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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

Tags

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…

Ethiopia Part IV: Tigray – where Churches are the Cherry not the Cake

08 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Churches, Climbing, Culture, Hikes, Religion, Trekking

Views over Tigray

We had only driven out of Axum for about 90 minutes – I was laying spread out across one of the bench seats, taking advantage of our massive luxurious van for just the two of us – when Mike told me to get up and look out of the window.  This is what I saw.

Scenery right out of Axum

The geography in this area of Ethiopia is astounding.  A huge pink and orange rock escarpment with towering sandstone cliffs and mountains that are reminiscent of Utah, Arizona’s Monument Valley, North Western Australia and Namibia to mention a few similar places.  This is all just wonderful – BUT!  They sold me this trip to see CHURCHES??????!!!!

It blows my mind that the tour company who markets this particular route only focuses on the historic churches that we would get to see.  No mention is made of the views, or the trekking opportunities.  All that was said was that a few of the churches on day two required a little bit of clambering to get to.  This was a huge understatement, both in scope and in practical terms.

Mike ascending the vertical wall at Debre Damo

I had agreed to make our first stop the monastery of Debre Damo – which only allowed for male visitors.  In fact, the monks only allowed male cows, chickens, donkeys and any other livestock they needed for their purposes to be provided for their day to day needs.  I’m guessing female cows would be just too much of a powerful temptation for them, living all alone at the top of a monolithic mountain?

The fun part of visiting this monastery is that it involved a near vertical 15 m rock climb where the priest assists the person climbing via a rope around the waist.  Mike is a little afraid of heights, so I was super proud of him for wanting to give this a go.  Plus, I wanted everything documented on camera in case something funny or super embarrassing happened to him on the way up or down.

Fortunately for me, I got both.

Enjoy this wonderful video footage of Mike being aided down the rock, and toward the end, not even being allowed to place his feet to steady himself: https://youtu.be/xWNVzRtlYG8

After a nice lunch, our next stop was located at the end of another stunning drive through the magnificent countryside, and according to the guidebook, one of the most scenic roads in the country.  There was a complex of 3 churches called the Teka Tesray cluster, but we’d been advised to just visit the most beautiful – Medhane Alem.  As we approached the trailhead (because, yes, you have to hike to each of these churches as they’ve been built literally into the rock/mountain) we were swarmed by a bunch of kids wanting to make some quick birr to show us the way.  We chose one competent looking enough chap and we made our way through the late afternoon sun up the steep sandstone cliffs to the church – which was about 30 minutes away.

Beautiful Medhane Alem

What made this particular location a little unique was that we were surrounded by a beautiful variety of cacti, eucalyptus trees, and green, rolling hills.  It reminded me of a fragrant late afternoon in Tuscany – except without the olive trees.  We entered the gated entrance with its standard issue crowd of elderly shawled folk who seemed to “live” at the church and beg for money.  We were told to remove our shoes and make our way through the dirty and rocky garden area leading to the white rock-hewn church – and I just couldn’t understand why they didn’t just let us remove our shoes at the doorway – thereby ensuring we didn’t bring the dirt and dust inside the church with us.  I asked this of our guide and was informed that the rocky path was already “holy land” which appeared to be more important than whether or not it was clean.

Artwork inside Medhane Alem

The inside of this 6th century church was very cool and carved out in one giant piece, consisting of 4 inter connected rooms containing mosaics, remnants of religious artwork depicting the angels and the apostles, and of course, the holy of holies that contained a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, in line with Ethiopian Orthodox teachings.

As usual, the outside and surrounding scenery was more fascinating to me than the inside of the church, where it was hard for me to not be preoccupied with how old the carpet was and how many thousands of dirty feet had walked here since it was last replaced.

Having said that, the feat of work this represented and the age of the church itself was pretty staggering.  I think when you’re dealing with architecture this ancient, it is really hard for a layman to determine the actual talent that may or may not be involved in its creation, based purely on its age.

As with many of these very very old churches – the guides often claimed that the only explanation for their creation at a time when technology was so limited was that they were made with the assistance of the angels.  These explanations are given entirely with a straight face, I might add.

Making our way back to the van as the sun was setting was rather magical and I managed to get some nice sunset shots.  Why is it we never tire of a beautiful sunset?

Pretty sunset as we descend from Medhane Alem

That night we stayed in a small town called Hawzen.  It took visiting four hotels before Mike and I found one with an available room that had hot water in the bathroom – the Habesha Hotel.  We soon headed out in search of a restaurant our driver had recommended, and when we did finally find it – it turned out it was only serving fasting food.  It’s funny to me how excited the restaurant staff are to tell us that their menu doesn’t contain any dairy, meat or animal fat of any kind – but it’s clearly because they don’t realize that hearing such news is an instant disappointment for me.

I settled on ordering some vegetable soup and beer.  And eating some rice off of Mike’s plate, of course.

Our second day in Tigray was definitely the highlight.  This is in spite of the horrendous hassle we had to overcome in locating a scout for each of the two churches we hiked to – you can read about the first instant in my former post here.  Despite this, it was easily my favorite day of the entire trip – perhaps since the scenery, degree of difficulty, and the steep ledges we had to scramble over to reach these churches built on top of mountains was altogether unexpected.

Stunning landscapes and beauty of Ethiopia

Our first visit was to a church called Abuna Yemal, which, funnily enough – was featured in a BBC article about the priest having what was claimed the “most difficult commute in the world.”  The route was a tough scramble, possibly a technical enough route that a harness and rope would be called for were it in the States – but I certainly enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came from trying to find foot and hand holds (and doing so in the midst of yelling at the bunch of super annoying men, dressed in SUITS I might add, to shut the hell up as they threw out constant muttered directives of how and where I should climb, assuming I was a complete idiot who’d never scrambled before.)

Me, ascending sans rope to the Rock Hewn church of Abuna Yemal

I was, however, filled with more than adrenaline when one of these douche bags (who expect tips even though you never asked for help, in fact, when you had actively told them to go away multiple times) actually down climbed right over the top of me and stood on my hand.  I screamed at him, in a terrified rage, for committing the ultimate rock climbing faux pas – though I’m not sure he really gave a shit.

It did end up being totally worth it – and the views from the teeny tiny ledge that led to the church were stupendous.  Hopefully you can get some idea from these pictures.

Sitting on a ledge near the church

Again, the church was a nice cherry to find at the top of this climb, but the journey was reward enough in itself.

This first church was about 3 hours return, and it was well past lunchtime by the time we got back to the van.  I cursed not having known about the number of hours we’d be hiking today, and I cursed our guides/drivers for not telling us to pack a lunch with us to help fuel us for the afternoon’s venture out to Maryam Kokor – which was going to take us another 3 arduous hours to climb and return from.  Luckily, Mike had some chocolate in his pack and Sneetchi gave us some bananas…so we managed fairly well despite our outputs.  It’s just that this was clearly not the first time this company had brought tourists to these places – so why can’t they advise this ahead of time?  SMH.

Not so happy priest at Abuna Yemal with ancient text inscribed on goat skin

The approach to Maryam Kokor was very different, as was our lovely and QUIET scout whom our driver had been kind enough to arrange for us to have after the nightmare we’d experienced at Abuna Yemal.  There were sections of tunnel-like through paths of rocks with giant sandstone walls rising up either side of us.  Then there were sections where we had to clamber on hands and feet on well-trodden and eroded “steps” up the pink cliffs.

Views were out of this world and I include some pictures here.

There were two small churches to visit at the top of the mountain, and the first had separate entrances for men and women.  It looked rather like Medhane Alem inside, though the artwork was far better preserved.  The second much smaller church had just one room with a mural going in a circle across all four walls – but we had to navigate a narrow ledge where the wind threatened to pick us up and throw us up and over the edge where we’d fall several thousand feet to the valley below.  I include some pictures and videos of this exhilarating hike here.

Hanging out on ledges

I felt extremely satisfied and physically spent by the time we made it back to the van.  Here is a link to the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EGFHA4FemY  Not just that – I was rather hungry, but we opted to grab avocado smoothies and make our way to Mekele since it was already 4:30pm in the afternoon – and we would be leaving for our 4 day/3-night trip to the Danakil Depression the very next day – and probably at early o’clock.

Maryam Kokor

We visited our tour agency on arrival in Mekele to pay for our trip – but alas, the credit card machine wasn’t working (shocking, I know.)  So Sneetchi dropped us at a nice hotel (which was a little expensive, but well worth the little bit of luxury we felt we deserved) where we got a SEMI-SUITE, which was essentially a room with an adjoining living area.  More importantly, the restaurant served burgers and fries which we joyfully washed down with large beers and toasted our incredible two day adventure visiting historical churches…I mean, trekking through some of the best scenery I’ve experienced yet on the Dark Continent.

Ethiopia Part II: No Pain, No Gain in the Simiens

02 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Desert, Hikes, Mountains, Trekking

The beautiful Simien Mountains

Our flight and arrival in Addis went without a hitch and the visa process was pretty straightforward also.  We chose to stay the night at Lobelia Hotel as it was close to the airport and we’d have to leave at an ungodly hour to catch our domestic flight in the morning to Gonder – where we would begin our Historical Northern Tour of Ethiopia.

After checking in and getting some soup for our tummies, I was ready for an early night when I noticed that the hotel had a sauna and a steam room! I later discovered that this is a trend in moderate to nicer hotels in Ethiopia – and it was one I took advantage of at any given opportunity.  This was my first and it helped with my cough immensely.  In the end, I had that cough for about six weeks on and off…it has finally cleared up, as of about a week ago.  I can’t tell you how relieved I am not to have to take antibiotics and be able to sleep through the night without waking Mike up with a coughing fit.

The next morning began rather badly.  As we arrived at the domestic terminal, Mike put his iPhone in another person’s “security box” as his had already gone through and he’d just that moment realized it was still in his pocket as he needed to pass through the body scanner.  Once through, he waited for it to “reappear” on the other side.

It never did.

I was, meanwhile, trying to check both our bags onto the flight and save time.  When Mike wasn’t showing up I went back to find him distressed and searching for his phone.  I cursed myself for not having been there at that moment, as doubtless someone had grabbed it and it might have been possible to spot them if it was done soon enough.  Security was useless, assuring us that they would check the CCTV cameras etc.  I kept asking “how on earth is that going to help?  You won’t know the identity of the person who you see took the phone!”  Besides, I’m pretty sure that it was a member of the x-ray machine team that took it.  We put a message on his phone to indicate it was lost and to contact my number, but unfortunately, Mike hadn’t connected it to the wifi of the domestic terminal yet – so whomever had taken it, wouldn’t see the message.  Moreover, a stolen iPhone might as well be a stolen brick – without the password, there’s no way to get into it.

What a waste.  It was Mike’s baby too – so I felt super bad for him.

Shopping in Gonder

Our flight was only about 45 minutes and we landed in Gonder, taking a hotel shuttle to the AG – chosen because it had my initials!  Mike then discovered that his camera viewing screen was broken and his day had just gotten worse, poor guy.  The hotel was actually quite nice and we soon passed out since we’d barely slept the night before.

Gonder and the day and a half we spent there turned out to be rather arduous.  Other than being the former capital of the country and full of amazing history such as the palace of Emperor Fasilades who founded the city in 1636 – it is already at an elevation of 2133 m and being quite hilly, was a physical test just to walk around and get errands ran before starting our 4 day trek to the Simien mountains.

We had to find a tour company that we could trust and was leaving in the next day or two (NOT an easy task), buy warm jackets as the temperatures at night would be below freezing, find warm hats/gloves, buy some Acetazolamide (altitude medication), buy hiking boots, buy more malaria pills for me as I was almost out, get SIM cards for our phones, and other odds and ends.  It ended up taking us almost all of our free time to accomplish these tasks, and at almost one hour prior to closing – we finally got in a cab to go visit the Royal Palace – feeling it would be too awful to not visit this UNESCO world heritage site before leaving in the am for Debark.

The Royal Palace was quite impressive, especially the castle that was actually intact.  Since we were so late, we failed to find a guide, and had to satisfy our historical curiosities by reading about each building on Lonely Planet – promising ourselves we would do more earnest research later.  Getting back to our room, we had to pack our overnight bags and combine what we were leaving into my suitcase and try to get an early night.

Fasilada’s Palace, Gonder

The next morning, we were picked up nice and early and informed that we would be getting a private tour as the Korean couple they had paired us with had never actually trekked before and our tour operator was concerned that we would leave them in the dust.  Poor Mike just looked at me and I told him that I was sorry he’d had no one else to talk to for the next 3 nights.

On arrival at park headquarters, however, we came across a lovely Polish girl, Kamila, who was looking to hire a scout and share transportation with someone to the trailhead and back from Chennek.  I told her that I’d be happy to let her share our scout and transport – but she’d have to arrange it with Tedele – our “charming” tour operator.  In the end, she paid him $50 for transport and the use of our scout – and as it turned out, she ended up having the exact same trip that we did, except for the fact that she’d brought her own tent.  We didn’t mind, per se, but she sure lucked out with getting fed at every meal – our cooks even baked her a cake on the last day of the hike for her birthday!  I was glad that Mike would have someone new to talk to – and goodness, did they ever hit it off!  They talked a lot on the trail, which was fine with me, because as many of you know, hiking in the mountains is about the only time that I’m relatively quiet – it’s my form of church.

Our first sighting of a group of Gelada monkeys – walking from Buyit Ras to Sankaber

That day the hike was short and relatively easy, though the temperatures were much higher than I had expected.  Since they were only going to feed us plain bread and bananas for lunch, I asked to stop at the Simien Lodge where I managed to finagle some ham and cheese for our rolls – which made them greatly improved.

That evening, we set up tents and got on a few layers before heading out to a viewing point to watch the sunset.  Everything about camp reminded me of Kilimanjaro – especially the little bowl of hot water they’d put out to do washing before dinner.  Already, many of the hikers at camp were feeling sick and had symptoms of AMS.  Thankfully I felt ok – at least, I did at that moment.

Dinner was very abundant, and just like on Kili, they had already fed us with popcorn and cookies so I wasn’t exactly hungry, but that didn’t stop me from pigging out.  It was lovely and warm in the cook tent, especially when they lit a nice wooden fire which we sat around with tea after dinner.

Start of Day 2 – heading to Geech

I was feeling a bit too full but fine right after dinner and was soon snugly wrapped up in my sleeping bag within a sleeping bag.  I found that I just couldn’t get comfortable and my stomach was rumbling a bit, but I put it down to having overeaten.  Around 11:30 at night, I suddenly felt bile rise in my mouth and I knew I had seconds before I was going to barf over everything in the tent, including Mike.  In those few seconds, I managed to locate my headlamp, unzip my sleeping bags, unzip the tent and stick my head out far enough that when the contents of my stomach emptied out, it was just inches from the tarp under our tent.  Feeling somewhat relieved, I crawled back inside, thinking that I would immediately feel better and be able to fall asleep.

Not so.

I started feeling nauseous and the pain in my stomach was only getting worse.  The hours crawled by slowly and I was soon writhing in agony.  Soon enough, I realized I needed the bathroom and I struggled to walk down to the outhouse because I was also starting to feel feverish and weak.  I won’t go into too much detail about what happened next – but my travel partner Mike the next day best described it as my body mandating a total body evacuation.  I sipped some water on return to my tent, believing that by now, at 3am, the worst had to be over.

I was wrong.  The next thing that happened was one of the most embarrassing and dehumanizing moments of my life.  I shat my pants, and I realized that I was too sick to be able to walk back to the outhouse without help.  I lay there crying and woke up Mike telling him what had happened through gulped tears.  God bless him, he got up and helped me walk back down the hill to the nasty nasty hole in the ground that was the outhouse.

I’m not sure how I still had that much still left inside me, and furthermore I don’t know from where I found the strength to also change my clothes while having to balance on alternating feet in my shoes.  But Mike stayed the whole time and got me some mango juice to sip on once we were back in the tent.

It was 5am and feeling horrifically weak and sorry for myself, I managed to fall asleep.

After only a few hours’ of rest, it was time for us to awaken and head out for our 5-6 hour hike to the next camp.  I didn’t think I’d be able to make it – I felt so lousy.  Problem was, Mike was insisting on accompanying me if I decided to head back to Debark and wait my illness out.   I kept telling him that I wanted him to go on and enjoy the trip without me.  He refused.

Riding the horse after being sick all night

So, – I made a decision to try and walk for the first 90 minutes at which point our guide, Gashaw, informed me that we would be crossing the main road, and if I was still too sick to continue, I would be able to arrange transport from there.

And so, in pain, nauseated and very weak – I started to put one foot in front of the other.  It was pretty bad and required all my concentration.  After the first hour, the pain eased a little bit, and in another 30 mins I found out why – my period had just started.  Oh great – exactly what I needed on top of my nasty bug, I had horrible cramps that I’d mistaken for aftermath of the night before.

At least I was feeling a little stronger, but that didn’t stop me from taking advantage of an offer of a horse ride the rest of the way to camp when we came across a boy with a horse offering rides to presumably feeble tourists who didn’t want to go uphill.  Though it really went against the grain for me to “give up” like that – I reasoned that if I took it easier that day, I just might have the strength to finish the rest of the hike that was two more days and lots more elevation gain – up to Mt Bwahit which was at 4437 M.

Our beautiful campsite at Geech

The views on arrival at our campsite that afternoon were so welcome.  It was a beautiful high altitude plain of grass, open and flat but surrounded by cliffs in all directions.   Thought it was only 4pm, I was feeling utterly spent and happily crawled into my sleeping bag and slept for three hours before I was told dinner was ready.  I also learned that the others had gone on a short hike from camp to watch the sunset and had been stampeded by a larger group of gorgeous gelada monkeys (granted we had seen them several times during the day – but this was a very up, close and personal encounter) as they tried to get past the humans to the cliffs where they would rest for the night inside caves.  I was glad I had chosen to rest and regain strength, but disappointed not to have witnessed this spectacle first hand.

Luckily, Mike was able to capture the event on video and I include it here for your viewing pleasure.

That night in Geech was particularly cold.  I got up around 10pm to take a pee, and for the second night, I noticed our 64-year old scout – a delightfully cheerful though non-English speaking man – sitting out in the open air wearing nothing more than his shirt, thin jacket and a tarp for warmth.  I literally feared for his life and was so worried that I ended up taking the extra jacket that I’d bought in Gonder and went over to where he was keeping watch and offered it to him.  At first he motioned with his hand, “Anita…no, no, it ok!” but then I forcibly unwrapped him from his tarp and put his arms inside the jacket, the hood up over his head and zipped him all the way up.  To my delight, it fit him perfectly (it is very disturbing that the men I come into contact with here seem to all have a body shape and size that would mean I could share my wardrobe with them!)  From that point on, he wore my jacket most of the day, removing it only in the heat of midday – and even then, leaving the detachable hood on his head like the coolest dude ever.  I loved Nursie…he said almost nothing, but was always smiling, saying my name, and saying “Good, good Anita! Strong!”

I gave him the jacket to keep on the last day of the trip.

Nursie – our fearless but chilled scout who kept watch over us

The altitude and remnants of my illness had destroyed my appetite and I forced myself to have a little soup and bread most nights, got porridge in me for the morning and snacked lightly during the day.   As such, I found myself having lost much of the weight I’d gained during my time in West Africa – so being sick and this high up did have some positive consequences.

The third day’s hike was pretty tough – about 8 hours of walking, and I was proud that I managed it – despite still vacating most of what I was eating along the way.  One time I went to pee and found that I peed out of my butt instead without warning.  I felt bad because one is supposed to dig a deep hole to avoid the almost extinct Ethiopian wolves from accidentally ingesting your feces and suffering fatal consequences.  Incidentally, the beetroots I’d managed to eat the night before had turned my product a violent pink color.  I looked for a giant rock to, at the very least, cover up the evidence that I’d failed to “leave no trace”, only to accidentally drop it from a height that caused everything to spatter raspberry colored shit over the entire surrounding area, including my shoes and trekking poles.  I had to use up some of my precious drinking water to rectify the situation, and be on my way – now precariously behind the rest of the group and getting slower as the afternoon wore on.

Looking back, it is still quite a funny story – and I am so proud of myself for not giving up and for pressing on.

More Geladas

As a sidenote to all this talk of excrement (my apologies, dear readers) – the scenery we were passing through was pretty immense and spectacular, despite the fact that it was rather brown given the time of year and it being the dry season.  Much of the wide expanse of ridges below us reminded me of a lighter colored south rim of the Grand Canyon.  Once we’d made it to Imet Gogo – all the suffering was made worthwhile by the incredible views we got to enjoy from this high point.  Unfortunately, this is the typical turnaround point for all the folks who choose to do the 2 night/3 day itinerary.  I found, however, that it was the scenery and the ability to walk along a long ridgeline the rest of the afternoon before descending to Chennek and our 3rd camp night – to be the highlight of the whole trek.

On the descent to Chennek, Mike and I spotted our one far away Ibex, which made us happy – though we were hoping to spot more the next day.  On arrival at camp, we were happy to note that there was a cold water well with a pump where we could take an ice-cold bucket shower.  We took it in turns to pump water for one another, hastily, as the sun was setting and it would soon be cold both by water and air temperature.

3rd day on the way to Chennek

At Imet Gogo

I took another early night as I was very spent, forcing myself to eat a little food.  The group had quite a rowdy dance/singalong by the fire that night, and I tried so hard to enjoy it for as long as I could, then grabbing my hot water bottle and bidding all a good night.

Singalong around the campfire

The next day was an optional day hike to the summit of Bwahit – the second highest mountain in Ethiopia.  Though I had told myself I didn’t really have to summit – I don’t easily give up, and despite having another bout of diarrhea, I proudly made the summit – albeit much more slowly than the rest of the team.  I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment, especially after noting several of the members of other groups on the mountain turning around, tired or deterred by the extreme altitude.

I made it!

Celebrating the summit of Mt. Bwahit

After some celebratory summit shots, I was happy to point my feet downhill for the last time.  We loaded back into 4 x 4’s and were treated to a nice sunny field picnic lunch on the way back where Kamila was presented with a birthday cake made for her by our cook, Messy.

I was relieved when we got to Debark, and though very pissed off at having another drama just getting our bags back (which I talked about in the last article) – was so happy to finally find ourselves in a room at the Hotel Sona resting a bit before going out for dinner.  Unfortunately, the room we found (that Kamila shared since it was a family room with four beds and adjoining rooms) was on the 4th floor of the hotel that didn’t have an elevator – so you can imagine how it felt going up and down those stairs with luggage after the day we’d had.  To add insult to injury, the water was shut off for a few hours but we finally were able to take a restorative lukewarm shower.

Men getting it on, I mean “dancing”, on the dancefloor in Debark

We had agreed to meet up with Messy and Gashaw for dinner, and they took us to a bar where we started with beer.  Everyone was up and dancing (shoulder dancing, that is – my first introduction into this uniqe and rather strange custom of dance that doesn’t include much in the way of hip or lower body movement.)   Funny thing is – it took 30 minutes after we’d ordered food for the waiter to come over and tell us that they were out of food!

Turns out this was the last night before lent and 55 days of fasting for Ethiopians.  So finding food was going to be difficult.  We finally left and went to another bar where more guys were dancing (only with other guys and in an alarmingly intense manner) and I was able to order some injera with veggies and minced meat.  I ate a little and then made my apologies and headed back to our hotel.

It was only a few blocks, but I still managed to get harassed multiple times on the way back.  I was so not in the mood and needed my bed.

What a memory-filled trek it had been.  Proud and happy that I finished what I had started.  It really reminded me how much physical suffering is and can be mind-over-matter.  I pushed myself, hard.  And I had made it!

Cotopaxi and What’s Just Around the Riverbend

07 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by Anita in Ecuador, South America

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Climbing, Hikes, Mountains

Beautiful Cotopaxi

Beautiful Cotopaxi

While in Banos, I met a traveler who raved about a hostel that was situated within the Cotopaxi National Park. He said that it was in such a stunning setting, all meals included, and that I would be able to arrange my climb of the volcano from there. It sounded like a great recommendation, so after Saquisili, Lilian and I headed back to Latacunga to pick up our luggage and then immediately turned around and got the bus headed north to Machachi where I had arranged for a truck from the hostel to pick us up.

DSC02300The hostel itself has a pretty magical setting and we were lucky enough to arrive just as Cotopaxi herself emerged from nearly permanent cloud cover to show us her staggering beauty. There is an organic farm, guinea pigs on site, a hot tub, super comfortable main house with inviting fireplace and coffee and cake available anytime you want it (dangerous for me!)

The view from the hostel

The view from the hostel

Lilian and I were pretty content to be here and immediately jumped into the hot tub for some hearty singing before dinner which is served at the giant communal table. Sitting around the fire and talking with other travelers, playing cards, and writing my blog was how we relaxed away our evenings, together with a good glass of red wine.

The next day I was eager to see if I still had enough red blood cells from my Peruvian acclimatization to attempt Cotopaxi the following day. A Finnish traveler, by the name of Oto, was eager to join me on a summit attempt on the 5th. So we awoke on the 4th of July (a little sad being away from home and friends on this holiday after having hosted a party at my place for the last four years) and headed out to climb Volcan Ruminahui, which at 4722m would be a perfect re-acclimitization hike for me.

Volcan Ruminahui

Volcan Ruminahui

It was a blustery, colder day, and we all climbed wearing our hats, gloves and fleeces. This land surrounding the volcano is pretty stark and bare of trees, and it reminded me a little bit of the English moors. The ground was covered in wildflowers and the hillsides dotted with wild horses.

Lilian and I climbing

Lilian and I climbing

I was super pleased with how I felt during the 3 hour ascent. My legs were in great shape, and I didn’t really feel the altitude much at all. I was about as prepared for the climb as I could possibly have been on this trip thus far. Feeling great and egged on by my female co-hikers, we all stripped to the waist for a celebratory semi-naked summit shot. I’m super pleased with how the photos turned out – hope you agree.

Heading down, the weather turned and it snowed and sleeted on us as we descended a super tight, steep and muddy canyon. Having lost so much weight, my pants kept falling down and were developing a true ring of mud and sogginess at the bottom.  But it was a great climb and I was ready for my next challenge.

Steep Section, but feeling good

Steep Section, but feeling good

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. My first hurdle was that Oto changed his mind about climbing. So I was left with the option of climbing alone, for another $110, or delaying my climb till Sunday when a group of four from the hostel were planning on climbing. I really didn’t wish to delay because my cycle had decided to time itself ever so inopportunely for me once again, and dealing with feminine issues in a harness, on a rope team in the middle of the night at 5500m is not an ideal experience for anyone. Then, to add additional complication, I got an email that night from one of the agencies in Riobamba saying that a place had opened up in a group climbing Chimborazu the very next day – which had been my initial goal since it was the highest volcano in Ecuador, and it would have allowed me to beat my own personal record of climbing to 6022m (which you can read about here) It would have involved a 4 hour bus ride though to get to the starting point.

Heading down in the snow

Heading down in the snow

I had a pretty sleep-less night. The stress and emotional pain of events from the week before with regards to my life back in the States were really beginning to hit me and take a toll. I cried for several hours.

In the morning, Lilian was planning to leave by 11am so she could be in Quito in time to watch The Netherlands play Costa Rica in the World Cup. She wanted to go on a quick walk to the waterfall together so I agreed to join her – and hopefully make my final decision with her help. The walk was beautiful and much of it involved wading in rubber boots through a river. We giggled as we sang our favorite song again “Just around the Riverbend” because it seemed so appropriate to our location at that moment.

And then it happened.

“Just around the riverbend” can also refer to fate, or having your circumstances change and shift when you least expect them to. I think given my father and brother’s death last year, losing my job this Spring, and so recently having my heart broken again has re-slapped this truth in my face. It is all too much to bear. Just being in South America is proving to be very difficult for me emotionally as I am in the middle of a very profound cycle of grief. Somehow, shifting my pain from the emotional kind to the physical, by climbing a high altitude volcano, was what I’d convinced myself would help me cope with my grief.

Wildflowers

Wildflowers

Coming back down from the waterfall, Lilian and I somehow lost the trail. Lilian was becoming stressed out as she had a taxi leaving the hostel in 20 minutes. I saw what I thought was a trail heading up and to the left from the river. I walked over to it and saw that it involved quite a large and steep step up to join it. Cranking my left foot into a foot hold half way up, I grabbed at a branch with my right arm and began to pull myself up and onto the trail. What happened in the next two seconds felt like an eternity and it was as if I was observing myself from outside my own body.

At the top of Ruminahui - feeling my physical best...until the next morning

At the top of Ruminahui – feeling my physical best…until the next morning

The branch gave way and I found myself slipping backwards, my whole body ground up against the side of the hill, dirt and rocks scraping against my front. I was falling and there was nothing I could do about it. I landed in the river, and fell at an awkward angle feeling a seering pain through my right leg.  Lilian looked horrified and I assured her that I didn’t think anything was broken. She came over and helped me out of the water and I sat on a rock, assessing. My hip and thigh were throbbing and just moving the leg sent shockwaves of pain through to my brain. I’d somehow hyper extended my hip flexor. Badly.

Celebration

Celebration

And so ended my quest to climb any of the volcanoes in Ecuador.

I spent the rest of the day icing my hip and hobbling around the hostel trying to rest. I napped, read my book, blogged, cried, and chatted to some really nice and sympathetic travelers.

I leave for Quito in an hour, my grief now spread between my hip and my heart.

Time for Adventure – Baños Part II

03 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by Anita in Ecuador, South America

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Tours

With Nick and Florian

With Nick and Florian

With one more day to spend in Baños before heading out to Lago Quilotoa, I decided to join Nick on a Canyoning tour of a local river. I’d rapelled lots of times recently in my climbing course, so I figured that it would be within my capabilities to do the same thing in the middle of a waterfall…?!

As it turned out, it was a little bit more tricky than I had counted on. The first couple of waterfalls were easy, you could maintain your footing and just get distracted a little bit by the heavy spray of water over your face and body.

Canyoning with attitude

Canyoning with attitude

This, however, was not the case on the following waterfall. My guide gave me the usual advice: keep my feet really high, lean far back into my harness, and keep my stance nice and wide over the falls. The first two were easy enough to follow, but this waterfall was so big and powerful that I was really struggling to maintain a stance that had my feet clear of the heavy pounding water. Compounding the issue was the lack of grip in the super cheap (and in my case, too large) shoes, that just kept slipping. And before I knew it, I lost my footing, fell against the brute force of the waterfall and found myself being pounded against the rock, with water falling on my head with such force I couldn’t gasp for air.

I kept telling myself to stay calm and think of a solution. I could hear the guide yelling something at me from above, but I had no idea what he was saying. I kept trying to get a foot hold while holding my breath, and eventually just let out some more rope in the hope that the flow of water might change and I’d be able to get a grip on the side of the falls.

2nd waterfall

2nd waterfall

After what seemed like forever, I was able to do so, and quickly lowered myself to the pool below and one of the group members, Florian, grabbed me and helped me away from the water to a rock to sit. I was gasping for air and only now realized how fast my heart was beating, pushing the adrenaline around my body. Florian was also pretty shook up because he’d witnessed the whole event from below. He said he’d been terrified that I might drown and didn’t know what to do to help me. Poor guy, he was super sweet to be so concerned.

To add insult to injury, our guide was wearing a Go Pro and captured the whole embarrassing episode on video which I’ve added here for your viewing pleasure.

Feeling quite shaken, I was very scared to complete the next and final waterfall descent. However, I didn’t really have a choice because there wasn’t a way to hike out of this location. Luckily, there was an option to descend on the drier side of the waterfall which I did, very thankful and proud of myself once my feet touched solid ground.

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.

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anitagotravel

anitagotravel

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