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Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part II

04 Saturday Aug 2018

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

≈ 4 Comments

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Adventure Sports, Climbing, Mountaineering, Mountains, Personal

Rainier – taken at sunset from Camp Schurman

In January of this year, I had been made an offer to join a wealth management practice in the bay area and assumed I would be moving to Oakland around May or June.  As such, I decided I had to have another go at Rainier before I officially had been away so long that Seattle didn’t feel like home anymore.

I signed up for the Peaks of Life All Women’s climb of Rainier via the Emmons route, July 21-22, 2018.

I spent the first 3 months of this year traveling around West Africa and I certainly didn’t get much exercise.  I started training for this climb in April, but more seriously starting in June – getting in at least one or two 3-4000 feet of gain hikes each week as well as cross-training at the gym.  The opportunity in Northern California fell through, and I was struggling to decide what to do next with my career.  As such, training was hard and the stress of looking for work made me question whether I had the physical and mental stamina to go through with the climb, and whether I was going to be able to fundraise enough $$ to hit my goal (especially since things were financially tough not working.)

All this stress began to take its toll, but I pressed on and managed to get close to reaching my target fundraising goal and felt relatively and adequately physically prepared for the climb.

The “before” picture of our Peaks of Life All Women’s climb (including honorary woman, Forrest, replete in his dress)

What about mentally?  For me, time spent in the mountains can be very contemplative and almost meditative.  But it can also be additionally difficult to concentrate and focus when there are lots of emotional obstacles in life to contend with at the same time.

It was during this difficult time of transition in my life that the week of the climb began to approach, and along with my trepidation about being ready or not came the anxiety fed by memories of three previously unsuccessful summit attempts.

If that weren’t enough, the climbing rangers put out reports the week of the 17th of July that suggested the route was getting broken up, that navigation had become far more difficult, that running belays might be necessary through a re-route that would make the journey through the Emmons much steeper and more of an intermediate climb for teams.  I distinctly remember feeling quite alarmed when I read that the route presented the potential for “team-eating snow bridge collapse”.

That didn’t sound good.

The 3 climbers and the 2 leads from Peaks of Life – Forrest Barker (Brooke was unfortunately, taken sick) and Eve Jakubowski gathered over dinner at the Himalayan restaurant on the Thursday before the climb to discuss options.  Personally, I wanted to delay the climb by a day and do the DC route on Sunday through Monday when we might have a shot of getting a walk-up permit.  Kara was able to follow through with that plan, but Christina couldn’t take the day off.

Forrest rocking his dress and signature helicopter hat

Forrest assured us that the weather forecast looked really good and that simply put, if we still wanted to do the Emmons together, he felt confident that he would be able to guide us through it and set protection along the way where necessary.  You could see the gleam in his eye that always lights up at the thought of guiding newbies through somewhat hazardous, challenging terrain.  He thrives on that and I knew he wanted us to go for the Emmons.  Eve was on board too – and the plan would allow all 3 of us to see our fundraising goal through to its potential fruition.

We all agreed we would stick to the original plan.

That night I had horrible dreams about crevasses, climbing on steep snow and falling into a dark void.  I felt very uneasy about the weekend, but I set about packing my gear in any case – I had volunteered to drive down Friday afternoon and obtain our climbing permit before 5pm so that we could hit the trail at sun up.

That Friday I hit the most horrendous traffic that Google Maps failed to anticipate and I missed the permit office being open by over an hour.  I felt additionally despondent when I realized that I had forgotten my annual park pass and was charged $30 to get into the park, and I was informed that no camp spots were open.

Me heading up Steamboat Prow – PC Eve Jakubowski

Things turned around when a couple at the very first campground I drove past were kind enough to let me pitch my tent on their site which had plenty of room.  I was so grateful, and managed to sort out my gear and re-pack it, since in order to leave the house by 2 I had literally thrown a bunch of gear in my back seat and then realized all the stuff I’d forgotten as I drove south (Diamox, an extra Nalgene, AAA batteries, caffeine gel shots – shout out to Eve who was kind enough to grab those items for me and bring them down Saturday!)

The campsite was by a lovely stream and I settled happily in my sleeping bag after enjoying a cold beer and managed to get one of the earliest nights before a climb ever.

I broke camp early and met with the rest of the team at the Ranger Station at 7am the next morning to pick up our walk-up permits.  I had freshly baked banana bread for each member of the team as we stood in line and Forrest made coffee.  We managed to secure our permits and were given the harsh warning about the state of the route before we headed on up to the trailhead parking lot.

We finally headed on out up the trail around 9am.  As usual, my main concern was being a slower hiker than everyone else.  No matter what I do in terms of training, I usually find myself to have a slower pace than most which makes me extremely anxious doing group climbs such as this one.  Whenever the group made a stop, I would press on because I knew they would catch up sooner or later and I didn’t want to hold everyone up.

Me and Kara getting ready to rope up

Despite the weight of my pack, I felt that I was progressing along the trail much better than I had almost 11 months ago.  The extra time and energy I’d put into training and gaining elevation was paying off – even if I was still slower than everyone else on the team.

By the time we hit the interglacier, I was hitting my stride and only suffering from the sweltering heat of the day.  We put on crampons and headed up in a much more direct route than we’d taken a year ago – luckily there was more of a boot made staircase this time around, which makes steep ascents on snow much smoother.

Steamboat Prow crept closer, the last 30 minutes or so of that long steep trudge was a challenge, and I was very thankful to finally sit and take a break and eat some food.  We were making good progress time-wise, we were just now going to need to rope up for the final hour’s glacier crossing up to camp.

The crevasses were wide and open and Eve (with whom I was on a two-person rope team) applied her climbing experience to route finding our way up, over and around the gaping holes in the snow.  By the end of this climb, I was getting used to stepping over these wide cracks that led to deep dark blue ice of unknown depth.

We arrived into camp six hours after starting out.  That was an entire 2 hours faster than it had taken us the previous year and I was feeling good about it.  Even more lucky – we managed to secure two tent sites from folks who were just leaving – meaning the amount of snow shoveling and leveling out the ground for our tents was minimal.

Our Campsite at Camp Schurman

After setting up our base camp, we set about melting snow for water and dinner.  That was when our first disaster struck – we ran out of camping gas.  One of the canisters brought up was thought to be full but later we determined it to be near empty.  We were in trouble – and Forrest thankfully traded some gear for another used canister from a bunch of climbers heading out.  In any case, we were going to be limited in how much snow we could melt for the summit push, and to make matters worse – Forrest had forgotten his water bottle and ended up getting quite dehydrated in the process.

I had my 3 liters which was recommended for the summit, but by the time I drank some that night and with “breakfast” – I only carried two bottles for the summit.  We all became quite dehydrated during the following day – which turned into an epic, almost 22-hour day of physical effort.

After dinner, where I had very little appetite, I took a hit on my vape pen to try and calm my nerves and relax myself enough that I might catch an hour or so of sleep before we had to get up again.   I was having a lot of anxiety – especially knowing that we were going to be getting up at 9pm to leave by 10p.  This was it.  The big moment.  A large part of me knew the pain that I was walking into and I wanted to pull the plug and just stay in camp.

I buried those feelings and tried to settle in Forrest’s circus-like tent for what amounted to about 90 minutes of sleep.

My favorite part of alpine climbs – the first glow of the sky as the sun rises – I’m the first climber in this photo – PC Eve Jakubowski

All too soon the alarm was sounding, and adrenaline took over.  I packed my gel shots loaded with caffeine that I knew I’d need (thank you Eve!) warm layers including my summit jacket that only gets used on climbs like this.  Gaiters, crampons, ice axe, helmet and headlight on.

Ok…deep breath…here we go.

The next few hours were kind of a blur.  We were keeping a quite brisk pace up solid snow that had a steep incline to it such that you often had to duck or French step with the points of your crampons to ascend.  We would stop every 90 minutes or so to drink fluid and take in snacks.  Christina would take a power nap.  I would just keep the thought patterns in my head spinning in a positive direction as best I could.  I felt strong, but the mental fears of needing to turn around perhaps, again, kept creeping into my consciousness.

We deliberately slowed our pace when we realized we would top out before sunrise if we kept going the way we were.  The trail edged up, relentlessly.  I was breathing hard, wondering just how much longer this steep gradient was going to last.

That’s when Forrest announced that things were “about to get steep” as we hit the section of the trail that was the ranger re-route.  “What?! Steeper than it’s already been?” It involved a far left traverse followed by a far right traverse to reconnect with where the original trail goes to the summit more directly.

This section was so steep it really hurt one’s ankles.  I was so glad it was still dark because if I shone my headlamp down mountain, I could see just how steep the run out under us really was and I tried to suppress the thought that a single misstep could have me hurling down that icy slope, yanking Eve off of it with me.

Climbing up steep snow as sun rises – PC Eve Jakubowski

No, don’t think about it.  Just one foot in front of the other.

It was so cold that I put my summit jacket on and found that I could still climb with it on and not get too warm.  The wind was pretty calm and Eve said this was the best weather she’d ever experienced on Rainier.  It certainly was the best I’d experienced!

These moments are both the best and worst of alpine climbing.  You are so totally alone out there on a rope with the next person 30 feet or so in front of you just putting one foot in front of the other.   All you can hear is the sound of your own breath, and the crunch, crunch, crunch, of your crampons and ice axe hitting the snow.  And then there are your thoughts: nagging at you.  Willing you to quit.  Asking questions like “what if someone on my team gets AMS?  They didn’t take any Diamox like you did.  Both of them haven’t been above 12,000 feet before! What if one of us bonks out?  Will we all have to turn around?” – and fear sets in which you have to actively ignore and go back to your breath and each step.

Just keep climbing.  Just keep breathing.

Every time we got to a section of the re-route that a stumble/fall could produce a team pulled off the mountain scenario, Forrest would place a picket and a running belay as we moved through.  One section was quite a vertical climb of snow with steps kicked in nicely.  This sort of turned a corner and it felt like we were finally within an hour or so of the summit.

More sun glow PC – Kara Hedges

I started to get excited.  The sky was glowing amber as the sun rose and there is that wonderful and albeit surreal visual of the stream of people with headlamps in front of you getting ever lighter with each passing minute – and it is just so beautiful it takes one’s breath away.  I had a feeling that we were going to make it!

The final push to the summit presented a challenge to me that I could not have imagined.  Penitentes.  These are extremely sharp snow formations that stick up like thousands of ice picks and form in the same way as sun cups, from rapid thawing and re-freezing.  That last section required us to walk on top of these Penitentes and it was by far, the toughest physical and mental challenge of the ascent so far.  Each step, your body weight was only distributed through about 10% of your foot as you had to balance precariously with your crampons, all the while trying not to fall over because these things were sharp and painful.

I cursed those penitentes of death under my breath (and out loud) the whole rest of the way which seemed like the longest hour of my life.  We finally got to a rocky scree slope that Forrest told me lead all the way to the summit.   This was where we could remove our crampons and head up without packs.

What he and none of us realized was that the rocky scree led to even more penitentes!  And this time I didn’t have crampons on that helped grip each step as I precariously balanced on each one.  I was falling, stumbling every which way and my feet were being pummeled.  I have morton’s neuroma in both feet and this enlarged nerve was flaring up from the pressure of these nasty ice formations.  Oh, how I hated them!

Penintentes of DEATH

Then the summit of Columbia crest was in sight!  The air was thin, my heart was beating out of my chest.  I was the last one to clamber up and when I finally stood on the summit, I became overwhelmed with emotion.

Disbelief, pride, exhaustion, accomplishment, a sense of “Finally!  I have made it!” 8 years after my first attempt – I was finally atop Rainier.

Most of all – I had this overwhelming relief that I would never have to put myself through this again.  Ever!!!!

I had made it!

We took our obligatory summit photos and posed with the Peaks of Life Banner.  I cried tears of joy and took a video expressing my gratitude to Forrest and Eve for their help getting to the top of this monster of a mountain, unfortunately, the playback is almost inaudible due to the wind howling.  All you can see is my facial expression and tears – and that will be enough when I look back on it in years to come.   We were the only ones out on Columbia Crest at that time – 8 and a ½ hours from when we had left camp the night before.  We later learned that the DC route was out and that was why we were lucky enough not to have to share our photo spot with a large group of other climbers.

Thank goodness we had stuck to our original plan of climbing the Emmons!

By 8am we began our descent and I continued my cursing of the Penitentes of death once again and willed for that section to end.

Obligatory group summit shot for Peaks of Life

Then it was the long, long, long, slog down the steep snow back to camp – this time, however, we could actually see what we had walked up during that long cold night.  About an hour into our return, we realized that we must have taken a wrong turn and we were on the original route instead of the re-route.  Forrest and Eve decided that if we moved quickly we could minimize any hazards and so that’s what we did – basically eliminating probably over an hour of extra walking since the original route is much more direct.

The downside to this fact was that it put us about 1500 vertical feet below where Forrest had placed his protection in some of the sketchiest parts of the route.  Being the mountain goat that he is, he took off back up the mountain to retrieve his pickets and we thankfully took the opportunity for an extended break.

The sun was so strong at this point and those who haven’t climbed a glaciated mountain cannot fully appreciate just how much glare and UV are constantly reflected back on any of your unsuspecting skin that you haven’t doused in sunscreen- even the insides of your ears and nostrils.  We kept adding snow to our almost empty Nalgene bottles, hoping the sun would melt them enough that we’d have some more to drink on our descent.

Me – happy as a clam at the top of the world.

Forrest finally caught up and now we were fully plunge stepping through soft snow all the way to camp.  At this point, my quads were totally fried and I was physically quite useless.  Every few minutes I would fall backwards, unable to stay upright, sitting in the snow and cursing my legs.  Eve was so patient with me.  She would pull on the rope telling me that we just “had to get moving!” and each time I would explain that I going as fast as my broken body could carry me.  I was doing my best!

Getting into camp I desperately wanted to just lay horizontally for a while – but I soon found that it was way too hot inside the tent to get any sort of rest.  Taking off my boots and letting my feet breathe provided a measure of relief.  Every single cell in my body did not want to have to walk back to our cars that evening.  I wished we had enough camp fuel and food that we could simply rest and recover that day.

I would recommend to anyone attempting the Emmons to turn the climb into a 3-day trip rather than 2.  The hike out proved to be painful for me.

We used up the very last of the gas to melt about 400mls of water for each person – we vowed to re-hydrate at the river that crosses the trail at the base of the interglacier.

And so, with heavy heart and even heavier feeling legs, we packed up camp and re-roped up to head down the Emmons over to Steamboat Prow.  Everyone got off the rope at this point and it was each man for himself.

Forrest, Eve and Christina rest on the ascent

This is when my self-pity kicked into high gear as I watched the rest of the team tearing down the face of the interglacier and I struggled to keep pace – my legs and feet were screaming.  I decided to try glissading when the glissade chute seemed to offer a viable and faster alternative to kick stepping – however, I did a terrible job of fixing my crampons to the back of my pack and ended up losing them and a bunch of other gear on my first attempt.

Taking time to reassemble my pack and put on gloves – I re-entered the glissade chute and used my ice axe to brake strongly as I wasn’t a big fan of speed on steep slopes like this one.  I could see everyone else on my team already drinking water at the river – Forrest appeared to be waiting for me to get down the chute.

Starting the long ass descent – PC Eve Jakubowski

After refilling my water bottle, waiting for a chlorine tablet to sterilize it first, I decided to keep walking down the trail ahead of everyone because of how slow I was moving.  Forrest had hidden his approach shoes among the rocks and marked the GPS on his phone but was having a hard time locating them.  I didn’t want to hold everyone up (again!) so off I set down the trail…wishing and wishing that I had trail runners to change into as well.

Mountaineering boots are wonderful as torture implements.  Something about the stiffness of their soles and wearing them for 22 hours straight make them so painful that you’re swearing under your breath at them, just waiting for the moment when you can take them off and throw them into your car.  Those last few miles of trail were the hardest for me – especially once we made it back into the easy forest trail that skirts the river.

Beautiful summit crater – under this is a large ice cave system and a lake

It seemed to continue for hours and all four of the others passed me.  I told them in no uncertain terms to please not wait for me at the car – to please go ahead and find food and text me the restaurant they were at and I’d meet them there.  I didn’t want anyone waiting for my sorry ass.

The pain on the underside of my forefeet had taken on a whole other level.  They felt so swollen and my nerves so inflamed that each step felt like I was stepping onto the head of a nail.  My pace slowed to a crawl, and by the last 2 miles, tears were rolling down my cheeks and I seriously wondered if I could somehow get rescued?  Every step just shot up my legs and into my eye sockets.  I needed the parking lot to appear.  Now.  And then there would be another turn and another – still no campground or parking lot in sight.

Me about to cross another dicey looking snow bridge that I’m not happy about – PC Eve Jakubowski

Finally, around 7:30pm I emerged at the trail head.  I was suffering so much though, that I couldn’t initially remember which direction we had parked in.  I knew if I made a mistake and turned right instead of left I might be forced to make hundreds of sharply painful steps in the wrong direction.  I opted for walking straight ahead and then found some people who took pity on my face and pointed me in the right direction – offering their congratulations as I miserably trudged away.

When I finally saw my car, I was alarmed to see that everyone except Christina was still there!  I angrily asked them what the hell were they doing there and why had they waited for me?  I was being super irrational because of the pain.  Forrest claimed they’d only gotten back ten minutes before me and apologized for telling me that we were close to the trailhead when he and Eve had passed me.

Hmpf!

Lies!  Hahahaha.  I got my pack off and feet into my flip flops – and I was alarmed that the pain actually intensified rather than feeling that typical relief as the blood starts to flow back in and around one’s foot.  Hunger and exhaustion were equally tugging at my brain – and I knew that I was also going to be forced to drive another 2 ½ hours home at this point as I’d brought my own car.  We elected on a burger/brewery in Enumclaw and headed over.

I stopped on the way to get gas and realized I also hadn’t stretched and so took the time to work out my hamstrings and quads, calves and hips while waiting for my tank to fill.  I got some strange looks – but I couldn’t care less.   My body was a mess.

Crossing on the original trail

On arrival we asked for water, right away – but our waitress was overworked and distracted so I got up and let her know why we were all so dehydrated and she immediately gave me a pitcher to take back to the table.  No matter how much we drank – we didn’t feel it quite satiate our thirst.  The physical push of the day, the lack of fluids and the extreme heat was taking a toll.   Turned out we weren’t all that hungry either and after eating half of our plates, the desire to crash set in with such fervency that we bid good night and raced to get home before falling asleep at the wheel.

That was a pretty tough drive home.  I had the windows open and my music blaring – even still, it took all my strength to keep my eyes open.  Leaving all my gear in my car, I walked into my house and almost directly into the shower where I let the water wash the day away.

We had done it.  We had gotten to the summit of Mt Rainier.  Though I still couldn’t feel my feet, I fell asleep with a big grin on my face.

Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part I

26 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

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Adventure Sports, Climbing, Mountaineering, Mountains, Personal

My IMG team heads up to Muir from Paradise for my 1st attempt, Summer of 2011

I have been wanting to climb to the summit of Washington’s highest mountain, Mt. Rainier since I moved to Seattle in December of 2004.  I can remember the first time I saw the mountain, majestic and mocking in her sheer size and prominence – like she was looking down over the city, a clear winner in the contest of who’s bigger and badder.  My first attempt at climbing Mt. Rainier was with International Mountain Guides in 2011.  Like most guided first-time climbs – we went up the DC route but were unfortunately turned around due to high winds and very low temperatures about 500 vertical feet above the top of the cleaver.

That first experience on the mountain was a great lesson in how the mountain has its own weather and how unpredictable she can be.  I can remember thinking to myself that I had never in my life felt that degree of physical cold.  It was terrifying.  I remember desperately needing to drink some water from my Nalgene which had partially frozen despite being in my backpack and weighing my aching thirst with my fear of taking my hand out of my glove to unscrew the cap which was stuck.  I remember the disappointment at having to turn around coupled with the sheer sense of relief that the team wasn’t planning on pressing on into the night while that weather raged because it would have brought untold suffering.

“Team Eurotrash”, with our guide Andreas Polloczek in a white out right before turning around

Being so stubborn about attaining goals I set for myself, however, I know that had the guides deemed it safe, I would have continued no matter how much it hurt.  In other words, I was glad that in that instance, it wasn’t my decision to make.

The following summer, a dear friend of mine, Karsten Delap, was in Washington State training for his American Mountain Guides Association certification, and offered to help lead my boyfriend and I up the DC for our second attempt.  Once again, we experienced very shitty weather: not quite as cold, but definitely very high winds.  Additionally, we were faced with what has become another hazard on the ever-popular DC route – especially in the high season for climbing that is July – and that is the human traffic jam that lines the route all the way from Camp Muir to the summit.

Our team heading out from Paradise for my second summit attempt

In crossing a section after the Cleaver that was notorious for rockfall, I watched as a football sized rock fell from overhead without warning – narrowly missing my friend Karsten.  He looked at me, shaken, urging us to press on through that section much faster.  Later, as we came to what I remember as the endless switchbacks of snow about a 1,000 feet higher than our first attempt had gotten us, we caught up with the crowds of people on the mountain who had now come to a grinding and painfully slow stop-and-go line.  A long queue had formed heading to the summit.

Heading out by the light of one’s headlamp – one of my favorite things about alpine climbing

Karsten became agitated, and as the wind picked up, he started cursing as he noticed the number of inexperienced climbers doing stupid shit like sitting near an open crevasse eating snacks unclipped from their team’s rope.  This, combined with the worsening weather and the fact that we were unable to push on at a pace that would result in us getting to the summit with a reasonable safety margin to return before the snow/ice had softened to a dangerous level led him to pull the plug on our ascent.

That being our second attempt, I felt crushed.  As we descended to Muir, we realized the wisdom in Karsten’s decision as the wind had now picked up to the point where you would see these bursts of color flying by as tents below us at Camp Muir were being ripped off the mountain, one by one.  I remember him picking up the pace and managing to secure his yellow Black Diamond tent which had had 3 of its 6 stakes yanked out by the time we got to it.

Picture of Karsten looking back from above the cleaver

To add insult to injury, we experienced what so many climbers must face on their descent to the Paradise area and parking lot:  day trippers asking dumb questions/comments when they see you descending in mountaineering gear.

“Wow!  Did you climb all the way to the top?”

“What’s it like up there?”

“Oh…you didn’t make the summit?  Did you get too tired?”

“How long does it take to walk up there?”

“My sister did it last year and said it was super easy.”

Our Team for attempt Number 2 heading out around midnight from Muir

You get the idea.  Mostly you just grit your teeth and smile, but it eats away at you as you watch them smiling back in their jeans and toddler on their shoulders laughing because they can’t believe there’s snow up there “in the middle of summer!”

My boyfriend was super miserable after that climb and declared he was done with the mountain and wouldn’t attempt it again.  Conversations with friends about our experience were also not helpful and anytime someone would point out that they had had a successful summit climb on their first attempt, it made it worse.

Karsten arriving at Muir

What people don’t understand is that it takes just as much physical effort to get within a 1000 vertical feet of the summit as it does to summit.  It also takes, by order of magnitude, a hell of a lot more effort to get close to the summit in really bad weather, than it takes to make the summit on a calm, bluebird day.

For several years, I tried to forget about Rainier.

But then she’d always just be there.  Staring at me as I drove across the bridge.  Taunting me.  Reminding me of how I hadn’t succeeded at something.  Somehow, she became a metaphor for lack of accomplishment in my life.

Taken from Mt. Si. Pointing out the goal as I started training for my first Rainier Climb

In 2014, I decided to take a course in climbing with the Mountaineers.  I thought it would be a great way to learn the skills I needed to have another go at the mountain by myself with a team of friends I’d make in the class.  What I didn’t realize was that the other 500 students who’d signed up had the same idea…and Rainier climbs got filled, literally, within seconds of them posting to the website.  You’d be lucky to get “Waitlisted number 14”.   That issue, coupled with the fact that I lost my job that May and decided to spend the majority of the summer hiking and climbing in Peru (on 18,000 foot peaks that didn’t count at all toward my Mountaineers climbing badge) meant I didn’t really make the kind of connections I needed to form my own climbing team, nor did I get a chance to go with any of the basic climb leaders that year.

2014 became 2015 and then 2016 – each of those years posed serious career challenges and climbing took a bit of a backseat as I struggled financially.

First time to Muir – training hike

Last year, however, I became more involved with a non-profit here in Seattle called Peaks of Life.  I’d met the founders – a couple called Brooke and Forrest (I know, it’s the cutest pairing of names for a nature loving couple ever) at a prior Washington Hikers and Climbers event up at Mount Baker – but we didn’t connect until I joined them on one of their “Adventure Series” hikes to Lake Serene in June.  This Adventure Series was designed to raise awareness of their non-profit which seeks to bring groups of mountaineers together to climb local peaks and raise money for uncompensated care at Seattle Children’s Hospital.  So…I could find a group of people who loved to climb AND raise money for charity at the same time?  Seemed like a winning combination to me!

Peaks of Life had a Rainier climb scheduled for the summer of 2017, however it was already full.  I joined them on climbs of Mt. Adams and I also summitted The Brothers independently with a good friend of mine.  I was in great shape from hiking and climbing all summer – and I was finding my joy in it again.  When a member of the All-Women’s team had to turn around near the summit due to AMS – Forrest offered her the chance to have another go via the Emmons route in August – and he was kind enough to offer me the chance to be 3rd on the rope team.

Peaks of Life gave me a whole other incentive to climb again

This would be my 3rd attempt at Rainier and 5 years since my last attempt.  Plus – this was a new and exciting route.  I didn’t have to climb to Muir – a huge bonus in my mind alone (I’ve hiked to Muir so many times and I really don’t enjoy it.)  I was excited to go with Forrest – he is genuinely a climbing savant and an all-around wondrously talented, funny, and generous human being.

So, one Saturday very late into the climbing season, we ignored the warnings of how broken up the route had gotten (relying on Forrests’ navigation skills to get us through the maze of crevasses) and heartened by a decent weather outlook, the 3 of us set out to Camp Schurman on the Emmons route which starts at White River.

Gorgeous sunset at Camp Schurman, August 2017

Pyramid shadow of the mountain at sunset from Schurman

My first recollection of that day was putting on my fully loaded pack and thinking “Hmmm…this is so heavy, I’m not sure I can make it out of the parking lot!”

I managed.  But it was a long, slow, and difficult trudge for me up to camp.  It took us 8 hours, though we were delayed for about an hour while Forrest set off after some rather expensive looking gear that a hapless climber must have lost in a gust of wind.

When we got to camp – we were the only group there!  Forrest told us that during the height of the season, there could be 50 groups heading up the Emmons.  I felt lucky.  It was a gorgeous evening and sunset…with only a very light breeze in our faces as we fired up dinner and good conversation.

The plan was to head out around 2am so we tried to get to sleep as early as we could – around nightfall.

The hole ripped into my tent by wind

I was anxious, but really vibing off of the positive energy and outlook of my two teammates.  I was finally gonna get my Rainier Summit!!

I woke up around 2am, but not to the sound of my alarm clock.  I woke up to Christine’s face literally on mine, her body rolled on top of me like she was trying to smother me.  I remember saying something like “what the hell is going on?” and she replied with “Look up!”.

I did.  It soon became obvious that a storm had rolled in and brought high winds with it that had torn several holes right through my rainfly which was now flapping helplessly.  The poles keeping the tent up were being bent almost in two, causing the tent to collapse on Christine’s side, hence her having to roll up and on to me, flattened by the bending structure of the tent itself.

Expressing our feelings about the weather

I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was a hysterical moment.  I remember how loud the wind was.  I really needed to pee, but I had no idea how I was going to get outside the tent, let alone manage to stand up once I was outside.

We heard Forrest call out to us.  He said something about wanting to come talk to us, but not being able to, and that we would give it another hour or so and see if the wind abated a bit.

It didn’t.

In fact, after managing somehow to pee (with the spray going in every which direction let me tell you) – back in our tent, Christine and I were forced to dig out our goggles because the dust was being blown into the tent with such ferocity that we couldn’t open our eyes. We tried to get more sleep – but being pressed into each other like that was just not amenable to shut eye and we ended up chatting and giggling into the morning hours when it calmed enough to get some sleep.

Goggles and dust

Unfortunately, it was now too late to attempt the summit as we wouldn’t make it back in time for the glacier to be safe to traverse.

Christine and Forrest had a great attitude about it, and I tried as best I could to bottle my emotion and disappointment as we headed back to the car.  Carrot cake and beer cooled in the river certainly helped…as did my new life-long friends.

Shenanigans at Schurman with Forrest

Did I mention that climbing forges the best of friendships?  Going through experiences like this with people you dig is priceless.  Knowing Christine and remembering her on me like that in my slashed tent will always make me laugh.  It was a wonderful start to our friendship.

The real reason we climb is the bonds formed between friends – made stronger with post-ordeal beers!!!!

And so…this brings me to 2018 and my decision in January to sign up for the Emmons All-Women’s climb of Mt. Rainier and finally bag this bitch of a mountain once and for all.

Part II will tell that story…

Climbing Mount Rainier: A Bittersweet Adventure Part I

14 Thursday Jul 2011

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Mountaineering, Mountains

Climbing to Camp Muir

Clear skies on the climb to Camp Muir

After months of training-filled, REI-obsessed, anxiety-filled days, our weekend to climb Mt. Rainier had finally arrived.  It meant more than just the $1244 we had spent on the 3 ½ day trip, and the nearly $2,000 on gear.  It was about the almost six years that I had gazed at this mountain every time I drove across Lake Washington.  Each time I saw it haloed in a pink sunset as I drove south on Rainier Ave.  Every time it exclaimed its presence in a made-for- postcard photograph of downtown on a clear day.

The mountain had been calling me for a long time, and I had finally answered.

“I am ready.”

We arrived in Ashford, WA on a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon for our group gear check.  We were introduced to our lead guide, Josh, who seemed competent, professional and very mild mannered.  The kind of guy you like to have around in an emergency.

I learned a great deal that afternoon about gear, and more specifically- how to pack it.  My tips will be highlighted in a future post.

At the Camp Muir Hut

Our first night’s accommodation: a communal hut at Camp Muir

The morning we set out for Camp Muir (We were taking the standard Disappointment Cleaver or “D.C” route) was a blue-bird day, with bright sunshine and not a cloud in the sky.  The guides set a nice, slow, but steady pace on the ascent- which really helped to allay my fear of being the slowest member of the group.  We took five minute breaks every 60-90 minutes, and you made the most of the time by grabbing a snack and water quickly then resting your legs by sitting on your pack as soon as possible.

I was feeling very good about my fitness as this point.  All the workouts had paid off, and compared to when I had first climbed to Camp Muir over six weeks ago, my conditioning had surely improved.  The climb itself is about 4500 vertical feet of gain over 4.5 miles.  Arriving in the late afternoon on my first attempt, I remember truly struggling during the last hour to keep my legs moving; collapsing in a giant heap on arrival.

This time around, I was even able to chat to my fellow climbers on the ascent, and before I knew how much time had passed, I looked up to realize “oh, we’re here!”

Despite my ease with the ascent, a short rest before dinner was definitely in order and we all retreated to the hut that was to be our overnight accommodations to unpack necessary gear and take a nap.  I was happy I had brought earplugs along, as Gordon (who we thought strongly resembled Sean Connery) showed himself to be a very loud snorer almost immediately upon closing his eyes.

Phil Erschler, Co-Founder of IMG and climbing legend

With Phil Ershler, Co-Founder of IMG and climbing legend, whom I had met on my trek to Mount Everest the year before

International Mountain Guides, Alpine Ascents International, and RMI make up the three guiding companies that have permits to lead trips up Mount Rainier.  IMG and AAI “trade off” the nights that they use the hut at Muir, and the tents at Ingraham Flats – our destination for tomorrow’s second day hike.  They also have a cozy semi-permanent tent structure used for group meals, where everyone sits on plastic gear containers while the guides show off their impressive culinary skills.  That first night we were treated to some rather delicious burritos; though everything tastes better on a mountain, especially after a hard day of climbing.

Our group was a rather merry and cohesive bunch: Arnaud and I made the only “couple”, there was also a father/daughter team who were climbing the highest point in all 50 states together, two friends from Oklahoma, a Microsoft”ee” who was raising money for the National Park System on her climb, and a school teacher from Montana.  Between the eight of us were four guides, so each rope team would consist of two clients and a lead guide.  That is an impressive ratio and makes for personal attention and a great sense of safety.

Josh Smith, Climbing Guide for International Mountain Guides

Josh Smith, our fearless leader and climbing guide for International Mountain Guides

After hearing another very calmly presented brief on the following days’ activities (this got to be a thing with Josh and we teased him about it mercilessly) we all retired around 8pm for a long night’s sleep.

We would need as much rest as possible, since our start time the following night would be at midnight or 1am for the summit.

I slept pretty well, but when we awoke we quickly realized just how unreliable the weather forecast could be.  The wind was kicking up a storm, it was completely clouded over and the temperature with the wind chill had a sharp edge to it.  The forecast had called for calm, sunny skies again.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon, pancakes and coffee, we all put on our crampons for some glacier travel training.  Andy, the German guide (who later helped Arnaud and I form Team Euro trash by being our rope team leader) taught us methods of climbing that would keep the work mainly in the quad instead of the calf muscles: the “Duck Walk” and the “French Technique”, basically a side stepping, flat footed method.  He also had us practice descending on high gradient slopes so that we learned to trust that the spikes on our boots were going to keep us from falling so long as we placed them with force and did not tread in them with trepidation.

Next, we learned how to self-arrest and take a life-saving position should one of our team take a fall.  I found this part to be somewhat difficult, though not for physical reasons.

About a month ago, my guide from the trek I took to Mount Everest last year, Suzanne Allen, was killed in an accident while guiding a team of four on a descent from the summit of Denali.  Suzanne was a fearless leader, and her compassion, humor and generous nature impressed me during the time I knew her.  During our gear check, Josh had pointed out that the majority of falls on mountain climbs were due to poor crampon use, and that a guide had been killed on Denali earlier in the season when one of her team’s crampons had come loose causing him to trip and hurtle down the mountain pulling all four members of the rope team off the mountain with him, tumbling for over a thousand feet.  I got a lump in my throat as he said these words because I knew who he was talking about.

Suzanne Allen, Guide for Alpine Ascents International

With Suzanne Allen, in Thame, Nepal on our way to Everest

Having Suzanne on my mind made it difficult to hear my team mates’ voices calling “falling”.  On summit day, especially during our climb of the Disappointment Cleaver, a narrow ridge of steep rock and snow, I thought intensely about Suzanne and what it must have been like on that fateful day.  This made me quite emotional- especially when I later ran into some of her AAI colleagues from the Everest Trek on our return.

After some snacks, it was time to harness up and get on rope for our 1,000 or so foot climb up to our high camp on Ingraham Flats.  The weather had really taken a turn for the worst, and I felt a fear creep into the pit of my stomach for our summit bid.  We climbed in zero visibility and winds that battered our bodies at every step.

There were moments where I found myself losing balance and felt as though I would be blown off the side of the mountain.  With every step, it was crucial to maintain two points of contact with the ground- so I moved my ice axe up before taking my next step, which was sort of counter-intuitive.

Strange as it sounds, I found that hour and a half climb to be more physically and mentally challenging than the previous day’s climb to Camp Muir.

On arrival at Ingraham Flats, I was cold to the bone and crawled into our tent and quickly got into my sleeping bag trying to warm up.  It was pretty futile, and I grew almost resentful of Arnaud who happily started snoring as soon as he got in his bag.  His ability to sleep anywhere, at any time, makes him a better alpinist, I swear!

The winds were really picking up outside and it proved very challenging to relieve yourself, your butt attacked by the now driving snow and biting wind.  It’s funny now, in retrospect- but it was painful then, and it took a long time to warm back up.

Andreas Polloczek, Guide for International Mountain Guides

Dinner at Ingraham Flats with leader of Team Euro Trash, Andy

We dined in a little tent around 3pm on a bowl of pasta and Italian sausage.  Josh gave us the dire news that they were expecting 35 mph winds at this altitude and 55mph at the summit around midnight.  They were due to begin calming down through the night, but as he explained, we simply wouldn’t know the exact situation until we were in it.  He told the group that he would wake around midnight to check conditions, and wake the group at some point between then and 2am when he felt the weather was optimal.  I have to admit at this point, I went to bed at 5pm with only a little hope left in my heart for success.

But I guess that depends on one’s measure of success- is it reaching the summit of a mountain, or returning home safe and sound with more experience than when you set out?

Find out what happened next in Tuesday’s post.

Climbing Mount Baker & Why I Love Mountaineering

22 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Climbing, Mountaineering, Mountains

Skiers Climbing Mount Baker

Lots of skiers climb Baker too: you sympathize with them on the ascent, then wish a plague on their houses as they fly past you on the descent

Your brain finally registers that the beeping sound is your alarm clock. You can hear the wind howling outside, battering the tent, and every rational thought tells you to stay snug and warm inside your sleeping bag.  But it’s 1 AM, and it’s time to set out for the summit.  Struggling with heavy eyelids, you start to dress, not forgetting your down parka which will help ease the transition to the cold darkness outside. Gear is checked, crampons, helmet and headlamp are attached.  The team finally assembles on the snowfield to rope up together. One final safety check on each harness — and we begin trudging off into the night.

No sound left except for the crunch of the snow under your boots, and the heaving sound of your breath.

This might sound like an odd recipe for fun, but the night time summit climb is the most magical element of mountaineering.  It’s difficult to imagine unless you’ve experienced it: but the atmosphere created by the cold starry night, the illuminated path ahead, the crunching snow, and the adrenaline pumping through you as you allow yourself to imagine the sweetness of a successful summit bid is wondrous.

I’ve been trekking in the mountains ever since I was a small child, but it was the climb I did in Bolivia of Huayna Potosi (19,996 ft), that got me interested in alpinism.  I love putting my body through extreme physical challenge and finding out what it is truly capable of.  I enjoy the re-discovering of eating food as fuel.  I love the peace I  feel in the mountains, and the scenery that takes me away from the routine of city life. This is where I am most comfortable (when I’m not traveling, of course, although I have tried to incorporate more climbs/treks into my travels as the years go by. I find I now gravitate towards the natural landscapes versus the urban sprawl.)

Climbers ready for summit attempt

Arnaud and I ready for our summit attempt

After returning from my travels in April, Arnaud and I decided to sign up for a climb of Mount Rainier. I have wanted to climb this mountain for six years, but somehow always found an excuse not to do it ‘this summer’.  I think having a partner to train with, and ultimately to share the experience with was a huge part of actually making this commitment easier to make.  It would also give me a sense of focus and a goal to work toward; something that has really helped me with my “away sickness” since returning from traveling.

At 14,411 feet, and a starting point at 5400 feet, this is no easy mountain. It holds the added complication of having to deal with significant altitude gain over a short period time, especially for those of us that live at sea level. Mount Rainier is the most glaciated mountain in the contiguous United States with 26 major glacier as well as 35 square miles of glaciers and permanent snowfields – so being competent traversingr ice is also important.

We started training for this endeavor quite late in the game, at the end of April.  For me personally, this has meant three or four workouts during the week, consisting of a combination of intense cardio like running, stair master, or biking, with strength training like free weights and Pilates.  On the weekends, Arnaud and I have tried to fit in at least one big hike of at least 3000 vertical feet, have gradually increased the weight we are carrying as we climb, building up to around 40 pounds.

As our last major training session before the big climb, we got together with a group of friends to attempt the climbingof Mount Baker.  Though only 10,781 feet tall, with a trailhead of 3500 feet, and a similar start time for the summit bid, it was going to put us through a very similar scenario to a climb of Rainier.

 

Climbing Mount Baker on a rope team

The Rope Team sets out into the night, Cory, our leader has the red headlamp

We climbed the weekend of June 4 and 5th, and we were lucky enough to have fantastic weather. Arnaud and I had learned our lesson climbing up to Camp Muir two weeks before, and elected to wear our new ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ sun hats to protect against the rays of the sun beating down on us, and reflecting from the snow below. Staying well hydrated was also key on this trek – once the dehydration headache begins, it is almost impossible to shake, so drinking plenty of fluid is vital.

We took the Coleman Deming route on the mountain, and given the amount of snow pack received over the winter, most of the crevasses were currently covered — our greatest concern as highlighted by the Rangers at the National Forest Service Station was going to be avalanche. As such, we needed to move our summit attempt up from 3 AM to 1 AM to ensure that we were past the most dangerous part of the ice field before the sun’s rays hit with their full daytime strength.

Climbing Mount Baker

Sun hits the slope behind Arnaud

This was the first time I was attempting a summit of a glaciated peak without an experienced professional guide with me. On some levels, I was nervous and felt under experienced.  On the other hand, I knew that we would all turn around if we were faced with a potentially treacherous situation.  Luckily, the head of our team had ample rope experience and crevasse rescue skills; however, in hindsight this mountain should not be attempted unless every member of the team has these in abundance.

We didn’t make it into our base camp until around eight o’clock at night, having learned our first lesson: leave Seattle much earlier. Having not found the flat plateau we were promised for our tents, we elected to set up a camp on a slightly undulating slope requiring us to dig out tent platforms using a shovel. Tensions were high, as we were exhausted and hungry, plus the winds were truly picking up.

The following day, we discovered the plateau was only another fifteen minutes or so of climbing ahead of us.

Rehydrated hot food never tastes as good as it does inside a tent after a long hard day of climbing. We soon passed out, though I went to sleep believing that we would all be too tired after only a couple hours of sleep to go for the summit.  Looking back, this removed my anxiety about getting up so early, and actually helped me get a full two hours of rest.

Climbing Mount Baker Coleman Deming Route

On the Rope Team

Strangely enough, I awoke at 1 AM feeling quite rested and alert. I could hear the other members stirring in their tents.  I dressed, and stepped outside onto the snow.

What I saw took my breath away.  It was a clear night, stars were twinkling overhead, and the lights from the city of Bellingham shone below like a thousand lit up Christmas trees, creating an orange glow in the lower sky.

I was excited.

Once on the move, our team progressed slowly but steadily. Only five of the seven of us were heading out for the summit, and I was unsure about the condition of two of the members who seemed to be struggling.  I was surprised by how good I was feeling despite the lack of sleep… I felt like I could keep climbing forever.

Unfortunately, at about 9300 feet, a member of our team stopped and declared that he could not go any further. He said that his feet were soaked through, and his toes were frozen (I hadn’t realized his boots were not mountaineering boots- Arnaud and I were wearing double insulated plastic boots and our feet were toasty- this is why climbing with the right equipment for the conditions is so essential.)

 

Mount Baker on the Coleman Deming Route

In our 'Lawrence of Arabia' hats: We'll be back to try again

With only about two hours to go to victory, I was deeply disappointed, but I knew we had to turn around since we were all roped up together and one person’s failure would mean the failure of the entire team.   I fought the urge to complain and commiserate with myself out loud, as we began our descent to base camp.

It was still an amazing experience, and I know Mount Baker will be there for me to climb again, this time with more skill and more experience.   And I was very happy that Arnaud got to experience one of my favorite things about mountaineering: the nighttime summit bid.

There really is nothing else like it.

Our climb of Mount Rainier is scheduled for the 25-28th of June.   I will be following this post with a detailed account upon my return.

The Perfect Party To End TBEX ’11

15 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by Anita in Canada

≈ 27 Comments

"TBEX 2011 Boat Party Vanvouver"

TBEX Blogging Crew

TBEX 2011 in Vancouver was my first blogging conference, and it was an absolute joy to finally put faces to the names of persons whom I already think of as friends.  The travel blogging community is like no other I’ve experienced – there is endless support, encouragement, and of course, willingness to party!

A huge thank you goes out to Tara Berger, Social Media & Communications Coordinator of AM Resorts for organizing our farewell boat party with Sunset Bay Yacht Group on the Corporate Yacht.  Much fun was had by all, but none more than me: I was lucky enough to be allowed to perform with the band Goby Catt and the Catt Pack.  Here is my performance of Fats Waller’s 1929 Jazz classic “Ain’t Misbehavin'”:

Check out Michael Hodson of GoSeeWrite in the clip.  A special thank you to Dustin Main of Skinnybackpacker, for shooting this footage for me (and not being afraid of putting me off by getting right in my face!)

The rest of my photos from TBEX can be viewed here.

Here is some fun footage also shot by Dustin showing us TBEX’ers getting our groove on to the Bee Gee’s.  Enjoy!

Mexico: Yucatan Peninsula Adventure, Photos!

08 Thursday Mar 2007

Posted by Anita in Mexico

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http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v433/anitagray/Mexico-2007/

Mexico: Yucatan Peninsula Adventure, Part II

07 Wednesday Mar 2007

Posted by Anita in Mexico

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So, I am back in Seattle once again – already missing the turquoise ocean and beautiful sunshine of the Yucatan. I thought I would be amiss if I did not complete the story of my travels and tell you all about the final week Giovanna and I spent in Mexico.

When I last wrote, we were spending our last night on the coast, in Tulum, before heading inland. Early in the morning we packed our backpacks and walked to the bus station to catch a bus to Coba – about an hour west of Tulum. Coba is home to one of the great pure Maya archaeological sites, a city dating back as far as 200 A.D and without the Toltec or Aztec influences of some of the more famous sites. I was excited because it also housed the second tallest pyramid in the peninsula, and was the only one that tourists could still physically climb. The ruins are set in heavy jungle, making them very “Indiana Jones-esque“. We took a guided tour and learnt how archaeologists had only uncovered these ruins back in the 80’s – when they discovered buildings that appeared as large hills, with tons of trees, plants and forest growth hiding the ancient stone beneath – as well as the painstaking process that is followed to unearth and restore the city. Coba has one of the great Maya “ball” courts – the Maya version of football which involved a small rubber ball that was manipulated through sideways hanging hoops either side of a ball court with only the knees, elbows, and hips of the 8 players per team. Apparently, one of the teams were always beheaded after the game, although no-one is sure if it was the winning or losing teams! (it was considered an amazing privilege to offer yourself in human sacrifice).

Nochoch Mul – the pyramid itself was a dusty 3 km bike ride away from the main entrance, and although climbing the 42m structure in the heat was a little painstaking, the view from the top was altogether worth it. It felt like we were in a movie.

We ran back into town just in time to catch the bus to Valladolid – a beautiful little colonial town where we would be spending the night. Unfortunately, I got very sick on the bus ride- and on arrival – we checked in to the nearest hotel we could find (which was a little bit dingy, dirty and suspect) – and I had to spend the rest of the day and night running to the bathroom and trying to sleep off a high fever. Not a highlight.

Fortunately, I felt much better by morning – and extremely hungry! G and I went out and found what was to become the cheapest, yet best meal we had in Mexico, with a very special kind of toast and eggs that are only prepared that way in Valladolid. We spent the morning idly sightseeing through the town, which was very quaint with its multi-colored homes, narrow streets, and decorations still lining the streets from Carnaval celebrations.

After lunch, we boarded another bus headed for Chichen Itza – probably the most famous of all the Mayan/Toltec archaeological sites. I found it to be stunning. It was on a much grander scale than Coba – El Castillo is a stunning pyramid that has been impeccably restored to full splendor. It has fascinating astronomical significance too – each equinox, the sun rising on its steps creates the shape of a serpent climbing the pyramid – the Toltec God Kukulkan. It is mind boggling to consider how these people, who did not possess a single metal tool, managed to build such structures, with such precision. Chichen Itza also contains some human sacrificial evidence in the form of nearly 50,000 skeleton parts that have been dredged from its Cenote Sagrada. Historians say that girls were even bred for the sole purpose of appeasing the gods through human sacrifice – and many who were in their pre or early teens were frequently forced to take an eternal swim in the sacred limestone cenote.

G and I stayed that evening for the sound and light show where they light up the pyramid and surrounding structures with lasers and give a resounding and overly dramatic narration that is supposed to send you back in history, but instead provokes stifled giggling.

We stayed in a village near the site that night – and I even returned in the morning to explore some more the of southern parts of the site that I had missed the previous day. By afternoon, we were on a bus headed for Merida – the capital of the Yucatan – where we stayed for 2 nights.

Merida is an extremely beautiful city – very Spanish in feeling with impressive cathedrals, grand plazas, open air cafes and cobbled streets. We stayed in a charming little pensione with a courtyard with a small pool (which we were very thankful for each afternoon when the heat was overwhelming at over 100’F) and cafe. We wandered the streets, visited the sites and museums, ate a LOT of delicious local yucatan cuisine like Pot Chuc – a spicy pork dish and a chicken recipe that gets served inside a banana leaf. We were also entertained by nightly live music on the grand plaza – especially memorable was the traditional yucatan dancing with 20 partners or so performing a dance that could be described as a mixture of ballroom-tap-Irish dance. Giovanna and I also stumbled into a number of people from villages only 10 miles or so from our home town in England. Two of them knew people that G worked with. Truly it is a small world when you travel. It was absolutely lovely – but after a few days…I was starting to miss the ocean.

On the Tuesday- we took a long 4 hour bus ride to Tizimin, and transferred to another bus headed north to the tiny fishing village of Rio Lagartos – gateway to the Biosfera Reserva National de Ria Lagartos – a wildlife reserve for hundreds of species of birds, and home to colonies of more than 40,000 flamingos. On arrival, it became clear that we were literally the only tourists in town, and we were besieged with offers after stepping of the bus for accommodations, tours, food, ???? We smiled and moved on – because I had already reserved a 3 hour tour of the wetlands in the morning with an English speaking naturalist. We arrived at the restaurant where we were to meet with Ishmael – and found a note from him recommending a place to stay, and to return to meet him at 6:30pm – he was out on his boat “catching” our dinner! How lovely!

So, we wandered along the waterfront towards our choice of stay for the evening and noticed that the order of the day for local entertainment here consisted of sitting on plastic chairs in your doorway, watching passersby, and playing chess with neighbors. It was very relaxed and a welcome change of pace from Merida. Lots of dogs and cats roamed freely on the dusty streets and wrestled in the fading sunlight. In fact, the sunset was so beautiful that night, we stopped for a half hour on a park bench and watched the sun dip into the ocean, as a pelican flew overhead and dove for fish in the harbor.

The local fare that night was so fresh you could still taste the saltwater on the banquet of grilled lobster, served with garlic, butter, rice, mole, guacamole, chilies and pico de gallo. Delicious.

We had to wake before dawn the following morning – Ishmael was picking us up in the boat at 6am. The staff at our hotel were amazing – they brought up our breakfast with hot coffee at 5:30 and laid it out for us on the balcony so we could eat and watch the sun rise. It was magical.

The tour was a highlight for our trip – everything went in our favor in terms of wildlife. We saw scores of flamingos – at first a small group of about a hundred shrouded in early morning mist – but later a flock of nearly a 1000 – a giant orange mass, many engaged in the frantic and colorful rituals of choosing a mate. Flamingos, it appears, are monogamous and mate for life. We stayed for an hour or so, hoping that they would take to flight – but it is rare as they must conserve their energy, and Ishmael was careful not to scare them into flight – because they can break their long necks if they are startled. However, just as we were about to leave, the leader decided it was time to go and the whole flock eagerly followed suite. It was quite a site – seeing that many fly overhead. Many pictures were taken.

Ishmael showed us many other birds as well as crocodiles. Then he took us to a lagoon where the clay in the water is so dense, that you can float in it like its the Dead Sea. Later he took some wet clay and invited us to put some on our skin – assuring us it was safe and that it would act like a pore refining mask. Why not? We had fun covering ourselves head to toe in wet grey clay – and then waited eagerly for our swim in a freshwater spring because it dried and cracked very quickly, making it hard to move or show emotion.

We got back just in time to shower, pack and run to the bus headed back to Tizimin and then to Cancun. This was to be the only really arduous bus journey of our vacation – the bus had no air conditioning, and apparently, no suspension either! It was a bone jarring, teeth chattering five hour journey to Cancun.

Giovanna and I had really packed this day chock full. We hadn’t had the opportunity to go on a night dive in Cozumel because of Carnival, so, whilst in Merida, I had called every Scuba shop in Cancun to see if any of them were operating a night dive for Wednesday evening. Only one was. We were due to check in at 4.30 and we had only just arrived at the bus terminal at 4:20pm. So, we thought, to hell with checking in to our hotel, we hopped in a taxi straight to the dive shop and just made it- throwing our back packs behind the check in counter and hoping they’d be safe.

We were both a little nervous but also excited. This was to be a two tank dive – the first one being twilight-dark, and the second one in complete darkness. The boat was enormous and powerful – since we had to go that much further from the coast to reach the reef. Luckily it was only a small group of five of us with the master diver- but the sea was very choppy making getting on the equipment, and the water entry especially challenging. Not being able to see very far around you was a little unnerving at first, but I soon got used to it. It was just that much more important to not lose sight of your buddy and the rest of the group. The current was very stiff. We saw 3 turtles on the first dive, along with a magnificent green and purple octopus, lobster, nurse shark, and many fish that were out in droves. By the end of our 35 mins at 55 feet or so, it was time to come up to the safety stop for 3 minutes. That got a little confusing as I couldn’t tell which way was up, nor could I see the surface – so I had to rely on my pressure gauge. Somehow I put too much air in my BCD and surfaced before everyone else. That turned out to be the scariest moment of the whole dive – being in the open ocean, at night, alone, in 15 foot swells with the boat nowhere in sight. Time and again, I was pummelled by big black waves coming at me like a scene out of the “Perfect Storm”.

It was initially a relief to get on the boat – until I discovered just how rough it was out there and how fast the nausea came on. Giovanna threw up five times and refused to go down on her second dive. I wasn’t ready, and thought I’d puke through my regulator – but decided to go down if only to avoid the rocking of the ship. Our second dive was completely dark, and we even turned all our flashlights off for several minutes to marvel at the thousands of tiny luminescent lights from the algae on the coral. On this dive we found the largest sea turtle yet – must have been five feet long. Absolutely beautiful. Quite an experience, though in hindsight – I think I prefer diving in the daylight when you can SEE everything that might be swimming by. I just couldn’t shake the feeling down there that something might just “grab me” from the darkness. You know?

As you can imagine, Giovanna and I collapsed that night and slept hard. Unfortunately, we woke up the next day feeling like we’d been hit by a truck, and had absolutely no appetite. Sadly, our last 2 days were spent in our room in bed, mutually complaining about how shit we felt.

Luckily, we were feeling bright enough to eat some toast the next morning before heading out to the airport. I was very sad to say goodbye to Mexico, but mostly to say goodbye to Giovanna. I made her promise to come out to visit this summer. And so ended my trip – and this email too! Sorry it has been so long – AGAIN.

I hope you enjoyed reading about our adventures! Hopefully, I’ll post some pictures too very soon!

Mexico: Yucatan Peninsula Adventure, Part I

22 Thursday Feb 2007

Posted by Anita in Mexico

≈ Leave a comment

It is day seven of Giovanna s and my Riviera Maya-Yucatan Peninsula adventure. All is extremely well and we are having an amazing time.


Today s experience I think has been the highlight for me so far. We are staying in Tulum, about 100 kms south of Cancun. This area is famous for its Cenotes, which are limestone caverns filled with freshwater that stretch for miles underground, eventually connecting to the ocean. They are filled with amazing rock formations and stalagmites-tites that are millions of years in the making. Today, we both took a two-tank cave dive of the Dos Ojos Cenote a few miles outside Tulum. Our Dive master – Arturo – is a local, and we had fortuitously made his acquaintance on our second dive in Cozumel on Tuesday. He offered to give us an individualized tour, which was awesome, because it was extremely personalized and completely non-tourist trap in nature. We were both somewhat nervous of the dive – since we are still relative beginners, there is much comfort to derive in knowing that if something goes wrong, you can always come up to the surface. However, in this cave dive, we would be navigating through a series of whilst breathtakingly beautiful , altogether enclosed tunnel systems. We geared up in the hot midday sun. Walking down in our gear to the cave entrance was a task in and of itself. The water was perfect. Totally transparent with visibility easily in excess of 100 feet. Color – turquoise. Lots of tiny gupper fish swimming amongst us. After our safety and buoyancy checks (buoyancy being very important in a cave dive to avoid crashing into protected formations- and because it is more difficult to dive in fresh water) it was time to head down into a completely new world.


There truly are not words to describe the experience. No hay palabras. All I can say is that to be swimming in a totally pitch black cave, with a flashlight, and know that nothing separates you from the darkness but your mask is a feeling unlike any other Ive had. Looking up to the entrance of the cenote was especially breathtaking, as the rays of the sun filtered into the water creating various inspiring levels of translucent blues. I had some trouble half-way through our first 40 minute dive – all of a sudden my right ear would not equalize and I felt searing pain. Trying not to panic, I made the signal for distress and Arturo swam over to me. However, there was nowhere to ascend to relieve the pressure on my eardrum. We swam back to an opening and tried to rise a few feet, to no avail. We actually ended up surfacing after another back tracking swim. My ear finally popped on the surface, but from that point on, my anxiety level was a little heightened. This trip truly tested my fears- of confined spaces, and being trapped without real outside air to breathe…one can use their imagination. I was able to continue the dive, and followed Arturo s instructions to continue equalizing even when it didn’t seem that we were changing depths.

After a short break, we loaded on another tank and completed a second 45 minute dive – this time in a more challenging part of the cave, where in parts, there were no light sources bar our flashlights. Absolutely unforgettable experience- I could only sum it up as deliciously terrifying!

The rest of the trip has been far less anxiety –inducing. I arrived without a glitch last Friday, only to have to wait for Gs plane to arrive – five and a half hours later…..! Her flight was delayed, and upon her arrival, I was forced to yell and scream for her to run so that we could catch the terminal transport to get to the last bus to Playa del Carmen, so that we could catch the last ferry to Cozumel….


We just barely made it.


After 18 hours of traveling, the LAST thing you want to do is be RUNNING through the streets of a strange city asking in very unpracticed Spanish where the **ck the ferry terminal is, and then continue screaming as you try to run to a boat that is pulling up the passenger gangway. We were very tired on arrival, had a quick bite to eat and passed out.


The following two days were spent in idle relaxation. In fact, the weather was rather nasty in Cozumel at first – around 60 degrees with harsh winds and occasional downpours. The port was closed, so were unable to dive. We had no problem, however, spending the time filling our bellies with delicious all-inclusive food and cocktails…. And more cocktails. We made lots of friends, including an inordinate and inexplicable number of couples from Minnesota. Everyone seems to be intrigued by Giovanna and I – and Im not sure if its our accents or whether its because we are constantly tripping over ourselves with laughter. It is so good to be back with my friend…. I love you G!!


Other than stuffing our faces, we did manage to work out, visit the local museum (where we had Mayan life in a traditional Mayan hut explained to us by a lovely older man who spoke Mayenglish – very difficult to decipher!) and we were very lucky to have arrived, completely unplanned, during Carnaval – celebrated with much gusto in San Miguel, Cozumel. The parade was wonderful and LONG…..the costumes, the dancing, the music, the drinking, the concerts – it was very easy to get caught up in the abundance and excess of it. And all we needed to share was a warm smile and a wave to get our beads….


Finally, on Monday the sun came out and the winds calmed down. We were able to go out on our first dive boat- leaving, conveniently from the palapas of our hotels private beach. Much of the reef here was very damaged by Wilma, but it is still teeming with life and has much vibrant coral that is unharmed (especially below 40 feet). On our first dive, we spotted a turtle, moray eel and a lobster- in the beautiful Palancar Gardens. Our second dive was a full drift dive – and the current was not at all as disconcerting as I had anticipated. We basically dropped down in a vast expanse of blue and then kind of “let ourselves go” to the current which pulled us in to a series of coral “walls” which we then just relaxed and watched as they floated by…This dive gave us a nurse shark , another turtle, and of course lots of parrot, angel and other reef fish. Wonderful.

Coming back from the dive, G and I had one too many cocktails by the pool (should have known better too – nitrogen from the dive exacerbates the effects of alcohol) – and we passed out around 5 not to wake up for four hours or so…. Too much fun!


By the way, the people of this region are just so friendly and curious. EVERYONE has been helpful, polite, endearing and very eager to talk to us. English is not very widely spoken, so I am being forced to dredge my three years of high school Spanish to the surface of my brain- but I am managing. If anything, the people are so friendly, there have been times where I have wished that they simply let us be- instead of enquiring as to our origins, places of residence, families, plans, etc etc etc… Not something to complain about really.


After another wonderful day of diving and celebrating “Fat Tuesday” the mother lode ending to five day Carnaval – it was time to bid goodbye to the coral reef fringed island of Cozumel.

Giovanna and I took the bus south from Playa del Carmen, stopping for the afternoon at Xel – Hal – an ecopark, that is really just a Tourist trap. It was very beautiful, except a bit exhausting – very far to walk between all the attractions (ie…45 minute walk barefoot on paths through the humid jungle just to wait in line for a tube, to wait in line to get snorkel gear, to wait in line to get in the bloody river, all the time telling yourself ” oh ,,,this is supposed to be fun, I am having a great time, its so relaxing!” The lagoons themselves were beautiful and full of vibrantly colored fish. However, we were not going to pay $190 each for a “dolphin encounter” – so we stayed till sundown and then got a cab to Tulum, where we arrived last night. Our hotel is “nice” although the room smells a bit like the inside of a wet old sneaker. The owner is very kind however, and multi tasks between reservationist, chef, housekeeper and tour guide at an impressive pace.

This morning, prior to our Cenote dive, G and I got up early to avoid the crowds, and headed over to the Mayan ruins at Tulum. The excavated buildings are fascinating and in the most incredible location overlooking the emerald green ocean. Iguanas are everywhere, appearing to own the abandoned 1200 year old city. Archaeologists believe that this is where the Spaniards first appeared on the horizon in 1512 to the confused Mayans. Note to self: watch Apocalypto on return to USA:


Anyway, must go –my hands are starting to really hurt. It is so good to write a travel log again, I must say!! It has been far too long!.


Hope that you enjoyed part I – part II is on its way. Tomorrow we head to the ruins of Coba, then on to Valladolid, Merida, Rio Lagartos and then back to Cancun.

Be safe and well, and Ill see you all soon!

Much love,

Anita


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anitagotravel

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