(photo: by Phil's Mamiya medium format camera, heavy but wow the detail!)
So it is that Dave, Phil and I, having never climbed anything up until this adventure that we would call "Extreme", suddenly found ourselves at Phil's house, debating weight versus safety and utility. I walked into Phil's house with a 53 pound backpack; I walked out with a 43 pound backpack. This may surprise the uninitiated, but to me, it is ultimately not too shocking. For instance: why bring fleece pants if the freezing level is forecast at 12k', and you are already bringing a zero degree sleeping bag? Though conventional wisdom would indicate that you should bring them (what happens if a storm blows in and you have to keep going?) However, they weigh nearly a pound. At such elevation, on such steep terrain as Liberty Ridge, they would slow us down a great deal (so that instead of having time to get off the mountain, or at least set up an emergency bivy, we'd be forced to push on through the storm--which do you think is safer?) With sufficient equipment to get by, but a light enough load to move quickly, many dangers that others "plan and pack for" can be avoided, thus increasing the safety margin.
Dave, Phil, and I packing at Phil's house. Note that we packed Fred Becky,
and a few pickets, "for safety". Davette was nowhere to be found.
(photo: by Phil's Mamiya medium format camera, heavy but wow the detail!)
After arriving to take the last permits for the Carbon Alpine Camping Zone and at the Thumb Rock camp, we headed out, noting the heavy packs and general inexperience of other parties headed our way. Totally, for sure, yeah. We stashed our beer in Glacier Basin and proceeded up to St. Elmo's pass.
Dave preparing to descend to the Winthrop Glacier from St. Elmo's pass. Note
that the upper eastern flank of Liberty Ridge is visible past the (much) closer
Curtis Ridge.
The "climbing" to the first camp consists largely of a traverse of the Winthrop Glacier and the seemingly unending flanks of Curtis Ridge. Some of this is steep, and the Winthrop is somewhat crevassed. Actually, a trip to this camp would be excellent for the novice mountaineer who wants to see the spectacular north walls of Mt. Rainier. But be warned, citizen! Only woe comes to the novice who travels up Curtis Ridge or far out onto the Carbon Glacier!
Dave (leading) and I traverse onto Curtis Ridge's broad base. Shortly thereafter,
the weight of Phil's camera alone proved too much for a snowbridge and he died.
Okay, okay, since this is a family audience, I admit it: Phil didn't die, he didn't even fall. And it really is amazing how much detail you get with that camera! Too bad it doesn't have a zoom lens!
Upon our return, it became obvious that we were going to have to use our blue bags. For the uninitiated, first realize that many people travel through the Curtis Ridge area, and that it is mostly snow and bare rock. In these generally stark and cold environs, your pooh does not break down like it does in the forests of the Olympic Peninsula. Hence, you carry it out, in our case, over the mountain. This somewhat gross fact (you do get used to it...) led to the unending question: "Is Mr. Hanky going to visit?" Huh, Dave, what are doing over there Dave?.
With such pleasantries out of the way, we settled into a fine dinner, with some chocolate mousse that Phil brought (Tip for Seattlites: climb and ski with Phil, he always brings goodies!) A bit of general goofing off mixed with awe for the route set the tone for the rest of the climb.
Hans and Frans (Dave and Phil) strut their stuff for the mountain babes--oh, wait,
there were no mountain babes, they were just being goofy.
From our camp at 7200', Liberty Ridge looked incredibly steep, but a sense of confidence seemed to come over the group, and the group dynamic was good. As dusk neared, a feeling of committment settled in: we were going for it, and with good weather and conditions, we were going to climb the ridge.
The next morning, we set out at 6am for Thumb Rock. After a short steep step of ice
and some interesting crevasses, we had easy going until we reached the upper slopes of
the Carbon, and began our traverse to the foot of Liberty Ridge. Several thin snow
bridges over wide crevasses made for tricky going, but the team worked well together
to get through this section. At last we were on the ridge!
The ridge below 11,000' is fairly straightforward. While our route took us out onto the eastern flanks of Liberty Ridge (and a spectacular view of the Willis Wall), the late morning sun had turned the slope into a slushy, treacherous treverse (with spectacular exposure--some 3000' down 40+ degree slopes to the Carbon Glacier). The best route lay on the still cold western slopes of the ridge. Though this is ultimately less direct, it is much safer. (Sorry I doubted you, Phil!)
We reached Thumb Rock and camp at half past 11 in the morning, leaving us many hours
to do nothing at all. This led to a great deal of silliness, comparing stoves and tents
and axes with the other team that was there (a pair from Wyoming, one with an ascent of
the Cassin Ridge on Denali!), talking about the route, etc... We melted snow for drinking
water, ate GU (GU ROCKS!!!! EAT GU!!! GU LOVES YOU, DON'T YOU LOVE GU??), and napped
in the blistering sun. We saw a big-(censored) avalanche triggered by a house sized chunk
of ice that fell off of the aptly named "Traverse of Angels" above Willis Wall.
At around 4 the camp began going to sleep. The folks with the heavy packs had finally made it to camp, as had two fellows from the Boeing Alpine Club (who turned out to be a bit cocky for my liking) a solo climber (up there?? I think he was nuts) and the father and son team. Not everyone had permits for that night, but most were well behaved. The folks with the heavy packs were moving slow, and it appeared that they would slow even more on the technical terrain ahead. We worried about them, but ultimately felt they would be okay.
We were the first out of camp, and climbed at what seemed to be a quick pace through the cold midnight air. Resting after an hour, and on what we would call for the next seven hours "flat" (maybe 30 degree slopes?) we debated what route to take towards the Black Pyramid and Liberty Ridge's glorious upper slopes. Dave and I felt that a direct route to the ridge crest was best, and Phil quickly agreed. The other option was to traverse 50 degree snow until under the BP and then head straight up.
We climbed up, and when forced to either go over the crest onto extremely steep slopes
or traverse right up and through some rock bands, we traversed. This section had an airy,
exciting alpine feel to it. Dave placed a couple of pickets on lead, and belayed me up
to a narrow snow ledge on the ridge crest. I belayed Phil up, and we paused, noticing
headlamps below, chasing us through the night. We wondered which team it was.
Phil takes the last few steps to the ridge crest.
The upper slopes of the ridge were the steepest of the climb, and the most exposed. As the sun rose, the sky turned a deep orange shade, silhouetting Mt. Stuart and the peaks of the Enchantments behind us. It was at this moment that I realized I would make it. Up until then, we had only the sense of complete committment: there was no turning back once we left Thumb Rock, no safe way down. But it was not until I turned to see that sunrise that I realized the immensity of the place, the raw and unfiltered beauty of it, and that The Mountain had granted me safe passage once more.
I burst into tears, fumbled to get my camera out, and gingerly turned to snap a
photo. It did not come out well, but perhaps it was not meant to. That sight is burned
in my memory for as long as I live. There is no picture, no word, nothing which could
convey what it was like to be there, in that fleeting, exhausted, cold, dehydrated moment,
and to feel so suddenly alive.
We moved slowly from the Black Pyramid up the final slopes of Liberty Ridge, now more
gentle, punctuated by steep sections and near vertical steps of 10-15 feet. By now, my
Platypus water pouch's mouth tube/straw thing had frozen, and I was becoming severely
dehydrated. I drank some water from Dave's bottle, and we continued up.
Dave clears a vertical step near the top of the route. Phil hammers a picket into the
hard snow and funky ice.
And then, as if it was all a dream, we were there. As I moved slowly up the last steep step, I saw Dave belaying me and smiling, and to his right, I could see Liberty Cap. We made it. I was dazed. I paused to belay Phil up, and as he reached us he grabbed me in a huge awkward hug, nearly tackling me. You can't really put your arms around a person with a huge backpack on, and so these hugs have always reminded me of small children hugging their parents. They are ungainly, weak, and say more than most people could with words.
A long traverse led us to the summit plateau, where I thawed out my water bag, we
ate, relaxed, and sat in a moment of relief and satisfaction.
There is little left to say about the experience of climbing Liberty Ridge. We descended the Emmons to Camp Schurman, where we rested and hung out with Dee, one of the National Park Climbing Rangers. I was a bit irratible above Camp Schurman, for no apparent reason. It quickly passed. Dee gave us more water, and we chatted. Before too long, we were on our way. A jubilant glissade down the Inter Glacier returned us to Glacier Basin, and our beer.
Dave and I celebrate in Glacier Basin
We sipped good Trippel style beer, and some (really darn good) homemade Grand Marnier--oh wow was that a treat!--for a couple of hours, saying hello to passersby. Off we went. On the drive home, we paused to look back at the mountain. We all felt that it looked different now, knowing that we had climbed the awesome spur that we had eyed longingly from Seattle. I told Phil and Dave about the first time I climbed Mt. Rainier, and how afterwords, looking at it from the freeway driving home, it seemed even more beautiful to me. It seemed more like a friend. Maybe I am too gushy about this, but I get the sense that I am amongst friends in the mountains, even when I cannot see a single human around me.