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!

Emmons Route Report: June 12

Despite the recent heavy snows, it sounds like the Emmons Route is in good shape, according to the climbing rangers. An excerpt:

"The storm passed and the climbers came out. Over the past few days, the weather turned out to be exceptional. Climbing Rangers climbed the Emmons route on Thursday finding the conditions to be great cramponing with some wind loaded slabs, all of the slabs were easy to avoid and had actually filled in some of the crevasses that were starting to yawn open 2 weeks ago....Overall the Emmons is in excellent shape with great climbing all the way to the summit. With high pressure moving in this week now is a great time to climb."

Happy father's day.

The F45RC1 Mount Rainier Playlist

Living outside of Montpelier, Vermont (with young children) is not conducive to hearing a lot of great new music.

Confession: I say this as I listen to "Classic Rock" radio right now (What is this song? I know it but I can't place it: an instrumental by...Styx or the Electric Light Orchestra?)

Oh! Now they're playing Cheap Trick's "I Want you to Want Me," which can't help but bring a smile to my face. Cheap Trick--with drumwork by one of the best fake-names in rock and roll: Bun E. Carlos.

Erp, even my digressions have digressions.

The point is, you have to work around here to hear any unfamiliar music or even to meet some unfamiliar people. It's a problem.

One solution to this problem is the so-called False 45th Record Club, which basically works like this:

Readers of a locally-written music blog (most of whom are strangers to one another) submit a couple of songs they'd like to share, and these get randomly compiled into a playlist which gets unveiled (and heard) a few days later in the upstairs bar of a local restaurant, at the first meeting of the False 45th Record Club.

And sure, it was a little awkward at first; I didn't know anyone there, unless you count the librarian who used to read the kids books at storytime when Gus was two. But it ended up being a good time. I met some interesting folks, heard some good music, and saw a guy do an impression of my accordion teacher--true small town stuff. Thanks to Brian for cooking the whole thing up (and for the commemorative CDs). I'm looking forward to the next meeting, tentatively scheduled for September.

And with that, I bring you the CureClimb 2008 theme music, courtesy of F45 Record Club #1 (my submissions were songs #11 and #36):