Liberty RidgeOne of the country's "50 Classic Climbs", Jay and I climbed this steep and difficult line to the summit of Mt. Rainier in June 2000. In the book Selected Climbs in the Cascades, this route is described as: "On this route, more than 5000 feet of steep (40- to 50-degree) snow and ice on a prominent ridge rises grandly to bisect the impressive north face of Mount Rainier. Flanked on either side by the mountain's huge summit seracs and ice cliffs, Liberty Ridge is a stupendous place - and, because of its position, a relatively safe and sane place - in a world of violent chaos." Weather conditions in the Northwest were typically wet for the weeks before our planned climb date. In fact, almost a full week of the famed liquid sunshine blessed the region that, at times, pounded the upper slopes of higher elevations with blankets of new snow. The amount of new snow deposited could be a cause for alarm unless a warming trend follows that would allow for a consolidation of the snowpack. However, as the weekend fast approaches, the weather reports began to look up (and even agree!) indicating a clear window of opportunity for our weekend. In order for us to do this right, we need, at the very least, two days of relatively clear weather to make this a safe (non-epic) trip. This trip will be Jay's 6th summit and my 3rd, if successful. The plan is for a 3-night, 4-day trip with a summit camp in the crater (weather permitting). Unlike most Rainier climbs that attack the summit from a high camp with a light day pack, this climb is a carry over - meaning everything is carried with us at all times - no summit pack. Therefore, the lighter we can go without sacrificing safety, the better. And it certainly helps that a warm and clear weather window forecast will be upon us. In previous years and summit attempts, inexperience caused me to fill and carry a pack weighing in excess of 50 pounds. This would not do on Liberty Ridge, so I set a goal of a 35-pound pack. I didn't quite make it, though I pared as much as I deemed I could, and eventually weighed in at 40-pounds, including food and water -- not too bad for a four-day, three-night trip with glacier gear. I like to climb in a steady, unhurried manner - not slow, but in a way that helps to prevent mistakes due to carelessness and bad judgement. Jay works construction, which means he doesn't have the flexibility of vacation days that I do, and was working on the Friday of our departure day. The plan was to meet at noon fully prepared and ready to go, and then drive the two hours to Mount Rainier National Park (MRNP). Here, we would register with the park rangers, and eventually be on the way by 3PM, as our first day should take us up and over St. Elmo's Pass, some 4 miles and 3000 feet away. As it turned out, Jay couldn't get the time off, but still managed to be at the house early. With a strange look on his face that told me he was ready to go, he explained that he "received two checks today." (This is construction-speak for "I got laid off") Actually, this was to his relief because it solved two problems for him. One, we could start our climb early as planned. And, two, he wanted out of that particular project anyway! So, with this mixed blessing and a beautiful weather forecast, we were finally off! (One side note as we drove off: Brian: "Jay, did you remember to bring the rope?" Jay: "No, Brian, I thought YOU had the rope!" Brian: "C'mon Jay! Let's not go there again . . . !" - which is another story!) At the White River Ranger Station, we filled out the necessary paperwork, pay our climbing fees and grab our famous "blue bags", which we are to used to dispose of our solid waste. As we chat with the ranger about route conditions and other items of concern, she informs us that we are climbers 11 and 12 of 12 that will be allowed on the small bivy at Thumb Rock, elevation 10,775 feet, two nights from now. Apparently, the Rainier Mountaineering Institute (RMI) was leading a group of six, and, with the three other teams of two, brought the total to 12. Finally, at the trailhead parking, we see the various groups and individuals rummaging through gear and packs, mostly in a vain attempt to determine what should or should not be taken, as gauged by the weight of the "dead body" inside each pack. It's now 3:30 PM when we begin hiking the White River Trail toward Glacier Basin three miles away. Seeing the large group preparing to leave at the same time, Jay and I hurry to get a jump on them to stay in front. Usually, large groups like this will move slowly and, on a trail, block much of the way for those behind. So, satisfied that we have all we need for the climb and were willing to carry, we set off - me in front and Jay close behind. As it turns out, another team of two, Tom and Randy (whom we nicknamed Mutt and Jeff) leap-frogged with us all the way to the toe of Liberty Ridge. Randy, an older just-retired man in his late fifties was teamed with Tom, a much younger, flamboyant, boisterous individual. Randy has been climbing for over twenty-five years, and Tom wasn't even twenty-five years old! Together, they provided Jay and I with many moments of entertainment thought their dialog (their personalities clashed, and at times we witnessed some explosive remarks between them). Jay and I moved quicker along the trail, but Randy's experience showed us that the 'slow-and-steady' approach was much more efficient, because by the time we arrived at Glacier Basin, they were right with us. Along the trail, we were treated with a few teaser views of Rainier's summit so at this point we hoped to get our first real glimpse. This wouldn't happen here, however, and we need to round the corner and get to the top of St. Elmo's Pass, which is just another 45 minutes ahead, for our first unobstructed view of Mt. Rainier. By the time we reach the top of the Pass, it's about 9 PM, not a cloud in the sky and the sun is beginning to turn the white snow a golden color as it set behind Curtis Ridge, our next day's objective. Looking up and to the left, Rainier's summit seems to settle in for the night, as soft wisps of snow are blown over the top, caressing the upper slopes in a gentle calm. From the summit, the striking, irregular line of Curtis Ridge descends to the right and dives into the Winthrop Glacier. The long shadows from the waning light slowly creep toward us like an apparition, and eventually swallow us in the cold, dry night. With less than an hour before the starred darkness of a moonless night is upon us, Jay and I (with Mutt and Jeff close behind) descend a steep, slushy slope that leads onto the Winthrop. We hike another 30 minutes to find an open area on the glacier on which to make our first camp. We decide on a small rise, between the narrow fractures of minor crevasses. To make camp, we essentially have two chores: One job is to dig a flat, relatively smooth platform in the snow, using the excavated snow blocks to build a wall in case the winds pick up during the night. On this platform, we place the bivy bags, insulating pads and sleeping bags. The other job is to set up a kitchen (or chop out a snow table on which to place the stove) and begin the task of preparing dinner. In reality, snow is melted for water and dinners consists of pouring boiling, melted snow into a concoction of a pre-prepared dehydrated mixture, bought at REI. The melted snow will replenish our water bottles and, before going to bed, we'll drink over two more liters of fluids (tea, cider, cocoa or water). Hydration is probably the most important thing you can do for your body as you go higher in elevation, so this ritual will be repeated in the mornings and in the evenings. |
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