Tired and Sore with Lingering Happiness Part 3: To the Top

To the Top

Beyond the rock island it's all snow and hiking is harder now. Crevasses yawn in the distance and avalanches sound like the beginning of squirrel season. Some time ago, I stopped putting my water bottle back in the backpack and carry it with me, taking frequent sips.

Our third rest, sitting on top of the backs of our backpacks in the snow. A group of hikers with a guide service go past. It conserves energy to hike in single file stepping into the footprints ahead of you. They are wearing gaiters to keep the snow out of their boots and we are not. If the snow is too slushy and we end up sinking to our knees in it, we may have to turn back, but they won't.
Brenton is warm and has begun to remove layers. I have developed an altitude sickness headache, pressure all around, and take an Advil that Phil has packed. Sometimes we take one step and rest and then take another. Phil shows us how to breathe out forcefully to get more of the oxygen thin air out of and into our lungs. Phil explains that at about 9,000 ft. hikers often hit a psychological wall and decide to turn around having gone far enough. Phil's last two trips ended about here with a hiker getting altitude sickness in the form of vomiting. Just one day ago hikers had to turn back because of snow falling. I finish one water bottle and take out another, glad to have a slightly lighter pack.
We have made it to Camp Muir, base camp for summitting Mt. Ranier. You can see the guide service's cooking hut in the background. On the snow field to the right are the barrels where a woman is shoveling snow to melt for drinking water. Any hking done to the right of the rocks requires a permit and being strung together with rope.










Phil checks the GPS locator.

Brenton relaxes at Camp Muir. His feet are wet by now so he borrows a dry pair of socks from me. The solar composting outhouses are in the background as well as a stone hut for overnighters.
Camp Muir scenery in a balmy 32 degrees.
The rocks are warm.
Tent campers in the snowfield beyond Camp Muir.

Clouds are starting to move in. While Phil chatted by the bunkhouse with these three women from Redmond, Brenton and I stretched out on some warm rock to sunbathe and catnap. A little brown bird landed on my back and hopped down to my bottom. At this point I felt compelled to share my experience with Brenton for a possible photograph, but it scared the bird away. You can see an A-frame hut with solar panels in the background.

Same view taken minutes later by one of the Redmond gang. It is definitely getting cloudier. The Redmonds are going to summit in two weeks. This was their practice run to Camp Muir with their heavy packs. One of the girls who attends a local Christian school plans to do her senior project by climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro.

We have had our tea and Clif bars and brown rice bars and salami on bagel for Phil and are ready to begin our descent.

Tired and Sore with Lingering Happiness Part Two: High Tea

High Tea


Eventually I figured out that the eblogger editor wouldn't let me post any more pictures on the last entry so I continue here. This is a marmoset on the left and a little brown rodent below.

Our first tea party, one hour into the hike. Phil heated water with a little gas heater in a little kettle. We only packed two cups. Phil is sharing a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter. Brenton wished for a peanut butter clif bar and got one.
We are resting just a little below where Phil and a friend were caught in a blizzard last May (the same day I had my surgery in Mexico) and had to spend the night in a a makeshift tent. Not far from them two experienced climbers died that night. Today the mountain is hospitable with rock outcroppings surrounded by wildflowers under the sunshine.

The Nisqually Glacier is to the left of Brenton, Phil and me. "What's that noise?" I ask. "Is that traffic?" It's the sound of Pebble Creek running just ahead. We liked the way the snow was textured in the drift behind Brenton and me. You'll have to click on it to make it bigger and see it for yourself.

Our guide gives us a choice: Keep ascending or detour laterally a bit to the outhouses at Panorama Point. We ascent to ascend and begin the second hour of our trek.

The landscape is generally snow-covered by now but we and this little brown bird find a rock island.
Two hours into our journey we take another break on the rock island


Time to get out the water bottle and more brown rice crispy bars. We're warm now. Hats and gloves are off.
Clouds obscure and reveal.








I can't remember what Phil has in the bag at his feet. Notice the other hiker off to the right. We make guesses of the height of the rock behind Phil. Brenton enjoys some trail mix.

Phil shared nuts and wasabi peas.



Is it possible that Brenton has a halo?
Little brown bird still expresses interest in us.

The rock is 5-6 ft. tall. If I move up the rocks beyond it, it makes a nice screen for my hiking partners to relieve themselves. Phil knows an obscure Bible passage about pissing against rocks.

This is not a polar bear in a blizzard.

Continued in Part 3.

Tired and Sore with Lingering Happiness Part 1: To the Snowline

Photos of Hike to Camp Muir on Mt. Ranier - July 31, 2006.
To the Snowline
None of us got much sleep the night before what with last minute excursions to the store, the borrowing of gear, the anticipation of group burping and passing gas to avoid altitude sickness, the knowledge that I hadn't trained for the event as planned and, oh yes, the excitement of the day ahead. In the morning, my neck already hurt from trying out the backpack that I had unearthed only hours before from the recesses of the closet almost causing an avalanche. Phil picked me up at my house at 6 AM and we arrived at the parking lot in Paradise around 9 AM. Brenton, a young man in his twenties, slept like a baby in the backseat along the way. He wasn't awake when Phil, our guide, handed me the map and asked me if I knew how to get there. We chose a nice route to the east of Tacoma with lovely views of our object of desire. I was in the front seat and thought it impolite to catch up on my sleep there and besides I might miss something, like the bumper sitcker that read, "The Ten Commandments are not multiple choice."

"That's a stupid bumper sticker or maybe it's just my antitest bias," I remarked to Phil, the president of the local school board.

More dinking around before we go up Mt. Ranier which you can see behind them. My ski pants were overkill so I left them at home, but I did bring along my ski jacket which I now left in the car. I applied plenty of suncreen in the restrooms of the visitor center there at Paradise. Phil also got each of us a copy of a map of the Paradise area trails to keep in our packs. That and a whistle will be handy in case we get lost.

Brenton and Cindy at Alta Vista, elevation 5940' where Robin and I "summitted" on June 29th. All was snow covered then except for a few patches of trail and most of the stone steps leading to this spot.
We are about 15 minutes into our hike which began at 9:20.
After months of indecision and scouting yard sales and thrift shops for gear waiting for the moment when I would know that I should go, reviewing all the metaphorical Mt. Raniers that I ought to or want to be attempting to attain instead, I preciptously made the decision to go late yesterday afternoon by buying a cheap pair of waterproof boots, retail, on sale. A quick meeting at our guide Phil's house yesterday evening outfitted me with his dark grey polyester shirt and his daughter's black dance pants. I rounded it out with a long sleeve silk undershirt - yardsale, and a brown silk vest - thrift shop. I borrowed the wool felt cap from Amity in Paris,1999. Also on the advice of Phil I ran out to the grocery and bought a pair of microfiber trouser socks as a lining to the nice wool socks I bought with the boots. This is supposed to prevent blisters. Though 'cotton is rotten' because once it's wet, it's wet and cold, and you should just leave it home, that's all I own. Most days I'm avoiding the effects of xenoestrogens from petroleum products, one of which is polyester. I'm not usually avoiding hypothermia. I chose the lightest cotten undies I own, not having time to run out to the store as underwear is an unavailable product in Duvall, and hoped for the best. I am also wearing non-waterproof leather gloves. Sunglasses are a must to protect the eyes from the glacial glare; mine are prescription but a wraparound shape might work better. Phil and Brenton didn't seem to need gloves, but my hands were cold. The walking stick is courtesy of Phil. Brenton is carrying an ice ax.
Phil and Brenton also at Alta Vista, but looking in the directon from which we came. They are soon to confess that they are hoping that something will go wrong with me so that they will get to rescue me. Their masculine fantasy does not correlate with my feminine aspirations for the day. Mainly I am hoping to reach Camp Muir because the outhouses are located there. It is my firm desire notto have to make yellow snow in the company of the aforementioned knights. Neither have I stowed a "privycy" poncho in my backpack for such an occasion. There they are again. Time for one last picture of Phil checking our location on the GPS and getting the water bottle in and out of the back pack and then onwards up the Skyline Trail.

Remember this! This is the way back.