since they had them at Muir. Turned out mine was busted, but it still provided a warmth layer over the foam pad. And at least I didn’t have to carry my own! Since I had a zero-rated sleeping bag, I discovered I could sleep in long underwear, still with my Buff around my neck. I had a warm hat ready, along with my headlamp. Laying down, my feet just wouldn’t get warm. I finally checked and realized (duh) that they were wet. Per Jeff’s excellent recommendation, I crammed both layers (liner sock and Smartwool hiking sock) into my long underwear, against my thighs, and lay down barefoot.

The guy next to me snored a decent amount, which even my earplugs didn’t counteract much. I had to pee twice, hourly after we lay down. This is a big production, involving unzipping the bag, firing up the lamp, pulling out an earplug and putting it where I wouldn’t lose it, pulling liner socks out of my pants, not hitting my head sitting up, putting on the socks, scooting down to the edge of the bunk avoiding any wet spots from folks who climbed up above there, finding the right liner boots on the floor, pulling them on and tying them, crossing the room without blinding anyone, pulling back the door pin and stomping out into the cold world, re-latching the door. Take care of business, and repeat everything in reverse. Whew! I probably got 2-3 total hours of sleep that night, and that’s being generous.

On Sunday morning, the guides made us a fantastic breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon! Delicious. It was another beautiful day. Got our morning routines taken care of, then we prepared for snow school. Put on hard shell pants and gaiters, grabbed the ice axe. On a ridge by the guide tent, J.J. taught us how to use the ice axe for self-arrest, starting with how to hold it. J.J. said if he spotted anyone holding it incorrectly, they owed him a beer. I was happy to see that he was adamant they we each learn the arrest well, and all of the guides watched us intently and made suggestions as we flung ourselves down and kicked in, over and over. I got hot fast, given the weather and my attire. We also practiced turning while on a rope line, as well as rope cadence (spacing while walking roped in). Spent maybe an hour with these exercises, then back to the hut to change up and pack our bags. We left our puffy pants in the guide tent, J.J. being enraged that the folks down below had made us take these. He got on the radio immediately and chewed someone out for that one.

Again, I slathered myself in sunscreen. Jeff helped me get the crampons on. We learned how to get into our climbing harnesses. I volunteered to join J.J.’s rope team with Jonas. (We had 4 teams of 3, a guide leading each rope team.) We had a beautiful view across the Cowlitz Glacier to Cathedral Gap, and could see rope teams coming back across it toward us. I was third in the rope team, so I wore the coiled rope around my neck and one arm. We buckled the rope loops onto carabiners on the front of our harnesses. Harness was a bit tight but that’s a good thing, said the guides. Helmets on, ice axe in one hand, rope in the other, good to go! Out we headed, J.J. leading the way. Down apace from the well-booted path, you could see hungry crevasses opening on the glacier.

Crossing the Cowlitz only took 30-45 minutes, then we stood at the rocky base of Cathedral Gap. Our crampons scratched on the rock as we climbed. After a good little workout, we scrambled to the top of the Gap, and peered over the other side. New territory! The needle spire of Little Tahoma was suddenly right in front of us, and the Ingraham Glacier stretched out below us. Deafening, blinding sun hit us from all directions. Once everyone was together, we picked our way down the other side of Cathedral Rock, down onto Ingraham Flats. Crevasses shone an evil blue and winked at us from increasingly smaller distances. After another half hour or so, we could see a small cluster of free-standing tents, and climbers packing their bags. It was about 12:30, and we had arrived at high camp (11000’). As we marched into camp, J.J. announced that we would have tents of 3, 3, and 2. Given the snoring issues of the previous night, I immediately snagged a non-snorer and asked if he wanted to join me in the 2-tent.

We made that claim fast and threw our packs by the tent entrance. Sat down on them and ate and drank. There was a round “circus tent” with enough room for eight or so in the middle of the camp. It was dug out, complete with snow benches inside, and cooking gear stuck handle-first into the snow walls. The camp was flagged so that no one wandered off onto the glacier. There was an unprotected pee spot , adjacent to a “snow throne” at one side of the camp. This was a curved wall complete with bench, facing away from the camp. Best view ever for a blue bag, a pleasure that I would enjoy just before bed. J.J.’s insistence kept this issue fresh in our minds. He did not want a summit team stopping for a blue bag while roped in, and you better believe no one wanted to be that special honoree either.

We spent the afternoon reloading our packs for the summit push, pulling out everything but warm clothing layers and food. J.J. told us to load the pockets of our parkas with food, and when we took breaks on the summit push, we would immediately put on the parka and being eating. By my side of the tent, I created one pile containing stuff that I would put on in the morning, as well as lamp, earplugs, toothbrush, etc. and then a second pile of stuff that I would leave in the tent during the summit push. I loaded up a single serving Gatorade in one of my Nalgene bottles, destined for the next day.

We had dinner at 3:30pm (pasta in a kind of broth). I had a nice conversation with Lhakpa Gelu, who told me that his siblings had all climbed Everest a number of times proportional to their age. (The 20 year old had just climbed it for the first time.) His village in Nepal was at 11000 feet. He now lives in Salt Lake City with his three children, none of whom enjoy mountaineering. His name follows Nepalese custom of the first name being the day of the week on which he was born (Lhakpa means Wednesday.) Gelu is his given name, and Sherpa is his tribe. I told him that I was born on a Monday, and he told me my Sherpa name, which I instantly forgot. This was Lhakpa Gelu’s second summit of Rainier. He had come to visit Seattle after meeting J.J. on Everest. When I asked him what he thought of Rainier, he smiled and said gently, “it is an easy mountain.”

We all walked around for a bit after dinner, J.J. puffing on a cigar, looking like the base commander in Top Gun. I got a nice shot of the guides standing as a group in front of their tent, pointing up at the Cleaver, presumably strategizing for the morning.

We went to bed at about 5:30pm. We had a lovely view of Little Tahoma from our lying down position, right out of our tent door. It was still pretty warm in the tent, so we opened up the roof vents. J.J. told us both nights not to worry if we didn’t sleep, that the important thing was to rest the body. This helped me, or I would have been pretty stressed both nights! I didn’t sleep at all on Sunday night, and I don’t think anyone else did either. It got cold fast once the sun dropped behind Gibraltar Rock. We were on the east face of the mountain, so the sun set early from our point of view. It was fun lying there, thinking that I was actually lying on the mountain, unlike the previous night at Muir. My feet were lower that my head because I was on the side of Mount Rainier. I felt incredibly peaceful, and John and I commented how good the air tasted. The wind gradually picked up, buffeting the small tent. Since I’m tall, and we were on an incline, my feet kept sliding into the door of the tent.

As we lay there, I again thought that hydration is good, but there is the unavoidable tax. I got up three times and did the boot dance three times to go water the snow. Each time it was noticeably colder, but spectacularly beautiful. At about 9:15, I remember thinking, I am now ready. I am ready to do this. Before long, we heard J.J. going tent-to-tent, banging something and bringing a lamp close to the tent. “Time to get up, guys, I want you to put on soft shell jacket, pants, parka, and meet us in the food tent.” I looked at my watch. 11:05pm. I really struggled with my boots this time, for some reason, and still didn’t get the left one right. It would bother me for the rest of that long day. (One of the little plastic flaps wasn’t set right.) Gaiters, crampons. What a pain while sitting in the tent, and then crouch-walking outside past the vestibule. Harnesses, helmet, hat, gloves, mug. Huddled in the circus tent and ate instant oatmeal and energy bars, drank a couple hots. No coffee to limit blue bag danger! Finished packing up, roped up, and we were go for liftoff at about 12:15am. The blazing beams from our headlamps crisscrossed the darkness. In theory there was almost a full moon that night but with so much to think about I never saw it.

Started out with a level fifteen minute shot over to the base of Disappointment Cleaver (“DC”). J.J. had a last minute caution that we all needed our glacier glasses, and suddenly I was not quite sure I had mine, although I had carefully loaded them. But we were already moving, so I quickly forgot about this. I was glad it was dark because looking up the day before, the Cleaver had seemed dauntingly high. The mountain had had plenty of time to ice the kicker, so to speak. Then we started going up. DC was indeed unrelentingly steep. One of my crampon straps popped out of my gaiter and was flapping around. I tried to stuff it back in while we paused on a narrow ledge. Then the real work began. There are fixed lines at points to help you up, so you’re juggling your own rope, the fixed rope, and your axe. When you turn, you have to switch hands on all that without crossing up ropes. Somewhere along the way, I put a nice hole in my gaiters with my crampons. I tried shuffle (foot over foot) sidestep and duck walk for the steeper areas, trying to look up and follow how J.J. and Jonas were walking. The left-facing shuffle step was painful due to my maladjusted boot, so I quickly learned to avoid that one.

At places, I started to look down and realized the drop-off was steep, and that we were on a kind of catwalk. I quickly learned not to look down. Nearer the top, I would learn not to look up, since the wall of ice and snow always seemed to tower an impossible height above us. After the longest hour, when I thought my calves would explode, pressure breathing like crazy and trying to maintain proper rope interval, we arrived at the top of the Cleaver. I was not doing well. I fumbled with my pack, pulled out the parka, got it on in a stiff (25 mph?) breeze and 20 degree temps, sat on my pack. I dug in the pockets and extracted a Mr. Goodbar and a Powerbar gel packet, wrappers shining in the beam of my headlamp, crammed these down, gulped water and shivered uncontrollably. J.J. handed me a couple shooters of warm tea from a Thermos. Somebody found a watch on the ground and ascertained it was mine, the strap was sliced. I was in no shape to take it so someone put it in their pocket. Before I knew it, it was time to roll.

We kept going up, not as steep as the DC (not sure I could have continued that) but darned close. I started having trouble keeping up, and J.J. got a little torqued. In retrospect, I think he was just trying to inspire me with some hard coaching. Eventually he re-roped us, putting me in the middle , since he said I was dragging on Jonas and he preferred that I drag on him. I did my best to keep up, sidestepping, duckwalking, and pressure breathing with dedication. J.J. periodically pulled out his 2-way radio and spoke to the other guides in hushed tones. After an impossibly long hour, we took another break. I started shivering immediately again, and wolfed down another candy bar and gel shot, kept slamming the Gatorade. J.J. said we should keep parkas on after this one, if we wanted, and I sure did. I also put on my hard shell jacket. J.J. asked if my hands were cold, and I said that they were. He told me to put on my mitts in replacement of my middle layer gloves. I put on my Outdoor Research mitts and stopped shivering almost instantly. It was remarkable how this happened. Again, the break was over in record time and we kept going up.

At one point I broke my rule and looked up, thinking I’d seen headlamps impossibly high, but when I focused (I had a tiny amount of trouble focusing at this altitude), I realized that the lights were the stars of the Big Dipper, poised right over the top edge of the mountain, glowing brighter than I had ever seen.

J.J. monitors his watch like few people I know, and he was determined to keep us absolutely on schedule. It was somewhere around 13000’ that one of our 12 dropped out, and one the guides took him back down to high camp. I really had no idea how anyone else was doing, though, since I was struggling so much myself.

At one point I wasn’t keeping up enough and J.J. actually said to Lhakpa Gelu that “that’s it, we need to prep to get Ted down, he’s done.” I realize now that it was a motivational maneuver, though, because in the twenty seconds after he said that I reached deep and picked it up, and he looked back and smiled. Moving a little faster now, I see? Got a little left, DO YOU?

You can breathe, sure, but it’s deceptive because you’re only getting 60% of a full load of oxygen. It was weird, I had completely stopped caring if I made it to the top. It was just muscle memory and all I could do to keep taking a step. Maybe it’s good if it was Zen, because I was ok if I didn’t make it, in a way that seems preposterous to me now. But I literally did not know if I could do it. But J.J. knew I could. He short-roped me right behind him and said do as I do, and took super-slow, purposeful steps. I used every joule of energy I had to mimic what he was doing and keep going, looking beyond his boots as little as possible.

Not long after I suddenly became aware that the sky was glowing an infinity of oranges and reds and blues at the horizon. I was so grateful that we had survived the night. People started to turn off their headlamps but I wanted to keep mine on. Eventually J.J. turned it off. I staggered on. With each minute the sky was changing color. You have no idea what a sunrise is until you see it from 14000 feet! If you haven’t been on a mountain, think of being on a transatlantic flight.

After a while I became aware that my pack was really hurting my shoulders. When I told J.J. about this, he immediately had me take it off, and he got a stake from Lhakpa Gelu and staked the pack to the ground while I ate another gel shot. Little did I know, another climber was puking directly behind my boots. For me, altitude affected my motivation, for him it affected his stomach. I was so out of it I didn’t even know until he told me in the van on the way home. There is a video of this moment. We kept going. The sun finally unleashed its powerful rays over the horizon and rose gloriously into the sky. We climbed the final slope up to the rim. I could see the end of the “up” and still all I could do was stagger. Finally we crossed over the edge and went down into the crater.

We set down our packs and Lhakpa Gelu gave me a shot of the best green tea I have ever tasted. I asked him what it was because it was so good. Since my glacier glasses (yes, I had them after all) were in my pack (at least we had taken the camera out of it), another climber lent me his backup ski goggles since it was getting bright. Amazing again to me now, but I was almost completely apathetic about crossing the crater to the high point. But it seemed like everyone was doing it, so I started shuffling too.

It takes 25-30 minutes to cross the crater. Steam comes out of fissures in the volcanic rock that lines the rim, and the exposed rock has a strange lunar quality. It felt like we were in a moon crater, with the jagged shadow of the rim slowly shortening. Once on the other side, we started to go up again. I wasn’t sure how I could do this but I was relieved to see that my body kept going. Eventually we reached the logbook, a regular notebook encased with some pens in a metal box. I signed it and got a few pictures.

Then we went up to the top of the west rim, from which you could see two small snow plateaus. Traverse one, then up a snow bridge to the other, where people were celebrating. It seemed improbable somehow, but THIS WAS IT. I clambered up onto Columbia Crest and looked around. The air was crystal clear. We could see downtown Seattle, Lake Washington, Elliott Bay, Mount Adams, St. Helens, Hood, Glacier Peak, Mount Baker, and on and on. Noticing I didn’t have my watch, I asked J.J. what time it was and he responded 6:18. Fourteen thousand, four hundred and eleven feet above sea level. John pulled out the MS Climb 2008 DC flag and we all huddled around it and got some shots, even made a movie clip.

I didn’t feel I could really take my time and get poetic, since I was worried about descending and we had to keep moving, but as my friends crossed the snow bridge back to the other plateau, I stood for a moment alone, took a breath, and took a self-portrait or two. Then I walked back too. We clambered back down to the crater floor, the snow getting brighter and brighter. I hurried along the boot track across the crater, eager to catch up. (Hey, wait for me!) We had some more green tea. My comrade was still sick to his stomach, but we had to go soon. We clipped back into the rope and headed up toward the east crater rim. We crested it, and surprisingly soon on the way down, we came across my backpack. This seemed odd for some reason. Until that point, descending had seemed easy and I was less worried. But I put it on, and we kept going, and after a while I started to wish I wasn’t roped in, so I could take momentary breaks as I pleased. But J.J. moved downhill with a force. After a while I got used to the constant motion a bit more, but I was still grateful when he would stop to talk to ascending folks he knew. He does seem to know just about everyone on the mountain. One of the people we met was Lou Whittaker’s son Peter.

After what seemed like an eternity, and in the brightest sky (I just wanted to hide from the sun finally), we got back down to the top of the Cleaver. It’s so named because it cleaves between two glaciers. J.J. extolled to us how we needed to take care here. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to make it through, but after the usual way too short break, down we went. I really worked hard to focus and put each step in the right place. When we got to the fixed ropes, I held the fixed in my back hand, letting it out as I stepped down. After another eternity, we got back down to the flat above Ingraham Glacier. Another down, an up, and a down into high camp.

It was only about 9:30 but it felt like 3 in the afternoon, given the sun! I unclipped from the rope and headed over to our tent, dropped my pack on the ground, and realized that my neck had seriously locked up. Maybe due to the top of my pack hitting my helmet? I couldn’t really tilt my head down, which I knew would be problematic for repacking my bag, emptying the tent, etc. I just stood there for a few minutes, unsure what to do. My buddy John gave me an Aleve, and I headed over to the circus tent. The guides gave me three more Aleve, and our guide Jeff gave me a vise-grip pressure point neck massage that simultaneously was incredibly great and so painful that I was swearing.

I drank a hot or two and went back to the tent. Hats off to John for getting my bag packed for me. I never even looked in the tent again. I figured I was good to hike, since you can keep your head on the horizontal for the most part. An hour or so after we had arrived at high camp, we decamped for Muir, roped up one last time. We had to vacate high camp since there was a new ascending party inbound. On the way to Muir, I really felt like I was moving at 3/4 of the speed J.J. wanted. Not his fault, just the fact that it was his 139th and my first, but he just about dragged me down Cathedral and across the Cowlitz. We pulled into Muir, and I gratefully unroped and took off my crampons, popped off the helmet. My neck had started to relent slightly, so I was able to drop to a knee and repack my puffy pants, get out snacks, etc. We sat again in the guide tent, drank hots and ate. After a quick potty break (latrines, what a luxury!), we pulled our stuff together and launched off down the Muir snowfield.

The crew I was with wanted to go pretty fast, so I alternated between trying to keep up and just taking it at my own pace. After about halfway down, it was really a fair amount of work just to keep walking, even though at no point is the snowfield really that steep. After another couple of eternities and more sun than I ever thought could shine, and coming around endless bends down near Paradise thinking this MUST be it, we finally came around The Last Bend, from which we could see the inn at Paradise, and the bottom, The End of the Snow.

I never thought I would be so glad to see pavement. As usual, there were families and tots running around on the first 20 feet of the snow. We plodded past them and down onto the asphalt. I staggered across the parking lot, thinking it had magically become the largest parking lot I had ever crossed (it’s actually pretty small). Got over to the AAI van, started peeling off the gear. It was shortly after 3 pm. I hadn’t brought a change of clothes (duh), but all the stuff I was wearing was quick-dry so it didn’t really matter. I did have the cross-trainers that I had worn on the way down, so I gratefully exchanged my plastic boots for these.

We all piled into the van and rolled back down the winding road to Ashford, where we stopped for pizza. I went off to find the restroom and had a first look at myself in a mirror. Other than a small patch right between my eyebrows, I’d done pretty well with avoiding sunburn, and even that wasn’t too bad. I wiped off the dried sunscreen and stuff coming out of my nose, and went back and enjoyed my pizza. On the way back, the neck was better, but it would still remind me if we made a sharp braking move. We got back to the AAI office around 7:15pm. Letha was waiting in the parking lot, and I was so glad to see her. We did a gear check-in, which thankfully was much faster than the initial gear check. After at most fifteen minutes, we were on our way. I couldn’t believe that little over 12 hours had passed since we had stood at the top of Mount Rainier.

That was five days ago. I did go to the gym two days afterward, but it turned into a pretty abbreviated affair, mainly because the toenails on my big toes are pretty smashed up. I had them drained by a podiatrist and have been soaking them each night. Good old plastic boots, coming downhill for eight hours, your toes constantly ram into the hard front of the boot. And I’m not as bad off as one of my fellow climbers, who has “turf toe”, meaning not only is the nail messed up, but also the joint is painful to bend. Surprisingly, the neck eased up pretty quickly. Funny, it’s never what you worry about that winds up being the problem. My thigh muscles are still tight, too, calling out for a massage. And the tip of my tongue got slightly sunburned (when ya gotta breathe, ya gotta breathe!), but that’s faded by today. All in all, small price to pay for such an amazing experience. And I couldn’t have done it with better people. Thanks to my fellow climbers, and to Alpine Ascents and their fantastic guides. Thanks especially to J.J. for continuing to believe in me, even after I was no longer sure myself.