Sam’s Journal: Mt. Rainier and Defining Success
Jesse and I made it down safely from Mt. Rainier this morning. We spent 2 days and a night on glacier and rocks in snow and rain and fleetingly saw the sun light up an endless sea of clouds, broken only by the snow-capped cascades to the south. We did not make it to the summit, but neither of us could be happier with our experience.
Our climb started in Paradise (that’s what the place is called, but it’s probably how I’d define the word, too…) in a heavy downpour. Jesse and I made quick work of the first few muddy miles up to the Muir Snowfield. From there we began our steep, slippery trudge up the vast white expanse of Rainier’s lower glaciers. For more than 4 miles we walked, never seeing more than a few hundred feet in front of us. We knew the mountain was there, somewhere, because we could hear the deafening cracks and roars of avalanches pouring from its obscured upper flanks. Those roars were frightening, not because they were close enough to put us in any danger right then, but because they meant the mountain was literally falling apart. It’s not easy or safe to climb an unstable mountain.
As we neared our camp, we were lucky enough to catch a few glimpses of our quarry. Mt. Rainier, in all its glory is, in my opinion, the most breathtakingly impressive sight on the planet. It is so massive that it takes up not just your entire field of vision but all of your consciousness as well. I’d never been so close to it and once it was visible I was filled with the sort of excitement I imagine warriors feel before battle. I wanted nothing more than to stand on top of it. As moody and adversarial as any mountain, Rainier clearly had different plans.
A photo posted by Sam Fox (@samfoxmjff) on Sep 7, 2015 at 7:08pm PDT
Jesse and I set up our tent just north of Camp Muir. We got to work organizing gear, prepping ropes and protecting our camp from the snow storm that had just whipped up in earnest. Then we got to the most important business of any mountaineering trip; eating. While we were enjoying our first course, a Park Ranger stationed at Camp Muir came to check in with us. In a friendly way, he asked about our intentions the next morning. “Well, we’re hoping to make an attempt on the summit” I said, as a loud crack echoed from the Cowlitz glacier above us, “but it’s not looking too good up there is it…” The short answer? no it was not. No climbing group had successfully reached the summit in 10 days. The route, normally tracked out with sturdy ladder crossings over the wider crevasses this time of year was completely snow covered and extremely difficult to follow. Cracks in the ice that had melted out over the summer months were being obscured by the fresh snow fall, creating booby traps that even an experienced climber could punch through.
Listening to the mountain and watching the snowstorm, I had been pretty certain that heading toward the summit would put me and Jesse in an unacceptable amount of danger. Our talk with the Ranger reinforced my feelings. Before we even went to bed we had decided - we’d have to stand atop Rainier another time.
After a night of somewhat fitful sleep (temps in the teens, tent pitched on ice) we woke up with the sun, re-packed our gear and headed back down the snow toward Paradise. Our descent was beautiful. We walked from bright sunshine and endless views at 10,000 feet
A photo posted by Sam Fox (@samfoxmjff) on Sep 8, 2015 at 4:18pm PDT
into clouds, rain and sleet, and finally mist. Jesse and I left our packs in the parking lot and went to sit by the fire at Paradise Inn to wait until Chris came to pick us up. We made a pact over a beer, sitting in folding chairs with our backs to the flames: We’ll be back.
The most important lesson in mountaineering is this: going up is optional but going down is mandatory. I have climbed a lot of mountains and I’ve turned back on plenty more. The goal should never be the top. The goal should be to return to your life safely and ideally enjoy yourself along the way. We have been incredibly lucky this summer. We attempted to summit 48 state high points and succeeded on 46 of those attempts (coming just 1,000 ft short in Utah and less than 4,000 ft short in Washington). But what’s far more important, and most indicative of the success of this tour is that no one was hurt, and that everyone who joined us, no matter how high they actually climbed, found something in themselves out there in the mountains, all while making a huge impact on the Parkinson’s community. #SummitFound but #KeepClimbing.
-Sam
Don’t forget, all donations will be matched dollar for dollar through the end of the tour!