Dale's Experience on Mt. Rainier

Have I mentioned lately that my husband has taken up mountain climbing? Well, he has. I think he caught the bug when we climbed Mt. Ellinor in the Olympics late last summer, and one day not long after that the UPS man showed up on our front porch with a gigantic box and I was all, are we getting a new refrigerator? No, not a new fridge, but a complete compliment of mountaineering equipment from REI. For Dale.

Dude, he was so lucky we keep separate finances. I'd joke with him that he took up mountaineering because road biking just wasn't nearly expensive or dangerous enough for him.

Around that same time, Dale signed up to Climb Mt. Rainier for his 36th birthday and began intensive training. More than once I saw him busting it out on our StairMaster, wearing just his underwear, a full pack, and boots, covered in sweat. Ahh, a visual treat. He worked really, really, hard to prepare. He not only conditioned physically, but devoured any book, magazine, or video dedicated to Mt. Rainier or mountaineering in general. Dale never half-asses anything, and I trusted his judgement and abilities and supported this venture wholeheartedly. Dale does not take foolish risks, and I don't worry about him.

On Wednesday, Dale left for the mountain. Orientation would be that afternoon. Thursday would be training day, where they learned and practiced maneuvers like the self-arrest technique. Friday they would depart base camp and climb to Camp Muir at 10,000', where they would spend the night (Camp Muir is very small and basic. No electricity or running water. It has several plywood bunks for the climbers to sleep on and take refuge from the elements. That's about it). Then the plan intended for Saturday would be to wake up around midnight, where the guides would assess the weather and climbing conditions, then give the green light (climbing Gods willing) to depart and head for the summit. Once the summit is been reached, then the group climbs all the way back down that same day. That's how the plan goes on paper, anyway.

This is Camp Muir:





Dale has a satellite tracker that he wears when he climbs. It's the niftiest little gadget. It sends out a signal every ten minutes, and I can track him on the Internet. So Saturday at about midnight I was glued to the computer screen, waiting for his little signal to start moving. Finally at 2:20am, his group of 6 guides and 16 climbers (which included a father/son team from New York, a laid-back British guy, two Jet Blue pilots, a few guys from Colorado and Minnesota, several Seattle "locals", and Dale and his good friend Chris) finally left camp and headed up. I was so worried that the weather wouldn't cooperate and that he would be let down. I was so proud of him. Even if he didn't reach the summit, I was still so happy that they were making their way up the mountain. I finally went to bed.

Dale on the left, with his friend Chris.



I got up at 8:30 that same morning. I could have stayed up all night and tracked his progress, but I did have to get some sleep at least, since our plan was for the kids and me to drive up to the mountain later that afternoon where we'd watch Dale and his group come down. From there we'd have dinner, celebrate his birthday, and spend the night at the Paradise Lodge. When I checked that computer after getting up, I was a little confused at the route that I saw:



I was like what in the world? (Or better put, WTF???) I looked out our bedroom window to see if the "mountain was out" (yes, that's an official phrase for all you non-locals) and it wasn't. Hmm...cloudy. So they'd been turned around because of the weather. I was sure that was it. It didn't seem too cloudy, though, but I didn't really dwell on it. So I got the kids up and started running around getting everything ready since we would be heading up there sooner than planned.

We hit the road for our uneventful 2+ hour drive. When we were within the National Park but still had about a half hour drive to the actual mountain, Bella says to me from the back seat,

Bella: "Is Mt. Rainier the tallest mountain in the world?"

Me: "No"

"Well which one is?"

"Mt. Everest."

"Has dad climbed that one?"

"No," I chuckled, "But he'd like to."

"I don't want him to. ...A lot of people die up there."

Turns out she'd been paying more attention to Dale's mountaineering documentaries that I'd realized.

"Yes...sometimes they do. But don't worry about dad. He'll be ok."

But with that conversation I could no longer ignore that nagging gut feeling I'd been fighting all morning. I had been reassuring myself that the clouds had rolled in and made for poor visibility, and the clouds had of course brought snow, making the guides turn them around. But the weather was fine, and that didn't explain away their erratic path, or the fact that they had sat in one spot for over an hour. My stomach dropped considering that they probably turned back because something bad had happened.

Dale met me in the parking lot of the visitor's center. He hadn't been able to check into our room yet, so he just waited outside for me. All in all, I knew he'd been ok, since I had tracked him back down the mountain too. But I was really happy to see him all in one piece. Before I even had one foot out of the car, he said, "Boy do I have a story for you."

And boy did he have a story for me.

It's better in his words, because it's his story. This is taken directly from his journal (this starts at Camp Muir, second climbing day, attempting to head to the summit):

Chris and Dale in their bunk, looking all cozy:



Saturday June 5th, SUMMIT DAY!
“Ok guys, it’s 1:30, the weather is great with light wind and no precipitation...Here is some boiling water for your breakfast and be ready with your crampons, harness, helmet and headlamps on in one hour...We have a good shot at the top today”! All of our moods went from exhausted and sleepless to excited and anxious. Outside the guides called out the names of the climbers that would be grouped together in roped teams. My partner Chris and I were teamed up with Thomas, the guide who was from New Zealand. We were to be the second team to leave. The lead team consisted of two lead guides, Tyler and Adam, with four climbers in between them. The third and forth rope teams had five climbers each, not counting the three guides, Caroline, Mark and Tim. Looking across the Cowlitz Glacier to our first obstacle, Cathedral Gap, we could see a little trail of eight or so headlamps that were already on the trail to the top. They were not affiliated with RMI or any other guide service, rather a string of private unguided climbers hoping to reach the summit in a few hours. We headed off into the blackness with only a spot of light shining on the snow at our feet about eight feet in diameter. We followed team number one across the glacier. I was at the end of our team with my partner in the middle and Thomas our guide leading from the front. The spacing was about thirty feet between us.







The silence on the mountain was pierced by the sound of my ice axe spike plunging into the snow on my left side and my crampons making a metallic crunching sound below my feet. There was no wind and the moon was shining bright behind me. As we wound ourselves across the glacier and up the series of steep switch backs to gain the ridge on Cathedral Gap, I could start to hear the two way radios of the guides start to come alive. The team ahead of me was steadily making their way up the ridge and starting to make the small but tricky descent onto Ingraham Flat at the head of the Ingraham Glacier.









A warning from Tyler came over the radio about iffy snow conditions and to take it slow and easy so conditions could be assessed. There was a crust about two inches thick over the top of bottomless layer of powder. It was tricky climbing though this as you could hear chunks of ice would break off the surface with each step and go skittering down the glacier surface and into the abyss. Thomas our guide stopped us and instructed us to wait until Tyler and Adam in team number one said it was ok to continue. The call came over the radio to head cautiously onto Ingraham Flat and group up with all four teams. A feeling of “this is the end of the climb” was staring to embed itself in all of us. For God sakes, we were only ninety minutes into the climb! The guides unroped from their respective teams and met to devise a game plan. After a few minutes (these few minutes most likely saved our lives), Adam addressed all of the climbers. He told us that the snow conditions were very borderline right now and needed to be properly tested before a decision to climb the base of the Ingraham Headwall and gain the ridge of Disappointment Cleaver could be made. One climber pointed to the string of lights that we saw earlier who were now traversing the base of the head wall. Adam quickly replied with sharp emotion, “I don’t give a shit what those climbers are doing! If we decide we can climb just because they are, and we make it to the top, we then have to deal with possible worse snow conditions on the descent after the morning sun has made the snow even more unstable." He continued on, "We will walk fifteen minutes ahead, dig a snow pit to measure crust depth, angle of rapose, and sloughing, and then make an educated decision to continue or turn back."

The guides went back to their respective teams and roped in for the walk. Five minutes later, from behind me, I heard a frantic yell from the guide over the radio. “Tyler! Run!” My head shot up to look at Tyler’s team ahead of us, and I caught a glimpse of a huge avalanche sliding down the Ingraham Headwall one hundred and fifty yards in front of us and the team of headlamps disappear into the tidal wave of snow. A huge plume of powder was airborne and doubling in size with each second. I then focused on Thomas who was pointing to the right and shouting “RUN, RUN, RUN!” Instinctively, my partner and I wasted no time attempting to get out of the direct path of the plume headed straight for us. We were only able to run thirty feet or so before we ran out of time and dove into the snow, assumed the self arrest position (ice axe dug in deep over my right shoulder, shaft of the ice axe diagonal across my torso with my left hand gripping the spike end for dear life, and kicking foot holds wildly into the snow while keeping a low rigid position) and braced for the unknown. Thoughts of being swept down the glacier and deposited into a crevasse overcame me. I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself, as the loud freight train sound enveloped us and the snow plume blew over the top of the teams. I don’t know how long the whole event lasted, but it seemed very surreal, as if I was in a movie. I thought, “I just turned 36 and this is how it ends?" As soon as it hit us it was gone. Covered in a light layer of snow, Thomas got to his feet and yelled back at us, “Get up and get out of here!” We hurried as fast as we could a few hundred feet lower in elevation to a safer area and the glacier. A call came over the radio that Tyler and Adam from the lead team were heading to the debris field to search for the buried climbers.

We could hear the shrill beeps of their avalanche transceivers as they were attempting to locate survivors. After fifteen minutes of silence, “We have pulled five out, one is unconscious but breathing and more are still buried...We will continue our search and notify NPS (National Park Service) to get help up here." Even during the chaos and urgency of the whole situation, Tyler and Adam were very calm and precise in their radio transmissions. I instantly gained a whole new respect for what mountain guides do on a daily basis. It was the foresight of these individuals who made the right call to have us abort our attempt at the summit due to unsafe snow conditions within minutes of the unthinkable happening to us. The sixteen of us “weekend enthusiasts” were lucky to be alive and we all knew it. At this point, the disappointment of not making the summit faded away to feelings of appreciation to be alive and in such capable hands as these guides from RMI. I now realize the $1000 dollar price tag for hiring a reputable guide service just paid me back one hundred fold, a thousand times over! Rescue efforts continued as the remaining guides roped us all together as one team of sixteen climbers. We made our descent to the top of Cathedral Gap and waited on the ridge until further notice from Tyler and Adam. Everyone now had a chance to collect their thoughts and assess injuries that went unnoticed in the chaos of the scramble to flee danger. The only woman climber of our group of sixteen had managed to pierce her inner thigh on her right leg with her crampons. She was ok and was capable of making it down. Lots of people had torn pants and gaitors from running in crampons. I luckily escaped with no injury to myself or damage to my clothing.

This photo is one our lead guide, Tyler, took of the avalanche.



We were about 200 yards closer to the avalanche when it hit. You can see Tyler, Adam, and Mark (our guides) digging out the buried climbers.



Thirty minutes later, two climbers were helping an older Asian climber down to our spot on the ridge. They dropped their equipment and pulled the Asian climber’s hat off and his hair was saturated with blood. He had big cuts on his head and they attempted to bandage it with butterfly bandages from a first aid kit. This was one of the climbers buried in the avalanche and in broken English, he pointed to the top of the mountain and said, “Go up?” To which one of the climbers that helped him down replied, (using lots of hand gestures) “NO, GO DOWN!”, pointing at the ground. He was probably confused from his injury. “You are done! You were just in an avalanche, you are done!” This guy didn’t have a backpack, helmet, ice axe or harness. Meaning he wasn’t roped and he didn’t have any supplies other than his coat and goggles. Unbelievable! The two climbers took him down to get him medical attention. Just then and rescue climber from the NPS showed up and Thomas briefed him on the situation. Finally Tyler and Adam had help on the way. We got the ok to descend to Camp Muir and because I was on the far end of the rope, Thomas instructed me to lead all sixteen climbers and the remaining four guides across the Cowlitz Glacier and into camp. Secretly I was excited to have such an important job! It was my time to shine!

We made it down safely and Thomas shook my hand and said, “Good job leading mate” in his New Zealand accent. We all packed our remaining items which were left in the bunk house and headed back down to Paradise with mixed emotions.