Until We Meet Again....

It's time to put this site on hiatus, pending another climb or another climber. Until that time, my even more random this-and-that can be found at Memory Pebble.

I certainly have not forgotten the mountain....

Camp Schurman (Resting Up)

Camp Schurman (Resting Up)

Camp Schurman (Resting Up)

On to Camp Schurman

After dropping from Camp Curtis to the Emmons glacier (circumventing and stepping over crevasses for the first time), we followed the Montanans up to Camp Schurman. Along the way, it started to snow....





After some unpleasant standing around in the wet snowfall, we pitched our tents and settled in. This would be home for the next few days.

Bob and Rob's camp:



John's camp:



We tried to be perky and glad. But the truth is, it was a hard, hard day.

Brief Rest at Camp Curtis

After the endless climb up the Interglacier, it was great to look over the far side of the ridge to look down on the flowing, crevassed Emmons glacier.







Looking back down the ridge: John, Bob, the Camp Curtis tent sites, Mount Ruth, and the lower Emmons. We had ascended the Interglacier from the left.

Conquer Childhood Cancer Act to Become Law

From the CureSearch Blog, Tuesday, July 29, 2008:

We did it! YOU did it! After years of relentless effort by so many in the childhood cancer community, including thousands of Congressional visits, and tens of thousands of letters, calls and emails to our nation’s leaders, the Caroline Pryce Walker Conquer Childhood Cancer Act has become law! You, the nation’s “champions for a cure,” deserve so much credit for this remarkable achievement.

Full story here.

Camp Curtis: Brief Rest

Between Glacier Basin Camp and Camp Schurman lies bare-bones Camp Curtis (not that anyone was camped there), on the ridge above Glacier Basin and the Emmons Glacier beyond. We stopped here briefly before dropping down to the Emmons and then climbing up to Camp Schurman.

These guys were Montanans, on their way to Camp Schurman and beyond, and we graciously allowed them to pass us by at this point. "We're dumb," they said, "But we're good at carrying stuff."

The mountain waited in the clouds.

Climbing the Interglacier

Urgh.



Well, Bob was still smiling.



More Urgh.

Moraine, Glacier Basin

After waking on Day Two, we left Glacier Basin Camp and headed up into Glacier Basin proper, leaving behind the evergreen trees to hike up the moraine seen below, climb some relatively gentle snowfields, then roping up to climb the Interglacier itself--a long trudge with 60-pound packs--to the ridge that connects Steamboat Prow to Mount Ruth.

Sunday Evening at Glacier Basin Camp

Little Tahoma:



Rainier behind the ridge:

Looking Fresh and Happy

...on the way to Glacier Basin Camp.



I was already grimacing after the first mile or two carrying that 60-lb pack. Why did these guys look so chipper?



See all our pictures (and a couple of videos) here.

Glimpse of the Mountain

On the trail to Glacier Basin Camp, where we spent the first night, we caught a glimpse of Rainier (hanging glaciers at the top of the Willis Wall), roughly 9,000 vertical feet above us.


See all our pictures (and a couple of videos) here.

Sample Rainier Pictures: Happy and Innocent

Rob, Bob, and John leave the parking lot before the easy stroll up Mt. Rainier. Sixty-pound packs merely add to the joy.

See all our pictures (and a couple of videos) here.

Closer to Sea Level

I knew climbing Mount Rainier would be hard. But jeez.

Thank you to everyone who donated for the cause, prayed for us, lit candles for us, gave us talismen of strength and union. Surreal as it seems at this point, we made it to the top.

Then we simply had to find the strength to get back down.

I'm still kind of speechless about it all, but will write some words about this adventure when I can. Many, many pictures are on the way too. Best. -R

Bob and Rob on the Summit

On the summit, after 8 hours of climbing. Four hours of down-climbing to come....

Photo by John.

(More Pictures soon)

Climb Note

Plaque at Camp Schurman, elevation ~9600 ft:

Into a cloud sea far below
I lonely watched the red sun go.
Then turning, miracle of glad surprise
Enchanted saw the full moon rise.

-G. E. Schurman

...Which is another way of saying:

Made it to the summit Thursday, 6/26, at 10:30AM, after 8 hours of climbing.

Egad.

Rough Itinerary

Here's a quick and dirty itinerary. The summit attempt will most like be made either Wednesday or Thursday. But Tuesday or Friday are also possibilities. A lot depends on the weather. Map images below can be seen larger by clicking on them.

• -(Rob Flies to Seattle Thursday 6/19)
• -Sunday afternoon (6/22): Drive to mountain, hike from White River Ranger Station (4400') to Glacier Basin (6,000').
• -Monday (6/23): rope up and climb the Inter Glacier from Glacier Basin, over the South side of Steamboat Prow (at 9,000'), drop down to the Emmons Glacier, climb to Camp Schurman (9,500'), where we'll spend the night Monday. Note that the Camp Curtis "campground" noted on the map is actually not much more than a rocky area on the southern ridge of Steamboat prow.
• -Tuesday (6/24): Climb a few hundred vertical feet to a spot on the glacier called Emmons Flats. This crude (and not very flat) location will be our base camp for the rest of the journey. Most likely we will spend Tuesday practicing rescue techniques, strategizing, and getting used to the altitude.
• -Summit attempt(s) will be up-and-back from Emmons flats, probably leaving camp at 1AM or 2AM. It will take an estimated 7-9 hours to reach the summit, 3-4 hours to descend back to camp. A LONG day.
• -One web site describes the route this way: "From Emmons Flats, ascend the glacier to "the Corridor," a prominent glacial feature that rises higher than the rest of the Emmons. Access the Corridor from 10,000 ft to 10,300 ft depending on the year. The Corridor tops out at 11,200 ft. At this point, the route becomes steeper (30 to 40 degrees) and will take a variety of directions depending on the year, glacier movement and snowfall. It is not uncommon to traverse over on the Winthrop and ascend its shoulder to the Bergschrund. This crevasse is the usually the highest on the mountain and may involve down climbing and belays to cross. Frequently it can be circumnavigated however there have been times when climbers traversed around to the Disappointment Clever route. Access the crater rim at 14,250 ft. It's a short southwesterly walk from here to the true summit and climber register."
  

The Mountain is Out (Again)

Click above image for (much) larger version (Flickr photo by Stephbu).

To have a look at the general view of our climbing route from Camp Schurman at Steamboat Prow to the summit, GO HERE and hold your mouse over the image to display landmarks.

Years ago (when The Kingdome still existed), Seattleite Bruce Barcott wrote an homage to Mount Rainier that tried to capture its mystique. I'm not sure that it does, completely, but it comes close (excerpt):

When it rises like a misshapen moon over downtown Seattle, the mountain entrances me, arrests my attention, and rouses my imagination; it makes me weave on wet highways.

On early mornings Rainier wakes above siesta-rate motels on Highway 99, above the waterfront's dromedary cranes and the grey dimple of the Kingdome, above the Space Needle and the Columbia Tower and Tokyo-bound 747s and everything that lives and everything that doesn't, as far as the eye can see. Rainier wakes higher than most of the air we breathe. The sight of it has nearly killed me. More than once its spell has been broken by the headlights of an oncoming car bearing down on my southbound self speeding along the northbound lane. The mountain never appears in the same place with the same face twice. It possesses a Cheshire talent for appearing and disappearing at will. From the highest hill it may lie shrouded in mist, only to show itself an hour later from the middle of Puget Sound. People who have lived in the Pacific Northwest all their lives still stop and stare when Rainier reveals itself. The moment crackles with the thrill of Nature being caught unaware, like seeing an eagle snatch a sockeye from the Sound. On clear winter days the Olympic and Cascade mountains flank the trough of Puget Sound like a fence of whitecapped waves. We've got mountains like Iowa's got flat. And yet the local vernacular admits only one "Mountain," and when Rainier rises we tell each other, "The Mountain is out." Mount Rainier is at once the most public symbol of the Pacific Northwest and its most sacred private icon. A friend once disclosed that she says a prayer whenever she sees it. A stranger I met on its high southern flank told me, "You must love this mountain as much as I do," but his reverent tone of voice told me I couldn't. Lou Whittaker, who has climbed Rainier more than one hundred fifty times, told me about returning home from a Himalayan expedition and catching sight of the mountain and feeling it snap his breath clean away.

Like rain and rivers and trees, the mountain is a continuous presence in our lives, but in our psychological landscape it occupies a place separate and greater than the forests and falling water. We look at Rainier and feel love for a mountain, if such a thing is possible. The mountain inspires in us a feeling akin to spiritual awe: reverence, adoration, humility. We look at Rainier and regard the vastness of God; yet we look at it and claim it as our own. This strange relationship we have with the mountain is romantic, uninformed, even presumptuous. Rainier is a mountain few of us know.

"The Mountain is Out," By Bruce Barcott (complete version)


[Flickr photo by mraaronmorris]

Today's Normal

I've been thinking a lot lately about what "normal" used to be in our lives, and how it compares to today's normal.

To say something I've said before: Fergus' treatment was relatively straightforward and free of "complications" (as they are euphemistically called). And the worst part of the last 11 months (off treatment) has been the paranoia and neuroses that sometimes creep in to life. All in all, though, this has been relatively smooth sailing. Today's normal is certainly not the same as pre-leukemia normal, but we've done okay. And we are grateful that the last 11 months have been "event-free" (to use another cancer-world euphemism).

I was touched recently by a Listserv posting by a mother whose son finished treatment for Neuroblastoma several years ago. You can tell their road has been hard, even post-treatment, but there is grace in their approach to life now, and I am grateful for their example. At the same time, it's telling that nearly a decade after her son finished treatment, she turns to other cancer families to partake of "the aftertaste of treatment." It's a reminder of the war-like nature of cancer treatment; when it's over, we all gather at the VFW hall for a cheap drink and a smoke. And commiserate with the ones who understand.

I'll quote Mary Beth's post in its entirety (with her permission):

To: PED-ONC-SURVIVORS@LISTSERV.ACOR.ORG
Sent: Thu, 5 Jun 2008 7:12 am
Subject: Re: [PED-ONC-SURV] Life after treatment ??

Good Morning Fran,

I also wanted to share my congrats because it is
such a miracle to get to that point one is "off
treatment." My son is a neuroblastoma survivor and
we had so many side effect issues once he was off
treatment, that treatment simply adjusted to those
things. It took two years before those symptoms
subsided. Or maybe I should say "settled out." We
have lasting effects. He has mod-to-severe hearing
loss, he has only one kidney, he still only eats a
very bland diet. He experiences horrible migraine
clusters. That is the way it is - our normal. Off
treatment for us was eight years ago. Josh's body
has changed, has matured, and the chemo shows its
effects. He's entered puberty early. New thyroid
concerns have revealed themselves. His hearing loss
has become active again and he is losing slightly
more hearing. These types of side effects are both
a trumpet and a whisper to me. They are issues that
seem unfair to a sweet boy who already has endured
so much. And he is mature enough to be angry,
depressed, frustrated with it all. He is a young
boy trying to make sense of all that is happening to
him. And the emotions sometimes become intense.
But.....it is all a whisper to the sweet melody of
living with him. Back in treatment, our onc told us
not to worry about side effects as one has to be
alive to have them. And we are gifted this
incredible miracle of still having Josh with us. He
is a light in this world who has some incredible
living to do. And he does it, with the wisdom that
seems to be of someone 80. His spirituality, his
maturity, his sensitivity, his idealism is
mesmerizing. He inspires adults that we know who
battle their own medical issues, and roots them on
saying "If I can do it, so can you!" Life is
sharper after treatment, more intense, more
brilliant. We treasure it all: the blues of the
sky, the butterflys, the fireflies, the soccer games
the time on the beach with friends. Cancer took
with it the worries/concerns/anxiety of normal life
with it. It has left us with a strong connection to
what living is really all about. For better or for
worse. The aches of treatment for me haven't
disappeared, but they are packed away and only
resurrect once in awhile. But they are softened by
the wonder of today and what the day's glory will
bring.

It is lists such as this one that I find the added
peace of being with those who understand. My
friends and family are a wonderful support, but for
them so much of this is behind them. It is this
group that understands the aftertaste of treatment.

Wishing your granddaughter and your family healing
for all you have endured, and good health for many
years to come.

Mary Beth
Mother of Josh, 1/99 dx NBIII, 8/99 NED to present!