Climbing Mt. Ranier - From Paradise To Purgatory

Climbing Mt. Ranier

From Paradise To Purgatory

by Dale Gumm

Publication Date: August 1999

Ten years ago, I read an inspiring article about some local climbers who summitted Mt. Rainier. It sounded like a true challenge, but none of my friends were remotely interested. Then last year, a close friend and skydiving teammate, Jim Bedway, told me that he and his wife, Liz Whitmer, had planned to climb Rainier this summer. Sadly, Liz died in a tragic accident, but Jim still wanted to go and scatter some of her ashes at the top of Mt. Rainier. We recruited another good friend, Mike Hayden, and started gathering information and making plans.

Rainier Moutaineering, Inc., the local guide service, leads hopeful adventurers and wannabe mountain climbers up the steep slopes towards the summit. RMI sent some informational brochures with a very clear message - you have to train and exercise to get in good physical condition if you want to be successful in scaling Rainier. I started jogging, hiking, cycling, and working out on the Nordic Track to get this 46-year-old body in shape. In fact, about 10,000 people a year attempt the climb, but only 52% make it to the summit. The main reason for failure is poor physical conditioning.

Mt. Rainier is considered the toughest endurance climb in the lower 48 states. It is the fifth highest mountain in the continental US at 14, 411 feet, and the most heavily glaciated volcanic peak. There are 26 glaciers on Rainier.

On June 16, Jim Bedway, Mike Hayden, and myself (a.k.a. known as Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest) headed to Seattle, Washington. Thursday was spent hiking and exploring Mount Rainier National Park, a 235,612-acre wonderland of forests, streams, meadows, and mountain. On Friday, we checked in at the RMI Guide House in Paradise for the one-day basic climbing school. This is a mandatory requirement and the school usually lasts 6-8 hours. Instructors teach you the basic techniques of snow and ice/glacier climbing. They are also constantly evaluating your physical conditioning.

The pace out to the training site was brisk and we started practicing pressure breathing immediately. Pressure breathing consists of a forceful exhalation of air, so that when you inhale, you breathe in more oxygen. This would become very important when we started our ascent to Camp Muir where the air was noticeably thin. Mastery of the rest step would also be critical to a successful climb. It is a maneuver designed to keep you from fatiguing and burning up your leg muscles. When you put one foot forward, you shift your weight to the back leg and knee that is locked. For that brief second, it is the skeletal system that supports the weight, giving your leg muscles a rest. Perfection of the rest step and pressure breathing would greatly increase your chances of getting up that mountain.

Ice axe self-arrest and team-arrest, team rope travel, and cramponing were taught once we got to the snowfields. Little did I know the ice axe would become my best friend during the climb. The staff would send us slip sliding down a hill in every way possible to practice self-arresting. I became one with the snow, and very proficient at yelling "Falling" so my teammates could also dig in with their ice axe.

Crampons were a real joy if you have never had them on your feet. They were basically a rack of 12 spikes that fit on the bottom of your boots, which were already cumbersome. They were great for keeping you from slipping on the ice and snow. However, for the first few steps, I was staggering around like a drunk with a dangerous weapon.

Rope travel was interesting too, with four climbers and a guide with ten legs learning to walk together. This took a lot of practice, but it was important to keep the slack out of the 30 foot length of rope in front of you. If you went careening down a slope with too much slack in the rope, the snatch force would be very great, and your teammates could tumble down with you.

The next morning came too quickly after very little sleep. Five guides and 21 climbers met at the Paradise Guide House. Introductions were made and we gave our reasons for wanting to climb Rainier. This had been a dream and goal for me. I wanted to see if I had the "right stuff" - if I still had the stamina.

Our lead guide was Matt Farmer, a tall, wiry guy in his late twenties, and an accomplished climber. He gave us a briefing and advised us we would be greatly challenged the next two days. He also advised us that friends would be assigned to different rope teams. You are much less likely to yell at a stranger than you are one of your friends. He noted there had been divorces and near blows because of the psychological, physiological, and environmental stress that climbers encounter on the mountain. You might also hate your guide before it was over he quipped. He reinforced that this was not an easy climb, and that we would all be stressed at some point before the journey was over.

The two day climb is 18 miles roundtrip with an elevation gain of 9,000 feet. On summit day, we would be climbing ten to fifteen hours while carrying a backpack. The terrain on the upper mountain is heavily glaciated with snow, ice, volcanic scree, and rock slopes as steep as 45 degrees, he warned. After thorough gear checks, it was ShowTime, and we were off on our quest to summit Mt. Rainier.

Camp Muir is about four miles from Paradise and takes about five or six hours hiking up some fairly steep hills. It was a great hike across magnificent snowfields with towering pine trees scattered along the lower part of the trail. No crampons and with the aid of ski poles, it was smooth sailing. Farmer, the lead guide, did set a blistering pace and I felt very invigorated. It had been overcast with clouds and some mist when we started out, but we finally broke through the clouds at about 8,000 feet. The sun was brilliant and warm as we approached Camp Muir.

Camp Muir is primitive at best. It consisted of a small wood hut, a tiny ranger station, two small stone shelters, but most importantly, an outhouse. The wood hut accommodated 30 or 40 climbers on three levels of plywood platforms. I was glad there were only 21 of us as our sleeping bags nestled right against our neighbors.

The plan was to get some sleep and get an alpine start to the summit - this meant leaving camp between midnight and 2:00 AM. Everyone was in sleeping bags by 7:00 PM, but there would be very little sleep. I had too much anxiety and anticipation. All I could do was lay there and think about the climb.

Around 3:00 AM, the guides came in and roused everyone into action. After a quick breakfast, we were given our avalanche monitors to strap on along with our helmets and headlamps. The avalanche monitors were little devices that would help the rangers locate our bodies if we got buried in an avalanche.

Mike and I were on the lead rope team with Major Farmer as we traversed across the Cowlitz Glacier. Crampons work great on ice and snow, but they were cumbersome and tricky on the scree and rocks. I was glad the rocks were behind us as we started up Ingraham Glacier. The route was definitely getting steeper and the air was getting thinner by the step. This was starting to get very serious and more strenuous as we climbed higher. We took a much needed rest break at Ingraham Flats, just above 11,000 feet.

It was here that Mike decided he had reached his personal summit. Farmer agreed and dug out a deep impression in the snow for his sleeping bag. I was proud of Mike for making it as far as he did and for having the courage to say he had reached his personal limit.

We sat together long enough to watch the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen in my life. I felt like a god sitting on top of the world watching a wonder of the universe unfolding before my eyes. The entire horizon was ablaze with colors of red, purple, and orange as the sun crept above the darkness and turned night into day. I will always remember sharing that magical moment with two of my best friends in the whole world.

I went from feeling like a god to a mere mortal on the next part of the route. Disappointment Cleaver was the most grueling and steepest part of the route. As I looked up the mountain, the route looked almost vertical to me. It was frightening. There were footholds in the snow but you really couldn't get your entire boot in them like a step. Guide Farmer told us to walk sideways up this treacherous part. There were also a couple of places where there were fixed ropes and you had to hook in with your carabiner. The narrow ridges close to the top of the cleaver were scary, and there wasn't enough room to place both of your boots side-by-side. There were a couple of times I wasn't really sure I was going to be able to complete this part of the climb. My calves burned and legs ached. For some reason, I just couldn't do the rest step well on this part of the mountain. I was already thinking how difficult it would be to come back down this stretch.

However, Farmer pushed on relentlessly and didn't give you time to think about it. The weather had started to deteriorate and the clouds rolled in. Soon snow and ice started and we were only at 12,000 feet.

I was seeing more and more cracks in the ice called crevasses. They were beautiful with their blue ice interiors, but you could not see their bottoms. I wondered how long I might freefall in their icy clutches if I tumbled into one of their gaping mouths. Occasionally there were snow bridges across a crevasse that you had to cross. Farmer would demand that you walked in his boot prints so you didn't stumble off the snow bridge and disappear into a crevasse.

We finally reached our next rest stop at the top of the cleaver. I looked at the other climbers and knew I wasn't the only one fatigued. I kept remembering what Farmer said about the summit being the halfway point. You had to save enough strength to get safely back down the mountain too.

This rest stop was at a critical juncture in the climb. The guides told us this was the last place we could safely stay behind. This was the point of no return. Once we started up the next stretch of mountain, there would be no quitting or turning back until we got to the summit. Three climbers opted to return to Camp Muir because of altitude sickness and exhaustion. Climbers on Mt. Rainier frequently feel the effects of altitude sickness but do not become seriously ill. They usually descend to sea level before real medical complications occur.

We drank water at every rest stop to stay hydrated and the guides encouraged us to eat. Food tasted like chalk and you had to force yourself to eat. There was no talking as we headed to our next stop above 13,000 feet. I was just too tired, and talking takes energy and oxygen and I was determined to conserve both. We zigged and zagged upward to the next stop.

Visibility was getting worse as we ascended once more. We had already passed a few climbers who were going back down because of the weather. However, I believe we all had absolute faith in our RMI guides to get up and down this mountain safely. We pressed onward.

Finally, about 10:00 AM, Farmer turned to us and smiled as we approached the top of Mt. Rainier. The "Farmer and the Dale" were the first from the RMI group to set foot on the summit on that day, June 20, 1999. I was looking for the signpost that read, Welcome to Purgatory. It was very cold. Visibility was no more than 50 feet with the winds blowing snow around at 30 or 40 miles an hour. The wind chill factor made the temperature well below zero. However, people took time out for the traditional hero photo shots and mostly just rested.

I watched as the other rope teams came in one-by-one. Jim Bedway, my other friend on the climb, finally came walking in with his team. He smokes and drinks and did very little exercise. I really don't see how he did it. I could see the exhaustion through the haggard look on his face. He had lost his last water bottle at the previous rest stop, and he was struggling. He did keep his promise and scattered Liz's ashes to the wind. His mission was accomplished.

There must have been some concerns about the poor weather, because we didn't stay at the summit very long. Farmer picked up his backpack and ice axe indicating it was time to head down. I truly dreaded the descent, because I was worn out and didn't know if my legs would support me. We started down that mountain at a fast pace, and I found a reserve of inner strength and resolve I didn't know I had.

I started having a real problem with snow clogging up my crampons causing me to slip and stumble on the now slick trail. Farmer told me to scuff my feet as I walked. When that didn't seem to be working, he told me to bang the side of my boots hard with my ice axe to knock off the snow. I told him I was too tired to bang my boots with the ice axe that now seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. He informed me in no uncertain terms that I needed to keep my boots clean for my security and everyone else on the rope team. By now I was sure Farmer was a direct descendant of Attila the Hun.

As I walked down a very narrow ridge, I slipped off the trail and started sliding down a steep slope towards an ominous looking crevasse. I yelled, "Falling," and self-arrested quickly with my ice axe. After that I was highly motivated to bang the hell out of my boots and did so frequently. I found out later that several people had difficulty maneuvering on that treacherous ridge. One climber actually slipped over the edge of a crevasse when she fell. It took a few minutes to get her out.

I could not see the route as the snow had covered it completely. Amazingly, Farmer navigated the route without any problem. I did get concerned once when he sank waist deep in the snow. He extracted himself quickly and started using metal rods with flags on them called wands to mark the trail.

We finally made it back down to Paradise around 5:00 PM. After some brief good-byes, we were on our way back to Ashford for hot food and a bath. This had been an incredible odyssey that took about 32 hours with basically no sleep. I was very proud I had made it to the summit, but it was almost ant-climatic for me.

What I will remember most about my journey is the spectacular sunrise and the view of Mt. Adams and Mt. Saint Helens above the clouds at Camp Muir. I have had many thrilling adventures over the years, but few qualify as true lifetime experiences. Summitting Rainier touched my soul deeply and was almost spiritual in nature. It was a physical, emotional, and psychological challenge that pushed me to the limits of my endurance. It forced me to look inside myself to see what I was made of. It is important to note that without the encouragement, persistence, and expertise of RMI guide, Matt Farmer, I don't know that I would have been successful in my quest to reach the summit.

As I was flying out of Seattle, I could see the majestic Rainier in the distance. I looked at that great mountain with new respect and understanding. A smile lit up my face, as I knew I had stood proudly at the summit only the day before. As the old clich'e goes... "been there, done that!"

A few tips if you decide to climb Mt. Rainier: First, contact Rainier Mountaineering, Inc at (360)569-2227 and get their brochure. Read it carefully. If I hadn't exercised diligently, I would have never made it to the top. You cannot over train for this climb. Get on the Internet and go to the Mt. Rainier National Park website at: http://www.nps.gov/mora/home.htm for a wealth of information. Read the search and rescue reports too. There have been several fatalities and serious injuries attempting to climb this mountain. I read them to learn from others' experiences. Finally, talk to other people who have climbed Rainier.