June 24 - 25, 2006
We reached the summit at 6:25 am on Sunday morning, June 25, 2006. After 15 hours of climbing over the course of one and a half days, I was in shock as I walked up the last few steps to the entrance of the crater- literally shaking and blinking back tears. Until the moment I reached the summit, I never quite believed I'd be able to make it. After months of training and a crash course in mountaineering, I wondered if I really was prepared to take on the most extensively glaciated volcanic peak in the continental United States. I knew people who had attempted the summit multiple times, and never been successful in reaching the top. What would make me different?
Starting from the beginning:
The week before the climb, I worried about all these things to no end. One day before it was time to head to the mountain, I stopped worrying. I'd done everything to prepare for the climb I could. I had trained as much as my body would let me. I had memorized and practiced everything the guides taught me in our one-day climbing school on June 19th. That was all I could take to the mountain, my best effort. So, I finally relaxed and just let the excitement of heading out flow through. 
As we headed out in the van from the Whitaker Bunkhouse in Ashford towards Paradise, most of us were just excited about what we were about to do. We divided into groups and started trekking through the snowfields at about 9:00 am. I was in Group A, which consisted of Phil Pletcher, Summit Challenge Founder and our group leader, Mark Miles, Mikki, Jackie, Jordan, Phillip, Jonathan and Dennis, two climbers from Chicago, and myself. Nine climbers in total, and three RMI guides: Casey, who was lead guide, Andy, and Amanda. 
Saturday- Getting to Muir:
Trekking through the snowfields towards our halfway point, (Camp Muir), was not extremely difficult, even with a 35 pound pack on. We'd go straight uphill for about an hour, break for 10 or 15 minutes, and treck for an hour again. It wasn't altogether too different from the workouts I'd been doing, other than we did this for about five hours. With breaks and focus, it's a good hike.
Casey explained that this area is where more people get lost and hurt- in the snowfields on the way to Camp Muir. On bad weather days, with low visibility and no navigation tools, people get lost and freeze. We didn't experience any of this, since we had navigation tools, and were hiking on the warmest weekend of the year. We reached Muir at about 4:30 pm. 
The elevation was 10,100 feet. 
After we had water and a chance to put our sleeping bags in the bunkhouse, Group A met to discuss rope teams for the next day. Phil and the two from Chicago were on one team, lead by Casey (who was making his 96th summit with us). Andy led Jordan, Philip, and Mark. Amanda (about to make her 14th summit with us) led Mikki, Jackie, and myself. RMI brought us hot water for dinner, we ate, got our gear situated for the next day and then tried to lie down and sleep.
We knew we'd be getting up at about 11:00 pm to leave for the summit. I laid down at about 7:30 pm, and fell asleep. I woke at 8:30 pm with an altitude headache and fast heart rate. I laid down again, trying to get to sleep for an hour and a half or so, and finally did. One hour later, the guides came into the bunkhouse and woke us- so much for sleep. My headache was gone, and I didn't feel anything like that for the rest of the trip. 
Leaving Muir:
We hurried to get ready from the time we woke up at 11:00 pm. We had one hour to eat, dress, get a gear recommendation from RMI, pack out a bag for the summit climb, check our cramp ons, and rope in. This hour went by fast, and we were off in the dark. The rope team was Amanda, the guide, in front, followed by Mikki, Jackie, and then me.
It was really warm, even at 12:00 am when we headed out of Muir. I was wearing climbing pants that were as thin as yoga pants, and one long sleeve T. This is pretty much unheard of on this mountain. Even with these light layers and no sun out, I was really hot within a few minutes of climbing. Because of the warmth, the guides were intent on making perfect time. If we were making our decent too late in the day, the snow would be warm and the danger of icefall, rockslides, and avalanches would increase.
The Cleaver:
We went through snowfields of the Ingraham Flats, passing the Cowlitz Glacier in the dark. After the first break, we headed towards Disappointment Cleaver, or "the Cleaver."
The Cleaver is a vertical ledge of crumbling rock continuing 300 ft above Ingraham Flats. Icefall from the Ingraham Glacier is a danger when accessing the first part of the Cleaver. This extremely dangerous area also has a high potential for rockfall. These conditions intensify with warmer afternoon temperatures, again, intensifying our reason for making way to the top as quickly as possible.
Making it through the Cleaver was very tough. It was completely dark, and I could only see a three foot area in front of me lit by my headlamp. At times, I was using my hand, ice ax, and feet to move forward, moving around crevasses and rocky areas step by step. The ground was completely dark, but the sky had the brightest stars and Milky Way I'd ever seen, and I was taking it all in while clinging for my life to a completely vertical slope. It was scary, amazing and beautiful at the same time.
Breaking point:
When we reached the top of the Cleaver, we climbed for about five more minutes, and then stopped on an open plain at 12,300 feet. We were atop the 300-foot cliff. Above us loomed 2,111 feet of unknown vertical territory. The sun was not yet coming up, but you could see it about to rise in the east, to our right.
I threw off my pack and got out my down parka as quickly as I could, but not before the wind and altitude caught me. It felt like someone grabbed my shoulders and was violently shaking me as hard as they could. It wasn't like teeth-chattering cold, but a core shaking cold, making me feel out of control. I zipped up my parka and tried to move to stay warm. 
The only way to do this was to stay moving.
While this was happening, it was decided that Jackie from my rope team wouldn't continue on with us. Amanda was asking the rope team members how we felt. I was ready to go on, just cold, overwhelmed, and a little bit worried. Jackie would wait for another rope team coming over the edge of the bluff. She'd then make the journey back down to Camp Muir with another climber and a guide from that rope team.
Watching Amanda un-harness our teammate and radio in her status was difficult. I started to wonder if I was making the right decision to go on.
Above, far left, Amanda zips Jackie in a sleeping bag at 12,300 feet to keep her warm as she waited for the decending team to go down with her.
I knew I had it in me to finish, and there was no way to say I didn't. Realizing this was actually hardest to deal with, because I knew all at once that there was no turning back.
I knew for the first time I was finishing, but finishing what? I couldn't see a thing in front of me. I had no idea what was ahead. I was happy and freezing and terrified and elated all at the same time. It was just too many conflicting emotions all at once. So, I cried for about two seconds, and then I got over it. It's amazing what a little cry can do. Then, I was laughing and happy, and ready to roll up the Ingraham Glacier.
Ingraham Glacier to the summit:
The next part is hard to remember. It's kind of a blur of putting one foot in front of the other, a thousand times over. 
I wouldn't let myself look up at the mountain because it was too much to comprehend;
I wouldn't look down because it was discouraging how slow our progress seemed. I could only stay focused and motivated if I looked exactly at the next step I needed to take.
At one point, I remember looking to my right as I was climbing and seeing a sliver of the giant hot pink sun come up over the foothills. I'd take a few more steps and look over my shoulder and it was up a little more. Five more steps and it was up all the way, and the sky was lit. A sunrise from 13,000 plus feet is something you never forget.
At our last break before the summit, at 13,500, we were happy and ready. The sun was up, and we were pretty hot. We took some photos and just relaxed on our 10-minute break. I didn't feel scared or tired at all. 
From the last break we had an hour left. We just gutted it out and made it to the top. I think I had more adrenaline running through my veins at this point, because Amanda kept yelling for me to slow down and stop. Mikki was an awesome team member. Every step she took was in line with Amanda and right on time.
The Summit:
As we were making it in the last 10 minutes, I was feeling sick from the altitude and kept backsliding in the warming snow. I felt like I'd never make it into that crater. When we finally walked over the rim, about 5 minutes behind the second rope team in Group A, I was in total disbelief. Ok, yes, I was crying. I just sat on my backpack for a few minutes and took it in.
We got food, water and sunscreen. The rest of the group walked over to the registry (below right, Phillip signing the climbers registry) at one side of the crater rim, and I stayed put for a few minutes with Andy. 
Then Andy and I walked over to the South Eastern side of the crater rim, and onto the outside edge. We took some photos (below) and looked at the view. As we were walking back into the crater, my entire leg fell into a volcanic steam hole. 
From the outside of the volcanic crater, I could see Mt. Baker, Glacier Peak and Mt. Hood, all the way into Oregon as clear as if this was 50 miles away. We were above the horizon, which is something you've probably seen before from a plane. It feels totally different when you are out in the open, looking down on the horizon, and you know your own legs took you there.
Physical stuff:
Altitude wasn't bothering me too much, except for the air issues. I expected it to feel like my lungs were being squeezed, but I didn't feel any of that. Instead, it was like normal breathing just wasn't getting the job done. I would take a deep breath, and immediately need more air.
Basically every other breath from the top of the Cleaver had been a "pressure breath," which is a forced exhale, creating a vacuum in your lungs that sucks in air, filling your whole lung space with no effort on the inhale. After our last break, every breath I took while moving was a pressure breath- it was the only way to get enough oxygen and avoid nausea. It worked well for me, and I never felt unable to cope with the altitude.
The way down:
The decent was hard. The snow was melting, and our feet were sinking. Getting down to break at the top of the Cleaver was slippery and tough, not as much fun as the way up.
Descending the Cleaver was basically the scariest thing I have ever physically put myself through. Mikki and I were slipping a lot. Amanda even slipped a couple of times. We were holding on to a rope handrail put in by RMI guides, but other climbers were accending on the rope as we were descending, and this complicated the already messy situation.
Because of all this, we were about a half an hour late making it out of the Cleaver and past a rockfall area that Amanda called the Bowling Alley. "We're the pins," she informed us. It took me a second to realize what she meant.
We were down into the Ingraham Flats, and almost back to Camp Muir when I managed to get sunscreen in my eyes, and made it the last hour down to Muir with one eye open. Not fun.
The decent from Muir to Paradise was not any better for me. The downhill movement and heavy plunge step we had to take to clear the melting snow aggravated my hips, where I have Bursitis, and each step felt like a knife gouging out my tissue- actually, this feeling was the bone pressing against my inflamed tissue. Gross, I know, but this is a blog, and I get to share all the gory details. I was slow on the way down, as I pretty much had no control over my legs. When I saw the parking lot, it was a huge relief. My adventure was over, and I'd made it.
Back from the climb for two full days, I am so happy I did this! This has been a way for me to honor the memory of my grandfather, and acheive an amazing goal at the same time. We raised more scholarship money than ever for SPU, and this is something we are also really proud of.
artnering for something in the Spring of 2007. Can't wait to get back up there!
