In the age of information, trip reports nowadays are filled with incredibly accurate information, data, statistics and professional level photography. However, my experiences in the mountains are, to me, greater than the sum of those parts. To understand an experience and the way someone is impacted and changed by mountains, a certain context is required. If you're after hard facts and route beta alone, this may not be the blog for you. I want to use this as an opportunity to step beyond that objectivity and introduce an element of human experience to the way that we see and experience these wild places.
Mt. Rainier has long since been an inspiration to me. At 18 years old I remember finding trip reports and posts from mountaineers and being simultaneously filled with excitement and an overwhelming sense of naivety. It's poetic now, to see how far I've come and to admire the ever growing knowledge and understanding that I've been collecting of how to move safely in the mountains.
A few years ago while my marriage was falling apart and I was reaching out in every direction to find some sense of self, I fell in love. With a mountain, with an idea, and with everything it has come to represent for me. I listened to a podcast about the late Chad Kellogg, a Seattle based climber who dreamed up the idea for "The Infinity Loop" (you can listen to that podcast here: https://dirtbagdiaries.com/to-infinity/) An objective that includes 2 climbs/descents of Rainier and a complete circumambulation of the mountain—all in a single push. It could be the stout 47,000 feet of elevation gain over the 138 miles of the route that appealed to me, but the absolute absurdity became my salvation. It offered me something to throw myself into and saved me from a potentially dark and destructive path in the wake of a painful divorce.
In my journey to complete this goal I completed a solo-supported run of the Wonderland Trail last fall. While this was an incredible accomplishment in and of itself, it was not the whole picture for me. With step 1 of the infinity loop puzzle out of the way, I knew it was time to get onto the mountain. Enter Step 2.
Shortly after the Wonderland trail I put up a post on mountain project looking for partners for the infinity loop. While I had gotten a few responses over the next 8 months, the one that wound fruitful for a scouting mission on Rainier was Zack. A Florida native who moved out west, Zack has been rampaging through the mountains as much as possible. With a handful of Cascade volcanoes under his belt, Zack was our go-to for logistics, strategy and style in our Rainier ascent.
We knew that we would ascend via the Disappointment Cleaver or "Standard Route", which is essentially a well trodden boot pack maintained by the Rainier guiding companies all the way to the summit. While the route is straightforward, this was still a first for all of us. Eric and I had zero mountaineering experience outside of what we had read and learned online and through freedom of the hills, but were confident in our abilities and experience with technical rock to translate quickly on the relative ease of the climb. Keeping with the scouting mission style, we opted for ultralight packs and a car-to-car push. The three of us carried our own food, water, and extra layers, splitting a single 15 degree sleeping bag, bivy sack, shovel, and stove between us as our emergency gear.
While we had spoken once on the phone to discuss logistics and been texting for a few months, Zack and I met for the first time in the parking lot at Paradise just 2 hours before we started out on our climb. We all got acquainted as we sorted our gear and I felt confident that we would all get along well. After a light dinner at the car we left Paradise at 5:15pm.
A long, picturesque slog up the Muir snowfield dumped us into Camp Muir (10,188 feet) at approximately 9:40pm. Due to our late start we had the hike to ourselves and we made it to camp without needing our headlamps. My watch tracked the first leg of the trip at 4.27 miles with 4,734 feet of elevation gain: we were all ready for a break. After putting on our headlamps and puffy jackets, Zack started boiling water and we began eating a Spartan dinner at a now-silent Camp Muir. The temps were relatively comfortable and a climbing ranger sauntered over to us wearing only crocs for footwear—I suppose creature comforts become prioritized when you spend as much time as they do on the mountain.
The ranger talked to us about our strategy, experience and the conditions on the mountain. A recent freeze-thaw cycle had stabilized most of the avalanche risk from the previous week's new snow and we were advised to start slightly later than our original midnight plan due to some recent rock fall. Wanting to play it safe and capitalize on working daylight we headed into the public climbers shelter around 11pm to wait for a summit push closer to 2am. Zack hopped into the bivy sack while Eric and I got comfortable spooning under the shared sleeping bag, a situation getting all too familiar for us anymore. After a few hours fighting off Eric, (who, in his sleep seemed to keep mistaking me for his wife) we got up to put on our climbing gear and make our summit bid. While the scale of the mountain had all of us slightly intimidated when we got to Muir, the rest and food had pushed aside any doubt and filled my head with pure stoke. With our climbing gear on our packs were welcomingly light and after roping up we started out from Muir.
Ingraham flats came quickly and we soon moved past the objective hazards of the Ice Box and the Bowling Alley and onto the Disappointment Cleaver. As we short roped and moved up through rocky terrain, sunrise was following close behind and we stopped to take in the grandeur of the landscape we were so lucky to be in.
Orange light painted Little Tahoma and illuminated the massive crevasse field on the glacier far below. This was unknown territory for me, I was seeing mountains in a way that I had never dreamed of.
Before long we found ourselves moving through the large crevasses on the upper bench following the Disappointment Cleaver. This route is well marked, with wands and a packed out trail snaking up to the summit crater. As we started up the final section of our climb, Eric and Zack were feeling the altitude.
I was fortunate enough to be still out of the reaches of the thin air, though not for long. Cresting the lip of Mt. Rainier into the summit crater brought the three of us into view of Columbia Crest, the true summit of the mountain.
I turned to my partners expecting to take a quick break, throw on our summit puffy's and then finish this thing, but they had other plans. The high winds and cold had dissuaded Eric and Zack from making the final push—they were ready to turn around, satisfied with our effort.
While I disagree with the ethic and hold fast that we failed to complete our summit, with a new partner and the effects of altitude I didn't feel comfortable trying to argue for a continued effort. In retrospect, maybe I should have, but ultimately this was a scouting trip and I still have to remind myself of that.
Our descent from the mountain went off without issue. Soft snow had us moving slow behind other parties to regain Ingraham flats, leaving us all without water on the now sun baked glacier. All ready to get down, we opted to skip the stop to boil water, hoping to make quick work of the Muir snowfield once we got back to it.
Eventually we found ourselves back in Paradise, exhausted from the sun and our climb, stuffing our faces with hot food and mentally preparing for the drive back to Spokane. 20 hours car-to-car had left everyone feeling tired and looking forward to a good nights sleep.
Eric and I had our standard debrief on the drive home and both felt that we had gained so much from the trip. For the week after the climb I tried to articulate how I felt about it. Disappointed, certainly, that we had come so close only to turn around at the first sign of struggle—not my style. Yet I keep reminding myself to enjoy what we did, to appreciate the lessons learned, the immense beauty of that mountain and to keep my eyes forward on the larger goal. While I don't consider this a true summit of the mountain it was a successful trip, no doubt about that. For now, I keep Rainier on the back burner in my mind as I train and prepare for the next piece of this puzzle.
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