June 27, 2015
Today I braved the sweltering heat to hike/scramble up the south ridge of Black Peak in the north Cascades.  Normal people opt to take on the 11.2 mile trip in two days, enjoying stunning views of the three lakes and wildflowers along the way.  But since this is training, I made the trip in one 9.5 hour day.  Whew!  

Surveying Black Peak
Photo:  Darrin White

I made good time to the snowfield and as I made my way onto it, I encountered the first descending climber that I had seen all day.  "How was it?" I asked him.  He sort of grumbled about loose rock and asked me if I had an ice axe.  "Nope."  I said and tried to bury my trail running shoes in the snow. "But I have my helmet!"  I told him as consolation.  Just before Wing Lake, which sits at the bottom of the snow field that I was now standing on, I had cached my boots, deciding that there was no way given the recent heat, that snow would be an issue.  I was wrong.  So, I put on my helmet and started up, carefully placing my feet in the path of another cramponed climber, and kicking steps when I had to.  I was thankful when I made it to the col at the top of the snowfield without incident.

View from col - Wing & Lewis Lakes in background & climber on snowfield
Photo:  Lisa White 

The rest of the route would require scrambling, so I was once again thankful for my trail shoes.  I picked my way through the rock, stopping to build extra cairns to assist my descent, and made it to the top and was just a little frightened on the last pitch up a chimney to the summit. 

View of the summit
Photo:  Lisa White

View from the top
Photo:  Lisa White

June 21, 2015

Mt. Rainier is probably my favorite mountain, and Darrin and I endeavor to climb  it each summer.  So, this week I decided to cap off my training with a Rainier climb.  

We got permits to camp an 10,188 foot Camp Muir and made it there with a 40 pound pack in under four hours on Saturday, not horrible time, plus I did stop to change from trail shoes to mountaineering boots on the way.  Camp Muir is an interesting mountain setting, and I am always entertained when I stop to people-watch.  Invariably, there will be one or two people lying in the dust and rock, too exhausted to move, there is usually also someone trying to make a phone call to advertise their locale, plus a handful of mountaineers bustling around either making or breaking camp.  

After a pleasant night with mild weather, we left camp for the summit at 2 am, carrying light packs.  The snow conditions were really good -firm but not icy - and we made good time through cadaver gap, across Ingraham flats, and onto the rocky spine called disappointment cleaver.  We meandered through the loose rock. scree, boulders, and talus and exited the cleaver just as the sun was starting to light the eastern horizon.

Sun just starting to rise
Photo:  Darrin White

After the rock gave way to snow, we got into a steady rhythm, slowly moving up the mountain.  The winds were forecasted to be between 20 & 25 miles per hour, and as we started a long traverse toward Gibraltar ledges, my hands were starting to feel it.  My rule when my hands get cold is that I will make an adjustment, and continue moving for twenty minutes to assess improvement,  Today I was counting on the sun to warm them,  but as soon as it rose, it was concealed by thick, dark clouds.  Next I changed to my warmest gloves.  After twenty minutes my fingers were still painfully cold, and a couple of them  had been cold for more than forty minutes.  I put my head down and kept moving, certain that they would warm up if I increased my heart rate.  But I was breaking my rule, and the summit wasn't worth damaged fingers.

So we turned around, and started to descend quickly.  It would be thirty more minutes before I could feel all of my fingers.  Once I was warm, we could take our time and enjoy the mountain, stopping to marvel at teetering seracs and endless icy crevasses on the way back to camp Muir.  

Looking down on Ingraham flats
Photo:  Darrin White

As I was loading our gear into the car a few hours later, I looked back at Mt. Rainier, already planning my next summit attempt.  I noticed what looked like the beginning of lenticular clouds forming over the summit.  I've been told that lenticular clouds are a sign of high wind and impending precipitation when they sit over mountains.  I'm not sure if  that is true, but it made me feel better about making the right decision.

Lenticular clouds?
Photo:  Lisa White

What an incredible weekend to be in the mountains!

It started on Saturday on Mt. Rainier, I left the Paradise parking lot at 9:30 and started off for Camp Muir on the under warm blue skies, I was carrying a light pack and moving quickly up the rocks and eventually onto the Muir snowfield.  Once on  the snow, I settled into a quick pace, the sound of my boots in the snow muffled by the drone of a Chinook helicopter searching for a missing climber on the north side of the mountain.  It reminded me that while it was a beautiful day, mountains can be dangerous places, especially when you let your guard down.

I continued moving quickly, thanks to firm snow, even under the sunny skies, and made it to Camp Muir at 12:05.  A new record for me!

I met Darrin a few minutes after I started to descend, and together we hiked down in a little more than 90 minutes.  Thanks to firm snow we were able to quickly boot ski most of the way down the snowfield.

Hiking down the Muir snowfield
Photo:  Darrin White

Today with our friend Jeff I traded Mt. Rainier's snow for dust and rock on Granite Mountain.  Again a light pack allowed me to move quickly, my legs no longer feeling tired like they had a few weeks ago ... all of those squats & step-ups are paying off!  I made it to the top in 1:59 and despite the wind enjoyed view of Mt Rainier and Mt. Adams.

Mt. Rainier from Granite Mountain lookout
Photo:  Lisa White

In total,  this weekend I gained 8,440 feet in 8.3 miles ... whew!  Time for some stretching and a foot massage! 

Yesterday, Darrin and I climbed up Silver Star mountain in the north Cascades.  It was a beautiful climb, with just the right balance between glacier travel and scrambling.  We ascended via the Burgundy col.

The Burgundy Col is the deep notch in the middle
as seen from the trailhead
Photo:  Lisa White

I was very happy to encounter only three other climbers the whole day,  I was less happy about the endless scree and shifty kitty litter on the descent, but we made it back to the car with just a few scratches and one blood knee.

View from the summit
Photo:  Lisa White

My plans for Manaslu haven't exactly been on hold, but we've been carefully considering whether it still makes sense to go, given the level of destruction from recent earthquakes. 

Since the first and most devastating 7.8 magnitude earthquake near Gorkha on April 25th, there have been over 240 additional, smaller rumbles.  One of which, a 7.3 magnitude on May 12th  was situated near Namche Bazar, closer to Manaslu.  My hesitation to continue the trip was twofold:  I don't want to climb on an unstable mountain and I don't want to be inconsiderate of the local people who are rebuilding their homes and lives.  Making the best decision was complicated by the fact that getting accurate, detailed information from such a remote area is very difficult. 

But, after multiple internet searches and conversations with friends and acquaintances that were in the area during and after the first earthquake, two themes emerged:  climbing Manaslu in August will probably be safe but I need to be flexible in the event that it is unexpectedly not, and that the locals are eager to receive visitors and tourists in order to boost their economy and hasten the rebuilding process. 

So, on Saturday we confirmed our trip, sent a big fat check to our friend Jeff Witt to begin building our team of Sherpa and base camp support, and I started shopping for plane tickets.  

May 26, 2015

After feeling so good last week on Mt. Shasta, I decided to re-join a group of friends climbing the north ridge of Mt. Baker this weekend. 

We had been planning this trip for months, and I was excited to try a technical climb and learn - through the aid of the American Alpine Institute - some ice climbing skills.   I'd even used the climb as an excuse to buy ice tools and screws!  So I was disappointed when cancer seemingly thwarted my plans.  But, early last week I decided that since I had been feeling strong, and hadn't experienced any set-backs in my recovery, I should at least try.  If I felt bad after the approach, I could just stay in camp while the boys went for the summit. I was so glad that I went!  Aside from my legs feeling wobbly under the weight of a 46ish pound pack on the rocky trail leading up the Hogsback, I felt great!  

The weather was warm and dry on Friday afternoon when we started out from the Heliotrope Trailhead, after a couple of hours we had hiked above the tree line to the start of the Coleman Glacier where we made camp.  

Camp on the Coleman Glacier
Photo:  Stephen Coney

After spending several hours on Saturday learning basic ice climbing techniques, I felt ready to give it a try.  We set off for the summit at 2am on Sunday morning, the weather was clear and crisp with just a light wind.  We were hoping for 4 or 5 snow or ice pitches before reaching the summit plateau and strolling casually to the top.  If all went well, we'd be back in our tents before the threat of afternoon thunderstorms.  That's not exactly how it played out.

We climbed for a few hours in the dark on the Coleman Glacier, navigating crevasses in increasingly steep snow.  By the time the sun rose, the angle of the terrain had increased to somewhere between 60 and 70 degrees, and it felt like a good time for some protection.

Above the clouds preparing for the first snow pitch
Photo: Stephen Coney

After a couple of snow pitches, we gained the ridge and the terrain changed.  I looked up at the wall of ice above me and honestly thought that it looked like fun ... type 1 fun.  The first few moves were straightforward, vertical movement.  Then I came to an arete.  Hmmm ... how exactly was I supposed to move myself and this 20 pound pack around the corner?  The ice on the other side of the arete was in the sun, so I guessed that it would be better than the flaky stuff that I was feebly clinging to.  So I gave my right tool a swing in the general direction of the opposing side, and with relief watched its adze reverberate when it struck solid ice.  Somehow I maneuvered myself onto the opposite side.  The ice was; in fact, better, but the angle of the slope was not, and I felt my heart rate increase as I struggled to keep my breathing under control.  I made it to the first belay stance after a few minutes, and kicked my feet wildly into the 70 degree slope in order to make a horizontal platform for them.  So much for type 1 fun.

This routine continued for several pitches that alternated between snow and ice.  And, they did get easier as I got slightly more comfortable with my body's movement.  By the fourth one, I could speak in complete sentences without stopping to catch my breath when I got to  the belay stance.  

Moving up the first ice pitch
Photo:  Dustin Byrne

All smiles after a few pitches!
Photo:  Stephen Coney

About this time, I looked at my watch and realized that six hours had flown by.  We should be close to the summit plateau by now, but by the looks of the terrain in front of me, we were nowhere close.  Although we were moving efficiently, we had to kick steps most of the way on the snow slopes, which slowed our pace.  We had a long way to go.  

When we arrived at what should have been the final ice pitch, it was obvious that a snow bridge had broken recently, and the preferred route was littered with snow and ice debris.  The debris was unstable, so we'd have to find another way around.  

Selecting our route around the debris
Photo:  Stephen Coney

After testing our options, we chose to climb around a corner, which lead to one last snow pitch. This proved to be more difficult than it sounded.  At the base of the corner was powdery snow which didn't easily consolidate into a stable platform for my feet, and the ice on the corner was blue and brittle.  Big, sharp chunks of it sheared off and fell below me just about every time that my tool hit it.

Rounding the corner to the last snow pitch
Photo:  Stephen Coney

We all made it safely around, ascended the last snow pitch, and finally were able to walk upright across the expansive summit plateau onto the summit.

Last pitch!
Photo:  Stephen Coney

Summit!
Photo:  Dustin Byrne

We descended the non-technial Coleman-Deming route in blazing heat and made it back to camp at 3:30, feeling tired, but really good about an exciting day in the mountains.

May 18, 2015
Finally back on a big mountain!  I took advantage of a work trip to San Francisco to spend some time this weekend with friends on Mt. Shasta.  We chose Sargent's Ridge for our approach.  First, we gained about 1,000 feet in the forest, stepping over fallen trees on the soft dirt that was covered with snow just a few weeks ago.  This was the first time since my surgery that I've carried a big pack, and my leg muscles strained occasionally with the added 40 pounds.  I was a bit concerned that the weight and position of the shoulder straps would be painful, and there were a few times that my chest felt sore.  I took a private second during a break to check things out - all looked good, so I pressed on.  

After about two hours we were on Sargent's Ridge - time to focus!  The ridge was mostly snow-covered with occasional rocks that we navigated meticulously.  

Mt. Shasta's Sargent Ridge
Photo:  Darrin White

Between clouds I watched other climbers making their way up the popular Avalanche Gulch.  I was thankful for the solitude on the ridge.  We made our way up 10,500 feet and spent two hours making camp, including a very precise tent platform complete with a retaining rock wall.  

Our meticulous tent platform at 10,500 feet
Photo:  Darrin White

We laid in the tent all night and listened to sleet batter its walls, slowly my hopes of summitting diminished.  At 3 am we downloaded a fresh weather forecast, watched a dozen headlamps descend the Avalanche Gulch and decided reluctantly to go back to sleep.  The forecast called for more precipitation culminating in thunderstorms by the afternoon.  At 7am, we woke to light wind and brilliant blue skies.  Thunderstorms??!

We decided to make the most of a brilliant day in the mountains and took turns belaying one another and descending the sixty degree slopes of the Sargent's Ridge.  It was fun to have time to play in the mountains for a few hours.  

Playing on Sargent's Ridge
Photo:  Darrin White

Overall, I felt great after our climb on Mt. Shasta.  A little sore for sure, but mostly from the weight in my pack, not from surgery.  I feel completely thankful for recovering so quickly and being strong enough to be back in the mountains and climbing with confidence.