Volcanoes
When I first came to Puget Sound the first sight I saw was Mt Rainer. As we crossed over White Pass in June of 1976, the weather was questionable at best. The image of Mt Rainer that afternoon has been burnt into my memory. It was not peaceful or idyllic; it was an angry, powerful sight with the peak cloaked in layers of clouds, but forever recognizable. The mountain became for me as it is for many others, the touchstone of my life in Seattle.
We had come to Seattle to visit a friend who lived in a third floor apartment. The distinguishing feature of the apartment was its large window facing east, and its wonderful views of the Lake Washington and the Cascades. At the south end of the window there was a chair facing south and next to it on the window sill was a stain from many beer bottles and coffee cups where Dan and eventually we spent hours watching the sunset project onto The Mountain. Even most overcast days allowed for a few minutes of viewing Rainier. When the weather did not allow direct viewing knowing of its presence was comforting and when it shone in sun the experience was electrifying. The dream of climbing that mountain was planted in my mind in those first weeks.
At the top of Capitol Hill in Seattle there is a water tower with a public viewing platform at the top; from here the view of the mountain was breath taking at all hours of the day. That first summer, and for several years after that, I spent many hours up there. As I got to know the mountains better I could see other peaks particularly some of the other volcanoes of the Cascades. On good clear days Mt Baker is easily distinguished; with practice Glacier Peak and Mt. St. Helens became discernable. I would go to the water tower or other view points and gaze on the peaks whenever possible. Seeing them was a comfort to my soul.
When I returned to Seattle to live, the idea of climbing Rainier slowly began to be less of a pipe dream and took on a cloak of reality. Unlike my hiking adventures, climbing a mountain such as Rainier was serious business requiring at least one other person and knowledge of how to handle a climbing rope. I signed up for a climbing course in the spring of 1979, but was injured at work so that I could not complete the class. Later that summer a house guest who had experience climbing Popocatépetl and Ixtaccíhuatl (Two large Mexican Volcanoes) wanted to try to climb Rainier. I jumped at the opportunity. We hiked to Camp Muir and made two attempts for the summit. Both of these failed due to bad weather. I did become exposed to what it was like to be up on the ice and how bad the weather could be high up on the mountain. Imagine snow, lightning, and thunder in the fog… in the dark… Gun Powder and Ozone…
That next winter I learned the necessary techniques to travel on steep
ice, handle a rope, and how to cope with crevasses. That next spring I
climbed Mt Hood. This climb set the pattern for climbing these fire
mountains. The day before, we climbed a good ways up the mountain and
camped in the snow, ate a decent meal, watched an amazing sunset, rose long before
the sunrise and climbed in the dark with the aid of head lamps.
Climbing Mt Hood is by no means a solitary affair. It is the most climbed of all the Cascade Volcanoes with literally hundreds of people climbing it each weekend. That weekend there were continuous rope teams on final pitch to the summit. At the top our group of five was among several dozen at the top.
The
day was May 18, 1980, this is a day forever etched into the minds of anyone
living in the region at that time. It was the day that Mt St. Helens
Exploded. We spent awhile looking at the malignant bulge that had formed
on its north side, and after about a half hour we made our way back down.
We did not see or hear the cataclysm; we were on our way down, we were 
greeted by skiers at the top of the upper ski lift
asking if we had seen St. Helens “toss her cookies.” Alas we did not.
St Helens remained in continuous eruption most all day. We had climbed Mt. Hood on the south side and could not see it, but as we drove towards Portland that awesome sight became visible to the north of us. Even before we could see the ash plume the ash had changed the colour of the sky. There was a high overcast that day and instead of the normal blue tint to the cloud layer the cloud had taken on a warm to neutral tint. We had noticed this almost immediately when found out what had happened.
Our return to Seattle was no ordinary trip up I-5. During the drive from Portland to Seattle, we almost did not make it across the Toutle River. The river’s head waters were at Sprit Lake in the middle of the blast zone and had literal been blown out of it bed to a new location. Millions of tons of mud, ash and debris came roaring down the valley. By the time we got to the interstate crossing it was closed. We detoured into a town and just got across the river as that bridge was being closed down. A short time later we stopped at a high point and looked east at the eruption again going at full roar. It was a sight that I never will forget. There was no colour to it, there was no sound. The entire top and north side had been ripped off of the mountain and replaced by a roiling mass of cloud and ash. As in the canyon, years before I was humbled and shook with the power presented to me. The after effects of the eruption were vast. The most obvious for me was the inability to ever climb St. Helens. The ash and mud flows can still be seen in the region. The ash can be easily seen as a dark stripe in the glaciers of Mt. Rainier. The next year on Mt Adams I found the normally reddish soil was tinted grey by the ash.
That July I went to visit a friend who employed as a back country ranger on the Northeast side of Rainier. During that week we spent a day traveling across the Carbon Glacier. The terrain that we traveled across was relatively easy, but the scene was spectacular. Above us was the fabled north face of Mt Rainier, including the Willis Wall and Liberty Ridge. The edges of the Carbon Glacier were at the bottom of substantial cliff faces themselves. In order to reach the glacier we had to traverse across on them. The most unusual site however was a small melt water pond on top of the ice and fern. It was no more than 100 feet across and was a beautiful blue–green colour..
At the end of that week we attempted to climb the mountain via the Emmons Glacier. This glacier is the largest piece of ice in the lower 48 states. It covers most of the east flank of Rainier. It is one of the two “easy” routes up the mountain. Following the pattern set on Mt Hood we hiked up the valley to a small ice field inside the “Plough” a chevron like ridge dividing the lower Emmons from the Winthrop Glacier. The route then had us drop down onto the Emmons Glacier and proceed to our night’s destination – Camp Schurman Elev. 9400’ Rising before dawn we made our way up the mountain following a well worn tread Just below the summit we noticed a lenticular cloud hovering to the north of the summit and its sister on the summit. We pressed on reaching the crater rim around mid morning. The conditions on the summit were very different than what we had seen on the way up. The wind howled and was quite cold; the visibility was very restricted. The actual summit was a couple of thousand feet further around the crater rim. The conditions were such that any thoughts of try to sign the summit registry were abandoned. After a rest we began the retreat down the mountain. The trip up had been a long slow slog; the trip down was a fast romp. Truth be told we probably were going too fast, but unlike one other unlucky climber that day, who suffered a broken leg, we made it to our camp safely. After breaking camp we traveled further down the ice back to the blessed green alpine meadows. I never appreciated the lushness of the meadows as I did that afternoon. The word of Rock and Ice holds a special place in my heart, but returning to the joyous green was even nicer.
Well, I had made it; I had climbed to the top of Mt. Rainier – close enough to say I had anyway. It was to some degree anti–climatic. The route we chose was too easy in some ways. It was just a broad ice field with a few crevasses to contend with. Still I had made it. At that point I felt able to lead a climb and not just follow another.
The next summer saw me possessing all of the prerequisite
equipment, rope, crampons, head lamps, etc., and I was able to offer to take others
up a mountain. The climbing season started on Mt. Adams with a bunch of
skiing friends. This mountain offers few technical challenges, indeed the
route up the mountain follows an old mule trail that was used to bring down
sulfur that was mined at one time from the summit. 
It was just a
very long slow slog up a very wet snow field with the sun at your back. The
position of the sun caused me to get sunburn in the most odd places – the
bottom and inside of my nose and under my chin. After five or six hours
from our camp at tree line we made it to top. At the top we were greeted
with a wonderful view of the southern cascades and, of course Mt. Rainier. St
Helens was also prominent. She sat there – what once was a peak that had
been described by the native tribes in terms of lovely young maiden, was
transformed into a hag. During our ascent she did puff a perfect smoke
ring for us. We then turned around for the long slide down the
mountain. I slide down using a sitting glissade – using my Ice Ax to
control my descent, and wearing my new jeans down to a very white “full moon”
seat. I did notice that the snow tended to slide down my track after me
and hit me in the back when I stopped. That night we ate a good meal,
sharing wine bought at a winery we visited on the Columbia as we drove to the
trail head.
A friend from work expressed a desire to try climbing so a few weeks later we attempted to climb Mt Daniels I had climbed it a week or two before with a group of mountaineers, but the route we chose was a more difficult traverse from the north side to the south side. We got a late start and ran into a very large scree field that delayed us even further. We had to abandon the summit and retreat using an escape route mentioned in Becky’s guide. It went well until the end where we came to cliff with no way around it. I taught my fiend how to rappel while we were hanging on the side of the cliff unsure if the rope even had made it to the bottom. I gave Ed most of my hardware, and I used the bare minimum. Fortunately the rope was more than long enough and we both made it down to the crest trail safely and thence to Ed’s car. All was well except for the car trouble we had returning from the pass.
Two weeks later the two of us attempted Mt. Rainier. This time we would use the other standard route – Camp Muir and Disappointment Cleaver. This route after an approach beginning at Paradise, begins at Camp Muir at 10,000’ crosses the Ingraham Glacier then runs up the back of Disappointment Cleaver (a long spine of rock above the ice) then climbs the summit ice dome. This route is more challenging than the Emmons Route I used the previous year. It is also more heavily traveled due to easier access and its use by the commercial guide service.
We
arrived at Paradise mid morning Saturday and received our permit and began the
climb to Camp Muir. This part of the trip is more or less like most any
other hike in the cascades except that the last third is over permanent snow
fields. We arrived at the camp mid to late afternoon. The camp is a
unique place. 
Most everyone there is there for a summit attempt and while
the accommodations are primitive one feels privileged to be there. The
common goal is evident in all that stay there. We ate an early hearty
supper and tried unsuccessfully to get a few hours of sleep. Rising at
Midnight we dressed and ate a quick breakfast, punctuated with a cup of hot
Jell-O. We then roped up and began our trip to the summit.
We were by no means alone there were at least a hundred others (including the commercial attempts) so it was congested as we attempted to get underway. Even so the excitement was palpable. While we shuffled along the gravel covered ice, in the dark, descending down to the Ingraham Glacier sparks would fly off of people’s crampons (metal spikes strapped to our boots – for traction on the ice) Between the sparks and the excitement – GUN POWDER AND OZONE.
The traverse across the Ingraham was easy until we reached the other side where the pace slowed as others ahead climbed up Disappointment Cleaver. This forced us to stop and wait among immense blocks of ice that was the scene of a tragedy a month earlier when those block fell and killed several climbers who were similarly waiting to climb the cleaver. The mount extracts its price for allowing one to be there…
Once it was our turn to climb the cleaver we made short work of the 1200 foot ascent. At the top was a relatively flat spot that afforded a breather and tremendous views. We slogged across to the summit dome. At the dome the grade picked up again and we began the final approach.
There was one last obstacle to overcome before reaching the summit plateau – the Bergschurnd. This is a large and deep crevasse that forms at the boundary of the unmoving ice at the top and the ice on the side of the
mountain flowing down its 
slope. When we got to it, there was another small
party that was stopped by it. The leader (the group's father) did not
have the skills necessary to get them over it safely. I volunteered to
help them. Ed belayed me across the steeply sloping ice bridge. When
I was on the other side I belayed him and then the others safely across the ice
bridge. From here the going was easy, except for the fact that we were now
above 13,000 feet and the breathing was hard. About an hour later we were
at the crater rim. Unlike the previous year’s trip the weather was perfect.
There was little wind and there were no clouds what so ever. After a rest
we went across the crater to the other side where the actual summit was and
found the summit registry. I wrote “finally”; my goal established that
first week in Seattle had been fully reached.
The descent was slower this time and had it hazards. As we were crossing the Ingraham after descending the cleaver we ran into the same party that we assisted over the bergschurnd. One of their party had fallen into the randkluft (the crack between the edge of the ice and cleaver.) After a while we were able to dig him out and we shortly arrived at Camp Muir to pick up the rest of our gear and return home. Exhausted and with some trepidation about the dangers the route still held for the exhausted, we made our way to Paradise for the return to Seattle.
Once again I was filled with confidence in my competence. I had successfully guided not only my party of two, but another party who needed help to reach the summit, I had also completely reached my goal of the summit of Mt Rainier. At the time I thought that, I might again be back there, but the summit itself would never be my personal goal.
Several weeks later Mt Baker came into my sights. This time, my partner was a friend who was a bartender from the local tavern. Following the typical pattern we set out Saturday morning and climbed to a base camp at the bottom of the Coleman Glacier that afternoon. After setting up camp I showed Dave more of how to handle an Ice Ax. We then ate supper and rested for the attempted early in the morning. We woke up around three o’clock or so and found the weather to be horrible. There were strong winds and rain. After snoozing for an hour the weather improved sufficiently for the attempt. We roped up and began the climb.
The route up Baker climbs the Colman Glacier to the base of the Black Buttes then turn left to a pass between them and the Roman Wall – a very steep portion of the Deming Glacier that drops from the summit. We were climbing at the very tail end of the summer and most of the Colman Glacier was bare of snow. Without crampons this would have been extremely hazardous due the lack of traction, but for us, with our crampons, it was easy going. There was plenty of snow (firn) at the base of the buttes and beyond to assist us on the steep parts. Mid–morning found us climbing the Roman Wall. This pitch was more than I expected, but we made it up with few problems. Finding the summit and the registry box we stopped, rested, and ate some lunch. The weather was good with some sun, little wind, and many clouds playing peek-a-boo with the surrounding North Cascades. The best views were to the south and Twin Sisters Mountain. These peaks are unusual because of their green colour, from the Olivine rock that they are made of. We did get a glimpse of Mt. Shucksan to the northeast however. The crater of Baker was below and east–southeast of us, and it gave off a heady stench of hydrogen sulfide. The odor wafted over us the whole time we were at the summit.
The decent was not without incident. About 1/3 the way down the Roman Wall, Dave slipped and fell. I was above him and saw the whole thing and he was quite surprised to see me down on the snow in self arrest position as he got up to continue the descent. At the base of the wall we almost started to go down the wrong side of the buttes. This would have been disastrous, however I caught the mistake and we corrected ourselves before we got any distance at all. We were back at our camp by mid afternoon. We stopped and ate out of my emergency rations – Sardines and Raman Noodles plus some Jelly Beans. After a good rest we made our way down to the car and returned to Seattle. This would be my last summit.