Emmons Glacier (Mt. Rainier)While we were moving our camp, the clouds around the mountain were building and the winds were increasing. Beyond Mt. Tahoma, we could see a dark gray cumulus cloud getting larger and larger, quickly moving in our direction. We covered what we could, and helped each other prepare snow platforms and set us what tents we could. By the time the first squall came in, two tents were up, each containing 3 to 4 people (not bad considering these are two-person tents!) Fortunately the squall was short lived and only dumped a quarter inch of slushy snow on us. Throughout the day, we were hit with two more squalls, and by late afternoon, the skies were once again clear, with bright sunshine warming the air.We practiced knots, answered questions about the climb, continued to care for sore feet, aching muscles, and feelings of queasiness. Many of the discomforts are to be expected and those that frequent the higher elevations learn to deal with them more efficiently. Corby was hit with some nausea, and had to force himself to eat and drink. I had him lie down and just rest for most of the day. In order to test how his leg was doing, Garth went on a couple hikes up the wide portion of the glacier in the general area. Mostly, we relaxed and prepared what we could for the early wake up we'd be receiving at midnight. This meant that we'd be attempting sleep by 6 PM and hopefully get some rest before the long day ahead. (I brought along some sleeping tablets for this reason). Final preparations were to decide the rope teams, lay out the ropes with the knots already tied, harnesses and crampons ready, breakfast close by, all water bottled filled with a bit extra to drink first in the morning, and have packs ready to go. Garth and I talked for quite some time about his leg and what's ahead for the next day. We discussed options and what it meant for him and for the team. Also, was the concern that this could be something bigger that either one of us knew about (we didn't want a helicopter ride!) In the end, he made the difficult decision to stay behind while the rest of us made the summit attempt. The teams, therefore were: Rope 1: Me, Kirk, Jon and Chris. Rope 2: Jesse, Larry, Corby and Carl. Summit Day! Apparently, Chris didn't get much sleep because of Jesse's symphonic resonations and rustlings within his bivy bag. So at 11:30 PM, Chris and Jesse fire up the stove and were the only two to eat a hot breakfast. At 12 midnight, Chris goes through the camp and wakes everyone up. I doubt if anyone within the tents were eager to get out of a warm sleeping bag, after finally and fitfully drifting off to sleep. But this is the day for which we've all prepared these past six months. Kirk and I gather our gear, and stay within our bags for as long as we can while eating a cold breakfast and drinking some water to hydrate our bodies. By 1 AM, we were all gathered outside in various states of confusion. Chris, Jesse and I helped to get the rope teams tied in, checked crampons, harnesses. We did a verbal check that everyone had the correct gear, food, water and clothing. And at 1:30 AM we were on our way across Emmons Flats and upward toward the 'Corridor' - a wide section of the glacier that is the entry point for this section of the climb. The first rope team of Chris, Jon, Kirk and I lead upward. As the last in our team, each of us are separated by approximately 50 feet of rope. Though this lifeline connects us, each climber is alone with his own thoughts and imaginings. The air is crisp and our crampons crunch and squeak with every footstep. Looking down, all we can see is the reflected glow of the headlamp against the pitted snow boot prints. Looking up, pinpoints of light bounce left, right and up, creating a moving dotted line from the lead climber to the last climber. We are not alone, as several other teams make their ascent up the same slope, extending our line of lights another several hundred feet. Less than two hours into the ascent, the light in Kirk's headlamp suddenly blinks out and we were unable to get it lit again. For the next hour, it was difficult for Kirk to follow the foot prints established by our lead climber (Chris), but made somewhat easier due to the other climb teams traveling along side of us. The light from their lamps provided enough to keep him going. It took considerable concentration on Kirk's part, because all he could see were slight shadows and imperfections in the snow, rather than solid boot prints. In a short while, Chris' lamp went out, too, but he managed to replace the 'new' batteries with different 'new' batteries and was still able to lead. At this time of the morning, there is little to see, so that we are filled with the simple tasks of moving slowly and steadily upward, alone on our own thoughts. Some teams overtake us and move past. Jesse's team is a few rope-lengths behind, and all we see are the pinpoints of light darting to and fro. Eventually, as we reach the 11,500-foot level, I notice that the dark, star filled sky behind us in the east begin to lighten. The snow continues to remain firm and hard as we continue upward. Kick-stepping is difficult and slow because the hardness of the snow prevents a nice stair-type of step. With each step, our ankles bend and twist with the slope in order to keep all the points of our crampons securely planted in the snow. Care must also be taken not to trip on our own crampon front-points. This is important to prevent a slip or a fall. At the same time, we keep watch on each other (if we can see them) and monitor the tension of the rope for movement (or in the case of a slip, sudden movement). Soon the sky brightens enough to turn off the headlamps. I look behind at the eastern horizon and see the first indications of a sensational sunrise. Deep, rich reds begin low in the sky as the fiery tip peeks out from her slumber. A low-lying cloud layer and morning haze in the lower elevations disperse the morning rays and fill the sky with pink and orange. The orb glows in intensity and gradually rises into the sky. I call out to Kirk to stop and look behind. He becomes slightly irritated that I interrupt and break his concentration because we are on a long, steep and steady uphill push. When Kirk sees the 'glory of the Lord' displayed in the sky, he stops and just stares at the sight. For a full five minutes, we pause and witness the birth of a new day as the first rays of orange light ignite Mt. Rainier's summit. Sunlight void of warmth fills the sky and descends on the mountain. As if the stars have fallen from the sky, ice crystals reflect the changing colors in a sparkling display. |
|
| Pages: 1 2 3 4 |