tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90413992716651516282024-03-13T12:13:22.333-04:00Indy's AdventuresA different venue and forum for posting my adventure trip reports than the usual webpages.Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-35792412671071353392009-09-10T06:19:00.051-04:002009-12-10T20:57:27.406-05:00The Whitney Quest - Day 3, Part 1: Mt Whitney<span style="font-weight: bold;">August 26, 2009</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBU0jv_xmt__UpUiozOMN4oyQt3vrDhbGwr7Ooc02prkxUEpssB3OS_Uds4sm9H80VkHxhmWsdU8mc5MlTkcrE1uAKi53jWqUGG4cx5pBzVn36UgT-mtbrjN3wof6su_FZKqgGPhpRA/s1600-h/IMG_2594.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBU0jv_xmt__UpUiozOMN4oyQt3vrDhbGwr7Ooc02prkxUEpssB3OS_Uds4sm9H80VkHxhmWsdU8mc5MlTkcrE1uAKi53jWqUGG4cx5pBzVn36UgT-mtbrjN3wof6su_FZKqgGPhpRA/s200/IMG_2594.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379473511173029618" border="0" /></a>12:30am. The alarm went off way too early. Ugh. Between the restless few hours of "sleep", allergies, and the moderately high altitude hike yesterday in Cottonwood, I could have stayed in bed for a few more hours. BUT...this was The Day. The time had finally come, after all these years, to do Mt Whitney. Sleeping in really wasn't much of an option.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHBVgIuNc0M3RrZQBNgHud2G6AZCPGd0TxlFHP1KXYI4ewMYBduxE6tCNMZigj7a089XP7X3uVV4qAnCKR3ouqjZz7U7tH_q2gkobxQFe3MASG4iE8CgvhBy1Nk7j9drLs0sTONRmIg/s1600-h/IMG_2595.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHBVgIuNc0M3RrZQBNgHud2G6AZCPGd0TxlFHP1KXYI4ewMYBduxE6tCNMZigj7a089XP7X3uVV4qAnCKR3ouqjZz7U7tH_q2gkobxQFe3MASG4iE8CgvhBy1Nk7j9drLs0sTONRmIg/s200/IMG_2595.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379473592171391810" border="0" /></a>I clawed my way out of bed and into the shower. Once I was back out, most of the rest of the team was up and moving. Jeff was energized and packing high-power energy shot drinks (above right). Flyingmoose (left) slept on as long as possible before he, too, got up. We packed all of our stuff (we weren't staying here another night, as we were Furnace Creek-bound after doing Whitney), loaded up the SUV, and away into the darkness we went.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuoQLtBXddctaP_pLMfS9zYW1a_Oj1svZrjTr4OUNok34CAQaF8eKdC8KYZndnQJBr7tJw6_eUTFoj13s5lJp83LwR16VGWXqeOVA73Ue-IfkUQn-PIy609J-yOeFu0P6YO62m44jgg/s1600-h/IMG_2596.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuoQLtBXddctaP_pLMfS9zYW1a_Oj1svZrjTr4OUNok34CAQaF8eKdC8KYZndnQJBr7tJw6_eUTFoj13s5lJp83LwR16VGWXqeOVA73Ue-IfkUQn-PIy609J-yOeFu0P6YO62m44jgg/s200/IMG_2596.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379473666740542178" border="0" /></a>One thing about where we were going. This place was an "active bear area". I.e., there likely would be bears wandering around in the woods next to, around, or near us. We planned to not leave any food items in the car, but carry everything with us (that which we were not going to carry we left in the common kitchen refrigerator of the hostel until our return).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDKpjELE-M894Q7mfWqYz0AYvGdgjgcvYqNv2nqJ98nVGNGyd_a7I4eMAtc3L5fduTHhhmunyZdRWQp8TlpNiwVNZf67vUjh86Q5Z3N_2cv8sB3jcVP5AGdPEXwJCTblEF02usJHtRw/s1600-h/IMG_2599.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDKpjELE-M894Q7mfWqYz0AYvGdgjgcvYqNv2nqJ98nVGNGyd_a7I4eMAtc3L5fduTHhhmunyZdRWQp8TlpNiwVNZf67vUjh86Q5Z3N_2cv8sB3jcVP5AGdPEXwJCTblEF02usJHtRw/s200/IMG_2599.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379474361035858402" border="0" /></a>A short while later we arrived at the parking lot at the end of Whitney Portal Road. While there were a fair number of vehicles all around, we managed to luck out and get a spot within 50' of the trailhead and bathrooms. One last privy visit we shouldered our packs and started up the trail. Blurry photo left (camera had issues focusing) of Jeff, Marty, Harold, and Dwight.<br /><br />Before I continue, this is a breakdown (in miles and altitude) of the hike we were about to undertake:<br /><h3><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" >The Trail to the Mt. Whitney Summit</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHZ8MeBA65N6pSubfLGk7x8r9Q7te2n8Me6nG_2v-RN2iq1-jbwZ1TbDFJHR-S1DLManqTmgoPIYQrwJ2VK9mqu7U4eLEtPYA143Obbaw9_vdWV0nUGUpKgN8IyiW1bU2IEq0dB6wzg/s1600-h/IMG_2602.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHZ8MeBA65N6pSubfLGk7x8r9Q7te2n8Me6nG_2v-RN2iq1-jbwZ1TbDFJHR-S1DLManqTmgoPIYQrwJ2VK9mqu7U4eLEtPYA143Obbaw9_vdWV0nUGUpKgN8IyiW1bU2IEq0dB6wzg/s200/IMG_2602.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379485923722599842" border="0" /></a></h3> <dl><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>0.0 miles:</b> Trailhead (8,360 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>0.85 miles:</b> Enter John Muir Wilderness (permit required beyond)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>2.7 miles: </b>Cross Lone Pine Creek. Shortly after crossing, trail forks to Lone Pine Lake on left, right continues towards summit. (9,980 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>3.8 miles:</b> Outpost Camp with Thor Peak dominating the view. (10,360 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>4.3 miles:</b> Mirror Lake (10,640 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>4.9 miles:</b> 50 yards past Whitebark Stump, a dwarf whitebark pine is the last tree on trail</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>5.3 miles: </b>Trailside Meadow (11,395 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>6.3 miles:</b> Trail Camp, a good place to rest before the grueling 96 switchbacks to Trail Crest. (12,039 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>8.5 miles</b>: Cross Trail Crest and enter Sequoia National Park. (13,777 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>9.0 miles: </b>John Muir Trail joins from the west. Altitude sickness common. (13,480 feet )</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>9.3 miles: </b>Cutoff to Mount Muir.</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>10.5 miles</b>: Keeler Needle, just a short climb to the summit from here. (14,003 feet)</span> </dd><dd><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>11.0 miles: </b>Mt. Whitney summit. No water. Camping permitted. (14,495 feet)</span> </dd></dl>(courtesy of <a href="http://www.desertusa.com/mag98/sep/stories/whitney.html">Desert USA</a>)<br /><br />The altitude numbers in parenthesis indicate the altitude you are at at that particular point. So, we are starting our adventure at 8,360' above sea level. Better than 6,100' of gain awaited our legs and feet...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61Y6ne9-HViW_UCqpDhmygBDJ8uxIe4mjGmcs2DDyQQnQvChfkBwSiw8KqqG1WHzkWhOTsDdPFEnktiT1vRwjjDFXUDoRIJLHbvqL6rOBcbIwDQjYG3hVUCNhuE4IhWY9y_lP5awHsw/s1600-h/IMG_5369.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 123px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61Y6ne9-HViW_UCqpDhmygBDJ8uxIe4mjGmcs2DDyQQnQvChfkBwSiw8KqqG1WHzkWhOTsDdPFEnktiT1vRwjjDFXUDoRIJLHbvqL6rOBcbIwDQjYG3hVUCNhuE4IhWY9y_lP5awHsw/s200/IMG_5369.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412961337618110674" border="0" /></a>Very shortly into the trail (like, tens of feet), we came to a display area that included a scale that people could weigh their packs. We were loaded with daypacks, not intending on spending the night. Jeff's and my packs weighed in as the heaviest at 22 lbs each (mine was that heavy because I was carrying 2 liters of water, a liter of Gatorade, and my heavy-duty first aid kit). Everyone else was in the 12-18 lbs range.<br /><br />The time was 2:30am. From there we set out into the chilly night. By the time dawn was to break, several of us would wish we had gloves, the air temperature was just cold enough.<br /><br />For the next few miles, punctuated by periodic stops for snacks and water, darkness stayed with our every step. Up and up, onward and onward we trudged, following the trail markers and wondering what the terrain around us looked like. Over our left shoulder Venus shone brilliantly in the sky.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWdp14G93kKuMSr4NpjosKanj396N8dIGViVeL1ApPXIMni8SQcTnKSbMYypIqj7_GOVF1EtF6YNzTSmettcj0pzyYMdjWWYbZqRzDzzB16UFUw0zRHoH8nYdnwNrRZPz4HMNnkUL0Q/s1600-h/IMG_2614.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWdp14G93kKuMSr4NpjosKanj396N8dIGViVeL1ApPXIMni8SQcTnKSbMYypIqj7_GOVF1EtF6YNzTSmettcj0pzyYMdjWWYbZqRzDzzB16UFUw0zRHoH8nYdnwNrRZPz4HMNnkUL0Q/s200/IMG_2614.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412962234717435570" border="0" /></a><br />Finally somewhere around 11,000' or so the eastern sky began to lighten. Dawn was coming. We pressed onward.<br /><br />A darkness turned to greyness, we could see we were now well out of the forest and in rocky terrain. The eastern sky went from a faint glow to an erupting yellow as the sun grew closer to the horizon. The stars overhead faded quickly, but Venus hung on for a long while. Photo right is looking East, Venus is the bright dot upper right, and the headlamps of Jeff, Snurt and RidgeSeeker are lower right.<br /><br />Finally it was light en<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4emC7482RGf8_rfJ7m-fkopON0HLuagpxYoKYyT_qq3Hg9thduDy-uNjUf-wDT1nz_UKQ4T9RWKlEpPjnCB3mNirpSzJZkscJjGePZC-wrTadGowgX5HtuRmpQCXmq-ZH3HBS_iQj3g/s1600-h/IMG_2621.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4emC7482RGf8_rfJ7m-fkopON0HLuagpxYoKYyT_qq3Hg9thduDy-uNjUf-wDT1nz_UKQ4T9RWKlEpPjnCB3mNirpSzJZkscJjGePZC-wrTadGowgX5HtuRmpQCXmq-ZH3HBS_iQj3g/s200/IMG_2621.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412962660010040002" border="0" /></a>ough for us to douse our headlamps and continue hiking by the growing light of day (photo left). Venus succumbed to the lightening sky and disappeared from view. The next thing we knew we were coming upon tents in the rocks - we were at the outer fringes of Trail Camp!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKmEYdYgf13J-In_-n99HuxKKR0H0a2cc6eAophWVFnZGtylqxXqY2vAjet-TIdqrNAhF5NSlJImuVySCtLphiIUH5srraOhTJhGg9YodQsH2CPgVw4hQDiUi6PF4UTGpqaZp6OXSGw/s1600-h/IMG_2640.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKmEYdYgf13J-In_-n99HuxKKR0H0a2cc6eAophWVFnZGtylqxXqY2vAjet-TIdqrNAhF5NSlJImuVySCtLphiIUH5srraOhTJhGg9YodQsH2CPgVw4hQDiUi6PF4UTGpqaZp6OXSGw/s200/IMG_2640.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412962940467250706" border="0" /></a><br />As the sun broke the crest of the horizon to illuminate the palisades that bounded Mt Whitney to the south (golden photo right), we stopped to resupply our water reserves, for once we got up into the 96 (or 97, or 99, or 103) Switchbacks <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYV133gKoWUtuCkc9prL3Avk_sDX4sqLH9EnWqIM-l5Mzhxw9sRUEq2Jz6Od16tUBjRaSpmHuVCFJ6wIufgNU-LdKLle7W6XJD4nN8Pi-cW2keIt4llbls-Y3yy835QpeWV6s8NpJGRA/s1600-h/IMG_2652.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYV133gKoWUtuCkc9prL3Avk_sDX4sqLH9EnWqIM-l5Mzhxw9sRUEq2Jz6Od16tUBjRaSpmHuVCFJ6wIufgNU-LdKLle7W6XJD4nN8Pi-cW2keIt4llbls-Y3yy835QpeWV6s8NpJGRA/s200/IMG_2652.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412964464574722946" border="0" /></a>(which were maybe quarter of a mile from Trail Camp) water sources would vanish. What we had would have to carry us for 7-8 miles round trip before we got back down and to a water source again.<br /><br />After a nice, long break (in which we learned that the air temperature was below freezing - no wonder most of us were chilled, not having clothing for temps that chilly!), we got back to our feet and marched onward through a thinly populated tent-city, as the residents of said city roused themselves. At this point I was still doing okay pace-wise.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqt-mFbLOSRVM8AIbQdpLibQRZqb2g9me2QRtvojSJcKPSp7lcIzpcRYU216_ENpywizH1nKBnUfjJJ0x8BIWLRiZYJvHJRRa4M7Eg70gQ8UIkdIlI-YqufPnUXMOSW3Z0IFBEdvzk4g/s1600-h/IMG_2655.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqt-mFbLOSRVM8AIbQdpLibQRZqb2g9me2QRtvojSJcKPSp7lcIzpcRYU216_ENpywizH1nKBnUfjJJ0x8BIWLRiZYJvHJRRa4M7Eg70gQ8UIkdIlI-YqufPnUXMOSW3Z0IFBEdvzk4g/s200/IMG_2655.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412964541453738882" border="0" /></a><br />A short time later we hit The Switchbacks. Be it 96, 97, 99, or 100+. I'd seen different numbers quoted in different sites and books. The photo right is a view towards The Switchbacks, which are invisible, but climb the left-leaning ramp to the left center of the photo. Trail Crest is behind the notch where the upper right portion of the ramp meets the palisades, making those rock columns 1000'+ tall.<br /><br />Now, I don't know how many there really are. I had my GPS on thinking I'd count them on the map later, but satellite signal bounce played havoc with that and my GPS-generated path map did not resemble reality. I was also thinking to manually count switchbacks as we went up, but after I hit the 20th one I started losing track. Partly because I was also gazing out at the views and vistas that surrounded us.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDBANxyimLtJFw1YVIwwHOb33Yd9wV29D760pAdX_z07yOWKYHDTrUyTkKmHO0Vv5RaguGVpWF8H-Lc_xTpcu4dupxcHYqBFUL9HgeMgROUslw-F-J0B9I_3jUiX2RWdJAQxRd4XXlw/s1600-h/IMG_2674.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDBANxyimLtJFw1YVIwwHOb33Yd9wV29D760pAdX_z07yOWKYHDTrUyTkKmHO0Vv5RaguGVpWF8H-Lc_xTpcu4dupxcHYqBFUL9HgeMgROUslw-F-J0B9I_3jUiX2RWdJAQxRd4XXlw/s200/IMG_2674.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413433478077960418" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The other thing that distracted my attention early on in The Switchbacks was a helicopter that had flown into the area and circled around Trail Camp for a while before landing, taking off, flying away, coming back minutes later, circling around again, and landing elsewhere. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREYGPdBVONLMcdd9ZI12OdUkxDSo2LwWvxfSyuUKZhs6CG1gcchOmxVzipyReE6t8g_hvSrMbJN2RI1vU_eOELUrihGI7R8Dm7xBrUjAg4KqDDLwQA1z5vXzZPrMVDH7H6bcbQ9dS7Q/s1600-h/IMG_2676.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREYGPdBVONLMcdd9ZI12OdUkxDSo2LwWvxfSyuUKZhs6CG1gcchOmxVzipyReE6t8g_hvSrMbJN2RI1vU_eOELUrihGI7R8Dm7xBrUjAg4KqDDLwQA1z5vXzZPrMVDH7H6bcbQ9dS7Q/s200/IMG_2676.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413433571453880786" border="0" /></a>I learned from two women who I was leap-frogging up the Switchbacks for a while that the afternoon before a young lady had fallen and twisted or broke her ankle while coming down from the Trail Crest. She made it to Trail Camp, but was unable to continue hiking out (another 6+ miles of rugged terrain). Several other groups of people who were camping at Trail Camp <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmzrijDrAtgivxI94PY9FeRIQ0EueiLOkcQJK74ahGr9CF14b9c42Os7J_dc5WMibU1CWBjrhWYFmOSCEsWrQXOpVzi_D1cbXc6g0Jzt9F_-VhhcCmFnCUv8AoJ9CFjOLZ5m4BabGdw/s1600-h/IMG_2677.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmzrijDrAtgivxI94PY9FeRIQ0EueiLOkcQJK74ahGr9CF14b9c42Os7J_dc5WMibU1CWBjrhWYFmOSCEsWrQXOpVzi_D1cbXc6g0Jzt9F_-VhhcCmFnCUv8AoJ9CFjOLZ5m4BabGdw/s200/IMG_2677.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413433627931483138" border="0" /></a>combined efforts to set her up for the night while the rest of her party went down for help. The helicopter was sent up late this morning to retrieve her. It was interesting to watch it fly around, but it did kinda break up the 'wilderness experience' a bit. But then again, before I learned what really had happened I thought something worse had occurred, necessitating the helicopter visit, so didn't worry about the whole 'wilderness experience' thing. In the last two photos left you can make out tents to the lower right, just right of the lake, in the rocks. To give you an idea of scale.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxeMK8ha0lnkBiSxzAfPXDFG17TvKC_eJ9_E3fzR34EYavbdelqRNBtYmrBCUxtyHJZUIXrKe95P2ogBA9pSTsmA_saqf3XrT_kjRPUHq8X7upOiuM-td23-Q8nh7zMfoKVBwvzYKoA/s1600-h/IMG_2679.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxeMK8ha0lnkBiSxzAfPXDFG17TvKC_eJ9_E3fzR34EYavbdelqRNBtYmrBCUxtyHJZUIXrKe95P2ogBA9pSTsmA_saqf3XrT_kjRPUHq8X7upOiuM-td23-Q8nh7zMfoKVBwvzYKoA/s200/IMG_2679.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413455308406305826" border="0" /></a>The photo left is looking up the direction of The Switchbacks from still well down on them. The Switchbacks thread their way steeply through the rock walls above. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkI8eB9U8FJGZmaEJ9nNw1lgtT7yynzqqZvKojk07Aqrw-_AmQwxvDXCzr3AjeEx7IQop2AtCu17iBlDYx_oW0WkIdYX82n9dtFI_MO7Ql19vg_hoK3NA7rrZ6ERZEORHxPMTuEwN_g/s1600-h/IMG_2684.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkI8eB9U8FJGZmaEJ9nNw1lgtT7yynzqqZvKojk07Aqrw-_AmQwxvDXCzr3AjeEx7IQop2AtCu17iBlDYx_oW0WkIdYX82n9dtFI_MO7Ql19vg_hoK3NA7rrZ6ERZEORHxPMTuEwN_g/s200/IMG_2684.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413455375704531538" border="0" /></a>The photo right is of Jeff at the only set of railing (if that's what you want to call it) on The Switchbacks. And even some of those cables had been severed in places from large rockfall.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAgR8yxbIHSG4iybsTIUrRfgeWZ9pG3-zSowLywPr9HYecYbCoB6Prgb7dO3rOI6Ft_Lqxl1-UZKDvIngvX6gd-ht564_eNypq8B3dvIgxdCEfPQrlqCuLCrVnTp-Wk4nm_lo1vfwSA/s1600-h/IMG_2704.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAgR8yxbIHSG4iybsTIUrRfgeWZ9pG3-zSowLywPr9HYecYbCoB6Prgb7dO3rOI6Ft_Lqxl1-UZKDvIngvX6gd-ht564_eNypq8B3dvIgxdCEfPQrlqCuLCrVnTp-Wk4nm_lo1vfwSA/s200/IMG_2704.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413456582214860034" border="0" /></a>The photo left is a view of the Alabama Hills far, far below us and miles away (see previous log entry for when we were there). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7mMb1vpqsjPG9x0R9HvszT7eBcYDDQUauVwRXzOA1Xi-N2ICf3zfqJamc60ZgfrGsGhyphenhyphen6oWvukdtWiUDGBEI7mf4XZn7OBix-RRAxk67Jzqi8SXK3WVRBKnvuBdKc7I_NH432-K_bA/s1600-h/IMG_2705.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7mMb1vpqsjPG9x0R9HvszT7eBcYDDQUauVwRXzOA1Xi-N2ICf3zfqJamc60ZgfrGsGhyphenhyphen6oWvukdtWiUDGBEI7mf4XZn7OBix-RRAxk67Jzqi8SXK3WVRBKnvuBdKc7I_NH432-K_bA/s200/IMG_2705.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413456820834500594" border="0" /></a>The photo right is a wider angle view of the same direction, but you can see the small lake by Trail Camp where we last filled up with water (said lake has no name that I am aware), and the somewhat larger Consultation Lake to the right. These both drain down along the Whitney Portal Trail.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLCAVAT05H6u1VTdRPBfuQS-iZk3qvSVg5hbiPzODOcvDaG39jQfvDl0HHap2_Y2qnnwaKPwPNmk2j0-cuBXlOSttJincyB5TNGorLdniu_7sygJC36PevNOG60iyJbDIdnWhC6kNSQ/s1600-h/IMG_2720.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLCAVAT05H6u1VTdRPBfuQS-iZk3qvSVg5hbiPzODOcvDaG39jQfvDl0HHap2_Y2qnnwaKPwPNmk2j0-cuBXlOSttJincyB5TNGorLdniu_7sygJC36PevNOG60iyJbDIdnWhC6kNSQ/s200/IMG_2720.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413458977638750098" border="0" /></a>Photo left is of the rock walls that rose formidably up from the scree field, towering 100-1000' or more tall. There are technical routes that go up these pillars and needles, but we didn't have any gear to be technical climbing. This was a foot-slogger trip. The two hikers in the foreground are the two ladies who were leap-frogging us as we climbed The Switchbacks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-YFB45E0o9vp5DArdN_taM_dbFyLYATscpWnEWnuDfeMDri8OF91FOiP__azDojfp5ZkziUAE9Ed1CmXXs2gq2_-ct5Pe1W0PA5Zp3XA_IxWebFSLSVjoyFjZvrZzRYFUTWMUr4CZg/s1600-h/IMG_2725.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-YFB45E0o9vp5DArdN_taM_dbFyLYATscpWnEWnuDfeMDri8OF91FOiP__azDojfp5ZkziUAE9Ed1CmXXs2gq2_-ct5Pe1W0PA5Zp3XA_IxWebFSLSVjoyFjZvrZzRYFUTWMUr4CZg/s200/IMG_2725.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413457645856671362" border="0" /></a>The rest of the team surged onward while my pace slowed. As advertised, the Switchbacks were grueling. They basically climbed up for 1700' in just over a mile. And going from 12,000' to well over 13,000', the air gets thin pretty darn fast. Somewhere up there I passed the "8 Miles" marker rock (I would totally miss it on the hike back out). 'Only' 3 miles to go...<br /><br />As I went up, some people passed me, going faster. I passed a couple people, going slower. And during the entire ascent maybe half a dozen people trickled down who had not completed the climb up to Whitney, but got to the Trail Crest (13,777') and turned around. Shortly after these individuals I started running into people coming down who had been to the summit for sunrise. Said it was absolutely spectacular up there. Hmmm. Next time...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyshw7Q_vEyyogvefPJ4EZaE4gfxqiHKEEeZ2cnEdaCgpJ1BgQjKnCjLfzMuk8q5X22WhLkzAabie331-LWqjW1LN1CpCJh3sItLnw1uiRxOkiWt56OdrpQFacHWTn14enLXF9QxOqOA/s1600-h/IMG_2726.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyshw7Q_vEyyogvefPJ4EZaE4gfxqiHKEEeZ2cnEdaCgpJ1BgQjKnCjLfzMuk8q5X22WhLkzAabie331-LWqjW1LN1CpCJh3sItLnw1uiRxOkiWt56OdrpQFacHWTn14enLXF9QxOqOA/s200/IMG_2726.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413446544284140610" border="0" /></a>Off to the far right I could see Mt Whitney. What I didn't realize I could also see, indicated by the yellow arrow in the photo lower right, is the Summit Hut of Mt Whitney. I saw it later on the way <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNnu7jUFGjTCe6Z1wPfHAVlY7V0gfkhVjuWrcB003JKyj10-hxOcegcaRQNwecsQ_NuLHBbqoHKGOIdNI_6MJ6SQl1iWy5Kibt4QLYUc-Jh5rlydqMdkkQlNqDNd51sOseUZzql3A_g/s1600-h/IMG_2726_A.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNnu7jUFGjTCe6Z1wPfHAVlY7V0gfkhVjuWrcB003JKyj10-hxOcegcaRQNwecsQ_NuLHBbqoHKGOIdNI_6MJ6SQl1iWy5Kibt4QLYUc-Jh5rlydqMdkkQlNqDNd51sOseUZzql3A_g/s200/IMG_2726_A.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413446614133689778" border="0" /></a>down when I looked back up.<br /><br />Somewhere on the way up the Switchbacks I ended up passing Jeff and Snurt. But FlyingMoose and RidgeSeeker were well ahead of us. We all had radios, so I wasn't too worried about us getting out of touch (but we would later learn that Snurt's radio was not functioning properly).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sidebar: in the beginning of the trip when we were all first meeting and introducing each other, telling each other outrrrrrageous tales of flight and fancy, I had relayed a story that a friend of a friend of mine and her husband, whenever either of them spot an attractive member of th</span><span style="font-style: italic;">e opposite sex that they think their spouse would appreciate, call out "Squirrel!". They got this from the talking dog in the movie "Up!" (I've not seen the movie, but I saw the clip in the trailers; the dog is talking to one of the main characters, saying, "Hi there. My name is Dug. My master made me this collar so that I may talk - Squirrel! {pause} Hi there."). They don't point or anything, just say "squirrel", and let their spouse locate the noticed individual. Apparently she usually finds them for him, but every now and again he finds one for her. Anyway...</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYbew0OEDYjJCE39v-7FVbXTYGQAdoacG-VrPvnYjxUBsxXd6qOoWn2zrS4omHvUB_o34uhOEtb-ZtzuACOj2XX8_9RSmMGhSLNHKNOtm0T93_RRPrn2QSFq3CTI5KZKiVxf1925h2A/s1600-h/IMG_2738.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYbew0OEDYjJCE39v-7FVbXTYGQAdoacG-VrPvnYjxUBsxXd6qOoWn2zrS4omHvUB_o34uhOEtb-ZtzuACOj2XX8_9RSmMGhSLNHKNOtm0T93_RRPrn2QSFq3CTI5KZKiVxf1925h2A/s200/IMG_2738.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413434748133068322" border="0" /></a><br />The Switchbacks finally ended with a long, straight-ish gentle rise in the trail that brought me over to the Trail Crest (sign photo left). I collapsed for a much needed rest, snack and drink. I've come 8.5 miles so far. Only 2.5 miles left to go...<br /><br />Suddenly my radio crackled.<br /><br />"Red Five, this is Red Squirrel Leader, over. Red Five, this is Red Squirrel Leader, over."<br /><br />It took me a moment to 1) recognize that it was Jeff's voice, and 2) to understand he was probably talking to me. Puzzled, I responded.<br /><br />"...Red Five here."<br /><br />"Red Five, you have four squirrels inbound your location. I repeat, four squirrels inbound your location. Over."<br /><br />"Uh, roger."<br /><br />30 seconds later four athletic 20-something girls came sauntering up the trail from behind me, chatting away, not even winded. They stopped at Trail Crest and asked if I would take some photos for them. While doing so, I asked where they were from to not be so out of breath and how long it took them to hike up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hdLVnvc0p8OnWa2eaSEUMSHyciT-J-RSWuJ7s3wPFLjgNwc4hvc3T8PWKwdLZFGEOlBhSNyM9TvpQ1nTxXpsmdqSg26EMw3rqyHmNszEcp2ETj3T8TvVYe7ACVi9SwMBA9EhbNVaxA/s1600-h/IMG_2740.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hdLVnvc0p8OnWa2eaSEUMSHyciT-J-RSWuJ7s3wPFLjgNwc4hvc3T8PWKwdLZFGEOlBhSNyM9TvpQ1nTxXpsmdqSg26EMw3rqyHmNszEcp2ETj3T8TvVYe7ACVi9SwMBA9EhbNVaxA/s200/IMG_2740.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413435179306199026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />"From Tahoe! We live at altitude. We left the car just a few hours ago. This is her first time doing any mountains."<br /><br />The indicated member of their group wasn't out of breath either. It was now 9:20am (we had just left Trail Camp at 6:50am - <span style="font-style: italic;">{gasp!}{wheeze!}</span>). Oh, to be acclimatized to altitude!<br /><br />Giggling, the girls trotted onward shortly after Jeff and Snurt got to the Trail Crest sign and thumped down to rest.<br /><br />"Well?" Jeff asked.<br /><br />Sitting against a rock with my head back, eyes closed, I replied, "Yeah. I'm too damned tired to appreciate anything right now."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCb8V5wfS8WukSvX0I8dbmnnl1a7wDG5qldcEPW_j6xGP9wt5-UndLPI5SK9EAo5KYM-lzGwEf4VdV2hwZkwEEn0s_Zvo1hON5DtTUYr3B6g6avEshmVJRXwLTp7QG5tuGs66iiq4OQ/s1600-h/IMG_2746_A.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 84px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCb8V5wfS8WukSvX0I8dbmnnl1a7wDG5qldcEPW_j6xGP9wt5-UndLPI5SK9EAo5KYM-lzGwEf4VdV2hwZkwEEn0s_Zvo1hON5DtTUYr3B6g6avEshmVJRXwLTp7QG5tuGs66iiq4OQ/s200/IMG_2746_A.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413436737907733618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkxM5U6jcfQlx5bpHlaK3wwRHF9Z_L1ODPKLBK3Og9cSF5kUGbhF2lXOGZUTwmKI_pqeij3ZtQm5XytxQ6lkd5z2mb6tm-SeftOy3S0H3v8SrPp7Tv7E6gsCzxpoz0ySYFdq4vZS-0w/s1600-h/IMG_2746.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkxM5U6jcfQlx5bpHlaK3wwRHF9Z_L1ODPKLBK3Og9cSF5kUGbhF2lXOGZUTwmKI_pqeij3ZtQm5XytxQ6lkd5z2mb6tm-SeftOy3S0H3v8SrPp7Tv7E6gsCzxpoz0ySYFdq4vZS-0w/s200/IMG_2746.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413436678724926898" border="0" /></a>A couple of F-18s roared high overhead. They would periodically accompany us most of the day. Photo left and right show one of the F-18s I managed to snap a photo of just before it flew behind a rock wall. I never saw his wingman.<br /><br />Finally I decided to get up and start moving again. I figured I'd be slower than Jeff and Snurt at this point, that they'd catch up to me. Still 2.5 miles left to go. Don't think about it, don't think about it...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzoR9ZIoAE0C1yUrvMfsgCCAsAlIIYPtF1VWNbXxjPTpHV51n_UJDcoxiVAwgHTjWBrG9iiJ5kFU1wnAkSXj7V30oga3eTfZNe8lOPkEN0gTdgxwQWBbqqXs35-vpO5SzI4_GpI3o3g/s1600-h/IMG_2743.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzoR9ZIoAE0C1yUrvMfsgCCAsAlIIYPtF1VWNbXxjPTpHV51n_UJDcoxiVAwgHTjWBrG9iiJ5kFU1wnAkSXj7V30oga3eTfZNe8lOPkEN0gTdgxwQWBbqqXs35-vpO5SzI4_GpI3o3g/s200/IMG_2743.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413449652454830642" border="0" /></a><br />The first real views around the corner were of this massive curtain-rippled wall rising high <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYi67G_Kb3pb6piQck8dR_Urvzt2Lyi43D-8nT4aRtbxiZs2mTt8HVMPG9jozvabj28Np24eNcPxETve69SA7BtpiMyQ4l2XJ2nzebULFSnpgYlPsGd2Ja_IYeiRhSv5mc3-YuLH_Vg/s1600-h/IMG_2736.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYi67G_Kb3pb6piQck8dR_Urvzt2Lyi43D-8nT4aRtbxiZs2mTt8HVMPG9jozvabj28Np24eNcPxETve69SA7BtpiMyQ4l2XJ2nzebULFSnpgYlPsGd2Ja_IYeiRhSv5mc3-YuLH_Vg/s200/IMG_2736.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413449727141677506" border="0" /></a>over two alpine lakes known as the Hitchcock Lakes. The 13,000'+ mountain towering over the lakes is known as Mt Hitchcock.<br /><br />At some point I caught up to FlyingMoose and RidgeSeeker. Then they were ahead. Then they were behind. Then Jeff and Snurt passed me. Then they were behind. It's kinda all a blur, the 2 miles from Trail Crest. I was walking on, pausing to breath, and looking to the magnificent sights to the west. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPYbKzb1MKk4qAVKsLfQOaLrGe4znE1Xi2COgn855VFafhUqgLWMPaDa6saO6JXUBImtJO9-aoGjQA-FewaGNhX9CHImjkaOZaMW_NoYLcvzThLAVskkxN-agqODgCSD_I_rbcjor6w/s1600-h/IMG_2750.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPYbKzb1MKk4qAVKsLfQOaLrGe4znE1Xi2COgn855VFafhUqgLWMPaDa6saO6JXUBImtJO9-aoGjQA-FewaGNhX9CHImjkaOZaMW_NoYLcvzThLAVskkxN-agqODgCSD_I_rbcjor6w/s200/IMG_2750.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413451773801702562" border="0" /></a>Of which there was plenty to drink in. Photo left shows the trail as it rides near the edge of a long drop. Mt Whitney itself is just up from center. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW_NhyphenhyphenpwoVZKnsZJf_Jk5FAS_qGfmZIfdWaTUKcINAOdL-ZxUfmZo6pw5sJW-k2RJBM7PyZxMCQGtlqYp8aMb2zYiJbT2e_3otLg365mbmXz6B6F48aPZQiqTrg7vTmm951w77_x6CA/s1600-h/IMG_2759.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW_NhyphenhyphenpwoVZKnsZJf_Jk5FAS_qGfmZIfdWaTUKcINAOdL-ZxUfmZo6pw5sJW-k2RJBM7PyZxMCQGtlqYp8aMb2zYiJbT2e_3otLg365mbmXz6B6F48aPZQiqTrg7vTmm951w77_x6CA/s200/IMG_2759.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413451836857736930" border="0" /></a>If you see an small, flat, elongated dark object at the summit of Mt Whitney, that would be the summit hut. The photo right is of FlyingMoose taking a momentary break to look down at the Hitchcock Lakes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlbNbFGcJ71y7EGsAYK2BT8zmwXiFKgJwOCEFEKusYFaI8RMk_12ayv4whGyv9QuTG2xafokWsOQr6xBJTCkyqu0sFnxOkFhg80h68GO-ns6O0A7Gzysy3-Gmcwdd1rfxhbpQbGN3GQ/s1600-h/IMG_2762.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlbNbFGcJ71y7EGsAYK2BT8zmwXiFKgJwOCEFEKusYFaI8RMk_12ayv4whGyv9QuTG2xafokWsOQr6xBJTCkyqu0sFnxOkFhg80h68GO-ns6O0A7Gzysy3-Gmcwdd1rfxhbpQbGN3GQ/s200/IMG_2762.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413452545975509474" border="0" /></a>Photo left is looking just north of Mt Hitchcock at Timber Lake (just above the treeline; more visible in the photo right) just above 11,000'.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJDyYui7tgIgojV-Fe6B7cg4RAKWry-GqU1awQvU7_U8wii8-hIuPz2RcW5L2fCtQ3KLExXAWrMMSZgfBSImKdMvgdVNf08xMJtA0KIsdy3QT9-ux_3bBNDIseU1q2wPUo_fvAXtCew/s1600-h/IMG_2768.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJDyYui7tgIgojV-Fe6B7cg4RAKWry-GqU1awQvU7_U8wii8-hIuPz2RcW5L2fCtQ3KLExXAWrMMSZgfBSImKdMvgdVNf08xMJtA0KIsdy3QT9-ux_3bBNDIseU1q2wPUo_fvAXtCew/s200/IMG_2768.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413452647719815346" border="0" /></a> The mountains beyond are part of the heart of the Sierra Nevada.<br /><br />The trail for the most part back here stayed relatively flat, with an occasional switchback or two up, or an occasional rising traverse. But mostly flat for a good long ways. Which was nice, but...on the flip side, it meant the closer I got to Mt Whitney, the steeper the final trail would become...<br /><br />All the while looking and hiking, the landscape around me looked barren. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZvHo2bSmv_DGsqMdAsbGUHJyZ2kcBi2P3RVnv0qNnLjrKqrDB7r0e00ieDkc1p7cIEVZBu5-evN2qkJ8grOy9P1ThZYfIzei5wMjtruER8vWpQTgZWugweuS7-iOmzcHin61a4c_ZQ/s1600-h/IMG_2728.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZvHo2bSmv_DGsqMdAsbGUHJyZ2kcBi2P3RVnv0qNnLjrKqrDB7r0e00ieDkc1p7cIEVZBu5-evN2qkJ8grOy9P1ThZYfIzei5wMjtruER8vWpQTgZWugweuS7-iOmzcHin61a4c_ZQ/s200/IMG_2728.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413451462202123170" border="0" /></a>But then I would look down and every now and again I'd come across a patch of alpine wildflowers. Some yellow, some white, some purple.<br /><br />Finally we had under a half mile to go. Jeff had found the first patch of snow we would cross and decided to take the opportunity to wing a snowball at Snurt and I.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FvbgcVEgBDeuferdZPTwDh7F0gWJtrhWkQ_R4m1kNk1igAbQN5rZXoBTLW13Xu9y2dfQ_hGHvSOrSQbb0KWvSwfTRubIyhaGxNwt-RxM5VCjLyAgtRFCWCnyyBWIWUC_5_seWqn5bw/s1600-h/IMG_2779.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FvbgcVEgBDeuferdZPTwDh7F0gWJtrhWkQ_R4m1kNk1igAbQN5rZXoBTLW13Xu9y2dfQ_hGHvSOrSQbb0KWvSwfTRubIyhaGxNwt-RxM5VCjLyAgtRFCWCnyyBWIWUC_5_seWqn5bw/s200/IMG_2779.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413447488867974450" border="0" /></a> His first one <span style="font-weight: bold;">nailed</span> me in the head. "I forgot to tell you, I play catch with my boy all the time!" he said, as a second one came flying my way. That one I dodged then scurried past him while he was taking aim at Snurt.<br /><br />Jeff , Snurt and I marched loosely together and eventually caught up to FlyingMoose and RidgeSeeker. We took a small break, then I decided to keep going, figuring that they would overtake me shortly. Particularly FlyingMoose and RidgeSeeker, who were marching hard and fast.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcs8EdscjgHGMubNwZ2Te09xCGYha6wUien6o5V9xfWwZ-2-2YdV4XvjBvQOio7I9hP0Ge1OCXbiQlmcmJs7sVzcoaDTtnDg7tHZYB65BNBm0NWOEENYjKE0iFmA9np72ZAPPfJmS4A/s1600-h/IMG_2783.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcs8EdscjgHGMubNwZ2Te09xCGYha6wUien6o5V9xfWwZ-2-2YdV4XvjBvQOio7I9hP0Ge1OCXbiQlmcmJs7sVzcoaDTtnDg7tHZYB65BNBm0NWOEENYjKE0iFmA9np72ZAPPfJmS4A/s200/IMG_2783.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413460086005953186" border="0" /></a>Photo left is looking up the direction of the summit, still some 400-500' vertical feet to go. Fortunately we did not have to walk over all these rocks. There was a nice, obvious trail to continue following to the top.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvhMtdAZYY249rP1YLQ0Bx5j-W612peArCWCjWs3BCdNPvBDsQrtl2S5AskTYwylUXao4d-PMUcDyjblbGuFx7BExGohZPVmkrc6oIXuEqAZpvhGq761Zg0z6b_fD72gkbITi2KBHHQ/s1600-h/IMG_2786.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvhMtdAZYY249rP1YLQ0Bx5j-W612peArCWCjWs3BCdNPvBDsQrtl2S5AskTYwylUXao4d-PMUcDyjblbGuFx7BExGohZPVmkrc6oIXuEqAZpvhGq761Zg0z6b_fD72gkbITi2KBHHQ/s200/IMG_2786.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413460692761068066" border="0" /></a>But, as things turned out, we were a lot closer to the summit than I thought. The boys must have taken a longer break than I thought they were going to, as I arrived a good 20 or 25 minutes before they arrived.<br /><br />Not that I had the summit to myself! Not by a long shot. There were some 30-odd people clustered up here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZ7Cl94jvv_Kxzlt7Ru-40eGtz5D0K1Q7grzZwErzuQbJ8kLwxyT_-Fr_doQ5b0fl0XaZNBa_60TFNzERfc60BrrA09NZzpzBamTG7B4ZwTfjosOuUlz02cBvE5PWttGpE0sQs5Ze1A/s1600-h/IMG_2793.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZ7Cl94jvv_Kxzlt7Ru-40eGtz5D0K1Q7grzZwErzuQbJ8kLwxyT_-Fr_doQ5b0fl0XaZNBa_60TFNzERfc60BrrA09NZzpzBamTG7B4ZwTfjosOuUlz02cBvE5PWttGpE0sQs5Ze1A/s200/IMG_2793.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413461148793948322" border="0" /></a>The two ladies who I had been leap-frogging on The Switchbacks showed up. I hadn't seen them since I left the Trail Crest. We chatted a bit. They graciously took a photo of me on the summit (ophoto left, me with my MESSENGER mission patch), and I returned the favor for them.<br /><br />Now where was the rest of my team??<br /><br />(cont'd)Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-74932232344959588012009-09-09T08:02:00.071-04:002009-12-19T18:38:05.277-05:00The Whitney Quest - Day 2: Cottonwood Canyon & The Alabama Hills<span style="font-weight: bold;">August 25, 2009</span><br /><br />Being on East Coast time, even being up as late as we were the night before, I rose early for the locals (but "on time" for me at home). After getting a quick shower, the others stirred and rose. We were now awake and ready for the day to begin. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9edtKOQzTl0mCkWTeJ4IZt0Pp63hkQ7jVa7EZ0qrBsTCb2CvZBJR_gWXFPjT_8pklkXNfBUKekhxp_UXwS4hyb6qFMGVs-zhlbKLtm2EzCggZJ71rwrzPqPhrYb8FMsHXHtXGpegTfQ/s1600-h/IMG_2305.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9edtKOQzTl0mCkWTeJ4IZt0Pp63hkQ7jVa7EZ0qrBsTCb2CvZBJR_gWXFPjT_8pklkXNfBUKekhxp_UXwS4hyb6qFMGVs-zhlbKLtm2EzCggZJ71rwrzPqPhrYb8FMsHXHtXGpegTfQ/s200/IMG_2305.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381318569725644370" border="0" /></a>However...it was still rather early locally and quite dark out. So what did we do? Walked across town and down to the Inter-Agency building in the dark, hitting a handful of geocaches by starlight (or streetlight when available) along the way!<br /><br />None of the caches we did were remarkable, or anything to write home about. Mostly they were "cache-n-dash" type hides. If you knew the trick to the hide, they were easy to find. If you were uninitiated, they'd be more challenging. For us, even for those on the team who deny "doing the numbers", these were really "numbers" caches (i.e., caches that one does just to increase the find count #). Pretty much everyone "does the numbers" at some point in their caching career, whether they prefer unique puzzle or challenging adventure caches or not.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaATcVUUtJAQWzKkRpG-5UZcz_cIMnWPLrgpgbMQazdhv8ZuYdcdM4xb-GLFJ6qE_p6Qghacjeyqn5guyrM2K5Jigm9bgeeBp0T4SChLYb1GHrW5iwVgTJcYwUpxo1owQ7EUKXZwYVQ/s1600-h/IMG_2306.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaATcVUUtJAQWzKkRpG-5UZcz_cIMnWPLrgpgbMQazdhv8ZuYdcdM4xb-GLFJ6qE_p6Qghacjeyqn5guyrM2K5Jigm9bgeeBp0T4SChLYb1GHrW5iwVgTJcYwUpxo1owQ7EUKXZwYVQ/s200/IMG_2306.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381319123922630674" border="0" /></a><br /><br />While we were out and about, I noticed not far from the hostel a McDonald's (note: Lone Pine is small; you can walk from end to end in about 20 minutes, so nothing is far from anything). Unlike most McD's this one 'blended in' with its surroundings, being a wooden (or wooden-sided) building with a cowboy scene on the side (photo left). Given that this <span style="font-style: italic;">is </span>McDonald's, I'll let you draw your own interpretation of the cowboy scene...<br /><br />After hitting a few caches and getting almost three miles of walking in, dawn began to brighten the morning sky. Dimly we could see the mountains to the west beginning to emerge from the dark. And we were getting hungry. Found ourselves a breakfast joint that was open, and with not a solitary customer other than us around, had the place to ourselves throughout breakfast. The two people we saw overseeing the establishment spoke little or no English, so getting butter for the toast and pancakes was...an interesting study of what the waitress <span style="font-weight: bold;">thought </span>I was asking for (peanut butter, more jelly, etc - anything but actual butter!).<br /><br />After this hearty breakfast we returned to our hostel room and got our hiking stuff for the day in order. Our goal today: an acclimatization hike up Cottonwood Canyon to Trail Pass (~11,000') and back down. An 11 mile round trip, half of what we would be doing tomorrow.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOh8Co0Dk1e2wvhX3YoxI_Z1se79dP0YswBvOsJU6hJLJndp3RXdtaO4gzNEM7R0BqSTqZtUKV-G0jt4Tg19itm9Vz7zBdnoWRL5I3Zux8V18Lel-ZjgiGgShc1PElczWFLodBJ2bBKQ/s1600-h/IMG_2315.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOh8Co0Dk1e2wvhX3YoxI_Z1se79dP0YswBvOsJU6hJLJndp3RXdtaO4gzNEM7R0BqSTqZtUKV-G0jt4Tg19itm9Vz7zBdnoWRL5I3Zux8V18Lel-ZjgiGgShc1PElczWFLodBJ2bBKQ/s200/IMG_2315.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393538916778214978" border="0" /></a><br />We piled back into the SUV, and sauntered in the opposite direction we walked earlier in the morning. The more immediate goal: finish doing the caches in town. I had lobbied that we do a virtual cache dedicated to the 27 people who died from an 8.3 earthquake that hit Lone Pine on March 26, 1988. I wanted to do this cache as a good friend of mine who had recently passed away had been working on an earthquake forecasting algorithm (and in the face of conventional geologic science, reported he was having a 90+% accuracy rate at forecasting earthquakes before he died; despite having this trend for several years running, geologists still said he was "just getting lucky").<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuTkfRenqiYnVlmUSO9rR-3fOo2XG33aUdcTb2_MgIyTxGQ0btuf9kfpfRQj1A5FT4tsGP0RREu7d63otLm1iClwqnP11dY2NcAjL0Hug0ul0Fel_5c7NTpjMEqEx8Yw8yYQZ7xxZlg/s1600-h/IMG_2346.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuTkfRenqiYnVlmUSO9rR-3fOo2XG33aUdcTb2_MgIyTxGQ0btuf9kfpfRQj1A5FT4tsGP0RREu7d63otLm1iClwqnP11dY2NcAjL0Hug0ul0Fel_5c7NTpjMEqEx8Yw8yYQZ7xxZlg/s200/IMG_2346.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393539605543264018" border="0" /></a><br />After sweeping the rest of the caches in town, and at a nearby park just south of town, we refueled and started heading up to Cottonwood Canyon, stopping briefly to check out another virtual cache in the Alabama Hills area.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7JaruweuleYRPHBWro_gLxxfnQX1WJUqyVaSHpgRk0zUTYPmZsRRJ7EnM9eZnNgWfqqFYwMge0aV4sFLNdtF2UxaStztXez2EpBbIlqrBtHy4cGaF5Q3SDUaOYB4CCY9Sgum_4Plfw/s1600-h/IMG_2349.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7JaruweuleYRPHBWro_gLxxfnQX1WJUqyVaSHpgRk0zUTYPmZsRRJ7EnM9eZnNgWfqqFYwMge0aV4sFLNdtF2UxaStztXez2EpBbIlqrBtHy4cGaF5Q3SDUaOYB4CCY9Sgum_4Plfw/s200/IMG_2349.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393540141686891890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The virtual cache brought you to a plaque that described some of the history of the Alabama Hills. We would learn since the 1920s, hundreds of movies and tv shows, such as <span style="font-style: italic;">Gunga Din, How The West Was Won, Kyber Rifles, Bengal Lancers</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">High Sierra</span>, along with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lone Ranger </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Bonanza</span>, have been filmed right here, with the majestic Sierra Nevada for the background.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABFXirsY6-MCYlrj-21hL2bFZjfobVSDRq5VhaARHRnI_EXb5maCmtW4I37BHD-who1snL7LhibO77hbBP6XlSf7Y-bcDKrULWUVpoVaF9LgbOTZUe68yNj1nqyKE-aQkM6JuRdUAzg/s1600-h/IMG_2351.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABFXirsY6-MCYlrj-21hL2bFZjfobVSDRq5VhaARHRnI_EXb5maCmtW4I37BHD-who1snL7LhibO77hbBP6XlSf7Y-bcDKrULWUVpoVaF9LgbOTZUe68yNj1nqyKE-aQkM6JuRdUAzg/s200/IMG_2351.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393541575492236562" border="0" /></a>But the day was not getting any younger, and we still had our "acclimatization hike" to do up in Cottonwood Canyon. We got back on the road and headed south-southwest, to the obvious switchbacks that climbed up out of the valley, pausing a couple times to let the SUV's overheating engine time to cool down (it wasn't all that hot out, but we were climbing steeply quickly!). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu-6LmlqVMPqQQ3Xof-zCSa36HN8AGSEL45CZjCECmNQl_DHhpJjiFptemJgoTU_ocnFKjyBZ7JNUnY4pUKlNOEE1p4DYnvKn-bugJL0DUlpiS7z3lWeUTcd963N5DU2XePx5s295uw/s1600-h/IMG_2364.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu-6LmlqVMPqQQ3Xof-zCSa36HN8AGSEL45CZjCECmNQl_DHhpJjiFptemJgoTU_ocnFKjyBZ7JNUnY4pUKlNOEE1p4DYnvKn-bugJL0DUlpiS7z3lWeUTcd963N5DU2XePx5s295uw/s200/IMG_2364.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393542597660322626" border="0" /></a>From the Alabama Hills to Cottonwood Canyon it would be a 22 mile drive, but take nearly an hour. Photo above left shows the road to the foothills and the switchbacks up out of the valley. Photo right is near the last of the switchbacks, looking back towards the Alabama Hills. The dark green clump of trees far right center is Lone Pine. In the far distance is up valley towards Tahoe. The haze from the fires in California this time of year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8_N7tBlORw-E_3xVJmqs0JQpync4wsMmcV3eUeZXjJ9pqNcXhDRaMC6fniQ9aV5YHKI0t1Ne-lYqA95sfeDBSOonz_DHgDc9zgdhPfbrUlLNfyZexH4BJRmQR8u4PIJ71Xi6lq2KrQ/s1600-h/IMG_2372.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8_N7tBlORw-E_3xVJmqs0JQpync4wsMmcV3eUeZXjJ9pqNcXhDRaMC6fniQ9aV5YHKI0t1Ne-lYqA95sfeDBSOonz_DHgDc9zgdhPfbrUlLNfyZexH4BJRmQR8u4PIJ71Xi6lq2KrQ/s200/IMG_2372.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393543763089989778" border="0" /></a>We had gone up quite a ways before we got to the portal that allowed us our first glimpse of Cottonwood Canyon (photo right). We still had a few miles to drive, and our hike would take us to the saddle right of center along the horizon, then circle around the mountain to the left and back down to the high valley and where we would park.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIBHhokRtS7n1wgrn-W60RNy7M-uDSyQ-cxjoWPqAqY8GxEEEP99DMOgp6vZMuTY2IZHEB6PahjWzukuxD6Kl3mjWV-iTk-c1n5v7gDen19cUcJ1oFLVptiJ501xlE1xStemOxy1Zsw/s1600-h/IMG_2396.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIBHhokRtS7n1wgrn-W60RNy7M-uDSyQ-cxjoWPqAqY8GxEEEP99DMOgp6vZMuTY2IZHEB6PahjWzukuxD6Kl3mjWV-iTk-c1n5v7gDen19cUcJ1oFLVptiJ501xlE1xStemOxy1Zsw/s200/IMG_2396.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393545243835469058" border="0" /></a>Soon enough we arrived at the parking area and trailhead. The place had plenty of cars, but it wasn't overly full, being midweek and all. We got out, geared ourselves up, did the photo thing, and got our butts on the trail.<br /><br />The trailhead is at about 9,960' (give or take), and the Cottonwood Pass (our goal of this little acclimatization hike) is at 11,160' (or 11,180', depending on whom you reference; whichever, it is over 11,100'!), 5-6 miles away. Once there we would then traverse around the north side of Trail Peak (11,623')<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfvtbkpTKsZOy_mkFPauziEbP7blWXmviIqjX_RpHxz6hq4PDUVE9DaaMz4gXRWzS1Mf8aDYLx_HLC2nMQYE_pAw4fYLOUgZdk5jUADTeSOCHLfx2cXwa2RoNzO6Vh2M24D1uGWK5mw/s1600-h/IMG_2405.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfvtbkpTKsZOy_mkFPauziEbP7blWXmviIqjX_RpHxz6hq4PDUVE9DaaMz4gXRWzS1Mf8aDYLx_HLC2nMQYE_pAw4fYLOUgZdk5jUADTeSOCHLfx2cXwa2RoNzO6Vh2M24D1uGWK5mw/s200/IMG_2405.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397337157289442434" border="0" /></a> for a mile and a half on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) to the Trail Pass (10,500'), then back down to Horseshoe Meadow and then to the parking lot again. A total trip of 11-12 miles, and would get us up to just over 11,000' to prep our bodies for The Climb tomorrow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6Dth8WJwrnEXlDwQH0iwMqe_RsZNNy2gSGAJVnoqbBBG0spvCovfYykcHAbSYJPsCSp1E13F_atWJtnJA699i23hWZDUEtYD_JcP37ZoWa_GeHvNLFQHbLK9Az6Gmbsh_m8o5F9gJg/s1600-h/IMG_2406.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6Dth8WJwrnEXlDwQH0iwMqe_RsZNNy2gSGAJVnoqbBBG0spvCovfYykcHAbSYJPsCSp1E13F_atWJtnJA699i23hWZDUEtYD_JcP37ZoWa_GeHvNLFQHbLK9Az6Gmbsh_m8o5F9gJg/s200/IMG_2406.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397336983992372946" border="0" /></a>The trail started out flat, flat, sandy and flat, as we traversed along the north end of Horseshoe Meadow. Periodically we could see Trail Pass (and Trail Peak; photo upper right) and Cottonwood Pass (photo left) as we proceeded along. Trail Pass was obviously much more wooded than Cottonwood Pass. But then again, Cottonwood Pass was over 600' higher in elevation. :-)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0Z1t9lgYm8H-ORBlJC-18_cpCrxVtnbERDiwA-7eAxbPPEIXXN2o9QnnsUaygFTo3jKan9aTb107jGusulZriw5Ec6_c1n1wsJeFhQVpMsnc1X0gIy6McBQ_wDufgnjpz4my2WX86A/s1600-h/IMG_2407.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0Z1t9lgYm8H-ORBlJC-18_cpCrxVtnbERDiwA-7eAxbPPEIXXN2o9QnnsUaygFTo3jKan9aTb107jGusulZriw5Ec6_c1n1wsJeFhQVpMsnc1X0gIy6McBQ_wDufgnjpz4my2WX86A/s200/IMG_2407.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397339024539526514" border="0" /></a><br />We soon entered the lodgepole and foxtail pine forest, catching one final glimpse of Cottonwood Pass (photo right; our trail would take us next to the green meadow-like area in the center of this photo; see below for reverse view). The trail stayed very kind and pretty level, even as we were gently rising in altitude. But as soon as we left the Horseshoe Meadow,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiBaJefaqIIsSZ1ehr1Uao9vDq8wP5XJejZ6qloaGtBcqNw2Dj6tWqOW_nQZ0gFMUjhCn9lCxVnpVzcxifVj7WMKes48xrbmOHj7nl3P4xmeyNa6IbqHvf4mHxNVhcYnK2Yb_pxxNTw/s1600-h/IMG_2419.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiBaJefaqIIsSZ1ehr1Uao9vDq8wP5XJejZ6qloaGtBcqNw2Dj6tWqOW_nQZ0gFMUjhCn9lCxVnpVzcxifVj7WMKes48xrbmOHj7nl3P4xmeyNa6IbqHvf4mHxNVhcYnK2Yb_pxxNTw/s200/IMG_2419.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397340233582645314" border="0" /></a> we began to climb up switchbacks (photo left) up the rocky slope. As we got about halfway up, we were afforded one final glimpse back of the Horseshoe Meadow (photo right). Then...it was all rock and pine trees.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OUim0mv1IX0rr5M6CpqHeSPxUGV95snHYKit72N_YoTofVxyVkg3FmK_zWr0cMil-057y_Gh8bbAXX8i1489MauOVPbbLXEkHvGVdUIa5P8WzCwBlPpdXn60Kuq5Mw1vYKXC-yHFpA/s1600-h/IMG_2421.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OUim0mv1IX0rr5M6CpqHeSPxUGV95snHYKit72N_YoTofVxyVkg3FmK_zWr0cMil-057y_Gh8bbAXX8i1489MauOVPbbLXEkHvGVdUIa5P8WzCwBlPpdXn60Kuq5Mw1vYKXC-yHFpA/s200/IMG_2421.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397340864072786978" border="0" /></a><br />When we started out, I was in the back of the pack. Partly because I was stopping entirely too often to take photos, and partly because the other guys were hiking faster than I. At some point, however, I think when we hit the switchbacks, I ended up passing them by quite a few minutes. Must have been from hiking up and down all the stairs in the new building at work where my office is...<br /><br />I don't remember how many switchbacks we climbed up. There were quite a few. But they were gentle, the trail never steep, and the distance between the switchbacks was usually fairly lengthy.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHiRZ3PpesmVnBqlWlcpxs1hKrxtLlgq5DN3TvqmISibcVQHdR8wIOSjRLfjliHXcOSTyYmvMsGaQ2WN_k687ADlhJePWU7ApS1hcBTpgbloymDB4gXq2jzt5BT7abV0SwcKYA3krq_g/s1600-h/IMG_2423.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHiRZ3PpesmVnBqlWlcpxs1hKrxtLlgq5DN3TvqmISibcVQHdR8wIOSjRLfjliHXcOSTyYmvMsGaQ2WN_k687ADlhJePWU7ApS1hcBTpgbloymDB4gXq2jzt5BT7abV0SwcKYA3krq_g/s200/IMG_2423.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397343656845918546" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Finally it was clear that the pass was ahead of me (photo left). Just one long final stretch of trail and I'd be there!<br /><br />Once I arrived at the crest of the trail, I kicked back <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblmMobp6mYyBRSJXOCgFBQe50W6G1BgQF-yFKH4thhEHWV0MbSZn1ifbSo4_uOR3NIWM262lBofwAr4dfbw8ga2lIc9RgPSDfFWYMjSXsVQPmInVi-zDpzQjJVrsDxfXE6eKT-NCrSA/s1600-h/IMG_2439.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblmMobp6mYyBRSJXOCgFBQe50W6G1BgQF-yFKH4thhEHWV0MbSZn1ifbSo4_uOR3NIWM262lBofwAr4dfbw8ga2lIc9RgPSDfFWYMjSXsVQPmInVi-zDpzQjJVrsDxfXE6eKT-NCrSA/s200/IMG_2439.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397345325325286818" border="0" /></a>to relax on one of the weirdly-shaped and weathered boulders up there (photo right). For about a minute. Then my "what's over here" curiousity instincts kicked in, having never been up here before. I got up and actually start looking around, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhhTRxRiSK_6byvaVv8uHjhZbtXgcvLesg0GDqGZwMtzGU3byZlXu84kWWdgA5tpqmktIsPX99Ys1DTsadQAlz2llTVD7Vm7_qQSO0NrNpr7MkpdTWpeMIzK2eBvpC6R3r-6gufApvQ/s1600-h/IMG_2428.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhhTRxRiSK_6byvaVv8uHjhZbtXgcvLesg0GDqGZwMtzGU3byZlXu84kWWdgA5tpqmktIsPX99Ys1DTsadQAlz2llTVD7Vm7_qQSO0NrNpr7MkpdTWpeMIzK2eBvpC6R3r-6gufApvQ/s200/IMG_2428.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397345803304794930" border="0" /></a><br />The view back down to Horseshoe Meadow was quite nice (photo left). It was a little humbling to understand that our ride was 5-6 miles "thataway", on the far side of the Meadow, somewhere below the tall mountain upper center. And we still had to traverse around to the right (from this view) behind Trail Peak, then end up somewhere in the middle of Horseshoe Meadow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBO-_4KTuhm-guiehKGeZwh3G4i0U4kblu0L2Ie6v7a7y4h6cFDBo0VsHcoCVDVEURHvNmmp9qHNOVOLFJZT3g8mpxh2vvhHY3GwzA3ENdL1TZCnN8pBJKxorY2PaNOPGCIomKfx00pg/s1600-h/IMG_2436.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBO-_4KTuhm-guiehKGeZwh3G4i0U4kblu0L2Ie6v7a7y4h6cFDBo0VsHcoCVDVEURHvNmmp9qHNOVOLFJZT3g8mpxh2vvhHY3GwzA3ENdL1TZCnN8pBJKxorY2PaNOPGCIomKfx00pg/s200/IMG_2436.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397351264266825042" border="0" /></a>Behind me was the Big Whitney Meadow (photo right). Our journey today would only take us a very very short way into it, then turn left and follow the PCT. I'll have to come back another day to check out the Big Whitney Meadow.<br /><br />I should make a side note here, throughout the afternoon we would occasionally hear jets flying high overhead. Most of the time I never saw them, but every once in a while I'd catch a glimpse. They were F-18s, out of the Naval Air Weapons Station, China Lake. It was Jeff who not only pointed them out to us, but could tell us where they were flying out of (being a pilot and all :-D ). He assured us that they were always flying in pairs, even if we only caught sight of one every once in a while. These jets would accompany our climb up Mt Whitney tomorrow for most of the day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YlSMMqu88EhB_AQUNnLzE6sZ0aIN_7-UO5eiPVmaejWFEShgKNDPUEuW7knTIdw98Sthqhx3zSKtldGZE_Ltg1a9dZq8BfAD_zkgohauM2Ma-BgKyKwKvq3rXYRgLBACz0nFvncWgA/s1600-h/IMG_2447.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YlSMMqu88EhB_AQUNnLzE6sZ0aIN_7-UO5eiPVmaejWFEShgKNDPUEuW7knTIdw98Sthqhx3zSKtldGZE_Ltg1a9dZq8BfAD_zkgohauM2Ma-BgKyKwKvq3rXYRgLBACz0nFvncWgA/s200/IMG_2447.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397351962728755058" border="0" /></a>Before too long the rest of the guys caught up and we had a nice, relaxing lunch. But we didn't have ALL day, so gathered up our stuff and started out on the second half of our hike. Photo left is the view back up to Cottonwood Pass from the junction of the Cottonwood Pass trail and the PCT.<br /><br />As we headed down the trail, I heard a call (Nature) from just up the hill. The other guys didn't hear anything and kept on trucking. By the time I got back to the trail, they were l-o-n-g gone. Well, even mapless, I figured I couldn't get too lost here. I knew where the Horseshoe Meadow was, and where we were parked. I could navigate there by any means necessary if I ever lost the trail.<br /><br />As I hiked onward, I came across a number of interesting things: a grove of dead pines (below left), more than a few huge leaning trees (below center), and always these extremely twisted trees (below right). I've seen trees like this for many years in the mountains. I still have yet to understand how they get so twisted up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSSicq1RI20srD5BiSEdGxwh7YBuld02jQ-CZstfMh_XiLixxQfHvN82-JS6F7SV4ghZbTE4FAZO5IqJ-neuvTHPk41ENTZ-Im_o3EKqHe4Qxj2ud8Kb3JN_wytBdVc6IDYt2WrwBcw/s1600-h/IMG_2480.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 107px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSSicq1RI20srD5BiSEdGxwh7YBuld02jQ-CZstfMh_XiLixxQfHvN82-JS6F7SV4ghZbTE4FAZO5IqJ-neuvTHPk41ENTZ-Im_o3EKqHe4Qxj2ud8Kb3JN_wytBdVc6IDYt2WrwBcw/s200/IMG_2480.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397354238337910834" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmuOUekPOSX5JY4l5Nk0ERNRgIV8TD_A9xf4fhFRChyphenhyphendEAnFpklw8qt2Qh5dVRhiED4VhDCPRFhtgzDyG2_8IeDzIJbsCCWvHVqSJ5hPvlbZbSxA0p20V0nmfnDS4AWm4fcj5I4TC6g/s1600-h/IMG_2457.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmuOUekPOSX5JY4l5Nk0ERNRgIV8TD_A9xf4fhFRChyphenhyphendEAnFpklw8qt2Qh5dVRhiED4VhDCPRFhtgzDyG2_8IeDzIJbsCCWvHVqSJ5hPvlbZbSxA0p20V0nmfnDS4AWm4fcj5I4TC6g/s200/IMG_2457.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397353900241461938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KNEXnJztxo7wqgMPK1NqvVRaQG4nShFx_ZBiptUdsHv0OZwYQj_vq93r5syTZdsLZJ3aw3lp7xiUmU181U37mM5ERJlqy6tHo6-dkE7uzFEHugNUbcOxHzZYnJVZa9FeiyRng1tZ8A/s1600-h/IMG_2484.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KNEXnJztxo7wqgMPK1NqvVRaQG4nShFx_ZBiptUdsHv0OZwYQj_vq93r5syTZdsLZJ3aw3lp7xiUmU181U37mM5ERJlqy6tHo6-dkE7uzFEHugNUbcOxHzZYnJVZa9FeiyRng1tZ8A/s200/IMG_2484.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397353947746420338" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually I got to Poison Meadow <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnv8sXW-A_g3m8xFO-q6bBuiI8vYQ2hsw7iMtaizfcJfwOyrgy3ghUWbC63kCVvq103aLMd_0Zz0z8daDzkBQwKVbTbNlQOA9rFcIs7PRSoXNYS5u2QHo1t3dMkayiYHGnP3013lNbnQ/s1600-h/IMG_2466_poison_meadow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnv8sXW-A_g3m8xFO-q6bBuiI8vYQ2hsw7iMtaizfcJfwOyrgy3ghUWbC63kCVvq103aLMd_0Zz0z8daDzkBQwKVbTbNlQOA9rFcIs7PRSoXNYS5u2QHo1t3dMkayiYHGnP3013lNbnQ/s200/IMG_2466_poison_meadow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397355008232649186" border="0" /></a>(photo left; no, I don't know why it's called Poison Meadow), and soon after that I caught up to Jeff and Dwight. We hiked onward together, but I <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89aMKs4mdvOFpbymo61RPHHF723OEC-O_0YO6xCjgx8-yfZriiyhzHfAXCRlEm7SPkS49Du_MKWsRDsg_nX1ANsFWEX1GB4O63EPMLNPd_Q1dHMa80XCYfqUKSe0-ODjcLWHNMVXyXg/s1600-h/IMG_2490.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89aMKs4mdvOFpbymo61RPHHF723OEC-O_0YO6xCjgx8-yfZriiyhzHfAXCRlEm7SPkS49Du_MKWsRDsg_nX1ANsFWEX1GB4O63EPMLNPd_Q1dHMa80XCYfqUKSe0-ODjcLWHNMVXyXg/s200/IMG_2490.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397355482390852066" border="0" /></a>was growing pretty fatigued and they soon out-distanced me. I just plodded ahead, one foot in front of the other. The view in front of me (photo right) unchanging, the Horseshoe Meadow off to my left through breaks in the trees.<br /><br />After a while I caught up to the group. They were taking a break at the Trail Pass/PCT/Mulkey Trail junction. I plopped down but after a couple minutes they rose to start heading onward, fully rested. Ugggh. This didn't bode well for me for tomorrow. I climbed to my feet and plodded onward, still slower than the rest (I also think they were catching exit fever, enabling them to go faster).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0t52Ma8LROCEA1e82SLDZIucaPFI5QDVOFcdK10zyzXMmPCAVQLIUsZwx01HuT5zW9RJvunKK3wRTOH7t6CVCRlHnV7LvY9vEnn_QMPsg6aKQIB0OHKL1LoDi5frc0M-YuDT0x1hfQ/s1600-h/IMG_2509.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0t52Ma8LROCEA1e82SLDZIucaPFI5QDVOFcdK10zyzXMmPCAVQLIUsZwx01HuT5zW9RJvunKK3wRTOH7t6CVCRlHnV7LvY9vEnn_QMPsg6aKQIB0OHKL1LoDi5frc0M-YuDT0x1hfQ/s200/IMG_2509.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397356729983308306" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually we got down the 600' descent to the broad and sandy Horseshoe Meadow (photo left). And halfway across the meadow we came upon a group of horse riders heading in for a one or two night overnighter trip. (photo right). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiD0D4QzpHgW0LcpPIsSnfACTdfmgQjpiHWjafO5jwq70Wb5ee9dxrHxPnsdAbc1_twTpAz94Ahd-qZFY4zd1nOJtpPfYPDxo-Q_MQ5L1hFeiWaNRBDeRGFibqiHwhf1mVeNl-8ulDig/s1600-h/IMG_2517.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiD0D4QzpHgW0LcpPIsSnfACTdfmgQjpiHWjafO5jwq70Wb5ee9dxrHxPnsdAbc1_twTpAz94Ahd-qZFY4zd1nOJtpPfYPDxo-Q_MQ5L1hFeiWaNRBDeRGFibqiHwhf1mVeNl-8ulDig/s200/IMG_2517.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397356784808317810" border="0" /></a>That's one way of traveling so as to not carry all your gear on your back!<br /><br />From here it was still about a mile, maybe a shade less, to get back to the parking lot. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuGC-Z-Mkqy2xSXRTsYHg6R7_xhy8H6Pn_kIhIOm4_4c9ymMWRJdzSbvj4s9V7khlZjpfSgsEroV4ESV2xz-jI6eXV2QxqAbzVcmHA_Ac0fdin5q4Vt_UVfShCrHk4EYA50ey31RA2w/s1600-h/IMG_2521.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuGC-Z-Mkqy2xSXRTsYHg6R7_xhy8H6Pn_kIhIOm4_4c9ymMWRJdzSbvj4s9V7khlZjpfSgsEroV4ESV2xz-jI6eXV2QxqAbzVcmHA_Ac0fdin5q4Vt_UVfShCrHk4EYA50ey31RA2w/s200/IMG_2521.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397357693188623442" border="0" /></a>We still had one water hazard to cross (photo left) in the blazing sun before we could get back to the wooded shade and the Cottonwood Trail (after which it was less than half a mile to the SUV; but given how I was feeling, that was one lonnng half mile!).<br /><br />Tired, exhausted, I made it back to the SUV. The other four guys had already shed their packs and changed their shoes/socks and were ready to roll. It took me a few minutes to catch up, but then we departed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyUtY2qtuFr1HdGHNOyZ-9Covkcma-EuEAeBZgbMggXuLJp5mhL_iTe4eKL2Zt8H0IFjN9gKX9tdiJzhKPSAynNhGQ4kMhsPbSSn_ObvRxuRzZJpXMI7vpwzAB2jDV3GtVubTAe6qqA/s1600-h/IMG_2537.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyUtY2qtuFr1HdGHNOyZ-9Covkcma-EuEAeBZgbMggXuLJp5mhL_iTe4eKL2Zt8H0IFjN9gKX9tdiJzhKPSAynNhGQ4kMhsPbSSn_ObvRxuRzZJpXMI7vpwzAB2jDV3GtVubTAe6qqA/s200/IMG_2537.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397358739870262402" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On the way out we noticed that the local rock removal crews hadn't finished their work yet. It was just before 2p.<br /><br />From my vantage point in the SUV on the drive back down the switchbacked Horseshoe Meadow Road, at this hour in the afternoon, the valley below had a distinctive red coloring in places (photo left). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AT9NPwxgLmVJSZhVjj9-Q8Izy5riTrqKT1mITPHJJIw_rL8vsAW1NXdLOPvxfx0Xh4RUAA_mVM_Dd9YcT1mCNQtiNL4tJfWjerg7VcL4QS5ovzvpHHAL200ZxyGemBciI6PuZJ39GA/s1600-h/IMG_2557.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AT9NPwxgLmVJSZhVjj9-Q8Izy5riTrqKT1mITPHJJIw_rL8vsAW1NXdLOPvxfx0Xh4RUAA_mVM_Dd9YcT1mCNQtiNL4tJfWjerg7VcL4QS5ovzvpHHAL200ZxyGemBciI6PuZJ39GA/s200/IMG_2557.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397359922122531858" border="0" /></a>We also saw down in the plains periodic dust devils, some of them quite tall (but barely showed up on the photos; there are actually two just right of center in this photo).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLna9htptvVmo_U9qqQFOWmzAYGpKlfK4ZX20w5iM4WnJgFRL04zqQjWCwpAPu9mmxuUlOoWess2dAbbl3HcR3cDnDa8HKd9HC4ouQmBV-d4TBVF9tuoHNPsSNP5LImRU1d1iswpjwg/s1600-h/IMG_2571.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLna9htptvVmo_U9qqQFOWmzAYGpKlfK4ZX20w5iM4WnJgFRL04zqQjWCwpAPu9mmxuUlOoWess2dAbbl3HcR3cDnDa8HKd9HC4ouQmBV-d4TBVF9tuoHNPsSNP5LImRU1d1iswpjwg/s200/IMG_2571.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397361262530893890" border="0" /></a>As we were closing in on Whitney Portal Road, and since it was "only" mid-afternoon (i.e., we had time to kill), we decided to stop and tag two more caches in the Alabama Hills. We piled out to start looking for the first cache, but my attention was drawn to the rocks. My hands started itching, and I was wishing I had my harness and shoes (and a rope). Photo right of Jeff and Dwight passing by one of the rock formations here, in search of the cache.<br /><br />As I tore my attentions from the rocks to help with the cache search, one of the guys said, "Hey, what's that up on the rock?" I immediately trotted over to where he was. Sure 'nuff, it was a bolt! And a rap station up top. These rocks WERE an established climbing area! I wanted to climb up...but restrained myself. This will have to wait for another time...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgf9rGcz8keppgyXd9JRXw1V3Ni0XGBpHbRS_J9VMkFxz9v0CTWjRRzE5vCQb3WUIxnkLy_mvDx48hkOjPcEMJF9JRU-CFE37O9ri9qEtLa1wmYyRlSrIhhai1flXMLzutfjRozU-Jg/s1600-h/IMG_2582.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgf9rGcz8keppgyXd9JRXw1V3Ni0XGBpHbRS_J9VMkFxz9v0CTWjRRzE5vCQb3WUIxnkLy_mvDx48hkOjPcEMJF9JRU-CFE37O9ri9qEtLa1wmYyRlSrIhhai1flXMLzutfjRozU-Jg/s200/IMG_2582.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397361832267740322" border="0" /></a>We quickly found the two caches, and a plaque describing this particular area as being where the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">Gunga Din </span>was filmed (photos left and right below).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUw6nv3SWhdGbS8lsSN-aPoSq3tKegQUQwIReuBdUA_6vhvAVVofhut17R14UjY3vP4kZggE9lKT7ytTjUYkiDoBoOCDDv2pHgCvv1dYPNJjz2BG8pITItF7vM7FRj3nw-1TZlMYykjQ/s1600-h/IMG_2583.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUw6nv3SWhdGbS8lsSN-aPoSq3tKegQUQwIReuBdUA_6vhvAVVofhut17R14UjY3vP4kZggE9lKT7ytTjUYkiDoBoOCDDv2pHgCvv1dYPNJjz2BG8pITItF7vM7FRj3nw-1TZlMYykjQ/s200/IMG_2583.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397361877716138402" border="0" /></a><br />After collecting the two caches, we jaunted back to town, and off to the ranger station to check in. Where we were given a rude surprise that almost ended the trip right then and there!<br /><br />Seems we had to check in with the rangers by 11AM the day before the hike, not just check in with them at any time the day before the hike! If there had been a line of people waiting for no-shows during the check-in time, our permit would have been given to another party, and we would have been SOL, and out of our registration fees. We got <span style="font-weight: bold;">lucky</span>. Lesson learned. When doing Whitney, DON'T plan anything else the morning before!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzqECL9GaqlfXaCTnAXRpMkMRC8MeO8ASNc2fK-m273jceLThR0olbtL4O4V_EZAlRceHj3vIzQ__dNSUUqUQZjtlXwUAmqZ3OgfxyUmU-lF0aUfYr2Vm2wwR8zRGUyzPPGOA_HUXmg/s1600-h/IMG_2591.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzqECL9GaqlfXaCTnAXRpMkMRC8MeO8ASNc2fK-m273jceLThR0olbtL4O4V_EZAlRceHj3vIzQ__dNSUUqUQZjtlXwUAmqZ3OgfxyUmU-lF0aUfYr2Vm2wwR8zRGUyzPPGOA_HUXmg/s200/IMG_2591.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397364300178689154" border="0" /></a><br />With our permit in hand, we headed back to town to grab some grub (photo left, view of Pizza Factory from the hostel room; <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYRjMRWdqRihuiIAQ2erUc67ohKfaSieIhOvihpDsz6T_klV39p03e5ssBAwc2Y4gQAYGNL5vOSWnpUbOtMIbxSwh6re5gh_hGiupAdYmrgzuJktAQXdDOSvTITIhH-um4pZV1nNZhA/s1600-h/IMG_2592.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYRjMRWdqRihuiIAQ2erUc67ohKfaSieIhOvihpDsz6T_klV39p03e5ssBAwc2Y4gQAYGNL5vOSWnpUbOtMIbxSwh6re5gh_hGiupAdYmrgzuJktAQXdDOSvTITIhH-um4pZV1nNZhA/s200/IMG_2592.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397364377626607026" border="0" /></a>photo right is of the Mt Whitney hostel from the Pizza Factory), do some more last-minute shopping (which, for me, included picking up a climbing guide to the Alabama Hills; yep, I'll be back!), then repack for the hike up Whitney. We would be getting up around midnight-thirty. Going to bed early sounded like a good option.Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-1456017155167886192009-09-04T13:52:00.029-04:002009-09-14T23:59:18.195-04:00The Whitney Quest - Day 1, Part 2: Rhyolite to Lone PineAs we left Rhyolite to head for the old cemetery (mind you, by "old", this is "western old", not "european old"), we decided to stop by the <a href="http://www.goldwellmuseum.org/">Goldwell Open Air Museum.</a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc9HDsFUGwNvWEI9VsMiqEmNVrGpo-PWv2sLJat_hnzVFKtVUlbZVbF3R-UtjJokGREh_0hgsubbLr1GwVb_MNYwodKwLp1iWxqTXecb79uM_NCJSYbcJFidyMSi5ZUb2OHgUlaSUJvw/s1600-h/IMG_2191.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc9HDsFUGwNvWEI9VsMiqEmNVrGpo-PWv2sLJat_hnzVFKtVUlbZVbF3R-UtjJokGREh_0hgsubbLr1GwVb_MNYwodKwLp1iWxqTXecb79uM_NCJSYbcJFidyMSi5ZUb2OHgUlaSUJvw/s200/IMG_2191.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379904626673264978" border="0" /></a>(photo left of the sculpt entitled "Tribute To Shorty Harris", and on prominent display near the road, draws the attentions of passersby) There were some...interesting sculptures scattered around the 15 acre grounds, and we were intrigued. Little did I know at the time, but Clue Seeker also knew that one of the half dozen Rhyolite caches was located right here. Heh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-JmPvLhA-AMm0jrU0PP8o26LKIP0Ir2i6InrEJ9qV6GbJZ_nHLRVB6153Jc7CS0Nnm5oBcvWx5X-u4NWDybf7YBYsJJj-o19qlAIypJ8d1YE6WFJDPI2rQ9m6pE9VsYN1In7XFXCxQ/s1600-h/IMG_2199.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-JmPvLhA-AMm0jrU0PP8o26LKIP0Ir2i6InrEJ9qV6GbJZ_nHLRVB6153Jc7CS0Nnm5oBcvWx5X-u4NWDybf7YBYsJJj-o19qlAIypJ8d1YE6WFJDPI2rQ9m6pE9VsYN1In7XFXCxQ/s200/IMG_2199.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380199782735244418" border="0" /></a>The Open Air Museum was started in 1984 by <a href="http://www.lexates.com/hommage-to-albert-szukalski.htm">Belgian sculptor Albert Szukalski</a> (1945-2000). He is best known for his life-sized "ghostly" shrouded figures, some of which were on display here, and others which are on display in and around his home town of Antwerp. To make these sculpts, he would wrap live models in fabric soaked in wet plaster, posed them to what he wanted, then refined the drapery. When the plaster set, the model stepped out, leaving a rigid shroud of a figure behind. The final sculpts are then covered in fiberglass to weatherproof them. When we first drove up to Rhyolite we saw a line of ghostly figures off the road, but had no idea what they really were.<br /><br />We all got out and started exploring the grounds. I was drawn over to a rather colorful couch . I wasn't sure why, since some of the other stuff was more interesting. I guess I figured I'd check out this color-wild couch first <span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">(entitled "Sit Here")</span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">, and figure out if it was at all comfortable to sit on, then make a sweeping circle around to catch all the other stuff on my way back to the SUV.<br /></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqAqt3dzndnyIyhnJZc41cMXBybO1roFW8n-yuszhz5YE86PAu3I6v37wOeR8J84a4HtNa68ufaxJew56OEnOvlBJjUS7i2nxsaBfMx3c7WW1X5PdXdQ829dm4VJwlSUVxHt2eZBtsdQ/s1600-h/IMG_2192.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqAqt3dzndnyIyhnJZc41cMXBybO1roFW8n-yuszhz5YE86PAu3I6v37wOeR8J84a4HtNa68ufaxJew56OEnOvlBJjUS7i2nxsaBfMx3c7WW1X5PdXdQ829dm4VJwlSUVxHt2eZBtsdQ/s200/IMG_2192.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379906466282091826" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">As I approached, Jeff also came by, GPS in hand (photo right). I asked, "Is there a cache near here?" He laughed and said, "Right here!". Lo and behold, there was one hidden behind the couch. Heh.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiBC7A-OOO7pxy_xnvlFJlMg4dzouHge3GJDs1emM-HAw7tn5FV7N92_xCBbQo3nQKDTKPUrxhcd7dciHefBYa5NsRRmfED6bSt6n9xKBzeWVqlpqH5AR3fMaDyDEEuqaT70k45ybaA/s1600-h/IMG_2193.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiBC7A-OOO7pxy_xnvlFJlMg4dzouHge3GJDs1emM-HAw7tn5FV7N92_xCBbQo3nQKDTKPUrxhcd7dciHefBYa5NsRRmfED6bSt6n9xKBzeWVqlpqH5AR3fMaDyDEEuqaT70k45ybaA/s200/IMG_2193.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379930677979570930" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After checking out some of the detail on the couch (photo left: among other things, hidden on the right side of the couch was a <span style="font-style: italic;">Star Trek</span> Starfleet emblem), and doing the group photo thing (illustrating just how not comfortable the couch was), I moved on to the other constructs.</span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyq2VJsVYCSau2ODljjesCZFCoxUZuB9vG4x4TLQJcRgqo9wlemWWYxzKTPI55cSYVU6OYMj2qSNHd7-ZhbEAZnYNO9O3DUdR1gTsl6A-ju4E2T6swgE0TFTozHpB9vZyc9gQYtqQFg/s1600-h/IMG_2195.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyq2VJsVYCSau2ODljjesCZFCoxUZuB9vG4x4TLQJcRgqo9wlemWWYxzKTPI55cSYVU6OYMj2qSNHd7-ZhbEAZnYNO9O3DUdR1gTsl6A-ju4E2T6swgE0TFTozHpB9vZyc9gQYtqQFg/s200/IMG_2195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379930732539540178" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><br />The one that drew my (and everyone else's) attention was the 25' tall "Lady Desert: The Venus of Nevada". </span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicc0ZgVXvSzg9WUEHcrpbUfMgWQLkU3V6bWHztvxwA03nb5w4T2gCMfMQIYMd08Bl2S0cMc_QH1ECDSjYPPewcw8L-pTDI_Rgh4j_uL8YfVygDh0o7Q9kjkDkn2yNhyphenhyphen5G4vVwWElQz0g/s1600-h/IMG_2206.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicc0ZgVXvSzg9WUEHcrpbUfMgWQLkU3V6bWHztvxwA03nb5w4T2gCMfMQIYMd08Bl2S0cMc_QH1ECDSjYPPewcw8L-pTDI_Rgh4j_uL8YfVygDh0o7Q9kjkDkn2yNhyphenhyphen5G4vVwWElQz0g/s200/IMG_2206.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380188236497325106" border="0" /></a></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">You can tell she's tall, but you get no real appreciation for her height until, well, you get right up near her.<br /><br />She was constructed in 1992 by Hugo Heyrman. He used cinderblocks to represent the pixels he used in his virtual 2-D computer work (yes, computers - and the internet! - existed back in 1992! :-P the abacus and sliderule had just been retired the year before).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wt6Mb_rscorog-2LC8rY7WNPo5SHyN2nK8X8sfNzlAAOxLo1uivWwqn5JlPVZejMi7V0izqRrOWMxw4XMtkFQyEog7g9V33Kef49x4EWO2twwbfYydjKkBSEtc6G3u70E6POUigKZA/s1600-h/IMG_2196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wt6Mb_rscorog-2LC8rY7WNPo5SHyN2nK8X8sfNzlAAOxLo1uivWwqn5JlPVZejMi7V0izqRrOWMxw4XMtkFQyEog7g9V33Kef49x4EWO2twwbfYydjKkBSEtc6G3u70E6POUigKZA/s200/IMG_2196.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380192091813706066" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I walked over to check out the Lady. I thought the rest of the team was going to follow, but when I got near her, I noticed they were hanging back, too scared of her. Well, fine. I had my powers (see Part 1). I figured I could take her if need.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m2dRfL9vfbAnGg1H4WwpFbhEqj2sgB8tJuffCGkKf0eKRzLZKF_P8Ku9h8OvDeaxENzjrqomYRvZ305Vg6dxOXDCnIILSX18w9iVLglj8A0-56v7IfgYJVb2b-4CVvW-McBzWpqdnQ/s1600-h/IMG_2198.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m2dRfL9vfbAnGg1H4WwpFbhEqj2sgB8tJuffCGkKf0eKRzLZKF_P8Ku9h8OvDeaxENzjrqomYRvZ305Vg6dxOXDCnIILSX18w9iVLglj8A0-56v7IfgYJVb2b-4CVvW-McBzWpqdnQ/s200/IMG_2198.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380192155926022050" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Walking around her (and yeah, 25' high, out in the open desert, she's tall!), I saw that the back side sported a buttock of cinderblocks. Heh.<br /><br />After the Lady I wandered over to a row of ghostly figures. This was Szulkalski's rendition of "The Last Supper". <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoSxy82gNtN5W5K7oQau3sfWENmjJUyNWPIgQ46htn2sdNjBAKfBpKj3e7UFWrm4S0Jqfmt9p5BpW5LoMPzbpHnDXMGeQYOqem5VrDrWATfe6fhGDMxFuEqCVTDp3DmWQU10sO05cvA/s1600-h/IMG_2200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoSxy82gNtN5W5K7oQau3sfWENmjJUyNWPIgQ46htn2sdNjBAKfBpKj3e7UFWrm4S0Jqfmt9p5BpW5LoMPzbpHnDXMGeQYOqem5VrDrWATfe6fhGDMxFuEqCVTDp3DmWQU10sO05cvA/s200/IMG_2200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380200130185716786" border="0" /></a>I didn't understand at the time how these sculpts had been made (until I found a pamphlet describing the Open Air Museum on our way out). One of my team made a comment about how it looked like someone could stand inside the ghost suits, so....I did!<br /><br />Bit of a tight fit, though. Musta used a short model.<br /></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc5UjUEx1VSQDaOncohSGMa9uodd9Ocw8NjrX3Ytv2fKasqdBjmt1u2WF_0kSDh-GLGg_K3VpxUplzRqKasexjMPVSp0oVleYWHBY4uscgjwT9GXF8iTm4acyRIV5lTy4shnovGcmlg/s1600-h/IMG_2211.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc5UjUEx1VSQDaOncohSGMa9uodd9Ocw8NjrX3Ytv2fKasqdBjmt1u2WF_0kSDh-GLGg_K3VpxUplzRqKasexjMPVSp0oVleYWHBY4uscgjwT9GXF8iTm4acyRIV5lTy4shnovGcmlg/s200/IMG_2211.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380205892390577666" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">There were a few other sculpts to check out ("Icara", a spiral wheel thing with no name I saw, a wagon sculpt, etc), but time was pressing and the day getting on mid-afternoon. However, I did slip over to look at one more sculpt: "Ghost Rider". No, I did not try to crawl in.<br /><br />We piled back in the mobile and headed back down the road, peeling off onto a dirt road a short distance away. Jeff navigating by GPS, Snurt driving. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYd7aIta3Su54CuO5rt3o5joJsXF-1yF8I4AI3I11aReq2yZouq8USPYAcniXNWQnI-ngboyGM0XZZNpyWlowEAhjVox9V-kN_SoJyKZ8ln1PAQVi_4E3qxlgVwMGjg02-FpiB4k5Xg/s1600-h/IMG_2214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYd7aIta3Su54CuO5rt3o5joJsXF-1yF8I4AI3I11aReq2yZouq8USPYAcniXNWQnI-ngboyGM0XZZNpyWlowEAhjVox9V-kN_SoJyKZ8ln1PAQVi_4E3qxlgVwMGjg02-FpiB4k5Xg/s200/IMG_2214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380214637930136994" border="0" /></a>A short time later we saw out in the scrub desert the cemetery, standing out there all by its lonesome.<br /><br />We pulled up to the front gate. It was obvious that while this is a relatively old cemetery, it does see live people, either of friends/family of the residents within, or visitors such as ourselves. The entrance plaque reads:<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">BULLFROG - RHYOLITE CEMETERY</span></span><br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">1904 - 1912</span></span><br /></div><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"> <span style="font-style: italic;">This enduring bronze is placed here to the blessed memory to those who sleep herein, and to the remembrance of all others who came this way and opened up this great Nevada desert mining world.</span> </span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">By those who cared...</span></span></span> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">April 1969</span></span></span><br /></div><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFW7H3nnlWLSwyiNOosR7wqPRJJxjr5WqjH8CsWrGuTldsL3NFa7whH1OwZ3oewxf6wQiGemQqfoz8jjphejnyt7q0aW9DbNVavC4OLTuU85ItWC_iUa76rVlY2FyNgZ75ZAUjdVXtCQ/s1600-h/IMG_2218.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFW7H3nnlWLSwyiNOosR7wqPRJJxjr5WqjH8CsWrGuTldsL3NFa7whH1OwZ3oewxf6wQiGemQqfoz8jjphejnyt7q0aW9DbNVavC4OLTuU85ItWC_iUa76rVlY2FyNgZ75ZAUjdVXtCQ/s200/IMG_2218.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380217989480266466" border="0" /></a>The goal of the geocache was to visit (respectfully) three of the gravesites, get some date information from the headstones, plug the info into a formula on the cache page, and recalculate the new coordinates of the cache.<br /></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7C9D0t1iK1D5ywiuYXg_sexPaqURzIz8AMkK4sPRRRz9bcb7cvP0ZxCVygXAZF5sBl_brq82lHvVcPlR04pDQ3g3OVIDoskjrOhOfOcsLesYFyOA8oWv6BtOBdqA12JVU79VoEKyKQg/s1600-h/IMG_2226.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7C9D0t1iK1D5ywiuYXg_sexPaqURzIz8AMkK4sPRRRz9bcb7cvP0ZxCVygXAZF5sBl_brq82lHvVcPlR04pDQ3g3OVIDoskjrOhOfOcsLesYFyOA8oWv6BtOBdqA12JVU79VoEKyKQg/s200/IMG_2226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380218058047107458" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">While we were looking around for the requested information, I noticed that some residents were relatively recent admissions to the cemetery (such as Eulah Gregory, who died in 1991). Others had to be from the time the cemetery was first....built? Constructed? Created? Established? Wood slats, weathered blank, marked the head and sometimes feet for those who lay resting. Stuff you see in movies, never real life. And here it was, in real life. Kinda spooky, actually.<br /><br />The team collectively found all the necessary information, Jeff recalculated the coordinates for the cache (400' away from the cemetery). We bade our farewells to the residents here and set out to find the cache.<br /><br />Granted, it was another ammo can in the middle of the scrub desert, but the main point of the cache was to bring us to visit the cemetery, which is not on the beaten path most people travel. So that made it cool.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuBZd6OkYz0FDcA-OVfdRYoMY2XAjrPXU8tScbNiEjibJxAHC9DFBdcn6Ai8u53zBNRJppY6CKS5DDB_UxWMDC9zUbeCJi7Ovx_R8FixmI70EC6gCj1m-X5O8suQKCjgYmTWFA8YL6w/s1600-h/IMG_2229.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuBZd6OkYz0FDcA-OVfdRYoMY2XAjrPXU8tScbNiEjibJxAHC9DFBdcn6Ai8u53zBNRJppY6CKS5DDB_UxWMDC9zUbeCJi7Ovx_R8FixmI70EC6gCj1m-X5O8suQKCjgYmTWFA8YL6w/s200/IMG_2229.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380255208497051474" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Once we were done with this cache, we were back on the road again. Next stop: Death Valley!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyPzpWpY3YKhVYCGje6c79qod8Ff5Fnsvg0QjCGQC8sq0Swyyug6Qvitu8htXzhfKQDsytWxa-FPaZuhvynis0fcFXTxRXrVVt5uen5np8mzO4b-Kt-5azCqnHjGSewV3BabMYbr0ZQ/s1600-h/IMG_2234.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyPzpWpY3YKhVYCGje6c79qod8Ff5Fnsvg0QjCGQC8sq0Swyyug6Qvitu8htXzhfKQDsytWxa-FPaZuhvynis0fcFXTxRXrVVt5uen5np8mzO4b-Kt-5azCqnHjGSewV3BabMYbr0ZQ/s200/IMG_2234.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380255279279786786" border="0" /></a>As we drove over the pass, we could see spread out below us in the distance splotches of whiteness. Quite noticeable from the hazy brown and tan tones of the surrounding terrain and mountains.<br /><br />The great salt pans of Death Valley.<br /><br />The outside air temperature reading started rising steadily as we drove into the Valley. It was mid-late afternoon, practically the hottest time of day. Last I noticed the temperature reading it was a balmy 114</span></span><span id="LongDescription">°</span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">F (45</span></span><span id="LongDescription">°</span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">C)<br /><br />Now, Death Valley can be quite hot. But it also can be quite chilly (today, however, was not one of those days). </span></span><span id="LongDescription">Temperatures in the Valley can range from highs around 130°F (54°C) in the summer to lows below 32°F (0°C) in the winter. The National Climatic Data Center reports that temperatures at Furnace Creek reach at least 90°F (32°C) on an average of 189.3 days annually and at least 100°F (38°C) on an average of 138.0 days annually. The highest average temperature is in July at 117°F (47°C), with temperatures of 122°F (50°C) or higher being very common. Note: we are here in the Valley in late August<br /><br />The highest temperature ever recorded in the United States, according to National Weather Service records, was 134°F (56.7°C) at Furnace Creek (then known as Greenland Ranch) during a sandstorm on July 10, 1913. Freezing temperatures, on the other hand, occur an average of 11.7 days each year. The lowest temperature on record at Furnace Creek Inn is 15°F (-9°C), but nighttime temperatures in summer may only fall to 85°F to 95°F (30°C to 35°C).</span><br /><br />This is important information to know when you are visiting the Valley. You want to make sure you <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">always </span>have plenty of water along with you when traveling this region, even if it's "just a short walk" from the car.<br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><br />Our goal and destination at this point was a geocache called <span style="font-style: italic;">Death Valley</span>, at the Harmony Borax Works. This particular cache was not a physical container, but a special type of virtual known as an earthcache (see the <a href="http://indy-adventures.blogspot.com/2009/08/whitney-quest-prologue.html">earlier log entry</a> for a description of it, in case you missed it earlier). The requirements were to answer these questions seven, which included, but were not limited to, how far below sea level we were (176'), how many miles of inhospitable terrain did the 20-mule teams have to traverse (165), and at what temperatures will borax not crystalize (120</span></span><span id="LongDescription">°+ F)</span>. One could internet search some of the information, but not all of it. You had to actually visit and read the information plaques to get the bulk of the info.<br /><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><br />The Harmony Borax Works plant was built and began to process borax ore in late 1883/early 1884. At full operation there were 40 men working, producing three tons of borax daily. However, during the summer months, when it was so hot that the processing water could not cool enough to permit the suspended borax to crystallize (temps of 120</span></span><span id="LongDescription">°F or greater), the work force moved out of Death Valley to the Amargosa Borax Plant near present-day Tecopa, CA.</span><br /><br />Getting the final product to market from the heart of Death Valley was a challenging task. The<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqGzksvlKdh07aYyD5Eo0EeaEJA4nO8hsTAdaDIXjYJ-QyylMfCnn8DZbDuoYmrB2QXr-uaVBdLYPxx1UaW1jsWuTbzzeC-e-pTkSeanyc5TND7tBmVOizlGzYn2BAujsXI2LcVJvtQ/s1600-h/IMG_2259.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqGzksvlKdh07aYyD5Eo0EeaEJA4nO8hsTAdaDIXjYJ-QyylMfCnn8DZbDuoYmrB2QXr-uaVBdLYPxx1UaW1jsWuTbzzeC-e-pTkSeanyc5TND7tBmVOizlGzYn2BAujsXI2LcVJvtQ/s200/IMG_2259.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381135989724902146" border="0" /></a> Harmony operation became famous through the use of "20-mule teams", a romantic image that became the symbol of borax and persists to this day. These 20-mule teams traveled 165 miles from Harmony to Mojave, CA.<br /><br />20-mule teams consisted of eighteen mules and two horses, attached to two enormous wagons (photo right) carrying 9 metric tons of borax each. The back wheels stood at 7' diameter, with tires made of 1 inch thick iron. The wagons were 16' in length. The third component of the wagons was a water tank wagon, because there was very little drinking water for the mules and horses (and men) on the journey. The tank wagon carried 1200 US gallons of water.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l_9T6E8b5QRw3vzpKobRFdPUmg4nuLwAJ1pEFCio6m1MdEaaXR_0zfgJKxZ3rlGT44-fg7Au-qvmd8Sdm7iLcsT06NGiJ93AjOpJVtWP7RNfPm4sSBpB87sd6gFXSerZM-zohwag7Q/s1600-h/IMG_2256.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l_9T6E8b5QRw3vzpKobRFdPUmg4nuLwAJ1pEFCio6m1MdEaaXR_0zfgJKxZ3rlGT44-fg7Au-qvmd8Sdm7iLcsT06NGiJ93AjOpJVtWP7RNfPm4sSBpB87sd6gFXSerZM-zohwag7Q/s200/IMG_2256.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381141098661830338" border="0" /></a><br />With the mules attached, the entire train was over 180' long. It should be noted in the 6 years of operation, no wagon broke down. Ever.<br /><br />Today the Harmony Borax Works plant consists of a four-level ruin situated against a hillside (p<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgReQS8xNx65PlPNhPghKIui-HuMUN4RTbJEznOFoVQiNGb2BWuqj2e2sDyPBZ0pT8RKCUwT5FMXGoxgduB9WIZ90bHSd_ydwQYk70T_a7467QuESq9MwQyUJVmPR_yixaJ2ZGXPxHw/s1600-h/IMG_2261.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgReQS8xNx65PlPNhPghKIui-HuMUN4RTbJEznOFoVQiNGb2BWuqj2e2sDyPBZ0pT8RKCUwT5FMXGoxgduB9WIZ90bHSd_ydwQYk70T_a7467QuESq9MwQyUJVmPR_yixaJ2ZGXPxHw/s200/IMG_2261.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381141178791604418" border="0" /></a>hoto left). Around there are remains of buildings, machinery, tanks, piping, etc. In addition to the plant, a nearby townsite (photo rightt) can be seen in the not to far distance.<br /><br />After touring the remnants of Harmony, we proceeded down the road a bit more to another feature in Death Valley known as the Devil's Golf Course. This was also the site of another Earthcache by the same name, and would be my #2000 cache 'find' (if I couldn't have Mt Whitney as my #2000, the Devil's Golf Course would prove to be a cool one for that landmark).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_apKO9ZggFGWfvjESmw8_wXLDQkHwZy8LBoreISPvQYHFHu7WdKe7MD1Tebi800CXmZywkMd_cv9n28JgEH-VmycQPIGekK9CLYy68IQekPwy9u7KXJ3gzNlY4KhaFGpquwrdxjTOw/s1600-h/IMG_2270.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_apKO9ZggFGWfvjESmw8_wXLDQkHwZy8LBoreISPvQYHFHu7WdKe7MD1Tebi800CXmZywkMd_cv9n28JgEH-VmycQPIGekK9CLYy68IQekPwy9u7KXJ3gzNlY4KhaFGpquwrdxjTOw/s200/IMG_2270.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381155678716479842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOY6szHgBM8JgatqrVrazN0bv0jodTJSya2BnJuLSZgbcmLNlo_x6uQE-DZnys8ULRmATom5ACU8SPlYSkmP_fkn6LNyIbAzJfdOUemHYDed6w0B8VUFJAEbNluonB9x2MMgV1DGlLsA/s1600-h/IMG_2275.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 91px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOY6szHgBM8JgatqrVrazN0bv0jodTJSya2BnJuLSZgbcmLNlo_x6uQE-DZnys8ULRmATom5ACU8SPlYSkmP_fkn6LNyIbAzJfdOUemHYDed6w0B8VUFJAEbNluonB9x2MMgV1DGlLsA/s200/IMG_2275.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381156158955077170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2f9RHgwrBLvX0Gu97vK6UKfFLb8E86dreQ61wHqC18nd-fmUsVYy_bjcf3_E92bgKJNV3WIE6OqaUn30pUaI9_5gylPMETn8qPlxrX_hGD3fWurU9hyphenhyphenSJNN_rCOPuJcLoK7_9kJvJsw/s1600-h/IMG_2274.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2f9RHgwrBLvX0Gu97vK6UKfFLb8E86dreQ61wHqC18nd-fmUsVYy_bjcf3_E92bgKJNV3WIE6OqaUn30pUaI9_5gylPMETn8qPlxrX_hGD3fWurU9hyphenhyphenSJNN_rCOPuJcLoK7_9kJvJsw/s200/IMG_2274.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381155811924168274" border="0" /></a>We arrived to a forbidding landscape. The photos above and below cannot do justice to this area. The terrain looks uneven and 'rocky', but it is more than just uneven. The mounds are also very rigid. At best if you fall, you'll just scrape the hell out of yourself. At worst, you could easily twist an ankle here, even with high-top boots on. Or a mound could collapse beneath you with a hollow cavity, perhaps breaking a leg. Bad News in the Valley!<br /><br />These mound formations are crystallized salt, leftover deposits from a couple of ancient lakes, and now formed by winds and rain. The Devil's Golf Course sits above the floodplain of Death Valley, so the periodic floods that do occur (such as they are) do not impose a 'leveling' effect on this area, leaving it rugged and difficult to traverse (by contrast, Badwater, the lowest point in Death Valley - and the United States - is a couple tens of feet lower than the Golf Course and is in the Amargosa River floodplain, which subjects it to periodic 'leveling'; we will visit Badwater in more detail later).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IV3qrPZsxUAfcG9pXxJs47iUvuJAI6PgXLwWG0zA9OQhAa7U8g7YXncpP2cahKdw_FFoylG4kGSVeezMeJ7oPoYyaQOZ06i9ROn68LD2x183A0aWGEm0oZmoRVzaA8zSkEBypA4reQ/s1600-h/IMG_2282.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IV3qrPZsxUAfcG9pXxJs47iUvuJAI6PgXLwWG0zA9OQhAa7U8g7YXncpP2cahKdw_FFoylG4kGSVeezMeJ7oPoYyaQOZ06i9ROn68LD2x183A0aWGEm0oZmoRVzaA8zSkEBypA4reQ/s200/IMG_2282.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381159487436694530" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Meanwhile, the pinnacles of salt continue to grow here, and are eroded by dust-driven winds and the occasional rains. These weathering processes, coupled with the growing salt crystal pinnacles, give rise to the terrain here. (photos above and to the right).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TcTLwD4PNmF_A4x9VFA9vvlpY58_InzbPIsOGmoouW6nqYir9wDR2N44Frlz_o3DnFMDsBrjSSh45xwQvr3iYkcCzgrQm0TxM1_r3pY8z4gQyhOZIbWj8GGoQcjOmhwC8CeK_9OTTw/s1600-h/IMG_2280.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TcTLwD4PNmF_A4x9VFA9vvlpY58_InzbPIsOGmoouW6nqYir9wDR2N44Frlz_o3DnFMDsBrjSSh45xwQvr3iYkcCzgrQm0TxM1_r3pY8z4gQyhOZIbWj8GGoQcjOmhwC8CeK_9OTTw/s200/IMG_2280.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381159240485974242" border="0" /></a>Looking closely at some of the mounds, one can see unusual formations. We saw a photo of a broken eggshell-like formation, but there were none near where we parked. However, there was this really smoothed out hollow in one of the pinnacles (photo left).<br /><br />While we were here, one of the team suddenly stated they heard a cracking sound somewhere "out there". We all looked. Was it monsters?? I looked back at the info sign where we parked. It said if you listen carefully, on hot days the salt pinnacles expand and contract, causing a metallic snapping sound. At that point another car drove up and three Japanese tourists got excitedly got out and started talking a mile a minute about the area, pointing fingers all around and taking photos. I moved off into the Golf Course a ways, to get away from the cacophony that had arrived. With ninja-like reflexes I paused, and listened. The only sound I heard was the faint excited babble back at the parking area, the sound of a car driving away, and then just the wind. I stood, losing myself in the landscape...<br /><br />A few minutes later I heard a sharp <span style="font-style: italic;">k-rack!</span> off to my right. It sounded far away, somewhere out in the salt pan. Another minute later I heard a 'thunk', this time more in front of me, still "out there somewhere". Very cool.<br /><br />I returned to the car and my team. We piled back into our SUV and turned to leave this wonderous yet forbidding land.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzMsw9YcW_cNzVFnsJiURPN9IRir61Ev8wXnICMd14jM9QqtFuLo-JikT65V1-8tTZ1i1OQJWJ9ewx484ztdANMN8j81uM6r9GWCF9WGAiffTERb_FkMgKTGAXncYcjGjOuGyEBILBg/s1600-h/IMG_2290.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzMsw9YcW_cNzVFnsJiURPN9IRir61Ev8wXnICMd14jM9QqtFuLo-JikT65V1-8tTZ1i1OQJWJ9ewx484ztdANMN8j81uM6r9GWCF9WGAiffTERb_FkMgKTGAXncYcjGjOuGyEBILBg/s200/IMG_2290.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381316037214101570" border="0" /></a>It was getting late in the day as we drove out of Death Valley and over a pass or two to Lone Pine. And given most of us were still on East Coast time, it was several hours later still. Hungry, yes, we were. But, we had to stop and do one more geocache along the way. It was quick, not overly remarkable. And I was reflecting on the geologic history of the Golf Course and gazing up at the few clouds and sun.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jwYLDnPMVLGzCqnnB5V1KXiyt8F6cSqtyMFWlFjzcd4dZ1odGkOx0VwH_gNEWqXrarqmDEPC8lr21txibHQmccXJGDj7o0rzKQq0MmIUVVQPFGJQp9-SL-btH7DVKLlqpgwEySLmDg/s1600-h/IMG_2296.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jwYLDnPMVLGzCqnnB5V1KXiyt8F6cSqtyMFWlFjzcd4dZ1odGkOx0VwH_gNEWqXrarqmDEPC8lr21txibHQmccXJGDj7o0rzKQq0MmIUVVQPFGJQp9-SL-btH7DVKLlqpgwEySLmDg/s200/IMG_2296.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381317407542551826" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We got to Lone Pine a little after dark, after a mildly colorful sunset with the mountains before us. We quickly found the Mt Whitney Hostel, where we would be spending the next couple of nights. We also found a mexican restaurant a few blocks up the street and had dinner there (it was one of the few places still open).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6rfWwiqJk06AFAaJxxEOd7nsQoRPIotTj3oLzQ4BWijfvNouTNDmwwrhbcRIht4Wadegcjpx9o5uBCy1N40_YmNUsgOVt7344AnPMAY2v8uHtqD-TtbSlUjPuBW1X4ptLHj6ITy_TA/s1600-h/IMG_2301.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6rfWwiqJk06AFAaJxxEOd7nsQoRPIotTj3oLzQ4BWijfvNouTNDmwwrhbcRIht4Wadegcjpx9o5uBCy1N40_YmNUsgOVt7344AnPMAY2v8uHtqD-TtbSlUjPuBW1X4ptLHj6ITy_TA/s200/IMG_2301.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381318001366188610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />After dinner we retired to the hostel, unloaded our gear, and collapsed. Tomorrow would be a longish day, as Jeff had planned for us an acclimatization hike into Cottonwood Canyon.Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-25989715710387703982009-09-04T10:26:00.045-04:002009-09-13T23:29:59.124-04:00The Whitney Quest - Day 1, Part 1: Las Vegas to Rhyolite<span style="font-weight: bold;">August 24, 2009</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Brrrrt. Brrrrt. Brrrrt.</span><br /><br />My vibrating cell phone alarm thingy woke me with a start. It was 4:30am. I had enough time to get a shower and gather my bags before Jeff and Dwight would arrive to pick me up for our run to the airport. I showered, dressed, got my bags, and stepped outside. Jeff called; they were 5-10 minutes away. The night air was fairly warm, h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Og8oafW4lUlIKDrph7BkVW83H2OSg_QqbiRz47y8rDCl3DS4agkPP3XQ4sd5pmYfxr0QFNRmMIrOyNOzCBjfY2D2pDmFLHqt_Pk65CncBOhFrDz79onWJTFwTbQR0xffNkTl2LutXQ/s1600-h/IMG_2058.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Og8oafW4lUlIKDrph7BkVW83H2OSg_QqbiRz47y8rDCl3DS4agkPP3XQ4sd5pmYfxr0QFNRmMIrOyNOzCBjfY2D2pDmFLHqt_Pk65CncBOhFrDz79onWJTFwTbQR0xffNkTl2LutXQ/s200/IMG_2058.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377671422050638306" border="0" /></a>umid. Much as it had been the past few weeks since I got back from Rainier.<br /><br />10-15 minutes later Jeff and Dwight pulled up. Jeff lept out, helped me toss my bags in the back of his cachemobile, and off to the airport we zoomed!<br /><br />Being that Jeff is a SouthWest pilot, one of his perks is being able to, when not on duty, still park in the employee parking area and take the employee shuttle bus in - and drag any friends along whom he might have with him. Sweet! Free parking, shuttle ride to the terminal - everything except actually carried on the plane.<br /><br />We arrived BWI with no difficulties. Made our way through baggage check-in (Snurt had some issues with the machine not accepting his bags, but that was the only hiccup we suffered). Through security we whisked, and to our gate went strode. Stopped briefly to grab a breakfast, eat, then onto the airplane we went!<br /><br />Being that I checked in with SouthWest a bit late (midday yesterday) and Snurt first thing yesterday morning, I was further back in the pack of passengers for loading. I ended up not sitting with them. But I still somehow got a window seat!<br /><br />We took off, and in the next few hours I relaxed, napped, read, and stared out the window, the latter particularly during the last couple of hours flight, watching the changing terrain 36K feet below us go from plains to southwest mountain and river canyons.<br /><br />We arrived Vegas a little early (20 minutes early!), and landed so damned gently that I and others around me swear we did not feel anything until the nose came down and the engines were set to breaking thrust. I think I've had only one other landing ever that gentle. All others have been the standard thumps and bumps, with a couple of near break-the-wheel-strut impacts. Compliments to the captain on that landing!<br /><br />We gathered our gear and located Harold/ridgeseeker waiting not too far away. Having the use of cell phones (a technology I still don't <span style="font-style: italic;">fully </span>embrace) made hooking up easier. We then headed over to the car rental zone, where Marty/flyingmoose was waiting for us. Snurt had secured a rental of an Expedition SUV, which would accomodate all five of us (snugly) and our gear (snugly again).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0QpmXxwHvuchiwl_1ZCLussT5qhyKIBwO-3mJ3_jb0oDnGmd9zFHYAa9q-fQ8XaGCc_Cf8dHQ6azLPp3XfW6tpCmgDoOhBlij-vm4mb_dwV8bU6BxbysYOS6FeopfTTw5xfZNndmOA/s1600-h/IMG_2107.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0QpmXxwHvuchiwl_1ZCLussT5qhyKIBwO-3mJ3_jb0oDnGmd9zFHYAa9q-fQ8XaGCc_Cf8dHQ6azLPp3XfW6tpCmgDoOhBlij-vm4mb_dwV8bU6BxbysYOS6FeopfTTw5xfZNndmOA/s200/IMG_2107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379676287445823682" border="0" /></a><br />Finally we were on the road (photo left: back in Vegas - but not for long!). Destination: Lone Pine, CA.<br /><br />But we would be making a few stops along the way...<br /><br />One of Jeff's geocaching goals was to find two caches in each county of Nevada, in order to meet a specific geocache challenge cache: the Nevada Delorme Challenge, where a cacher has to find at least one cache that would be on each page of the Nevada Delorme map book. Once found, they are then given the coordinates for the Nevada Delorme Challenge Cache. A number of states have similar challenge caches. Now iirc Jeff only had a few counties left to do, and most (if not all) of those we would drive through on our way to Death Valley and beyond.<br /><br />Our first stop was Indian Springs, Nevada. <span id="LongDescription">Indian Springs is a small desert town along NV 95 north of Las Vegas. It i</span><span id="LongDescription">s home for both the Thunderbirds flight team and the new Predator remote controlled spy plane.</span> And two geocaches, of which we would be doing one.<br /><br />We worked our way to the south edge of town and found a place to park. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19tAde4ZW3xvuOG08vy24FyyHIKg8U6a34_Xz0w6AzsI4_1WSrm6IlRSc16we3WbPOK_OpR7iwz7msdcLcw6efOCWS0XbP-pOxFVvnLAn4KgGMWrHy6XVHd5JC49b4QiNzRbf6wxC-Q/s1600-h/IMG_2115.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19tAde4ZW3xvuOG08vy24FyyHIKg8U6a34_Xz0w6AzsI4_1WSrm6IlRSc16we3WbPOK_OpR7iwz7msdcLcw6efOCWS0XbP-pOxFVvnLAn4KgGMWrHy6XVHd5JC49b4QiNzRbf6wxC-Q/s200/IMG_2115.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379678582925455890" border="0" /></a>Jeff and a couple others of the team had the coordinates for this geocache already loaded in their GPS units, so hauled them out and faced the direction the arrows were pointing.<br /><br />Atop a fairly substantial hill.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92l3JQGYftPKV34I3ccoFVqfa1rkV8oDaANcdbeF0Nl8bWv12Odvp8ABHuH3YxQdqCESYCiaTRlQf2keuhqGHNtWWuPleOGeDL_3NQPe6dNIr94YgacQo1kmvrX9ws_eaKscwJ7kOlQ/s1600-h/IMG_2115-2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92l3JQGYftPKV34I3ccoFVqfa1rkV8oDaANcdbeF0Nl8bWv12Odvp8ABHuH3YxQdqCESYCiaTRlQf2keuhqGHNtWWuPleOGeDL_3NQPe6dNIr94YgacQo1kmvrX9ws_eaKscwJ7kOlQ/s200/IMG_2115-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379679079747749170" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sooo, up we went!<br /><br />Now, mind you, this isn't a wooded forest like we have back East, or in the NorthWest. This is the SouthWest. Scrub, desert, dry heat, and unforgiving rock to scrape oneself against. It's all there.<br /><br />The hill turned out to be rather steeper and taller than what it looked like from below. What was about a 0.3 miles and change horizontal hike was probably closer to 0.5 miles one way. Now, half a mile doesn't sound like a lot. But add it a little bit of altitude, dry heat, rough terrain, etc, it was not a trivial outing.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprkIQwRCNHx2y-jOhS440WCooyFM0BvcYg5_QPj6DEq9dRNexu2suI7QOw5pbsRQkSsJw_VdbH8XyMPscgLD1Hc4xpsnH1B6po1vuT03RQVCPcHbIqVz-c4VJhmky9K1O7zfNSH3zpg/s1600-h/IMG_2115-3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprkIQwRCNHx2y-jOhS440WCooyFM0BvcYg5_QPj6DEq9dRNexu2suI7QOw5pbsRQkSsJw_VdbH8XyMPscgLD1Hc4xpsnH1B6po1vuT03RQVCPcHbIqVz-c4VJhmky9K1O7zfNSH3zpg/s200/IMG_2115-3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379679903063758850" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We eventually got to ground zero (image lower left is view of town from near cache hiding spot). Jeff made the innocuous find (photo right), an ammo container under one of many piles of rocks. We signed the log book, checked for "travelers" (travel bugs or geocoins, objects and coins that do not sit in a cache for trade, but are meant to travel from geocache to geocache, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkHWl90V0fLzs4jqTuG2CLh_X9_MPsaqVKOGLwetW3GrvpcT2-wLuY8Enp2DTf5aZ4rY1l30lPoeYvMrZbmyRRTyNr7bd4W5NEXQmZT5keY090i-yz5wd-EfknZExHDT3Ydb1_HfpKA/s1600-h/IMG_2118.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkHWl90V0fLzs4jqTuG2CLh_X9_MPsaqVKOGLwetW3GrvpcT2-wLuY8Enp2DTf5aZ4rY1l30lPoeYvMrZbmyRRTyNr7bd4W5NEXQmZT5keY090i-yz5wd-EfknZExHDT3Ydb1_HfpKA/s200/IMG_2118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379682894233862994" border="0" /></a>sometimes with no other goal than to move around, sometimes with specific goals such as to have photos taken of it in specific places, or to visit certain places in the state/country/world, etc), then hiked back down. I was fairly parched by the time we got back, and downed 1/3 of my liter of water. Never been in the desert this late in the year before, and didn't have a full appreciation for the impact. I suddenly did now!<br /><br />It was also at this point, back at the SUV, I realized this wasn't a casual caching adventure. This was a serious geocaching adventure, with the prize caches being the ones atop Whitney and the one at the lowest point of Death Valley. Wasn't what I was expecting. But then again, I didn't internet poke ahead of time just how active my fellow teammates were. For example, Snurt had over 3000 finds at this point, and Jeff over 7000. Flyingmoose had about 1800, but he's been at this for four years (and skips a lot of the very easy caches, preferring mostly the challenging ones). In comparison, I had just shy of 2000 at this point in the trip, but I've been caching for nearly 6-1/4 years (and I do the easy caches as well as <a href="http://indy-adventures.net/library/PUC13.html">the extra difficult</a> when possible). And while Ridgeseeker had only over 200, this was because where he lives up in Alaska, there ain't all that many geocaches around.<br /><br />But I digress. But I should warn you now: the rest of this entry is mostly about geocaching and some of the neat things/places we saw/went to. The actual Whitney climb isn't for another couple of entries. ;-)<br /><br />Before I go on, I should also note that geocaches all have unique names (though this is not to say no two caches may have the same name, much like two people might have the same name ;-) ). This makes it easier to identify caches.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQ7f99HJW7fSZdpfdgctE2RQJ0xt72K4mfw4aL68137Jcui5Dd5pdbo7NvNOCb_TF_XCHhqu1OLYmcU7i4fcBfs_vf8BJaLv-LlPXD0iXajmGgpaXUFDh5DaYHLz3EseSno-2C2IbKA/s1600-h/IMG_2141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQ7f99HJW7fSZdpfdgctE2RQJ0xt72K4mfw4aL68137Jcui5Dd5pdbo7NvNOCb_TF_XCHhqu1OLYmcU7i4fcBfs_vf8BJaLv-LlPXD0iXajmGgpaXUFDh5DaYHLz3EseSno-2C2IbKA/s200/IMG_2141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379859481752388770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our next cache was simply called <span style="font-style: italic;">N.T.S.</span> Couldn't figure out what that meant until we got to the roadside sign (photo right). Ah! Made much more sense then. And according to the map, right there to the north of us was the Nellis AFB Bombing Range. A rather...scrubby, desolate landscape, really. The airforce base is visible, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibq9v_KsCqBx8r5cv8CJO45QuXL3yIBgRnC7lMWUVb3lCVfsdGAZofEUm4hrb0llx4XH3-Hi_aBDOrxSdfQVHRVwLPGjlVmBQSlv5t8v3gVx8kaCmIfpVwmm7YHx-q8oBsiCYOjlmMKw/s1600-h/IMG_2143.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibq9v_KsCqBx8r5cv8CJO45QuXL3yIBgRnC7lMWUVb3lCVfsdGAZofEUm4hrb0llx4XH3-Hi_aBDOrxSdfQVHRVwLPGjlVmBQSlv5t8v3gVx8kaCmIfpVwmm7YHx-q8oBsiCYOjlmMKw/s200/IMG_2143.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379860327965614082" border="0" /></a>nestled next to the mountains in the far, far distance (photo left). The cache find itself wasn't very challenging. It's main purpose was to get people to stop and read the sign, get a little educated on the area. It did me. I "knew" the airforce used areas of Nevada for bombing tests and whatnot, but I didn't know where.<br /><br />Now I have a clue. I'll have to track down Area 51 next, see if they'll give me back my damned spaceship...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxS8BMgN48vq2Kop8J8sdzCIkkypO6MUm2AduZ_f8cAxR1EkDUOcamvVw16cIvGTzoHX39DlDb6fWzQ2YvteKRgg2KozJh4F8kB-OpCB-XJ1X5TrnfEb1IZ34J8pHnTbct7eot-B6aDA/s1600-h/IMG_2145-2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxS8BMgN48vq2Kop8J8sdzCIkkypO6MUm2AduZ_f8cAxR1EkDUOcamvVw16cIvGTzoHX39DlDb6fWzQ2YvteKRgg2KozJh4F8kB-OpCB-XJ1X5TrnfEb1IZ34J8pHnTbct7eot-B6aDA/s200/IMG_2145-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379863798396886578" border="0" /></a><br /><br />ANYway, we marched on. Stopped for gas and drinks in Amargosa Valley. There we saw an ad for the largest firecrackers in existence (photo right). M-800s?!? That's a nearly freaking stick o'dynamite! Yeesh.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRusVIBu-9NDCI54I_BG9NJW22u4TBZHRtlKVAVHfvMZeFJiJtKsghSxZ4UrwRKil1Ox56o8KiSa06FhX-0Y_yD8xfofgsg1dmXJhrhBLApbXbypnWNsFOD4SxuK7Bn7KCWFhpYyyGMQ/s1600-h/IMG_2145.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRusVIBu-9NDCI54I_BG9NJW22u4TBZHRtlKVAVHfvMZeFJiJtKsghSxZ4UrwRKil1Ox56o8KiSa06FhX-0Y_yD8xfofgsg1dmXJhrhBLApbXbypnWNsFOD4SxuK7Bn7KCWFhpYyyGMQ/s200/IMG_2145.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379864023703519650" border="0" /></a><br />Oh, and speaking of Area 51... (photo left).<br /><br />Alas, we weren't actually going to Area 51. That'll be for another trip...<br /><br />A bit outside of Amargosa Valley we stopped to do a cache called <span style="font-style: italic;">Don'tgoifyoudon'twannaglow</span>. We all thought this might lead us to an interesting location, but alas, it was one of the lesser challenging and not very interesting cache spots: just a flat, flat scrub and sand desert with absolutely nothing remarkable. The cache was an ammo can, tucked next to one of a billion scrub bushes. We were all rather disappointed after doing the cache. We left without looking back.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83_kYYMxX1Reixos2MYMSTLDBeQ_UBSt5z3fGkJ28l6le7HRmYRHSSgPyZQbjd9z99Ba9gAoCeojt2bHU7x0nEoCFLSjKv9E0GkdWyrdhfT-9fka21k7ONkJVQPpbrJNUVtFl1hemDw/s1600-h/Hero-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 145px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83_kYYMxX1Reixos2MYMSTLDBeQ_UBSt5z3fGkJ28l6le7HRmYRHSSgPyZQbjd9z99Ba9gAoCeojt2bHU7x0nEoCFLSjKv9E0GkdWyrdhfT-9fka21k7ONkJVQPpbrJNUVtFl1hemDw/s200/Hero-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379936075360171890" border="0" /></a><br />It would only be later that I would learn about the after effects of being there, and the unusual powers that I had acquired. <a href="http://www.nbc.com/Heroes/">Peter Petrelli's</a> got nothin' on me! But that's another story, for another time.<br /><br />And yeah, it involves monsters.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJcZxXPpqMJrPjuSFy7hwGIPdEw8LJLrjCFHevbDM4_juVcSMNuEAYXoLkbfi84CXPiJX9pdHWMMeQ4ueGEbokqOhGLD1csh4PmQ7Smk9-RHjQKxd8XtFhuGXiO1RSUGG7VjbC_eSOw/s1600-h/IMG_2168.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJcZxXPpqMJrPjuSFy7hwGIPdEw8LJLrjCFHevbDM4_juVcSMNuEAYXoLkbfi84CXPiJX9pdHWMMeQ4ueGEbokqOhGLD1csh4PmQ7Smk9-RHjQKxd8XtFhuGXiO1RSUGG7VjbC_eSOw/s200/IMG_2168.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379894320079504578" border="0" /></a>We continued on up the road. We stopped for a bit to do a cache at Gold Center, a few miles south of Beatty. The cache was simply called <span style="font-style: italic;">Gold Center</span>. And it took the seeker(s) to the old ruins of the town of...you guessed it, Gold Center. As we pulled off the main road and onto the dirt path, we could see the ruins of the Gold Center mining operation halfway up the hill (photo left).<br /><br />From the cache page:<br /><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">Gold Center, platted in Dec. 1904, was one of the longer lived towns in the Bullfrog District, the Post Office being sanctioned Jan. 21, 1905 and closed Nov. 23, 1910. </span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqsrL9agrNQSbm_m2FLnVC_3MIKSvoNaZbdpEAvRhDLlE4p3mAVswkOGbnTWGCC5uZfXczKQq0VpRWR62hX0T4jkzKXTQXSSolKyg3S_rUFiiJVoUCN0TGZnflyNEAlEmn_dvCqqpYw/s1600-h/IMG_2162.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqsrL9agrNQSbm_m2FLnVC_3MIKSvoNaZbdpEAvRhDLlE4p3mAVswkOGbnTWGCC5uZfXczKQq0VpRWR62hX0T4jkzKXTQXSSolKyg3S_rUFiiJVoUCN0TGZnflyNEAlEmn_dvCqqpYw/s200/IMG_2162.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379899701071323378" border="0" /></a></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">It's claim to fame was the first brewery in the area, built underground to maintain a cool temperature, </span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">with the service above ground. Gold Center also had its own newspaper in 1907. Gold Center was a very busy town for most of its life. It was a stage stop on the way to both Rhyolite and Carrara. All three railroads (The Tonopah & Tidewater Railway-T&T, the Bullfrog Goldfield Railway-BG, the Las Vegas and Tonopah Railway-LVT) ran through Gold Center during this time. The only traces of the town left,</span> (photos right and below left) </span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QP-uztbxUnqQVt61f7jFTSvtYHP9ELOnKJUsFb4ihD7AIUENB7IgoNr87Ymu9rPuUAgh8Hzyil3LTDCxztiND7AiESsyYZ15hOCQ6L8wQLZYBNUgl38-OhLT-OsBLV1Z2WPJce697w/s1600-h/IMG_2163.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QP-uztbxUnqQVt61f7jFTSvtYHP9ELOnKJUsFb4ihD7AIUENB7IgoNr87Ymu9rPuUAgh8Hzyil3LTDCxztiND7AiESsyYZ15hOCQ6L8wQLZYBNUgl38-OhLT-OsBLV1Z2WPJce697w/s200/IMG_2163.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379900072775137346" border="0" /></a></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">are part of the cement base of one of the stamp mills and the tank foundations of the cyanide plant on the side of the hill, to show that people lived and dreamed there.</span><br /><br />We did the cache, which was above the ruins, then explored the ruins for 10-15 minutes before the heat of the day drove us back to the SUV and on the road once again.<br /><br />Our next stop was in Rhyolite. There are a half a dozen caches in/around Rhyolite, but we were only going to do one or two. The one we were all interested in doing was a two-stage cache at the old cemetery (a multi-stage geocache means we had to get information at one area in order to get the coordinates for the next or final part of the cache, located somewhere nearby; multi-stage caches can be two-, three, or heck, even ten-stage or more challenges). </span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TYwPVFBdMTr_mIZJQgNfticcIQMjpQAGpj_pG2wIHURbI_er_jhGrrXFGiY3V5ZiHr8zjHcsLIeQCGRId6jB_vAOY17E8hwxnG4eOObMSFUt_8wjWBvALYVArig1KL9V1K1u2Z0FXg/s1600-h/IMG_2174.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TYwPVFBdMTr_mIZJQgNfticcIQMjpQAGpj_pG2wIHURbI_er_jhGrrXFGiY3V5ZiHr8zjHcsLIeQCGRId6jB_vAOY17E8hwxnG4eOObMSFUt_8wjWBvALYVArig1KL9V1K1u2Z0FXg/s200/IMG_2174.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379902155574696018" border="0" /></a></span></span><span id="LongDescription"><span id="LongDescription">We would save this for the drive out. First, we wanted to check out the ruins and remains of the Rhyolite ghost town.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5iW3Bczue-f_C8mWTMAFgB3ynmAc13GhT8eCpfkNWhipgxdq6P2qN5-wqwWDxEXTaUjDD5UswEVrJhJvkz3ekTaq97mCYnDiGcgfA7sqLG4OYRUUy8h1oHZ1RuhwfKGVUB2f7Zcj3A/s1600-h/IMG_2175.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5iW3Bczue-f_C8mWTMAFgB3ynmAc13GhT8eCpfkNWhipgxdq6P2qN5-wqwWDxEXTaUjDD5UswEVrJhJvkz3ekTaq97mCYnDiGcgfA7sqLG4OYRUUy8h1oHZ1RuhwfKGVUB2f7Zcj3A/s200/IMG_2175.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379902458243177474" border="0" /></a>There were a number of ruined structures around. The photo right is of the Cook Bank. The image to left is drawing on info board of what the bank used to look like "back in the day". Most of these old buildings were in serious disrepair. However, the train depot was in pretty good condition (from the outside view, at least). This is probably because it was the only structure fully fenced off from the general public.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTZ_7aAvy5cP3IzlISeydR48Ub85cMFTCVf5YmumsRg_acixXNy4cSv0xjVRa5ht-QOiDNJznR4Oh-VN7oTAFzADideRI2O5g2mjwvRJEQ6tvAdTE3eBXneWAQrWdUnyFNecPeFc44g/s1600-h/IMG_2190.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTZ_7aAvy5cP3IzlISeydR48Ub85cMFTCVf5YmumsRg_acixXNy4cSv0xjVRa5ht-QOiDNJznR4Oh-VN7oTAFzADideRI2O5g2mjwvRJEQ6tvAdTE3eBXneWAQrWdUnyFNecPeFc44g/s200/IMG_2190.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379902929524640354" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There was no cache here in town. Most of them were scattered around the outskirts of town. But we didn't go looking for any of them. We still had a lot of ground to cover to Lone Pine, and there were other goals various members of the team wanted to accomplish yet today.<br /><br />(con't in part 2)</span></span>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-60084415373678185262009-08-23T23:37:00.018-04:002009-09-09T10:32:56.788-04:00The Whitney Quest - Prologue<span style="font-weight: bold;">Sept 6, 2008</span><br /><br />While I was in exploring the Dolomites of Italy, an email from a geocacher named ClueSeeker found its way into my inbox. I would get it a week later, after I returned from the European adventures.<br /><br />The email read:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Hi Indy,</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />I would like you to consider joining a small group of us to score caches at the highest and lowest point in the continental U.S. ... in one day. Yes, Mt Whitney and Death Valley N.P.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Please send me a gmail address so I can send you the Google Documents invite.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"> You were the one to i</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">nspire me to climb Katahdin this August. What a blast! As usually is the case, I'm thinking of more challenges.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ClueSeeker</span><br /><br />Now, among allllll my other hobbies, I geocache. But most of my geocaching is usually relegated for those times when I can't get out climbing, or diving, or kayaking, or something else. Or when I just need a good hike or visit to someplace "off the beaten path" (more than a few geocaches I've gone for have brought me to little-visited gems in this world, where few others have tread).<br /><br />Another one of my hobbies is high pointing: getting to the highest point in each of the 50 states. Before this year, I had done 44 of them (45 if you include DC). The ones remaining include Kings Mountain (Utah), Boundary Peak (Nevada), Gannett Peak (Wyoming), Denali (Alaska), Mt Rainier (Washington), and Mt Whitney (California).<br /><br />The first hurdle for doing Mt Whitney, which happens to be the highest of the high points in the United States outside of Alaska, is to select what day or days (depending on whether one was doing this "in a day" or backpacking) one would attempt the peak and submit it to a lottery drawing, hoping against hope that the day(s) choosen were selected, AND that the weather was favorable. This by January of the year in question. You won't learn until that April if you got what you applied for. Because of this, I had put off doing Whitney for a few more years yet. Just hadn't had time to wrap my mind around the logistics of it, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexLi6yOy4ShGK6c1CWF_mBBVXQElnvAabpE302zMYjNOWsiY1jE2Q6B0fsbqvhStvhhKNfwits7FB5Q8EcjClpERJDEafCjO-cfSahSkDwkBWDMLhtz8DZhZ6BtJbYJOx6NcQjllEfw/s1600-h/IMG_2312.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexLi6yOy4ShGK6c1CWF_mBBVXQElnvAabpE302zMYjNOWsiY1jE2Q6B0fsbqvhStvhhKNfwits7FB5Q8EcjClpERJDEafCjO-cfSahSkDwkBWDMLhtz8DZhZ6BtJbYJOx6NcQjllEfw/s200/IMG_2312.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377670051266228002" border="0" /></a>given everything else going on in Life.<br /><br />But now I was being asked to go climb it!<br /><br />Doing the geocaches at Mt Whitney and Death Valley were secondary considerations to my acceptance - here was an opportunity to get to the highest peak in the Lower 48. (at 14,497', Whitney is a mere 87' taller than Mt Rainier; stand on a rock and my head is above 14,500').<br /><br />With my acceptance, Jeff (geo-handle of Clue Seeker) put together a team of 6. We discussed where to fly in to (Jeff is a SouthWest pilot and an ex-military pilot, and can sometimes get free stand-by passes for people to use), rental car options, where to stay when, what our itinerary would be overall (nutshell: fly in, meet up, drive out, do The Hike, visit Death Valley, drive back, fly home). And we even came up with a team name: Team High Exposure (for going to the highest point followed by one of the most exposed [to weather/heat] points in the States).<br /><br />Jeff took care of submitting the lottery form. We were aiming for late August - specifically to do the 22 mile roundtrip hike in one day on Aug 26th, 2009. In the meantime I was setting most of my focus on the <a href="http://indy-adventures.blogspot.com/2009/07/rainier-quest-prologue-and-day-1.html">upcoming Rainier trip</a> in July.<br /><br />As the Whitney trip drew nigh, there were some adjustments in the team composition (we lost a person, we gained a person, we lost a person - not sure if we gained and lost yet another person or not), ending up with 5 of us for this adventure. We adjusted hotel/motel accommodations and car rentals accordingly. We dropped the second car from the rental, deciding to squeeze everyone into one vehicle (and since this was a non-technical climbing trip, nor a camping trip, we would not have tons of extra gear to slog around).<br /><br />Our team now consisted of Jeff (Clue Seeker), Dwight (Snurt), Marty (Flying Moose), Harold (Ridgeseeker), and, well, me. As I'll probably use their geo-names and real names interchangeably, it is onto you to keep up. ;)<br /><br />Our plan was to fly into Las Vegas, stay the night (because some members were arriving in the morning, some in the afternoon) at the same Motel 6 I stayed at <a href="http://indy-adventures.blogspot.com/2009/02/red-rock-nevada-day-0.html">back in February when I was out there for the Red Rocks trip</a>, then drive out to Lone Pine, CA, get the hostel room, supply up with necessary foodstuffs, sleep, up at o'dark-thirty, drive up to the trailhead, do the hike up and back, drive to Furnace Creek in Death Valley to get our rooms there for the night, do the lowest point in Death Valley first thing in the morning (thus accomplishing the goal of hitting the highest and lowest points in the Lower 48 within a 24 hour period), then casually drive back to Las Vegas, have a celebratory dinner, crash out at the Motel 6 again, and then fly back home.<br /><br />Sounded like a good plan.<br /><br />Just before the trip started the plan changed. Now we would all fly into and meet in Las Vegas on Monday morning (FlyingMoose would already be out there, arriving a couple days before), get the rental, drive out to Lone Pine (caching along the way), get the hostel room for two nights, do an acclimatization hike (such as it would be) the next day (caching along the way), get up at o'dark-thirty to do Whitney on Wednesday, head out to Furnace Creek afterwards (too tired to cache along the way), hit Badwater, Death Valley (the lowest point in the US) the next morning (caching along the way), drive back to Las Vegas (caching along the way), have a celebratory dinner (caching along the way - do you sense a theme in this trip?), crash out at the Motel 6, then go our separate ways that Friday.<br /><br />The # of days were the same. Just adjustments (and added activities I hadn't considered; I didn't really realize <span style="font-style: italic;">how </span>into geocaching my teammates were!) put into the mix.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Before I go on, I probably should quickly (hah!) explain, for the non-geocaching-initiated in the audience, exactly what geocaching is (skip to the black text a few paragraphs below if you already know and don't want to be extra-bored ;) ). In its bare bones breakdown, it is a high-tech treasure/scavenger hunt hide-n-seek....game (yeah, that's what it is, a game). Baaasically, someone hides a container somewhere in the world (in the woods, in the desert, in an urban environment, etc), takes a GPS coordinate reading, then uploads this to geocaching.com (one has to have an account to do this - and to get coordinates in order to go out and find them). Other cachers then plug the coordinates into their GPS units and go out and try to find said cache.</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /><br />You would naively think that getting the coordinate information would make finding said cache very easy. However, in reality, you'd be surprised. Caches can come in all shapes and sizes, and be camoflauged very, <span style="font-style: italic;">very </span>well. The GPS will get you to the area (and the accuracy may not be 100%). It's then your job to find the cache.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Now physical caches can range in size anywhere from something that would hold a bazooka (usually referred to as "large") to ammo cans or lock-n-lock containers (usually referred to as "regular") to small tupperware containers the size of a baseball (usually referred to as "small") to magnetic hide-a-key or film containers (usually referred to as "micro") to something no larger than the area of your pinky fingernail (usually referred to as "nanos"). Within these containers is usually a logbook or logsheet (or strip of paper in nanos) for you to sign. And if the container is large enough, it will often contain inexpensive (i.e., McDonald or Dollar Store items) 'swag' for trade (sometimes caches have quite nice swag, but those are usually in more difficult to locate caches, rarely in the easy ones).<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Caches can also be "virtual" - meaning that there is no actual, physical container at the location, but there is an object or view of some interest. In order to 'log' the cache for a find credit, you often have to answer a question about the object and/or have a photo taken - </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">with your GPS</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> (so as to prevent "vacation photos" from pre-caching trips) - at or with the object or view. Unfortunately, a few years ago geocaching.com decided that virtuals no longer consituted "real" caches and have banned the creation of any new ones - but the ones that existed prior to the ban were grandfathered in and many are still active and available for people to find. This is Good, because a number of places, such as pretty much all National Parks, or certain State Parks (e.g., North Carolina State Parks), places along the Appalachian Trail (notably in Pennsylvania), physical caches are not permitted. The best thing to have there, then, is a virtual. Especially if the location is some place cool or worthy of visiting.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZ9oUj9UQBd1KPxMF3bE_uYHPVJmpDLOeCrUndT4TGeus-dP-mQHWyNITge0f4z1ZYLVs5AfwutqAqo7Jhyi9MYGsTR7Mvn91sRSlTfV-Fi15ukxXul4ymE5Km96WWUIzC8j4k1gDgQ/s1600-h/Earthcache-at-Red-Rocks-NV.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZ9oUj9UQBd1KPxMF3bE_uYHPVJmpDLOeCrUndT4TGeus-dP-mQHWyNITge0f4z1ZYLVs5AfwutqAqo7Jhyi9MYGsTR7Mvn91sRSlTfV-Fi15ukxXul4ymE5Km96WWUIzC8j4k1gDgQ/s200/Earthcache-at-Red-Rocks-NV.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377665164676308450" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Recently there has been a resurgence in another kind of virtual cache called Earthcaches. These are generally geologic-specific virtuals that attempt to educate the cacher on the geology or geologic history of a given area.<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Photo to the right is of me (with my GPS) at an Earthcache in Red Rocks, Nevada, called "Ancient Dunes". (from the cache page: </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" id="LongDescription"><span style="font-style: italic;">...notice the alternating red and tan layers. These were formed while the dunes were still active. The inclined layers were formed when the winds blew the sand, and the sand stacked up on the windward side of the dune. Continued forward climbing movement of dune after dune resulted in the stacking of layer upon layer of cross bedded sands. After the sand turned to stone, the cross bed patterns remained</span>.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">) To log this cache you had to measure a 1' section of the crossbedding and tell how many layers of crossbedding you had in that section, and upload a photo of you at the area.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Caches are also rated with a Difficulty Rating and a Terrain Rating, each scale from 1-5. (where "1" is about as easy as it gets, and "5" is extremely challenging, might require specialized equipment such as climbing or diving gear) The easiest caches (often called "cache-n-dash") are rated no more than 1-2 in difficulty or terrain. Some </span><a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIu3up6CBDSl0pBVXvAbUFnOCq1LvO5sHOOis6I2-H3g8mCqqkot86uz2skizBDPewAVeajoBz0_nKRWaU_CR4C4nedNCMyYgS1qa9Vqqe5PVivoOuOBiPF33Xjhctt6XDzsUDTt4Ig/s1600-h/IMGP0509.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIu3up6CBDSl0pBVXvAbUFnOCq1LvO5sHOOis6I2-H3g8mCqqkot86uz2skizBDPewAVeajoBz0_nKRWaU_CR4C4nedNCMyYgS1qa9Vqqe5PVivoOuOBiPF33Xjhctt6XDzsUDTt4Ig/s200/IMGP0509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377667868949644562" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">of the best, though, are the harder caches. Photo to the left is of me, climbing up a 70' tall abandoned train trestle pillar, in the middle of the Potomac River, going after a Difficulty-5, Terrain-5 cache located at the top named "Psycho Urban Cache #13 - Impossible, Give Up Now!".</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> As of this writing, I am the only person to have actually physically free climbed the tower; all others who followed have gotten to the top by the use of aid climbing up ropes. No mean feat in and of itself, mind you. Caches of average difficulty and/or terrain are usually considered "2/2".</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">All that said, some caches (physical, virtual, Earth) are very cool. Others are...not so much. Comes with the territory. Not everything can be perfect or awesome. Much more information can be found at <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/">geocaching.com</a>.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The principle goals on this trip were to log the caches (there are two, one physical and one virtual) on top of Mt Whitney followed by logging the Earthcache at Badwater, Death Valley. Anything before, in between, or after was just gravy to the trip.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Sidebar: as you find and log caches, your "find count" goes up (assuming you bother to log them online). This generally gives people an idea of how experienced you might or might not be in this caching stuff. Prior to this trip I had found 1992 caches since May 2003. I was hoping Mt Whitney would be #2000.</span><br /><br /></span>The weekend of Aug 22nd arrived. I spent the two days sorting and organizing gear and clothes for the trip. Yeah, "just" a 5-day adventure, but in some rather temperature and climatically extreme environments. No technical gear needed, but other stuff definitely.<br /><br />Sunday evening I turned in as early as I could (still wasn't until midnight), setting my alarm for 4:30am. Jeff and Dwight would be coming for me in a few hours...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-89356162703038263912009-08-18T15:27:00.074-04:002009-08-21T10:21:04.672-04:00The Rainier Quest - Days 9 & 10: The Final Adventures<span style="font-weight: bold;">June 25, 2009</span><br /><br />Well, it was the final day of the trip. And I had a full day ahead of me before I caught the red-eye back to Baltimore.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLA_ZBATGCkbUK6ly7hSFYfYL5v6Roy7GX8zfKIzEbmLuvdQ4YyVlyKyI1oacBG35g0KdIce5iYHKlyhEketftigaEKGvyhvfb-5awBXXUNIbAE_wUHpg1arp0hdUL63lteySo-Kjzw/s1600-h/IMG_1632.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLA_ZBATGCkbUK6ly7hSFYfYL5v6Roy7GX8zfKIzEbmLuvdQ4YyVlyKyI1oacBG35g0KdIce5iYHKlyhEketftigaEKGvyhvfb-5awBXXUNIbAE_wUHpg1arp0hdUL63lteySo-Kjzw/s200/IMG_1632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371742331305442482" border="0" /></a>Karyn took me down to the little town of Edmonds for breakfast and a jaunt through the local farmer's market. Which was quite a busy place! Did a little final souvenir shopping, then back to her and Bob's place. I packed the car with my gear, said my farewells, then headed out. Today's adventure was to hike up some of the Iron Horse State Park, a rails-to-trails park, hit a few <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X1U6ZtpehyphenhyphenftLpKS_jGOhq4mtozHkn9agPdxWntR1lIrkl0KtYgGO-_UIFBp9VZIbWFGvRQj7PyCsSibaGkkHC-GSw4Luw8e1bjxs6KwXnr2qlMQxIC71UUiZSZL0ZsoY3Ksp3o82w/s1600-h/IMG_1633.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X1U6ZtpehyphenhyphenftLpKS_jGOhq4mtozHkn9agPdxWntR1lIrkl0KtYgGO-_UIFBp9VZIbWFGvRQj7PyCsSibaGkkHC-GSw4Luw8e1bjxs6KwXnr2qlMQxIC71UUiZSZL0ZsoY3Ksp3o82w/s200/IMG_1633.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371742477542757570" border="0" /></a>geocaches along the way, then meet up with my friend Karen later in the afternoon, have dinner, then off to the airport to catch my 10:55pm flight, which would land me back in B'more around 7am.<br /><br />But before I had taken off I had checked the geocaching website to see what caches were about. I noticed that not terribly far (horizontal distance-wise) there were a few caches from where Francesca and I had climbed yesterday. One of them had been placed out several days prior, and no one had even attempted it yet. Well, heck, that drew my attention. Given the number of geocachers around (especially back East), it is extremely rare to get a "first to find" (FTF) on a geocache. This particular cache had been sitting partway up this mountain for four days. It was a beautiful day out today, and it was a weekend - surely <span style="font-style: italic;">someone </span>was probably already doing it! But on some slim chance no one had yet...I altered my plans. I would go for this cache first, then if time allowed try for the hike on the Iron Horse Trail.<br /><br />The caches up on the mountainside above The Far Side climbing area are all pretty much dedicated to Harry Gault. In fact, the peak and the trail leading to the summit, as well as an overlook (Dirty Harry's Balcony), bear his name.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Historical sidebar note: Harry was a local independent logger who, in the late 1970s, </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" id="LongDescription">who was in the business of buying cutting rights to</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" id="LongDescription"> next-to-worthless timber on private land that didn’t interest larger operators. </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">He gained a reputation for relentless logging near North Bend, Washington, employing logging methods (that were subsequently outlawed) to chainsaw these forests into oblivion. He was known for his uncanny ability to build roads and log trees in places thought by other loggers to be too inaccessible to attempt. This reputation eventually led people to give him the nickname of "Dirty Harry". </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFoNVsLyniGasWynzKGmjACsamfPRj4cQFW7cLiwKJwAAGOW3kYQ0jALnmc-5r-lVP48Yax4BaKWg8kDoh1ZFTZeUM8GE8SI0A9GUOQV4zbh2XpNL5yBauDZ3Y4tKWilYrOp2YdABrg/s1600-h/IMG_1654.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFoNVsLyniGasWynzKGmjACsamfPRj4cQFW7cLiwKJwAAGOW3kYQ0jALnmc-5r-lVP48Yax4BaKWg8kDoh1ZFTZeUM8GE8SI0A9GUOQV4zbh2XpNL5yBauDZ3Y4tKWilYrOp2YdABrg/s200/IMG_1654.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371871665163037090" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" id="LongDescription">For years he was a thorn in the side of the Forest Service and local timber companies, who tried in vain to convince him to practice his craft in less conspicuous areas.</span><br /><br />Photo right is one of Dirty Harry's victims, but with a new sapling growing out of the old trunk.<br /><br />Anyway, many years after Dirty Harry stopped his tree-clearing practices, the occasional rusty artifact from his logging past can still be found along and near his old logging road <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1HCloa85-ZpMvmEB_u4PZLyV4dYfiU4Y5oST2ha0FJXAJKh_FTLoIMS6b121njGJ8vEJcmdbo3PYUq7md3YKeHY7d_2xZfUjflxWINkuVRjtELbac10gTZm-k5w4kuVHgq4QNs1yZA/s1600-h/IMG_1636.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1HCloa85-ZpMvmEB_u4PZLyV4dYfiU4Y5oST2ha0FJXAJKh_FTLoIMS6b121njGJ8vEJcmdbo3PYUq7md3YKeHY7d_2xZfUjflxWINkuVRjtELbac10gTZm-k5w4kuVHgq4QNs1yZA/s200/IMG_1636.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371741899047895666" border="0" /></a>(photo left of one such artifact). Harry had even left behind an old truck and some other logging artifacts at an undisclosed location he called the "Museum", also known as "Dirty Harry's Museum". Most hikers looking for this "Museum" never find it, as every year it becomes more hidden by brush and trees. I would soon learn why people don't always find it.<br /><br />The cache I was growing interested in was called "Dirty Harry's Stash", which was where his "museum" was located.<br /><br />I pulled off of I-90 at Exit 38, and went to the same parking area. I forgot to mention, the area where The Far Side climbing is located is the Washington State Fire Training Center. The road up the mountain (partway up the mountain) is open from sometime in the morning until 4pm in the afternoon. At least that's what the sign says. Yesterday when Francesca and I came out, it was past 4:30p and the gate was still open. But we didn't know it would be, didn't want to take any chances, so had parked in the parking area outside the gate. Where most people parked.<br /><br />However, because it was still early-ish today (11am), the gate was open. I decided to chance it. I knew that the cache (having done some coordinate calculations) was 0.8 miles (as the crow flies) from where we were climbing yesterday. How long that would be on the trails....anyone's guess. The cache page said it was a 4 mile round trip hike from parking lot to cache and back. I opted to drive half a mile up the road and park at the trailhead. Save myself a little time. I was already figuring that I would not be doing any hiking on the Iron Horse Trail. Which was okay. This hike was going to kick my butt. The temps were rising (and were forecasted to be in the 90s), and the heat of the day was just coming.<br /><br />From the trailhead I followed the old road that Dirty Harry had carved into the mountainside. Followed it for quite a while. Watching the GPS, the distance to the cache dropped very slowly, as the road switchbacked up the mountain. Lot of walking back and forth! And the day was just getting warmer and warmer.<br /><br />Found a side trail that split off from the main road. I suspected that would lead me to an overlook called Dirty Harry's Balcony. I opted to not try for it right now, keeping focus on heading up to the Museum.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKD_RoNVxmAbFftvfuR2E9gVCTZYf3Ziv5UQmzLhOTGWm1m7iVIumES_3pRsVYicxYACMWvZKXOvH4XxlGDzSCM-zpGyUcdbbHRKW4Pg3OxPeR5idsM_lg_9VtDKNMM1EdVv93AupPGw/s1600-h/IMG_1637.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKD_RoNVxmAbFftvfuR2E9gVCTZYf3Ziv5UQmzLhOTGWm1m7iVIumES_3pRsVYicxYACMWvZKXOvH4XxlGDzSCM-zpGyUcdbbHRKW4Pg3OxPeR5idsM_lg_9VtDKNMM1EdVv93AupPGw/s200/IMG_1637.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371865765252102354" border="0" /></a>The views along the road were few and far between. In fact, only saw the valley twice through gaps in the tree line. But they were enough to let me know I had come up quite a ways in altitude! In the photo right, you can see a bridge on the Iron Horse Trail to the lower right across the valley. This is directly between where two of the Deception Crags climbing areas are located.<br /><br />Finally I got to a point on the trail where the GPS said I was "only" 300' away. But it pointed straight into extra-dense foliage which was masking a steep hill, where a stream was coming from. 300' horizontally - how far vertically? I decided to not get sucked in by cutting off the trail, and continued to follow the road, anticipating that it would swing me around again and back closer to the Museum.<br /><br />I couldn't have been more wrong.<br /><br />Oh, the road switched back alright. But not far enough, and then the road promptly vanished beneath the debris of an old land slide to became a foot trail that continued up the mountainside. And the Museum...didn't get any closer than 0.12 miles. Urg! I had to go back.<br /><br />Once I returned to the stream the GPS had me 300' away again. Sighing, and not looking forward to the bushwhack, I went downhill 50' to a likely opening in the foliage, plowed into the jungle, over rotted deadfall, and up the dirt and rock embankment - only to find another road.<br /><br />....wait, what?<br /><br />Looking at the GPS map screen, I saw the track where I had been. And this new road, very overgrown with slide alders (a thin but tough type of tree that doesn't grow so much straight up as it does in a wide 'blossom' of trunks) and other growth, and very very rocky, went away from the trail I had been following. Forging ahead, I began to follow the newly discovered road.<br /><br />It was difficult going, but occasionally I'd hit a small 20-30' stretch where no slide alders or other growth existed and was able to relax for a moment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4WHV9J2NXC016OGzTzBdbkhTITUdosRs-OmWs-hJ-QC4JyCcfdi0Eke2waS-dwwSH1Jz7wSfx-didQ40eVR8ULd7qnmoQX_kvPCXBab5OQ7pZfNCnwztjxV_Fz5xx-JyqBu-wi1y_w/s1600-h/IMG_1640.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4WHV9J2NXC016OGzTzBdbkhTITUdosRs-OmWs-hJ-QC4JyCcfdi0Eke2waS-dwwSH1Jz7wSfx-didQ40eVR8ULd7qnmoQX_kvPCXBab5OQ7pZfNCnwztjxV_Fz5xx-JyqBu-wi1y_w/s200/IMG_1640.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371868540512948546" border="0" /></a>Then the road became <span style="font-style: italic;">extremely </span>rocky (actually, turned from rocks to boulders), and grew worse as I went higher. Finally, with 100' to go, what was left of the road blended with the jungle and mountainside. I inhaled, bent my head down, and pushed my way through. Then I looked up...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3enYF0Ty0FU8tBVYzeOi-meKQ-XSxpu7H8hOUKBCLYvTlBYxB1NI2beEsMsu696Dm33G3t-bkfyI4c-VVGRzNA5iqB8arrOeeguV_1pC7z7oxv7kKcXV-r5m1C183oBIMtXSAcytsw/s1600-h/IMG_1643.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3enYF0Ty0FU8tBVYzeOi-meKQ-XSxpu7H8hOUKBCLYvTlBYxB1NI2beEsMsu696Dm33G3t-bkfyI4c-VVGRzNA5iqB8arrOeeguV_1pC7z7oxv7kKcXV-r5m1C183oBIMtXSAcytsw/s200/IMG_1643.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371870370205195874" border="0" /></a>Ahead of me there was some non-jungle object, obviously manmade, and almost subsumed by the trees and other foliage. As I pushed closer (getting whacked in the head at one point by an ornery slide alder branch), I realized - I was here! This was Dirty Harry's Museum!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcU176McnP4VMfJ436K5G2QmedrMwX7GHAQ_5SdVyiazDAUvhV8lSsw6Y1L6VWTuwOg0aV8f-vPiTdNpGpczz-E4rZgvV4Q8pF_YLY-dgS3YCmVTbeOvnD-frdatmL68AZeb0kNCFNw/s1600-h/IMG_1645.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcU176McnP4VMfJ436K5G2QmedrMwX7GHAQ_5SdVyiazDAUvhV8lSsw6Y1L6VWTuwOg0aV8f-vPiTdNpGpczz-E4rZgvV4Q8pF_YLY-dgS3YCmVTbeOvnD-frdatmL68AZeb0kNCFNw/s200/IMG_1645.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371870438428987618" border="0" /></a>Rusted throughout, with baseboards rotting and tires disintegrating, Harry's logging truck has seen better days. And perhaps Bonnie and Clyde made it here at one point, too, as evidenced by the photo to the right.<br /><br />I quickly made the cache find - and discovered a fresh and clean log book - no one has been up here yet! The cache has been here for four days, and no one's come up to find it - I got the "first to find". Sweeeeet!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Side note: it is now nearly a month later as I write this, and no one else has succeeded it getting up to the cache; for all I know no one has even bothered trying - maybe it's too hard for the local cachers out there to deal with. Wusses... ;-) </span><br /><br />But I was hot, tired, and already had used half my water getting up here. I had a quick lunch, then started down. Back through the slide alders, and over to where the creek was running. Instead of dropping down the embankment, through the rotted deadfall and the foliage, I decided just to follow the creek.<br /><br />Proved to be a much better plan. There was a faint trail that paralleled the creek - but it was completely obscured by the foliage from the main trail. Heh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLB95YbYCTumwcjBPx0is0sJX8Jw8_Eb85okRPRZ_ee2fvHF-BUqbwJOeUDtpurn_EWqODbSJYkCq5y97dJsDUwdCJB8ZuAs67YXLRFn_IuvyWJuQg0zZQS0y2GDpMbzM6amS7jZlN0A/s1600-h/IMG_1649.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLB95YbYCTumwcjBPx0is0sJX8Jw8_Eb85okRPRZ_ee2fvHF-BUqbwJOeUDtpurn_EWqODbSJYkCq5y97dJsDUwdCJB8ZuAs67YXLRFn_IuvyWJuQg0zZQS0y2GDpMbzM6amS7jZlN0A/s200/IMG_1649.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371872453931260210" border="0" /></a>On the hike out I decided to take the side trail I saw earlier and check out Dirty Harry's Balcony. Glad I did, as the overlook was pretty nice. The cliffs at my feet appeared to have been unclimbed, and held great promise for the future. Maybe next time I'm back there'll be some established routes to play on...<br /><br />It was growing late. In fact, it was rapidly closing in on 4pm. I had to hustle.<br /><br />I got back to the car, it was already after 4pm. Would I get locked in?? I sincerely hoped not. I quickly drove (as quickly as reasonable, given the twisty-turny road) the half mile back down the mountain, over the Snoqualamie (pssing other parked cars by the bridge), and to the gate - which was open! Wahoo! Free to go!<br /><br />I jumped onto I-90 and dashed off to Western Seattle.<br /><br />Now, before I continue, a few observations have to be made.<br /><br />First, Washingtonians (or maybe it's Seattleans?) <span style="font-style: italic;">love </span>their left lane! I saw more than a few cars enter the highway, beeline it straight over to the left lane, and sit. Then in nearly 3/4 of the cases, whenever someone traveling faster came up behind the left-laners, the slower driver would pull over one lane right, let the faster one go by, then drop back over into the left lane again, even if there was no other traffic around. It was odd to watch. The few who didn't move over were either out-of-staters or appeared to be teenagers or young 20-somethings. Then you'd get a huge line of cars in the left lane who wanted to go faster, but were unwilling to pass on the right. Eventually someone would.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80cdPRqJkvBFGm2uuWE2kPcSE_KS5GBevJaZDuSDcjqDYD7WzAzJ5oF4bzs7HpPSbZmb3pIrVNu7NMqYG_VwnqYzMOBZH-F8_DUx5muTyDH0svIUuiPYyPzBykKa0-vZ-bkHvv_KdlQ/s1600-h/IMG_1656.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80cdPRqJkvBFGm2uuWE2kPcSE_KS5GBevJaZDuSDcjqDYD7WzAzJ5oF4bzs7HpPSbZmb3pIrVNu7NMqYG_VwnqYzMOBZH-F8_DUx5muTyDH0svIUuiPYyPzBykKa0-vZ-bkHvv_KdlQ/s200/IMG_1656.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371875537248295010" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Another thing I noticed was litter. Or the lack thereof. Apparently if you litter, Bad Things will happen to you in this state!<br /><br />Eventually I made it over to Karyn's. Her husband, Pete (whose new hobby is apparently making zombie movies; license plate photo left), <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwExE6dw31srUfpQEfwS5oN-t6WuZtZbzvnYgA_Boct0dhQJqX8MPT19u24ujPkcOu2CjZH1IgnbViaUj6M8mrsqAF7ZNE2fYYW-x5kzq8uL6ps3CrCNGJ4-ZzWH8jxyM6Ooshg-vfg/s1600-h/IMG_1662.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdwExE6dw31srUfpQEfwS5oN-t6WuZtZbzvnYgA_Boct0dhQJqX8MPT19u24ujPkcOu2CjZH1IgnbViaUj6M8mrsqAF7ZNE2fYYW-x5kzq8uL6ps3CrCNGJ4-ZzWH8jxyM6Ooshg-vfg/s200/IMG_1662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372035526991901362" border="0" /></a>had just left town for Hawaii, so I missed seeing him. Karen graciously let me take a shower to wash off the trail grime from earlier, then took me on a walk down to the waterfront of Lincoln Park, half mile or so from their place. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqByjuQiNkEVV19OZ9uneVf4lhKoHkMIxGT3ceLcN45bQCicKVgfc9xMvJjs9NGV21SeESxlHYl5gGGWTJW0e25WmDFe63uWO5XM2WbSNk7JjqwkNj18hMM1TnOyWbKqkqUDiTQKhZHQ/s1600-h/IMG_1664.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqByjuQiNkEVV19OZ9uneVf4lhKoHkMIxGT3ceLcN45bQCicKVgfc9xMvJjs9NGV21SeESxlHYl5gGGWTJW0e25WmDFe63uWO5XM2WbSNk7JjqwkNj18hMM1TnOyWbKqkqUDiTQKhZHQ/s200/IMG_1664.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372244292145933906" border="0" /></a>There, through the haze, heat, and intervening clouds, I would catch my last glimpse of Rainier on this trip. In the photo right, you can b-a-r-e-l-y see Rainier's snowy flanks, just left of center along the horizon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtIh_BIYhE1IVc5REwkZqo1hPmj_hiroWe49AiOnRrI2qskj1_gsScWKEetToW05A7KTQrV_xPZJIkz-QuEVMtHEKWkqiKw8pVbolEkUw1Z5mB9EzrjMk-SUAXQ2VAICGhXPpDIB-7ig/s1600-h/IMG_1665.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtIh_BIYhE1IVc5REwkZqo1hPmj_hiroWe49AiOnRrI2qskj1_gsScWKEetToW05A7KTQrV_xPZJIkz-QuEVMtHEKWkqiKw8pVbolEkUw1Z5mB9EzrjMk-SUAXQ2VAICGhXPpDIB-7ig/s200/IMG_1665.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372144522704768914" border="0" /></a>After the walk we drove over to Hamilton Point Park of Alki Point to check out West Seattle's answer to Venice Beach, California, (photo left) and grab some dinner. From strolling along the beach, got a long view of Seattle proper (photo left). We also came to the marker for the birthplace of Seattle, where <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denny_Party">the Denny Party</a> first landed and settled on November 13, 1851, and then had a pretty hard time of it. Karen told me a story that after the Denny party landed the women cried. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf2m2evJbf0zE3EZMns-jm8MGlpQorvmGA3rk6KmXFdgee8T5itVNSRP8NH9Z5kL2ZCRb0Gvtdu9iEWjOK5pCfTmq02jHEAWXeFpmjXXH-wgdFvxXHSJ4P0bQcVaNTmhAMT2ZKddmeQ/s1600-h/IMG_1668.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf2m2evJbf0zE3EZMns-jm8MGlpQorvmGA3rk6KmXFdgee8T5itVNSRP8NH9Z5kL2ZCRb0Gvtdu9iEWjOK5pCfTmq02jHEAWXeFpmjXXH-wgdFvxXHSJ4P0bQcVaNTmhAMT2ZKddmeQ/s200/IMG_1668.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372153195760966002" border="0" /></a>She then said that when she and Pete first moved to Seattle, it was also November, and she understood perfectly why the Denny party women had cried. Karyn is originally from the extra-warm, humid and sunny Eastern Shore. Now transplanted to Seattle. And November is her antithesis: a miserable, dreary, chilly month.<br /><br />BTW, the original name of the Denny party settlement was "New York Alki", where "Alki" is a Chinook word meaning "eventually".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicM875JcmNpnlkXRjBkMz0Gq_3twWdtOufgCY0sZ-F44Nw8qXUAU2GMuzPa74gyU712X0jQWZQGTR2rHSq3HcvfLIit-rf2Jajz58LpHIrvthRvlPFc4a2RJzBRvJ013HkTaQU_Bs_lQ/s1600-h/IMG_1679.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicM875JcmNpnlkXRjBkMz0Gq_3twWdtOufgCY0sZ-F44Nw8qXUAU2GMuzPa74gyU712X0jQWZQGTR2rHSq3HcvfLIit-rf2Jajz58LpHIrvthRvlPFc4a2RJzBRvJ013HkTaQU_Bs_lQ/s200/IMG_1679.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372157580027351426" border="0" /></a>Dinner was good. Don't remember the place we ate, but it had good seafood. Then we started hiking back to the car, enjoying the back-lit Olympics as the sun was setting (photo left).<br /><br />We didn't realize just how far away we had parked until the rain started. Karen's car is a small two-seat convertible, and during the few nice, warm months of the year, the top is down and stays down. Wellll...we drove over with the top down, and left it down when we started walking. Now it was raining.<br /><br />By the time I ran back to the car to put the top up, the rain had already stopped. The inside of the car was...a wee bit damp. Karen fortunately keeps a towel available to try and dry off the interior as best as possible, but it can only do so much with the soaked-in water. We had wet butts on the drive back to her house.<br /><br />After that I said my good-byes and headed to the rental car place. Dropped off the rental, shuttled over to the airport - and completely spaced that I still had my pocket knife in my pocket when I went through security. Wasn't even thinking about it. Was just tired, wanted on the plane to go home.<br /><br />The security guard took great pleasure in yelling very loudly at me about the penalties and dangers of bringing a pocket knife through the security gate. He then gave me the option to go back and either check it as baggage or mail it to myself. The pocket knife, however, was old, some parts in disrepair, and the blades were nicked from years of use. I'd been meaning to replace it anyhow. Tired, and not wanting to deal with him or the other hassle options he presented, I told him to just keep it, it wasn't worth it. I just wanted to get on the plane and go home. I grabbed my stuff and left him standing there.<br /><br />At the gate I found a comfy corner to sequester myself in and waited to board. Half hour later, when boarding time came, we got an announcement that our plane hadn't come in yet, and wasn't expected in for another 45 minutes. Urg. Well. Whatever. I had downloaded some old Outer Limits episodes to my iPod before leaving on this adventure, for just this eventuality.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkJVU-nE0u6cH9u-pXbUvKVmdsONlvOdUMDHeaxAiACepmfy6Ubj64TdKyG1Q-z7IpESb1JNVI1vwLdZ4Brk7qc3IzZ779r-1awcMd-EK50Pko8air7az9Jhuy4vV9gpm_y5qORWqRA/s1600-h/IMG_1689.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkJVU-nE0u6cH9u-pXbUvKVmdsONlvOdUMDHeaxAiACepmfy6Ubj64TdKyG1Q-z7IpESb1JNVI1vwLdZ4Brk7qc3IzZ779r-1awcMd-EK50Pko8air7az9Jhuy4vV9gpm_y5qORWqRA/s200/IMG_1689.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372159085060814738" border="0" /></a>The plane finally came, the passengers there filed out, and we filed on. An hour turnaround and we were in the air, on the way home. Seattle and Tacoma were readily visible. I had a window seat on the right side of the plane, and given that it was after midnight, I knew climbers would be going up Rainier. I wasn't sure how close or far we were going to get to the mountain, but I strained my eyes to see if I could catch a glimmer of lights as climbers were making their way up the flanks of the mountain. I saw nothing. After 15 minutes of watching darkness, I finally passed out.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">June 26, 2009</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4KO1U5D7ihSppIDiTvIQu6OmvGEh_oGePApWxoFRq7HZOlzASpKT6CPzE5gGeuTJUoCoasZfP_VKBIG4YuCZBjKK73P07k89FJPuIFjWmgLnkjx8JCQI4kI-vLXeaCD1uDvkBM_-5w/s1600-h/IMG_1690.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4KO1U5D7ihSppIDiTvIQu6OmvGEh_oGePApWxoFRq7HZOlzASpKT6CPzE5gGeuTJUoCoasZfP_VKBIG4YuCZBjKK73P07k89FJPuIFjWmgLnkjx8JCQI4kI-vLXeaCD1uDvkBM_-5w/s200/IMG_1690.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372160133818217186" border="0" /></a>Some hours later I awoke to a brightening sky as the plane began to prepare for landing at BWI. I looked out and saw Liberty Reservoir just outside the window (photo left; the bridge across the lake is MD26, Liberty Road). Second thing I noticed after identifying the lake was just how hazy it was out there - the humidity must be dreadful!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE9ISRpDTfhd0-d28pUB9LIZ7xuPGDFZTwPxEv7aMORQRlr9_ZJHC2R6-FZpZzn4K3B7B4co75ofGQ94Pio4ZDNqF-6Lvg1g0WY9IVW5mlaD3xkK0nQAqCrkiO2JiV3-_RxiZeLj5aQ/s1600-h/IMG_1694.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE9ISRpDTfhd0-d28pUB9LIZ7xuPGDFZTwPxEv7aMORQRlr9_ZJHC2R6-FZpZzn4K3B7B4co75ofGQ94Pio4ZDNqF-6Lvg1g0WY9IVW5mlaD3xkK0nQAqCrkiO2JiV3-_RxiZeLj5aQ/s200/IMG_1694.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372160646315288946" border="0" /></a>We circled around the north end of Baltimore, over Pikesville and Towson, down along the Bay, and then came at BWI from the East. I got one clear(ish) view of the airport before we turned to land (photo right). I put the camera away for the rest of the trip (i.e., if you came here for the pictures, you're done now ;-) ).<br /><br />We landed without fanfare and taxied to the gate. Out of the plane and down to baggage claim to get our luggage. I had called Lisa to let her know I was back so she could come get me at her leisure, and waited for my bags to appear.<br /><br />We all stood there a while. I noticed that the baggage carousel we were at had three AirTran flights listed, one of them ours. Bags began to appear, but none of them ours.<br /><br />Suddenly there was an announcement over the PA.<br /><br />"Would <span style="font-weight: bold;">ALL </span>passengers from AirTran Flight #231 please report to the baggage claim office. Would <span style="font-weight: bold;">ALL </span>passengers from AirTran Flight #231 please report to the baggage claim office. Thank you. {click}"<br /><br />...wait...ALL passengers?? Ohhh, I did not like the sound of this...<br /><br />Slowly understanding sank into the tired people standing around. I was already moving, so ended up near the front of the pack that would slowly grow. At the baggage claim office we would learn that our checked luggage never made it on the plane. None of it. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. In fact, the baggage still on our plane was supposed to have been transferred to a plane bound for Milwaukee - where our bags apparently ended up!<br /><br />Oh, and the earliest they'd be able to get our bags back to BWI would not be for another 10-12 hours, due to their flight schedules. 3-4 hours after that to deliver.<br /><br />Needless to say, there were quite a few very unhappy people - esp those who had connecting flights to catch in the next few hours (one unfortunate guy was being deployed to Germany, had a 6 hour layover here at BWI before continuing on; I hope he eventually got his luggage).<br /><br />We all filled out info forms, then slowly dissipated, many grumbling. Me, I was lucky. I was now home. My bags could come eventually (little did I know they wouldn't come for another 18 hours). I went out to meet Lisa and headed home.<br /><br />Adventure done.<br /><br />But the quest is not over. See also <a href="http://indy-adventures.blogspot.com/2009/07/rainier-quest-day-5-part-1-summit-or.html#comments">the comment under Day 5 Part 1</a>. Close enough isn't. {sigh} :-(Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-51780705195976193112009-08-17T22:49:00.031-04:002009-08-19T19:06:47.802-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 8: Climbing at Exit 38<span style="font-weight: bold;">June 24, 2009</span><br /><br />I was up early once again. Karyn trotted out to work while Jody and Francesca roused themselves. Francesca packed her stuff, as her redeye flight back East was to leave this evening. Our plan: to go climbing at Exit 38 (Jody was abstaining, heading back to Portland instead for studying that she's been putting off for over a week now). We three went to another local establishment for breakfast, then parted on our two paths.<br /><br />The last three times I'd been out to Seattle, I always got at least one day of climbing in. Either up in Squamish (British Columbia), out at Leavenworth, or...at Exit 38. This latter was a small-ish area along Iron Horse State Park, which, at 110<img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDhnLl323y3LKujGAsu8XdYSaM13WtT9EXbWVoUvBcwyC2p_Pd9-JRbLE_9QSnV_dFqwMVRyUi0Pqegj_7RND9oNMUB9hdbd9Vk9gpUEYNoZJK_RubnGEC0nye2rhyphenhyphenc2gsyxvFdjQUg/s200/Exit38-guidebook-cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371694601244251794" border="0" /> miles from end to end and only 20' or so wide, is one of the longest and narrowest - if not <span style="font-style: italic;">the </span>longest and narrowest - state parks in the country. Along this walkway hikers and bikers travel - and climbers play on the railroad blasted cliffs. Exit 38 is primarily a sport climbing/top-rope climbing area - meaning that it is heavily bolted (that's the norm) for people who want to lead climb, and for those who don't, there are anchors pre-set up top in order to top-rope from. The old guidebook (1996 by Bryan Burdo) to the area was 114 page spiralbound book offering 145 routes in three major areas: Deception Crags, The Far Side, and North Fork. <a href="http://www.deceptioncrags.com/Exit38.htm">The new book</a> (2006, 2nd ed from a 2001 guide by Garth Bruce; 2006 guide image right) was greatly expanded. 248 pages, it offered over 100 new routes in new areas, color photos and maps, graphs, history to the area and to the growth of the guides, and "best of" lists for those people who don't have time to climb everything here, but are just breezing through.<br /><br />In the past (2000, 2002) I had climbed at a couple of rocks at Deception Crags: Write-Off Rock and We Did Rock, doing the same routes each time. With the new guidebook in hand I wanted to explore new areas. For Francesca, having never been here before, anything we got on would be new and fun for her. So after having studied the guide a bit, I chose The Far Side, as it hosted <a href="http://www.deceptioncrags.com/FarSide/InterstatePark/index.htm">one of the top-rated 5.7 routes</a> in the area: <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss Of The Crowbar</span>. I imagine the name came from when the route was first put up, as the first ascent party was pulling and prying off loose rock.<br /><br />Exit 38 is, as you might guess from the name, located off of Exit 38 on I-90, east from Seattle. So, pretty close to a major metropolitan area. Barring traffic, you can be from Seattle to crag in 30 minutes or so.<br /><br />So after saying goodbye with Jody, Francesca and I headed out. The day promised to be bright, clear, sunny...and fairly warm. We were going against what late morning traffic there was heading to Seattle, and made good time. Got to Exit 38, then drove over to the parking area for The Far Side. Geared up and proceeded to hike in. Our destination was Interstate Park Wall, not quite the furthest of the developed crags (there is a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot </span>more rock in the valley, but not all of it has been explored by climbers yet).<br /><br />Getting to where we wanted to go took a little bit of time. About 30-40 minutes. But we eventually got to the area. And found a small group of people there! Turned out to be a couple guys leading a kids outdoor climbing session for a summer camp. They worked for an outdoor adventure business in Tacoma. They were very friendly and helpful, and offered for us to climb on any of their ropes that they weren't already using. That is almost unheard of back East. Outdoor groups there won't allow you to touch their ropes, and some can get downright hostile with you if you want to climb a route they have a rope on, but are obviously not using and aren't going to for some time. But I digress...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ej0SjfdTXJr8bezhuexMgPzc2kpzE0az13Rv9hAyBRFpzgR9FoE_r0bqd5VTFIppSj329Ry0jienlrVY-JYJlccUYSwciI_xvLbXp4j2gfEVyjF7eQP0gt6HXJGGcDejX-oob-xw9Q/s1600-h/IMG_1589.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ej0SjfdTXJr8bezhuexMgPzc2kpzE0az13Rv9hAyBRFpzgR9FoE_r0bqd5VTFIppSj329Ry0jienlrVY-JYJlccUYSwciI_xvLbXp4j2gfEVyjF7eQP0gt6HXJGGcDejX-oob-xw9Q/s200/IMG_1589.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371492727127662594" border="0" /></a><br />Looking around we could see more tall cliffs along the flanks of the valley, of which we were barely halfway up ourselves. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkBTbDoe658PU2m8Akhapq1BjH17-qOawEcZMI9HF8YEkB3zfVqeIDLCDNPlabpCeRrWvER1AlQ-Ycc8Y6j6Wo_l_YeDdGBlmVTMYHm1nfxuU9EGIQeV_uaak7dmbZ7sEmKxdc_uy8Q/s1600-h/IMG_1592.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkBTbDoe658PU2m8Akhapq1BjH17-qOawEcZMI9HF8YEkB3zfVqeIDLCDNPlabpCeRrWvER1AlQ-Ycc8Y6j6Wo_l_YeDdGBlmVTMYHm1nfxuU9EGIQeV_uaak7dmbZ7sEmKxdc_uy8Q/s200/IMG_1592.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371492907152533250" border="0" /></a>But it wasn't a full-on wilderness experience - I-90 was just down there, below us. You could easily hear the traffic from atop of the rock.<br /><br />These rocks were not the railroad cut blasted rocks that I had climbed on at Deception Crags. No, these were naturally weathered rocks. It would be very interesting to climb on this stuff, see what kind of song and character the rock had to offer.<br /><br />So after talking with the two guys a bit, Francesca and I decided to take them up on their offer and got on one of their ropes. The wall they were set up on, Squishy Bell, was pretty short. 25-30' tall. Average for something in central Maryland, but looking around at the exposed rock faces around the valley, this was barely a blip on the scree field. But it was rock, it was vertical, there were ropes already set up, and we were going to climb.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwGCkIyAyz9mzbsKe9v3FDWjUcEwQreRoE1kTN-RjPo6C-cjk6v-7c1nCjM7eR5Oam982XAXFDU371VDloxkevbxkoV6ieOWKjENkBZof4-ysnJzl_mwGxpGp_AnG71O2u4TxX1M6ew/s1600-h/IMG_1591.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwGCkIyAyz9mzbsKe9v3FDWjUcEwQreRoE1kTN-RjPo6C-cjk6v-7c1nCjM7eR5Oam982XAXFDU371VDloxkevbxkoV6ieOWKjENkBZof4-ysnJzl_mwGxpGp_AnG71O2u4TxX1M6ew/s200/IMG_1591.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371657885529147122" border="0" /></a><br />Looking over the selection of routes on the wall, most were pretty easy. So I opted for us to do the rope in the middle at the tallest point of the wall, which would cover <span style="font-style: italic;">Winter Rushing In </span>(5.8) and <span style="font-style: italic;">November Glaze</span> (5.9).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEguYzsvY5fr-o5VXSsUZqZGXM1KqxLfG1EVcYsBrsRgokSfBjhssh02BTBPhx0T4veZmdu9eGzvZnhoV7CYunO7nEwMFAd7W1krACxpEAnyf4GbVeSYvbThcFiDQgtA7nrCbfZB_Yw/s1600-h/IMG_1593.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEguYzsvY5fr-o5VXSsUZqZGXM1KqxLfG1EVcYsBrsRgokSfBjhssh02BTBPhx0T4veZmdu9eGzvZnhoV7CYunO7nEwMFAd7W1krACxpEAnyf4GbVeSYvbThcFiDQgtA7nrCbfZB_Yw/s200/IMG_1593.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493061653467474" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Winter Rushing In</span> wasn't too bad. Felt a little easy for a 5.8, but it was a pleasant climb (photo right of Francesca on <span style="font-style: italic;">Winter Rushing In</span>). Francesca went up after I came down. At this point the two guys started taking down their other ropes. They were going to move on to another area, having just finished lunch. We offered to help by taking down the rope we were climbing on, since they were so gracious as to allow us to climb on it. They accepted. I then scurried up <span style="font-style: italic;">November Glaze </span>and topped off. That felt a lot more like a 5.9 in difficulty than what <span style="font-style: italic;">Winter... </span>did for its grade. But it was still a neat climb.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjmpMCOFElCSWHh9aiWTECbqKvsUyWFbQckrZZgGeAqETeT8UliOqFkEL96ksGd5VTDLh5XCuWgC4P796LeWEbyfg2i1oo07EPRojks8diZB5KTvi21iunu3xK9eN5D2V7QiQ9GP9lg/s1600-h/kiss-of-the-crowbar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 109px; height: 146px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjmpMCOFElCSWHh9aiWTECbqKvsUyWFbQckrZZgGeAqETeT8UliOqFkEL96ksGd5VTDLh5XCuWgC4P796LeWEbyfg2i1oo07EPRojks8diZB5KTvi21iunu3xK9eN5D2V7QiQ9GP9lg/s200/kiss-of-the-crowbar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371685694765415586" border="0" /></a>We gave to the two guys their gear as they took their charges and went back into the woods. I still wanted us to do <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss Of The Crowbar,</span> and we were already practically on top of it. Just a matter of finding the start.<br /><br />We went around to the bottom of the overlook and started trying to match up the topo photo in the guidebook with what we saw of the rock (topo photo left). We found it readily.<br /><br />As all the rocks here are top-rope or sport (bolted), we did not bring any trad gear with us. Just quickdraws and slings. I racked up while Francesca flaked out the rope, and up I went, trying to follow the bolt line when I could see the bolts. At first I went off too far left because I saw a bolt there, but nothing in the corner. But I managed to get re-oriented and got back on route again.<br /><br />The route was pleasant. Not superbly fantastically great, but not bad. And didn't feel 5.7 in difficulty to me (felt more like 5.5 or 5.6, given my experiences in the East; then again, I've noticed in general that routes out West tend to feel 'softer' or easier than their posted rating vs. routes in the East). But it was still climbing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QIyUxRs7GW7LAv7e7NANfehjVVEILLXAgTK2CIN3ffWbsxQNYY6BMU5Lb58KSHkpuK2Nloy9XQ_zRzOfzlblpLYwxqQfHB4WaPQoZDedtUF4f8qmAtkPzrmzaSerXcCsLGm46A-oZA/s1600-h/IMG_1600.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QIyUxRs7GW7LAv7e7NANfehjVVEILLXAgTK2CIN3ffWbsxQNYY6BMU5Lb58KSHkpuK2Nloy9XQ_zRzOfzlblpLYwxqQfHB4WaPQoZDedtUF4f8qmAtkPzrmzaSerXcCsLGm46A-oZA/s200/IMG_1600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493215313998450" border="0" /></a><br />After I went up, Francesca followed (photo right), cleaning off my 'draws as she went up. I then opted to try the 5.8, <span style="font-style: italic;">Attack Of The Butter Knives</span>, off to the left. The start was a good 20-25' away from the start of <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss Of The Crowbar</span>, but the two routes converged about 1/3 of the way up and <span style="font-style: italic;">Attack Of The Butter Knives </span>finished on <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss Of The Crowbar</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...Butter Knives </span>felt a good deal more difficult than <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss Of The Crowbar</span>. Definitely more in the 5.8 range. But not impossible, just attention-getting. Once I was past the two cruxes, I was back on <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss...</span> . I lowered off and let Francesca have a go at it.<br /><br />Then we were done. It was getting late (4pm), we still had to get back in time for dinner with Karyn and then get Francesca to the airport. We packed up and took an alternate trail out.<br /><br />At this point all the after-work climbers were showing up. We met no less than a dozen coming up the trail on our way out. Yep, this is a popular area.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy0VAGYY53UoMo3svP6eIqYEP_e-trjInsU7_hh24EggjwNnYAsKpavAxCYECPk5rsfZT2i2wWXlskAi4XLYIreo6FWdQftQtP1T0_hoVvM95PCOVih7diOZmgXc7DCuD8ce1Cf-99g/s1600-h/IMG_1612.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy0VAGYY53UoMo3svP6eIqYEP_e-trjInsU7_hh24EggjwNnYAsKpavAxCYECPk5rsfZT2i2wWXlskAi4XLYIreo6FWdQftQtP1T0_hoVvM95PCOVih7diOZmgXc7DCuD8ce1Cf-99g/s200/IMG_1612.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493506546331458" border="0" /></a><br />Once back down on the road we opted to stop at the Snoqualmie River. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqgl66Ctn0hqiucjIPoVyWw2zma7n0rGnM_EM9yNWMrOBryz3PsWtP_O5ow-PSE60l3CA3p9YPeixXrOvjSUqWQJFQYflpwcYIV5rNqovYihTkFnViBmuaH1B4_8eM5Mo4Ljs-8vl8w/s1600-h/IMG_1614.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqgl66Ctn0hqiucjIPoVyWw2zma7n0rGnM_EM9yNWMrOBryz3PsWtP_O5ow-PSE60l3CA3p9YPeixXrOvjSUqWQJFQYflpwcYIV5rNqovYihTkFnViBmuaH1B4_8eM5Mo4Ljs-8vl8w/s200/IMG_1614.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493644603909906" border="0" /></a>It was much hotter now, down here, and in the sun. The water was inviting and cool. Unfortunately, neither of us had thought to bring swimsuits, so we just waded in as far as we could, and played with the river rocks a while. And okay, yeah, the water was pretty cold (photo right of Francesca expressing how cold it is). But definitely refreshing! And very clear - so clear that you could see where the rocks across the river went into and under the water, and formed underwater cliffs. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibfOyQ21bC37PMF1X2xEBcLYH8aw3UYWyNtRmgj0AYUEoZngAmr_As4pYQhhzKboauZJRTWAnxRie-6SpY_610CuztEyO1G2mLuxBkZSCIK_8oHOneS_B52l6WixkKmjiOuNpvgeL_QQ/s1600-h/IMG_1616.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibfOyQ21bC37PMF1X2xEBcLYH8aw3UYWyNtRmgj0AYUEoZngAmr_As4pYQhhzKboauZJRTWAnxRie-6SpY_610CuztEyO1G2mLuxBkZSCIK_8oHOneS_B52l6WixkKmjiOuNpvgeL_QQ/s200/IMG_1616.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493789000300546" border="0" /></a>The river wasn't overly deep at this point, but I had a brief wish to have had either my snorkel or scuba gear with me to drop down and explore the bottom. Ah well. Another time...<br /><br />After our wade we got back to the car, and made the drive back to Karyn and Bob's, doing an admirable job of going against pretty much all traffic there was! Had to take three different highways, and by gum, the main rush hour flow was always opposite our direction. Go us!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPue-Ym4J9UhDM4F70W2qmHWB0w4n-e9Wh189wn03ZUqPohrD8yaf54vazGyBZ7NcgVAMI921UFdcQB7l7FEJyuStXTwNJ2fmmzdkuLVt3iiwZkOBYjVBLe7kaz8JoWmqawcxJ0wOwdw/s1600-h/IMG_1620.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPue-Ym4J9UhDM4F70W2qmHWB0w4n-e9Wh189wn03ZUqPohrD8yaf54vazGyBZ7NcgVAMI921UFdcQB7l7FEJyuStXTwNJ2fmmzdkuLVt3iiwZkOBYjVBLe7kaz8JoWmqawcxJ0wOwdw/s200/IMG_1620.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371493917244162626" border="0" /></a>After dinner Francesca got herself packed and the car loaded. I drove her down to the airport and dropped her off. Her adventures here in Washington were now coming to a close. But for me, I still had one more day to do stuff.<br /><br />On the drive back I had hoped to catch a second glimpse of the noctilucent clouds, but instead I was treated to lower altitude clouds that dropped rain. However, they were localized (mostly localized over where I was driving!), and off to the west, along the horizon, there was a break, and I could see the reddish sky of the deepening twilight. And the sliver of a thin crescent moon. No place for me to stop off of I-5 to easily get a photo, I just glanced at it when the opportunities allowed, between raindrops and cars.<br /><br />Back at Karyn and Bob's it was my turn to pack. After breakfast tomorrow I intended on heading back out to the area we were just at today and do some geocaching hiking. Then meet up with another friend of mine named Karen whom I haven't seen in years, then get myself on the plane for the flight home.Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-72523511597334701452009-08-12T23:54:00.039-04:002009-08-19T15:34:02.330-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 7: Apparitions in the Sky<span style="font-weight: bold;">June 23/24, 2009</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-HYtCn-kour6AcJ9gz2J7evU014Ip4bP-lT75BG-RrBYO3bYLrfozZMdhEAp_oVbptm1_PzmY3oMnA6jwGsvbHtcSjkLLAsSe8c9CPA9yeeE9UJi2fjMEXUitZviAcSJyo8-VZ7pZQ/s1600-h/IMG_1583.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-HYtCn-kour6AcJ9gz2J7evU014Ip4bP-lT75BG-RrBYO3bYLrfozZMdhEAp_oVbptm1_PzmY3oMnA6jwGsvbHtcSjkLLAsSe8c9CPA9yeeE9UJi2fjMEXUitZviAcSJyo8-VZ7pZQ/s200/IMG_1583.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368673280432244290" border="0" /></a>The next day started....slowly. I was up first, and quietly felt the activities of the past few days sink into my body. Yeah, a little sore, and pretty tired. But at the same time I was a bit restless. Wanted to go out and <span style="font-weight: bold;">do </span>something. Had kinda wanted to go climbing today, but would have to wait and see what Jody and Francesca were up for - when they finally woke. An hour later I went to go check up on them. They were still sacked out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMWPRcTyYkMjje0Ce7N9ey_pXsKxrZbtAFV4u90ltlNHx3tK2fZKcNNtA4pMu5NdQ_8PafPKQeoonKD2BmuxKsdB_C79AvoLjW5GluYoNzelbb4wXQGkmODUt8pw__Dp9H4ogm2cGjA/s1600-h/IMG_1582.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMWPRcTyYkMjje0Ce7N9ey_pXsKxrZbtAFV4u90ltlNHx3tK2fZKcNNtA4pMu5NdQ_8PafPKQeoonKD2BmuxKsdB_C79AvoLjW5GluYoNzelbb4wXQGkmODUt8pw__Dp9H4ogm2cGjA/s200/IMG_1582.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371284963581514674" border="0" /></a><br />Bob had long gone on his extended weekend backpack trip. Karyn had headed off to work. Their kitties were huddled together, snoozing. The house was pretty quiet.<br /><br />At some point the girls roused themselves. And we spent a more or less listless morning, recovering from the Rainier adventure. We eventually headed out to breakfast and discussed our plans. Jody was thinking to head back to Portland. I and Francesca wanted to go climbing, but would do so tomorrow (since we had very little energy today and it was already getting well into the afternoon). I made arrangements to reserve a rental car, and Jody brought Francesca and I to it on her way out of town. She was going to then stop off at a spa (don't remember what it is called, but it's supposed to be a Really Good Spa Place) and get worked over before continuing down to Portland.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtzFmISCqudczOMILc8rHCf2Wi9zoozGlptgo7KpDblFSp7YGbjXTTBdA-rOvjZ0ouZCpZl9m4-ZBgQBF2LqMhlEyHATgGlUA0_Oh5-D2RcMtAGzpPFkpy07nqWmWcm8THdhW7CQg1w/s1600-h/IMG_1567_v2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtzFmISCqudczOMILc8rHCf2Wi9zoozGlptgo7KpDblFSp7YGbjXTTBdA-rOvjZ0ouZCpZl9m4-ZBgQBF2LqMhlEyHATgGlUA0_Oh5-D2RcMtAGzpPFkpy07nqWmWcm8THdhW7CQg1w/s200/IMG_1567_v2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371734459164812962" border="0" /></a><br />With rental car secured, Francesca and I trotted back to downtown Seattle, to check out the Pikes Place Market once more. The idea was to look for some souvenirs, but we got there so late that stalls were starting to close up. We had to scramble just to grab a late lunch/early supper while we were in the area. Then back up to meet Karyn for dinner.<br /><br />Karyn had suggested a nearby pizza place for us to go to. It was kinda like a cross between a diner and a restaurant, but I don't remember the name of the place. We ordered various pizzas and chilled out for a while. Partway through dinner Jody called. She was verry tired, had a great, relaxing time at the spa, but was too tired to make the 3 hour journey back to Portland. Could she come back and spend the night at Karyn and Bob's again? Sure! No problem.<br /><br />It was getting on dusk at this point. We departed the pizza joint and started to head back to Karyn and Bob's. As is my custom, I looked up at the sky to see what there was to see. It was partly cloudy as the twilight deepened, yet you could still see the sky. I knew where the planets were (the few that were visible right now), and what stars were up, but...I still looked up. It's...what I do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyeptpOBqtr71yKnFHEoD2L9SUEUXVu8IOfG1wvPpWCA1v6_fmhBGZ2p_gse8cLvinyvTJ8UcusOXtKGX1_3VtAiMxGOJQVmHZT38wwNut5_jiSYZnESGeFJ4SWbykpxJuuE2V7bX98Q/s1600-h/IMG_1568.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyeptpOBqtr71yKnFHEoD2L9SUEUXVu8IOfG1wvPpWCA1v6_fmhBGZ2p_gse8cLvinyvTJ8UcusOXtKGX1_3VtAiMxGOJQVmHZT38wwNut5_jiSYZnESGeFJ4SWbykpxJuuE2V7bX98Q/s200/IMG_1568.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371372906926906290" border="0" /></a>Something caught my eye, low to the northwest. The sun was well down - it had set almost an hour earlier. Yet...there in the sky, was this illuminated patch of light. I stared at it, waiting for it to move. Aurora? Would I actually get to see a display? However, the apparition had structure unlike any aurora I had ever seen. Like frozen lightning. With a ghostly bluish white glow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2TeXoK_agOecsj_GVt26e6LiYou9Du8-emYVtj29_YObIuobWIRXaroe7sQjtuzyjpTl948U7XtGsOAqsP4kqRNml-ln1mzHGobZS7ED0o3mUmk32Y0ZL-rTsfOjWnsk1wUZCkFz0A/s1600-h/IMG_1571.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2TeXoK_agOecsj_GVt26e6LiYou9Du8-emYVtj29_YObIuobWIRXaroe7sQjtuzyjpTl948U7XtGsOAqsP4kqRNml-ln1mzHGobZS7ED0o3mUmk32Y0ZL-rTsfOjWnsk1wUZCkFz0A/s200/IMG_1571.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371373367108278914" border="0" /></a>Wait...<span style="font-style: italic;">was this a </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/07/nightclouds/">noctilucent cloud??</a> (in the link there is a video from the ISS, and you can see a lightning storm below not quite halfway through). A friend of mine had passed the above link on to me mere days before I took off on this trip. But I had forgotten about it - until now.<br /><br />I got fairly excited. Karyn and Francesca just looked at each other, not understanding. I tried to explain while we were driving back. The twilight deepened, and I was wishing there was a place to stop and take a photo <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ0hpKI3XEN-b2mA1zQvwI1V4PO0Do2nC5LlV48Bu-uoxxaTpX7J_Y680xo-wXGLOyKPIFOWfj9Rdv18xhPnFwXWC112WxUtXmKJX0aJJAEF1z0pUNu0y93nzvvU5W1wqLF0DouWOow/s1600-h/IMG_1574.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ0hpKI3XEN-b2mA1zQvwI1V4PO0Do2nC5LlV48Bu-uoxxaTpX7J_Y680xo-wXGLOyKPIFOWfj9Rdv18xhPnFwXWC112WxUtXmKJX0aJJAEF1z0pUNu0y93nzvvU5W1wqLF0DouWOow/s200/IMG_1574.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371373580311056034" border="0" /></a>(or, given my little digicam only goes as slow as 1/8 of a second, that there was a place I could <span style="font-style: italic;">try </span>to take a photo, before things got too dark for my camera to pick up. Karyn suggested the park-n-ride garage a half mile from where they live. Onward we drove!<br /><br />In a nutshell, noctilucent clouds, if you have not yet googled it or gone to the link above, are thin rarefied ice clouds extremely high up in the atmosphere (50 miles up; not quite halfway to the orbit of the Space Station - and mind you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supercell">supercell thunderstorms</a> that ravage the plains of the U.S. "only" reach around 1/10 that height, though the highest is one that formed over India and is thought to have pushed just over 9 miles up). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyBTqhN-U_Dyq8M0lYrcZGh4KPONHuAyhjiJyYMEnUAd-sT6jKlTmSihPpRC4uKPjZvdiD64WbdLGWrS1xltascPPL000ogjDEIZHG7wCAbpWtCMJP3bJ-0_tdO0P6LwdWf0DOH1c3Q/s1600-h/IMG_1577.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyBTqhN-U_Dyq8M0lYrcZGh4KPONHuAyhjiJyYMEnUAd-sT6jKlTmSihPpRC4uKPjZvdiD64WbdLGWrS1xltascPPL000ogjDEIZHG7wCAbpWtCMJP3bJ-0_tdO0P6LwdWf0DOH1c3Q/s200/IMG_1577.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371373869274532546" border="0" /></a>These ice clouds are so far up in our atmosphere that they still catch light from the sun, long after the sun has set for surface-dwelling critters. A friend of mine had sent me the above link a couple days before I set out on this adventure, but after asking various people about them and finding no one had ever seen one, I gave up on this phenomenon. And tonite, there it was.<br /><br />We reached the top of the parking garage, there were three boys up there test driving a go-cart (no one else was in the parking garage - perfect place for them to play!). They thought at first they were in trouble when the three adults arrived, but when we took no notice of them, they, too, looked up. "What the heck is that?" They came over to ask me after a couple minute's hesitation.<br /><br />While atop of the parking garage I took a series of photos. The photos above were taken over a span of 5 minutes. You can see the cloud's structure change and alter during that time.<br /><br />50 miles away. How cool...<br /><br />We drove back to Karyn and Bob's. Jody was already there. She, too, had seen the apparition in the sky, and wondered what it might have been.<br /><br />Back inside again we all hung out, had some dessert, then Jody and Karyn talked "shop" (medical stuff) until late in the evening. Meanwhile something crept over me and put me down and out before any of the rest of them even thought about sleep...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-57678229153234336172009-08-11T07:48:00.038-04:002009-08-18T21:51:23.734-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 6, part 2: The Hike OutWith snow flying all around me, I rolled over as best as I could to try and self-arrest. The snow had the consistency of slush. I couldn't stop. Laying sideways, my pack preventing me from rolling fully over onto my front, I dug my feet in, as best as possible. Still I flew down the glacier.<br /><br />Finally, after more than 100', I slowed. The ice ax was digging and dinging off of the solid ice beneath the snow. But I finally slowed, and stopped. I was just past halfway down the last line.<br /><br />A little frazzled, I gathered my spinning thoughts, moved back over to the glissade trough, and with ice ax planted even more firmly, started down again.<br /><br />Fortunately I only had just under 600' left to go. And a few moments later I was rapidly coming to the end of this glissade. I rolled out of it and self-arrested in the thicker snow at the bottom of the glacier as the angle tapered off. I didn't really have any desire to slide into the rocks and the creek that formed from the snowmelt off the glacier. Video below that Jody took (camera turned on end, not realizing - like I did the first time I took video - that "orientation matters").<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='344' height='286' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxWlR3TBXqBy4J7XX7Iko3y0tHXUYtGllRh_29sOBydy2L-aQ6aDc1vepDz5m5FW4RuTl4ameTiQ7zr-0GCYg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />{Whew!} <span style="font-weight: bold;">That </span>ride was over! Time to hike out.<br /><br />Jody marched ahead, chilled a bit from the cool winds coming down off the glacier. Francesca and I lingered a while longer, changing out of some of our layers, then we followed Jody. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pUaJcjKC4vmjyMHz-87m9YhQ3mPnapBOeov8ek-uhOP9FjC-jlBzpiulkPEq5gpRs__E01JS49DyrSx9JQAs6Oksv2MXLw8H7JmcXW6jDIsyEWV3TEjmLMf4_XyuSZOCiRA4N7x-fA/s1600-h/IMG_1502.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pUaJcjKC4vmjyMHz-87m9YhQ3mPnapBOeov8ek-uhOP9FjC-jlBzpiulkPEq5gpRs__E01JS49DyrSx9JQAs6Oksv2MXLw8H7JmcXW6jDIsyEWV3TEjmLMf4_XyuSZOCiRA4N7x-fA/s200/IMG_1502.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370969283201460146" border="0" /></a>A while later I stopped again to change out further, as I was getting very hot. Francesca continued on to catch up to Jody. I was with them a moment later.<br /><br />With a bit more than 3 miles to go, we all were ready to just get out. As we had no need to be roped together, and I knew they wanted to move, not stop, I decided to plow ahead because <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDgZ_bEucYj8TCFFm83iQMCKUx0BNMiC1D9u7EDum8LCA7-XhkageQHol5qEgy7Cpr9VSvxiMdKtsqyz_mER2FOjme0xMJsDB2_5n-dXU_Ni8dZqxdeSqSH5IYVp-LoH5KCorpI4pvQ/s1600-h/IMG_1501.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDgZ_bEucYj8TCFFm83iQMCKUx0BNMiC1D9u7EDum8LCA7-XhkageQHol5qEgy7Cpr9VSvxiMdKtsqyz_mER2FOjme0xMJsDB2_5n-dXU_Ni8dZqxdeSqSH5IYVp-LoH5KCorpI4pvQ/s200/IMG_1501.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370969484310943186" border="0" /></a>I wanted to slow down and take some photos on the way out, and I didn't want my slowing down to slow Jody and Francesca down. I took one last look back at the Inter Glacier before I headed down the trail. Photos right are looking back up the Inter Glacier, then looking down the White River valley. In the distance you can see the White River cutting through the center of the valley. In the Inter Glacier photo, looking closely, you can see the zig-zaggy white line of the glissade track, and the greyish areas on the shoulder of the glacier up and left where the snow has melted off, leaving only ice. The dots you see on the glacier near the glissade track are of other climbers heading up. Mt Rainier is the blue-white snow dome to the upper right corner of the photo.<br /><br />I did take some video of the river here and there on the hike out. Below is from partway down from the Inter Glacier, about halfway between the Inter and Glacier Basin camp. All this water you see is meltwater from the Inter Glacier alone. A couple miles downstream meltwater from the Emmons joins it, adding a lot more volume to the flow.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='345' height='286' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzukVQbCBxp8uLjYt5Ke3aJ2UGxPrxjnzNzA49qh115E-cSQApn1j-3Uiz6PKUuF0Oj8PWGzlwCbyFvAWUr3A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Most of the rest of the hike out was anti-climatic. The trail was level, it was all downhill. There were views of the valley at first, until I got into the woods, then just views of flowers, small meadows between the trees, a waterfall and the river. A few glimpses of the mountains around were afforded.<br /><br />Photos: flowers along the trail, near treeline, small pond shortly before arriving Glacier Basin camp, and meadow of wildflowers along the hike out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-4yiuTgRapnUEae03voe1JIO_U3h7DwSiNpK15b5Hl7aOJX3gSHDuyKg7ghT-fi4UlAP3LxWCQaNP1JPM8oH6CQqCeUBuh1ndWbNSxY2fjQ1Nx07eLEbxhcDh0o03-taC_5guzspoQ/s1600-h/IMG_1517.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-4yiuTgRapnUEae03voe1JIO_U3h7DwSiNpK15b5Hl7aOJX3gSHDuyKg7ghT-fi4UlAP3LxWCQaNP1JPM8oH6CQqCeUBuh1ndWbNSxY2fjQ1Nx07eLEbxhcDh0o03-taC_5guzspoQ/s200/IMG_1517.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371029672210114738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI2wfYwbw2SFHm-IHjXWhoNX_ysaFpg5qezpRBoCF3bNzCwPqFA8VUGgpVRhaKuAB0kNeFA0Pq1azQn1mID_z9k62Q5qxd7cwHCDG_Gh2PX6noOGyAE0n0doV9SBYN5YSElb3FVQDyw/s1600-h/IMG_1506.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI2wfYwbw2SFHm-IHjXWhoNX_ysaFpg5qezpRBoCF3bNzCwPqFA8VUGgpVRhaKuAB0kNeFA0Pq1azQn1mID_z9k62Q5qxd7cwHCDG_Gh2PX6noOGyAE0n0doV9SBYN5YSElb3FVQDyw/s200/IMG_1506.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371029501040066754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsXy-Pyctlsv1F0FdTj0EeQMMd08h_zhXy7jjGoOAMliKqe2Kdvdvtrh7e8DoHG1Z1W752pVbg-NaD6vYZzrNwchRbTFc4z2iT-1NkH9FNKLYtxHgRDVI5e0eIZfvO4aEYEzow0R8EA/s1600-h/IMG_1513.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsXy-Pyctlsv1F0FdTj0EeQMMd08h_zhXy7jjGoOAMliKqe2Kdvdvtrh7e8DoHG1Z1W752pVbg-NaD6vYZzrNwchRbTFc4z2iT-1NkH9FNKLYtxHgRDVI5e0eIZfvO4aEYEzow0R8EA/s200/IMG_1513.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371029553463620786" border="0" /></a><br />Photos: view down valley while still fairly high above the White River along the hike out, more wildflowers (Indian Paintbrush and some purple bell-types whose name I can't remember), and a view back up valley towards Rainier. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLGLgmYFnwU-0Gig4upD9sZ2LZi9D06RYlMiz7BYGsTocDqbQvHq_9_vToczF7AAPEabrgsgIUNJGzqigPHGHUlh5eactOVWrpMLApVoNW4h46bcWWwyhAmwd_xKZ6YLgeUO9A6Ki3g/s1600-h/IMG_1519.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLGLgmYFnwU-0Gig4upD9sZ2LZi9D06RYlMiz7BYGsTocDqbQvHq_9_vToczF7AAPEabrgsgIUNJGzqigPHGHUlh5eactOVWrpMLApVoNW4h46bcWWwyhAmwd_xKZ6YLgeUO9A6Ki3g/s200/IMG_1519.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371035181925212210" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdFPf3ns6mF5TYyZictFL_tiygprHKdFyQl7hbMEEdv1HnAXbhoavX1eWQ4lqxxb7XEEaj3LKpqyaWKolXtQTyV0n7zBcV39sMdEKF_NZoj3seXgrA9hwcxcYX2AdvLD6G9iPmhTFQA/s1600-h/IMG_1524.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdFPf3ns6mF5TYyZictFL_tiygprHKdFyQl7hbMEEdv1HnAXbhoavX1eWQ4lqxxb7XEEaj3LKpqyaWKolXtQTyV0n7zBcV39sMdEKF_NZoj3seXgrA9hwcxcYX2AdvLD6G9iPmhTFQA/s200/IMG_1524.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371035326357686514" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALQF70yiJTQqAbmki4E11XGJy_URvGj2OMSfGR8RFqD3snutQp9xlaYUXeq0hWNimFaV5Kip3NeSL_dSGRpAvCm8u2R4Oc6TWuQueIjW6nBHrLl1NCG2WNetiDzCkOTUc4HEAoPov6A/s1600-h/IMG_1521.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALQF70yiJTQqAbmki4E11XGJy_URvGj2OMSfGR8RFqD3snutQp9xlaYUXeq0hWNimFaV5Kip3NeSL_dSGRpAvCm8u2R4Oc6TWuQueIjW6nBHrLl1NCG2WNetiDzCkOTUc4HEAoPov6A/s200/IMG_1521.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371035269124521506" border="0" /></a><br />Photos: the White River, a waterfall by the trail, and a view back of Rainier with detrius from the 2006 flood strewn across the river-carved water way.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1ydy5OMLZFtif_0bKfcDN-rLQn34MYK9TYxk6TzQkmLRapcQbMGuUv7C9y3nAsd60rF-V5-lrCfkvkWdz5wH6SA-jBYOCbIT3fdo3C9Wf8fpk4tC9o_d9MDLndFDCAm5BFpHy0WEGg/s1600-h/IMG_1530.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1ydy5OMLZFtif_0bKfcDN-rLQn34MYK9TYxk6TzQkmLRapcQbMGuUv7C9y3nAsd60rF-V5-lrCfkvkWdz5wH6SA-jBYOCbIT3fdo3C9Wf8fpk4tC9o_d9MDLndFDCAm5BFpHy0WEGg/s200/IMG_1530.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371037663506150498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBLsrukKjrb2W5SWXUF_5nPOijtClrKSM76TQRzMWa3VGhW2Gsc8zq4GN5pvtG-TV4MqWJk41KeXXf3W6NnnyswoYcBm7EY2SRApHLUnQhfixa6zRChUPmXXDzbdKqXZO93p-ji2qYA/s1600-h/IMG_1538.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBLsrukKjrb2W5SWXUF_5nPOijtClrKSM76TQRzMWa3VGhW2Gsc8zq4GN5pvtG-TV4MqWJk41KeXXf3W6NnnyswoYcBm7EY2SRApHLUnQhfixa6zRChUPmXXDzbdKqXZO93p-ji2qYA/s200/IMG_1538.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371037864368948642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe-qza8JvRc2Dy5Xrq6qFjXzD-MujvdtfPwYm-g1JuUfRH_zgZWKDx34YUPxLmGMUKVabNY_3XVEpGEXU6yGHuJkHozJz4ifgYlN-yM9r8Ml-Q1g0vVuOl3YJdGNqsGRZJ2iaALl5Yg/s1600-h/IMG_1539.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe-qza8JvRc2Dy5Xrq6qFjXzD-MujvdtfPwYm-g1JuUfRH_zgZWKDx34YUPxLmGMUKVabNY_3XVEpGEXU6yGHuJkHozJz4ifgYlN-yM9r8Ml-Q1g0vVuOl3YJdGNqsGRZJ2iaALl5Yg/s200/IMG_1539.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371037742358659170" border="0" /></a><br />After I had marched and photographed for a couple miles I was pretty hot. I stopped, dropped my pack, and wandered over to a point where the river was accessible from the trail. The grey-white water was roaring past in a frenzy, as if in a rush to get further down valley and join other streams along its way to the Pacific. I watched it for a moment, then got down on my stomach, stripped off my hat, and dunked my whole head under, up to my shoulders.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjed2js0qvliGYcwpfFtRq-iNlb0jRzr8e6V64xgAcs-tth_4fLDHhPRShuMZl8TXxLJSu5YIdhBH2XvoilH-00o6kUOvF-XsI03q5vqcIFIcC9GmpPMTn_VbMlaspel1z2-6hI1QEeKQ/s1600-h/IMG_1532.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjed2js0qvliGYcwpfFtRq-iNlb0jRzr8e6V64xgAcs-tth_4fLDHhPRShuMZl8TXxLJSu5YIdhBH2XvoilH-00o6kUOvF-XsI03q5vqcIFIcC9GmpPMTn_VbMlaspel1z2-6hI1QEeKQ/s200/IMG_1532.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371029285005032018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />THAT was refreshing!<br /><br />I wanted to soak my feet, but there was still a mile to go, and I didn't want to put wet feet back in the boots. So I dunked my head a second time.<br /><br />Feeling better, I continued onward. I thought for sure Jody and Francesca would show up at any time (in fact, I thought they would catch up to me while I was head-dunking), but it wasn't until another 20 minutes had passed before they caught up to me. In the meantime, I napped a wee little and read up on the info sign at the trailhead, learning a bit about the damage the 2006 flooding had caused, and about the Starbo mining operation that used to be here. From the plaque:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Copper Fever</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxAHWmhJO8vqstuNSBB4BtD4QeYrYL6tDWZI2QWBLROzj-mzBwqxGWSNd2JuVzShJn57InPaflnJFpv6yD7SDIaYGGDNiZNnNHftCj9zvfsY5aLPGmopiZVOdiWrxymXmvu9Q1wTkBw/s1600-h/IMG_1546.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxAHWmhJO8vqstuNSBB4BtD4QeYrYL6tDWZI2QWBLROzj-mzBwqxGWSNd2JuVzShJn57InPaflnJFpv6yD7SDIaYGGDNiZNnNHftCj9zvfsY5aLPGmopiZVOdiWrxymXmvu9Q1wTkBw/s200/IMG_1546.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371043463693856594" border="0" /></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">In the quiet alpine setting of Glacier Basin are abandoned shafts and rusted mining equipment</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Early prospectors were convinced this area abounded in rich copper and silver oe. Between 1914 and 1930 the Mount Rainier Mining Company dug several tunnels and prospect pits, and erected a power plant, a hotel, and an aerial tranway.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">All the claims lay in steep terrain above timberline. To extract a profit, a truck road out would have to be built and maintained on landslide debris. And geologists in 1950 found little value in ore samples from Glacier Basin.</span><br /><br />There was also a warning to stay away from open shafts.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1MoXUHwdTxmBdwGq4DKDfgFWI0jicV4kT875EGs-dH8Ov61_YvZIepsdlp9lsG2HEinLCgOJFPelFJHCk3TXz2rpfTbzHZapPpERxlSlX2OFVbWn7AQP7bexnt0GfKL8TehJ7L-hiA/s1600-h/IMG_1545.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1MoXUHwdTxmBdwGq4DKDfgFWI0jicV4kT875EGs-dH8Ov61_YvZIepsdlp9lsG2HEinLCgOJFPelFJHCk3TXz2rpfTbzHZapPpERxlSlX2OFVbWn7AQP7bexnt0GfKL8TehJ7L-hiA/s200/IMG_1545.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371043796952950450" border="0" /></a> They are dangerous.<br /><br />Now I finally knew why most of the Glacier Basin trail was so level and smooth - that was the old truck road that had been installed in the valley. However, with the 2006 flood having destroyed a chunk of it (nothing on Earth is forever), this made the new trail a little more challenging. But not impossible, after the park service worked on it since last year.<br /><br />Anyway, I digress...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLkIMc2VxniVXSiNneb1tnWNLj9m7CprJTpebfo8MOvdwLPIq7MsHk5E4cHkmmS4R24hzWgnJgyAvyLtVZY_H9L6t1eTOoF19NlqIlCioWORAwU5IbYMMiqJe7G2iqQXD3VE2smT44Q/s1600-h/IMG_1550.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLkIMc2VxniVXSiNneb1tnWNLj9m7CprJTpebfo8MOvdwLPIq7MsHk5E4cHkmmS4R24hzWgnJgyAvyLtVZY_H9L6t1eTOoF19NlqIlCioWORAwU5IbYMMiqJe7G2iqQXD3VE2smT44Q/s200/IMG_1550.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371040930485739250" border="0" /></a>Together again, as a trio, we marched out to the parking lot. The final 1000' feet of the hike dishearteningly on pavement. BUT, we were elated, we were happy, we thought we had summited Rainier (though see also the comment under Day 5, Part 1), the goal I had had for some 10 odd years. It was time to go back to Seattle.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2c4tjF6DIpCNRXzY5WyEn7nGtJudw9BHPLrJ-BgN_phuYITy_Ct1XQkU5GamkqJw_laEH9XYL7DHdyB2lBpO6Bgh7CIDDfAJDGBwRfPW9zWOsFQoY1VLeruINZ5VQn8pq_XgAdBIPZg/s1600-h/IMG_1552.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2c4tjF6DIpCNRXzY5WyEn7nGtJudw9BHPLrJ-BgN_phuYITy_Ct1XQkU5GamkqJw_laEH9XYL7DHdyB2lBpO6Bgh7CIDDfAJDGBwRfPW9zWOsFQoY1VLeruINZ5VQn8pq_XgAdBIPZg/s200/IMG_1552.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371041096597599026" border="0" /></a>We re-weighed ourselves and packs. I found I had lost some 11 or 12 pounds on this trip! Wow. Forget Weight Watchers, just go climb a damned mountain! :-D A passerby took our photo for us, and we repacked Jody's truck. We left and headed back to the Ranger Station, singing Queen songs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYHDEr8bXeVLpmuTKWgYdExYX1E3rhfg7NEenF_jVmyE9XtyEIansfnMZhX4qsl6PDsVh-1fdLRPVxxyoGGsd3mwqUE2I1Vx4t88PBNvkGlGSvXOeaQxW8WH-SMlSuPvcaOL4G51Fyw/s1600-h/IMG_1560.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYHDEr8bXeVLpmuTKWgYdExYX1E3rhfg7NEenF_jVmyE9XtyEIansfnMZhX4qsl6PDsVh-1fdLRPVxxyoGGsd3mwqUE2I1Vx4t88PBNvkGlGSvXOeaQxW8WH-SMlSuPvcaOL4G51Fyw/s200/IMG_1560.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371041341038800914" border="0" /></a>At the Ranger Station no one was about. Sign on the door - oops. Something Bad happened to somebody. Probably a hiker. Certainly not something on the mountain. Rangers down here are far too far away to be of assistance there. That's the purview of Dave, and Phunuru Sherpa. I hoped nothing untoward would happen to the climbers up there currently, especially given the deteriorating snow conditions.<br /><br />We headed back to Mountlake Terrace, and Bob and Karyn's place. For their unimagined and unasked for hospitality of hosting us and all our gear at the start of the trip and for the next few days after, we wanted to buy them dinner. Bob told me of a good Mexican place: Todo Mexico. Sounded good to me. I recalled after my first trip to Rainier, Bob, Aqua and I had stopped at a Mexican place in Emunclaw. Probably one of the best meals I had had in a very long time.<br /><br />We took a quick detour to REI, dropped off the rental tent, and I glanced through the local climbing guide books. Hmmmm. There was an updated guide to the Exit 38 area. I'd been there before. So decided to pick that up. It would later prove very useful.<br /><br />An hour or so later, as dusk settled on the land, we arrived to Todo Mexico. A stern-looking Middle Eastern guy opened the door for us. We explained we wanted to put in for a take-out order and did so. Then Jody went to go get her truck washed while Francesca and I waited. I asked for an iced tea while we were waiting. It came speedily. Ahhhhhh. Good, cold iced tea. Haven't had one of these in days...<br /><br />We got to chatting with the stern-looking fellow. He was in his 50s, and originally from Iraq (still has family over there). Once we got talking with him for a minute or two, his sternness melted away and he proved to be warm and friendly. Actually, a talkative guy, after all! Turned out, he was the owner of the Todo Mexico chain of restaurants. Very cool. Unfortunately, I forgot his name. Well, Bob and Karyn go there often enough; they probably know him.<br /><br />Our food came out, and we made our farewells, heading out to pile into Jody's truck (she had just gotten back from the wash). A few minutes later, after a couple of wrong turns on the highway ("you can't get there from here!"), we made it to Bob and Karyn's, where we sat down and feasted. Then we each took showers while Bob was packing for his extended weekend backpacking trip to NW Oregon (he would be leaving at o-dark thirty in the morning, while we were asleep). We unfortunately wouldn't see him again after tonite, for he would not return until after we had all returned home.<br /><br />I stayed up as long as I could chatting with Bob, but finally exhaustion overtook me, and I crawled into bed, sound asleep.Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-29200853041859963632009-08-03T12:04:00.045-04:002009-08-13T14:02:45.109-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 6, Part 1: Glissading the Inter Glacier<span style="font-weight: bold;">June 22, 2009</span><br /><br />The night was kinda long, as I first awoke when the new batch of summit bidders roused themselves and started their prep for the day. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjpkWeztx4RflBSnrwdiayE5GVRvwbMAYAB6aK4MSF_GG7Kt0xnRth2WUNlWJZI4hqdzOD1XHHdVj-A_vg4JqZOQXycYow6U9hbPyQBaFQr_Qe64MJEDveNbpb98InSX3ALcWpfjQDg/s1600-h/IMG_1362_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjpkWeztx4RflBSnrwdiayE5GVRvwbMAYAB6aK4MSF_GG7Kt0xnRth2WUNlWJZI4hqdzOD1XHHdVj-A_vg4JqZOQXycYow6U9hbPyQBaFQr_Qe64MJEDveNbpb98InSX3ALcWpfjQDg/s200/IMG_1362_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366487258354931586" border="0" /></a>The wind also had picked up during the night, blowing for a while, then dying off, then blowing again. Could be a blustery day on the summit. As the night wore on, every couple hours or less I would wake again, peer out the tent window to see stars or poke my head out the door to see the progress of the people working their way up the Corridors. The night was clear, chilly. I napped between head-pokings-out. The summit teams for today were making progress, but it was very slow compared to even ours from yesterday. At sunrise they were over 1000' <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09PYAGVsMaIzO-jU_fcx3eVcTVamncPxsivJ5mLIhoGxF_IZViKq_3hb7PpZjPeotg3052LFE2isX_1wzAFeviqF-Id0E5sQqH0buAzqkZe318_M20OucgWsTI8FCf1CIZTAHyJneCA/s1600-h/IMG_1365.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09PYAGVsMaIzO-jU_fcx3eVcTVamncPxsivJ5mLIhoGxF_IZViKq_3hb7PpZjPeotg3052LFE2isX_1wzAFeviqF-Id0E5sQqH0buAzqkZe318_M20OucgWsTI8FCf1CIZTAHyJneCA/s200/IMG_1365.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366487468513077890" border="0" /></a>lower than where we were at the same time. As the day brightened, I counted no less than 15 people in one cluster going up, another four several hundred feet behind them, and three coming down. Photos right show the mountain and the people circled, and a close up (3x zoom) of the climbers still in the Lower Corridor. It would be a solid hour before the large group even got to the lower part of the Upper Corridor. The same time they reached the bottom of the Upper Corridor, we had been working our way across the Catwalk the day before. I would periodically watch them for the next few hours while we were in camp, checking on their progress. I could only imagine the snow conditions they would find on their way down.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqwyg3nG5tB778Zgcvv65vG0XHq97CQb4ZZYurmPiaPT6oGrnQBlv9jAzYwBNRT0PE4OvLmhU8Jgech73M6YgTQI4m_AdPOuw79DkE-atSOFRPvnYae2W3vUng-8t83QGFKLvca27-w/s1600-h/IMG_1366.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqwyg3nG5tB778Zgcvv65vG0XHq97CQb4ZZYurmPiaPT6oGrnQBlv9jAzYwBNRT0PE4OvLmhU8Jgech73M6YgTQI4m_AdPOuw79DkE-atSOFRPvnYae2W3vUng-8t83QGFKLvca27-w/s200/IMG_1366.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366496172597551858" border="0" /></a><br />The early morning sun cast an orange glow upon the landscape. The day promised to be bright and clear once again. Photo left of Littl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCB0fs14pcmK8VMygLU-NSCh4k5-amou1UsEkwgVrO2by8VVFZDtluC7fnY_LHz4_HmXd61JcQX4EyuBn7Sh_8A9M93Vd9stQMKtmNoLvvG7nboSlPj9NQXRPTtgMGrO6LwYqcgnAzw/s1600-h/IMG_1385.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCB0fs14pcmK8VMygLU-NSCh4k5-amou1UsEkwgVrO2by8VVFZDtluC7fnY_LHz4_HmXd61JcQX4EyuBn7Sh_8A9M93Vd9stQMKtmNoLvvG7nboSlPj9NQXRPTtgMGrO6LwYqcgnAzw/s200/IMG_1385.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368683368314361186" border="0" /></a>e Tahoma and the Emmons Glacier as viewed from the tent. Photo right is another view from the tent, looking down the Emmons and the mountain ridges beyond.<br /><br />We finally roused ourselves as the sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the inside of the tent to no longer comfortable sleeping temperatures. We fixed ourselves breakfast and started packing things for our trek out. It was going to be another sunny and warm day here.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yw2BywH6Eo8cmeJZ6La_BTsVQmZR8ind7GQ84dSwg3-blO8aUtfayBbaGRuqUVdWHy5gfAjpOHp9fguj8uuVVZUbpj8W42DoHq-eOo-XPu_0OueOfZ5QN4gftWdmxdG5_xwV1xQcEw/s1600-h/IMG_1394.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yw2BywH6Eo8cmeJZ6La_BTsVQmZR8ind7GQ84dSwg3-blO8aUtfayBbaGRuqUVdWHy5gfAjpOHp9fguj8uuVVZUbpj8W42DoHq-eOo-XPu_0OueOfZ5QN4gftWdmxdG5_xwV1xQcEw/s200/IMG_1394.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368684612750659074" border="0" /></a><br />Before the sun rose too high in the sky, the haze of the lower altitudes made for a picturesque view of the ridges that surround Rainier.<br /><br />As we wrapped up the packing and redistribution of group gear, we met three guys we had seen hoofing it down the mountain for the past couple hours. They were coming down pretty fast, and stopped at Camp Schurman to refill their water bottles. In chatting with them, we learned that they had summited already (and weren't coming down due to some issues with altitude or something), had seen a beautiful auroral display around 2am (nooooo! I missed seeing that!), saw a few amazing meteors, and that this was the start of their 13th hour. It was 9am. They would be back down to their cars within about 2-3 hours.<br /><br />They were doing a freaking <span style="font-style: italic;">day </span>hike up and down Rainier! And it wasn't like this was the only time they've ever done this. One guy had done it a week ago, another one of them two weeks ago. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wzrvOCRV0T2XCab4pgONEA0z6Gjgudc21qOGqxSklQtBzvyA_N2XSvdXjIvovEtJWeURwwLMkqSBHwUhfBVvV4qvdDTBt2EAYQWq23TcFdxBN4VAdEKXoqVnh3ZBl2sWQWe9ZLs3WA/s1600-h/IMG_1414.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wzrvOCRV0T2XCab4pgONEA0z6Gjgudc21qOGqxSklQtBzvyA_N2XSvdXjIvovEtJWeURwwLMkqSBHwUhfBVvV4qvdDTBt2EAYQWq23TcFdxBN4VAdEKXoqVnh3ZBl2sWQWe9ZLs3WA/s200/IMG_1414.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369443655288411634" border="0" /></a>Boy, must be nice to be fit enough to just romp up and down Rainier in a day! Sheesh.<br /><br />We refilled our water bottles from the glacier melt one last time (photo left of Francesca doing just that) then roped up (photos below). While the crevasse danger was minimal, the lower Emmons here has some v-e-r-y large crevasses (some of them could swallow train cars with ease), so roping up was a Good Idea.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicp8HwIByfap92Di_yStA_iSsV3zetbBJhpEre5qV1cqcW5xct0UMXHjoXKOUAw2EAif4ZzWiXWbrJ8Z6YFANjBYZ84lxbHMvpjJ7zlbNv9aSxRbSAuAxQMce2cSo_U3EP2xgJy9mjwg/s1600-h/IMG_1432.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 108px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicp8HwIByfap92Di_yStA_iSsV3zetbBJhpEre5qV1cqcW5xct0UMXHjoXKOUAw2EAif4ZzWiXWbrJ8Z6YFANjBYZ84lxbHMvpjJ7zlbNv9aSxRbSAuAxQMce2cSo_U3EP2xgJy9mjwg/s200/IMG_1432.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369444283081042034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdzfE1ekzIRzFi8CltzlU5v7nnjEKfxbKaRBgZq6oW9qwQmoPPVgVlLGTYoC0c7LznZB9e1e0ne9XBSixnPPvmfZYeAGrxYhtOofxPYKJ2cxOZva3PNOp9vusnk4kWzuK2_0MWclV-g/s1600-h/IMG_1429.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdzfE1ekzIRzFi8CltzlU5v7nnjEKfxbKaRBgZq6oW9qwQmoPPVgVlLGTYoC0c7LznZB9e1e0ne9XBSixnPPvmfZYeAGrxYhtOofxPYKJ2cxOZva3PNOp9vusnk4kWzuK2_0MWclV-g/s200/IMG_1429.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369444224230074178" border="0" /></a>Our order would be me going first, then Jody, then Francesca, much as we did the climb up Rainier the day before. And as we were going downhill, we didn't have to go slow. With one last look around Camp Schurman and Rainier from this vantage point, I headed down the Emmons, Jody and Francesca keeping up easily.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq8CAhs6Ee-1R85WO_hrG3wro_693J2hdtRmheXQhTxgwFjT9Fyz8zSZMYZEw14u28bMGJm3tJiUT9LA2HLS19e1h6PGJqYRmFZihuD77AO1Cci81lOguHWxk8gE2FSyChAoXN4bJFA/s1600-h/IMG_1443.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq8CAhs6Ee-1R85WO_hrG3wro_693J2hdtRmheXQhTxgwFjT9Fyz8zSZMYZEw14u28bMGJm3tJiUT9LA2HLS19e1h6PGJqYRmFZihuD77AO1Cci81lOguHWxk8gE2FSyChAoXN4bJFA/s200/IMG_1443.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369445846898887122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A few minutes later we reached the end of the trail on the Emmons Glacier (photo right), at the transition point to the rocky and sandy (and seriously hairy) traverse over to the Inter. Jody and Francesca had made it REAL clear we weren't roping up for this. If one fell, the whole team would be pulled off. No self-arresting in that dirt! I was inclined to agree.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorGg0OLXsl7g6K2eNZmBbWey28Nbz7ZLVy0Ehe6vxJgSr9DR6LOjxkQgpYL6hoLMmJRqJTaJ2jfohQPzFVBIVZ7D_xdih1pxjLFpcONIuuNxakGIYW_mBxjE6361y-cC8uyHdyOAvwA/s1600-h/IMG_1439.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 99px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorGg0OLXsl7g6K2eNZmBbWey28Nbz7ZLVy0Ehe6vxJgSr9DR6LOjxkQgpYL6hoLMmJRqJTaJ2jfohQPzFVBIVZ7D_xdih1pxjLFpcONIuuNxakGIYW_mBxjE6361y-cC8uyHdyOAvwA/s200/IMG_1439.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446400178424418" border="0" /></a><br />While we were de-cramponing and wrapping up the rope, the next team of RMI guides and their clients marched down the Emmons (photo left) and overtook us. Francesca and I scurried on, not wanting to be stuck behind them on the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtBEoJZZHHUg1F6p6Nl2dSnZXZZF_S_kgFq8UdbVQHhdLOlK5f50vyVEaqOAVvJNEjjgrpWQHHn7IMGuNARasMEOCW7iu5-ls5b3ovBNg87g3NcKdglP0Cn0ezEY7xWV_VeOnLXDtew/s1600-h/IMG_1444.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtBEoJZZHHUg1F6p6Nl2dSnZXZZF_S_kgFq8UdbVQHhdLOlK5f50vyVEaqOAVvJNEjjgrpWQHHn7IMGuNARasMEOCW7iu5-ls5b3ovBNg87g3NcKdglP0Cn0ezEY7xWV_VeOnLXDtew/s200/IMG_1444.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446919938190578" border="0" /></a> traverse, and not wanting to have them tear it up any more than necessary before we went over. The RMI group hot on our tails (photo right). Jody opted to wait them out. So the two of us went across. And it was just a little nerve wracking. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rHGIJxcIQHWgY_32WwzXl9Gu7eI_qiTw32SNXXASkr3V1jfGawfzOFVE08euEkq7LF1glHdWwAwH_LFqCpAE3Lx7x3cgfK0zgIRTWVTONInJ_lSM9NY4fJjwPXEkwKH1nOrnsjU61w/s1600-h/IMG_1461.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rHGIJxcIQHWgY_32WwzXl9Gu7eI_qiTw32SNXXASkr3V1jfGawfzOFVE08euEkq7LF1glHdWwAwH_LFqCpAE3Lx7x3cgfK0zgIRTWVTONInJ_lSM9NY4fJjwPXEkwKH1nOrnsjU61w/s200/IMG_1461.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369447557598008194" border="0" /></a>But if you kept your poise and balance, and kept moving, it was okay (photo left of Jody delicately working her way across the loose dirt and rock path). We made it to the first real snow field (about 150' or so from where we started) with no difficulties.<br /><br />Then we waited for Jody, thinking and hoping she'd be ahead of the RMI group. But she wasn't. We watched as four teams of guides short-roping clients (each team consisted of a guide and two clients) came across before Jody appeared. The last group was moving very slowly, the guide looking extremely stressed. And the middle client looked pretty ashen and stressed in a different way. The guide was all but telling him where to put his right foot followed by his left food followed by his right foot followed by his...you get the picture.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec4tI2oqQYDrfRT4li0oxgyC6xGiukIwULg-H40sVr0skCzWe0dIwwGqsdf84fj-DXvhspJV4HV_rTDHaEKKX0fWb3BkstPR1CMOwv2nOBexAsslJYe6KLl0XM7zm5aZNtDap9LpnLw/s1600-h/IMG_1466.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec4tI2oqQYDrfRT4li0oxgyC6xGiukIwULg-H40sVr0skCzWe0dIwwGqsdf84fj-DXvhspJV4HV_rTDHaEKKX0fWb3BkstPR1CMOwv2nOBexAsslJYe6KLl0XM7zm5aZNtDap9LpnLw/s200/IMG_1466.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369449808387567186" border="0" /></a><br />Photo right of some of the large crevasses we could see on the Emmons Glacier below from near Camp Curtis.<br /><br />Francesca and I, and Jody when she got to us, discussed the life of the guides on these mountains. It's a thankless job, pay is low, and the risk they put themselves in tremendous. For example, in the last group, had the client lost it - his composure, his balance, his mental stability - there was a very real chance the entire team would have been pulled off of the tenuous traverse and down onto the Emmons Glacier, now over 100' below. Was the job worth it? Depends on what your Life Values are, I suppose.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NiKIIeAkanyCDm2Q7sNFTN1txd3baM7vfqQn4Qc8ASJTj_EoZEUNKWaeLBXcACk_q2H69aSzLqDyn8GOrfueerNUG5MrMuMuGbA1tQuWb7XH2UJEDyRG24HqPChBI2FRLCvnynZgHw/s1600-h/IMG_1464.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NiKIIeAkanyCDm2Q7sNFTN1txd3baM7vfqQn4Qc8ASJTj_EoZEUNKWaeLBXcACk_q2H69aSzLqDyn8GOrfueerNUG5MrMuMuGbA1tQuWb7XH2UJEDyRG24HqPChBI2FRLCvnynZgHw/s200/IMG_1464.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369450355759064130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The RMI troop continued on, while we regrouped a little at Camp Curtis. Had a snack, drank, took a few <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimq4xFS81caGNEDAdVoRMv2dgk0HsW3Zt0ZEnoBhuY_1OYzcIuRgUojJGl9JLxgEernx9MS7ek1ulVYQUOFS56wHgPs1csX70HjQdRda7GqWykdAZbFe83fadoIpWYhZhqvoDxkTxl2Q/s1600-h/IMG_1465.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimq4xFS81caGNEDAdVoRMv2dgk0HsW3Zt0ZEnoBhuY_1OYzcIuRgUojJGl9JLxgEernx9MS7ek1ulVYQUOFS56wHgPs1csX70HjQdRda7GqWykdAZbFe83fadoIpWYhZhqvoDxkTxl2Q/s200/IMG_1465.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369450296521014002" border="0" /></a>photos (left of me w/Rainier in background; photo right the last view we would see of Rainier from this vantage point and angle), and talked Francesca into exactly what was going to happen next on the Inter Glacier: butt glissading!<br /><br />I relayed my experiences in the past, which were all right here on the Inter. Jody had done it before elsewhere, and had brought an extra garbage bag to wear as a 'diaper' while glissading down, to not tear up her costly shell pants. Me, I had no such inhibitions. It took three long glissades over my last trips before the first hole appeared in my ski pants at that time. And this trip I had a new outer shell to break in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSDMGVs5KF457KnOLEURFcqrswz7fR7IIl44463xH5HJWenRC04XcoQNlE7zK8xPmMtKA-MxudbwIbZSs1fM1d9bA1gSEzDwpTPACFAk41Ov_FyUJXlaaQ6ysmred69BQluf39FUp2w/s1600-h/IMG_1468.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSDMGVs5KF457KnOLEURFcqrswz7fR7IIl44463xH5HJWenRC04XcoQNlE7zK8xPmMtKA-MxudbwIbZSs1fM1d9bA1gSEzDwpTPACFAk41Ov_FyUJXlaaQ6ysmred69BQluf39FUp2w/s200/IMG_1468.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369453165373644418" border="0" /></a>Photo left at the start of the first glissade trough.<br /><br />Francesca was understandably nervous, but eager to give this glissading stuff a real go (especially since she was denied doing it yesterday in the Corridor on the Emmons). There are crevasses on the Inter, but they tend to be mostly towards the edges, not so prominent in the middle. All we'd do is follow everyone else's glissade paths who went before us.<br /><br />So little did we know of how much had melted off of the Inter in the past few days...<br /><br />I was very interested in exactly how much altitude we would lose on this journey down (i.e., just how tall and steep is the damned Inter Glacier, anyway?), so I broke out my GPS before going and marked a waypoint at the start of a glissade and another at the end. This would give me approximate altitude differences and horizontal distances moved, the numbers that I could then plug into your basic, everyday tangent and Law of Cosines formulae (...you <span style="font-weight: bold;">do</span> remember those...don't you? ;-) ) to figure out exactly how far we were traveling (and steepness of the slope, which looked a hell of a lot steeper than the numbers say it was).<br /><br />I headed on down first, followed by Jody (who commented that going last had the benefit of everyone else in front smoothing out the glissade track, allowing the last glissaders to go faster), followed by Francesca. The following three photos of Jody coming down the first glissade.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DSjfVAyr3vNPg8MqjxeTx_pqkiUp6RthONnNH6B3xufWgE4VCnnWlVcdJKBShC3UVMDIamD7uYCWl9CwcUfTeHoxCdszebySNOSDNBxpsp8vvDogDsgzT4HtvCQrO-nGBaegGQVZDA/s1600-h/IMG_1472.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DSjfVAyr3vNPg8MqjxeTx_pqkiUp6RthONnNH6B3xufWgE4VCnnWlVcdJKBShC3UVMDIamD7uYCWl9CwcUfTeHoxCdszebySNOSDNBxpsp8vvDogDsgzT4HtvCQrO-nGBaegGQVZDA/s200/IMG_1472.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369453735488579506" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8OcOd2uBgaL3z9mfsy7ObuPyeUb-ida75eVIEiWjravY9YPM7R69bDcJh_0vJwOnoxUFB9hlcq6q_UhT1i9xvalWVG47s9GZbY80OOf62bwWy8KHxB2NA8gebkH0IrIn3iwI7T7DSQ/s1600-h/IMG_1469.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8OcOd2uBgaL3z9mfsy7ObuPyeUb-ida75eVIEiWjravY9YPM7R69bDcJh_0vJwOnoxUFB9hlcq6q_UhT1i9xvalWVG47s9GZbY80OOf62bwWy8KHxB2NA8gebkH0IrIn3iwI7T7DSQ/s200/IMG_1469.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369453424709102850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ttc8Po7I3YT5hoyl3xYYDiVemkoI5z9tKFAk6mQcaYu73jhvXIFJwuAuOSfoIL-3VPtR_NaijvlJfyuv6hXmIiXCEUNlWVJAKjJlUSfjMTaiU4DRpOUbrNs-5ucAuatnVJKXXvRhSw/s1600-h/IMG_1471.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ttc8Po7I3YT5hoyl3xYYDiVemkoI5z9tKFAk6mQcaYu73jhvXIFJwuAuOSfoIL-3VPtR_NaijvlJfyuv6hXmIiXCEUNlWVJAKjJlUSfjMTaiU4DRpOUbrNs-5ucAuatnVJKXXvRhSw/s200/IMG_1471.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369453506169144162" border="0" /></a><br />We had tightened EVERYthing down on us (I forgot to tuck in my jacket; I would remember halfway down when the bottom half of it filled with snow!), and used our ice axes as speed control <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4Symi3Q6RyRwTFuGCAfvc9WiMLX8K9wDVhL5vPCz7HqXJr4POjrP4YLTJSlqysMKw24qMO-hCFz6_YM01ALnjT2GjFLdSGbsTrD1HidQQNqT6jyUp0shIe4PeHIWmvGh27Lyg-7AOw/s1600-h/IMG_1477.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4Symi3Q6RyRwTFuGCAfvc9WiMLX8K9wDVhL5vPCz7HqXJr4POjrP4YLTJSlqysMKw24qMO-hCFz6_YM01ALnjT2GjFLdSGbsTrD1HidQQNqT6jyUp0shIe4PeHIWmvGh27Lyg-7AOw/s200/IMG_1477.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369454202002938690" border="0" /></a>(I wouldn't say "brake", but we could use them to slow down some; to completely stop, either we'd hit a flatish area or we'd roll out of the trough and self-arrest with the ice ax - as the photo right of Francesca demonstrates).<br /><br />At the end of this glissade (which was about 650'), we moved over a ways and down to the next glissade path, getting more towards the middle of the glacier and away from the rock walls and crevasses that were below us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8JsfRuuC9azjGxZkm0_Z9nimyMhwJVib9UMZ_mz4Tp2xBXLzK_rGYu3dT8Y247E4Qj6SDsMjvxvRYMBqnoloTJv_a8RGg1zaf4q3VUDaB0-nOqWQVSFzFwVp0-wUcK7gsDtcIa_8cQ/s1600-h/IMG_1478.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8JsfRuuC9azjGxZkm0_Z9nimyMhwJVib9UMZ_mz4Tp2xBXLzK_rGYu3dT8Y247E4Qj6SDsMjvxvRYMBqnoloTJv_a8RGg1zaf4q3VUDaB0-nOqWQVSFzFwVp0-wUcK7gsDtcIa_8cQ/s200/IMG_1478.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369454664009457586" border="0" /></a><br />The second glissade was much longer, just over 1100', but not all that much steeper than the first glissade. Jody went first (photo left), followed by Francesca, then myself.<br /><br />As we went down, the snow was getting softer. The third glissade was a 400-footer. I went down first, and am glad I did. As I was coming near the end of the glissade line, I saw darkish, non-snow areas ahead and to my right, closing rapidly. I quickly self-arrested. It took me about 20' to stop. And not 10' from me I could see that the darkish non-snow areas were bare ice patches, most of them fairly large. It is Bad(!) to glissade down bare ice - self-arresting is <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>an option!<br /><br />I moved back up the glacier about 50 or so feet, to get away from the ice field and so I could warn Francesca and Jody when they came down to not go any further.<br /><br />Francesca and Jody followed me down. Accompanying video of Francesca's glissade down. You can see in the beginning Jody waiting above, while the camera is zoomed in on Francesca (and the resolution goes all to hell). As the video ends you can hear her ask if she should keep going and I reply "No." As you watch, you can see she is digging in on her left side with the ice ax to keep from going too fast, and as she pulls abreast of me, to slow down and stop.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwfYOgRD6tY2-5AqJubhi8RiQRie4Soh_MPRyyt-16O-GPRbroO0ORLNPAxr84YE_K6wELJLrEd7xiRZwa-rQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />We were a little sobered by the sudden appearance of the ice sheet. This wasn't here a few days ago. Has the snow melted <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>much?? Then answer was obvious: yes, it has.<br /><br />As we walked over to the fourth (and final) glissade path, Jody (in front) announced there was a small crevasse off to the side. As I drew parallel to the crevasse line, I glanced over. Yeah, wasn't huge, but boy, it was dark down inside there. Reasonably deep.<br /><br />Then my leg punched through the snow, and down I went!<br /><br />Fortunately two things were in my favor: first off, my forward momentum with the heavy pack would carry me beyond the crevasse line. Secondly, this section of the glacier was still fairly steep. As I fell, I fell forward, downhill, and not into the icy jaws of the hidden maw.<br /><br />I face-planted in the snow. I was on solid snow/ice once again, but I remembered vividly as my leg went through into the crevasse, I never felt a bottom, or side, and I went down up to my groin. Only forward momentum and the steep angle of the glacier saved me from falling fully in it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLy4zQlLiKDzjpbYhVBBmNMHzrUKFWdlrJEznLi0BtYnieDVFHJLDoP5sbKzkSeLTtQvdpmL1O8bK0vqQNVuFFzAZvEAaFQo2UDye2sV9qjW8IeRK_zlPnfmVY5QlResUEPy_IQIbdg/s1600-h/IMG_1494.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLy4zQlLiKDzjpbYhVBBmNMHzrUKFWdlrJEznLi0BtYnieDVFHJLDoP5sbKzkSeLTtQvdpmL1O8bK0vqQNVuFFzAZvEAaFQo2UDye2sV9qjW8IeRK_zlPnfmVY5QlResUEPy_IQIbdg/s200/IMG_1494.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369455449630771266" border="0" /></a>A few paragraphs back I mentioned the darkish areas of non-snow - the ice fields that were being exposed from the melting snow. At the start of our last glissade, we were immediately adjacent to a large swath of bare ice of the Inter Glacier (photo right). It was rather impressive how much snow had melted in the past few days.<br /><br />Our last glissade would drop us 1200' down to the bottom of the Inter Glacier. From there it would be an easy 3.5 mile hike out to the parking lot.<br /><br />Jody went down first. And she went down <span style="font-weight: bold;">fast! </span>Francesca followed. Man....1200'...that's a long way down...<br /><br />The video scan below is from the top of this final glissade. This 19 second long video first looks up the Inter, pans down and around, and finishes by looking almost straight down the final glissade. if you pause it at 18 seconds, you can trace the path of the glissade track down to the bottom of the glacier. Jody and Francesca are down there, waiting for me. The video starts out zoomed to 3x (I had forgotten I had zoomed in), then pulls back when I get to the ice field. Hopefully this will give you an idea of how high I am, and how steep the Inter Glacier is here (remember, we huffed and puffed our way up this damned thing a few days ago). The noise you hear in the video is the wind and of me adjusting the zoom in/out knob.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxiqjdntHOBqY8GCTqZJc79UyhkYRJkP58bpPAhtBBellZET7bMP1MOz8hrYEFNfdijthtGvNEmb6IDDk1z' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Finally it was my turn. I cinched everything down, made sure my jacket was tucked into my pant shell, got into position, readied my ice ax and....let myself go!<br /><br />Within 100' or so I was flying....too fast. I had started trying to bleed off my increasing speed after about 50' with the ice ax, but it was doing little good. I started bouncing, hard, over undulations in the trough. The ice ax was next to useless at this point. DAMN, I'm going fast!<br /><br />Next thing I knew, I was in the air. Bounced straight out of the trough off an undulation. A moment later I was back on the glacier - making a brand new glissade trough.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />And I wasn't slowing down!<br /><br /><br /></span>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-24818075522905132662009-07-31T17:01:00.049-04:002009-08-03T23:31:50.421-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 5, Part 2: Camp Schurman or Bust!(continued from Part 1, below).<br /><br />On the way down we reversed the order of our rope team. Francesca would lead, since Jody wanted middle, and I, the fat one of the group, would play anchor in the back. This way if either of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI509EDyU26CjC3t-7YqmdRh0R8XAZOVba0mZbS5S-4_maC0VatNsOTXNYI3VLFuMaCGDpSQLZgDMdelQ9ZSTBxbRPz2wnFiYPnJcfd1TZy3FucrPOLkYsuc3dEyZF15UcAUPmFNGSBg/s1600-h/IMG_1264.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI509EDyU26CjC3t-7YqmdRh0R8XAZOVba0mZbS5S-4_maC0VatNsOTXNYI3VLFuMaCGDpSQLZgDMdelQ9ZSTBxbRPz2wnFiYPnJcfd1TZy3FucrPOLkYsuc3dEyZF15UcAUPmFNGSBg/s200/IMG_1264.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364732985759187202" border="0" /></a>them went into a crevasse, I could use my weight to counteract their fall. Or if I went in, they would be on the downhill side of the crevasse and not so easily be pulled in (as they might on the uphill side). Francesca wasn't happy with this arrangement, but really, for our team's disparate weight, made the most sense.<br /><br />Going down was, naturally, quicker than going up. But it still isn't easy. Stepping down on softening snow (which it would be doing the rest of the day) on the steeper sections of the route would cause all of us, at one point or another, to slip and fall. Plus there were hidden crevasses with which to contend in the softening snow. In fact, I would punch throu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFlW2Z9JKKjtCX00Hzx1p-PrYXJxgt75FdYTTIWpJBgtXv66nHMp3KeTN0NjUWoF1pwi2MPjWQW1PfK8QCe-ffs8Ll6cDXK5VmsvyD_A2kLg-1ddLG_98BghAC3FLz4M5MCaFzlnIBw/s1600-h/IMG_1268.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFlW2Z9JKKjtCX00Hzx1p-PrYXJxgt75FdYTTIWpJBgtXv66nHMp3KeTN0NjUWoF1pwi2MPjWQW1PfK8QCe-ffs8Ll6cDXK5VmsvyD_A2kLg-1ddLG_98BghAC3FLz4M5MCaFzlnIBw/s200/IMG_1268.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365749326424939410" border="0" /></a>gh one my first crevasse not 400' below the summit on our way down. Took me completely by surprise. Fortunately, it was a small crevasse, but it threw me off-balance and I fell down to my knees. Jody, Francesca and I discussed what the protocol should be to let the rest of the team know if we fell into a crevasse. "Falling!" was the accepted call, but it can happen SO fast and SO unexpectedly that there's no time to yell "Falling!".<br /><br />Photo left of Francesca and Jody, just passing by an exposed crevasse on the upper slopes of Mt Rainier.<br /><br />Being in the back of the rope team, and on the way down I had more time to look around than I did before being in front on the way up. The light was also different, as the sun had moved a bit since we were here last. And really, while truly a challenging and dangerous environment to be in, it held a beauty all its own. Crevasses of various shapes and sizes, ice blocks thrust up from the compression of moving ice packs, open 'plains' of snow riddled with tiny sun-baked and wind-blown features, fields of penitentes (albeit small ones; do a google wikipedia search to see some larger ones on Rainier), etc.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3YfyN9G66RTSVbSmjsnvBkhsAPrvH79pCevq4kc2DGKpQeNg4hTHq597D2oFDk5bf-yYlDWstdZD4Mm2qB_kq4TxsVMQE06NjthTXnKzudTIHQGnjcpq1srgV74U2lRHgQJe4NFATg/s1600-h/IMG_1270.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3YfyN9G66RTSVbSmjsnvBkhsAPrvH79pCevq4kc2DGKpQeNg4hTHq597D2oFDk5bf-yYlDWstdZD4Mm2qB_kq4TxsVMQE06NjthTXnKzudTIHQGnjcpq1srgV74U2lRHgQJe4NFATg/s200/IMG_1270.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365750013752909954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhlOaFh9q1cPMRNDXV6V3I3SuxK01Tr7mG45cDQ6lOFJzdycj1JFR2BKDs1BV96FgS-cGnAYHWLBewViQq2JkxS9mnMAJ0rdjO7D88gmbI3hn09-IFRqTBHMmxO_5Hqi4XwfLgyfYtQ/s1600-h/IMG_1272.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhlOaFh9q1cPMRNDXV6V3I3SuxK01Tr7mG45cDQ6lOFJzdycj1JFR2BKDs1BV96FgS-cGnAYHWLBewViQq2JkxS9mnMAJ0rdjO7D88gmbI3hn09-IFRqTBHMmxO_5Hqi4XwfLgyfYtQ/s200/IMG_1272.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365750318810307314" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFeX69Wg_qp59l0TaK8jUiceWxSh1_s1_VOfk2QF5obODRFDxn-lwWm5qc4laHqRBupqw3B9n8ylOMtXc-bxawLQZs_DFwFgYubLMYEEwcKtuWM9LjI92kh3FxPdQ0iHJBcW77txpbw/s1600-h/IMG_1271.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFeX69Wg_qp59l0TaK8jUiceWxSh1_s1_VOfk2QF5obODRFDxn-lwWm5qc4laHqRBupqw3B9n8ylOMtXc-bxawLQZs_DFwFgYubLMYEEwcKtuWM9LjI92kh3FxPdQ0iHJBcW77txpbw/s200/IMG_1271.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365750109318506386" border="0" /></a>Once we got out of the main wind, we started baking. Our first real rest stop (below right) was not far from where we had stopped to done our various fleece and other cold weather/anti-wind garb. We removed these added layers so as to not overheat while the sun pounded on us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSoruEyZ5yIKZaey-hu__LL0FwZvboXXHBx0vD_FYhUfbfQqvNg3JhLzZORfX7B4J4hGDWCKHhsNCHg7qqUnmLwDzxGjr-3imY7lpWcgkPEY1xOxsvFVVp_FwqmDFUt1_ZcQDrArEWA/s1600-h/IMG_1277.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 167px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSoruEyZ5yIKZaey-hu__LL0FwZvboXXHBx0vD_FYhUfbfQqvNg3JhLzZORfX7B4J4hGDWCKHhsNCHg7qqUnmLwDzxGjr-3imY7lpWcgkPEY1xOxsvFVVp_FwqmDFUt1_ZcQDrArEWA/s200/IMG_1277.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365752437884976274" border="0" /></a><br />It was about this point that I ran out of my 2 liters of water. Francesca, who wasn't drinking hers as much, gave me one of her liters. I would finish this by the time we got back to Camp Schurman.<br /><br />On the way down I had long put away my hiking pole, relying solely on my ice ax for a 3rd point of contact on the mountain. In my thinking, the hiking pole would allow the desired 4th point, but in the deteriorating snow conditions, I knew it would be more of a hindrance than a help, esp if I were to slip and fall, or go into a crevasse, and lose my grip on it. And since I'd need it for the hike out tomorrow, decided to go with the ice ax alone, that was leashed to my wrist.<br /><br />In short order we arrived at the crevasse that we had to step across and climb up, where Francesca had lost (momentarily) her hiking stick (must have been the monsters within the crevasse). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUPC6_p8s1ZXPfQDufxSXY1raYMJ_wD_s6AZTxSURB6CXlV9C7g4uCSWuLnW4NjYRy7KIJlsQ5WfqLwJkTzT7aspOHsUspN_gHenm1ulzPsbbtpK_dS6UmP1Yke0yYsZtgpx3bpXrZg/s1600-h/IMG_1278.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUPC6_p8s1ZXPfQDufxSXY1raYMJ_wD_s6AZTxSURB6CXlV9C7g4uCSWuLnW4NjYRy7KIJlsQ5WfqLwJkTzT7aspOHsUspN_gHenm1ulzPsbbtpK_dS6UmP1Yke0yYsZtgpx3bpXrZg/s200/IMG_1278.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365756416278634290" border="0" /></a>Now we had to climb down and step across. In some ways this was easier than stepping across and climbing up, but in others...more difficult. And with the snow slowly turning to slush, our foot and hand placements were that much more tenuous. With Francesca going first, Jody belayed her and I backed up Jody. Then Jody went down with a belay from me. Then it was my turn. Ended up being more or less anticlimatic, mostly because the foot holds didn't melt beneath me, dropping me straight into the crevasse.<br /><br />In the photo above left, Jody watches carefully as Francesca negotiates the first moves of the downclimb. Little Tahoma Peak is just visible along the snowline horizon up to the right from them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNaMeQI3fCX4vuBkr0d3bfa4lDEC8oKQeF_MLAInizBEm-QIA_kGgGGnVlpc5wH25CcEgOwJS8LybKyYHYP-i7yuPQt65YBPK75SykwVIK4Xmvdf2hu-NYBlkDNcZH_rOoR0e0z890g/s1600-h/IMG_1283.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNaMeQI3fCX4vuBkr0d3bfa4lDEC8oKQeF_MLAInizBEm-QIA_kGgGGnVlpc5wH25CcEgOwJS8LybKyYHYP-i7yuPQt65YBPK75SykwVIK4Xmvdf2hu-NYBlkDNcZH_rOoR0e0z890g/s200/IMG_1283.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757699942813058" border="0" /></a>As we dropped in altitude, I was far more aware of the number of crevasses we had passed on the way up. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlp8NwY-Et6Q7IEOsTqUdMd_2wbnDf2F7zSLY335bntsiVCUKm8vmXjTz6iDLJyLcOdx2-vhMAyKTe1KzXFvh5PGOYTssdeWr90dkF_pZdFl1AkUPWFORFYjkfWahFkI8szxbnMw0M3A/s1600-h/IMG_1284.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlp8NwY-Et6Q7IEOsTqUdMd_2wbnDf2F7zSLY335bntsiVCUKm8vmXjTz6iDLJyLcOdx2-vhMAyKTe1KzXFvh5PGOYTssdeWr90dkF_pZdFl1AkUPWFORFYjkfWahFkI8szxbnMw0M3A/s200/IMG_1284.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757818123292434" border="0" /></a>Man...there were a LOT of them! Most weren't super deep (20-40'; the deeper, monster crevasses that drop 50-100' were further down the glacier), but deep enough to hurt if one fell in! Photos bracketing this paragraph are of the same crevasse. One at 'normal', one at 3x so you can see a bit more the interior.<br /><br />Of all the crevasses we encountered, saw, passed by, etc, no two of them were alike. Each was unique in many ways. Some of them had smooth-sided walls, others had jagged, torn features, still others had "speleothem"-like (cave-like) growths of snow and ice on the walls. Sometimes (most times this high up the mountain) the bottoms were visible. Other times...darkness you could only see below.<br /><br />Once in the 1999 trip, Bob, Aqua and I rigged an anchor at base camp to check out a nearby crevasse on the Winthrop Glacier. We dropped snowballs into it to see how far down we could track them. The bottom was darkness. The furthest a snowball fell that we could keep sight of was 3-4 seconds. We never saw it hit anything.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErdheytlkvxnZHwTlKsypnkhfl4tuhePx2yVtaux6KQTSNCWeLD1qWpe8IvBDGzPykN2GwNhtNz5yBBOlHm20zE3DvVqi9kxepM2gYo6T3dGZprdGl4V0GWWq4D_kQB09Tt-YuEXWlA/s1600-h/IMG_1286.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErdheytlkvxnZHwTlKsypnkhfl4tuhePx2yVtaux6KQTSNCWeLD1qWpe8IvBDGzPykN2GwNhtNz5yBBOlHm20zE3DvVqi9kxepM2gYo6T3dGZprdGl4V0GWWq4D_kQB09Tt-YuEXWlA/s200/IMG_1286.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365760438896516306" border="0" /></a>Given the number of crevasses we were weaving between, it's almost hard to imagine this being the "second easiest route" up Rainier. Whomever first established the trail for the season, and subsequent teams who had to move the trail due to opening crevasses, the work they all did was pretty impressive. I often wondered how early people really started climbing the Emmons route each year, and how much time they take to first pick their way between the gaping maws of potential doom. Photo left of a random crevasse somewhere around 12,400'; Little Tahoma is more visible now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1eWwN3J8qvI2avVPQ0csrc9lDuoLlb6ZZzRmGPwkgMGxkH3wCqzonw5Pt3q4UKNVGDsv8SbnfhsG8Yo6zSF5JstL_zQVarftPOb1sIMbNCBT7xdL2Z1zG8o-KIj3b-XpQRwomkmNkog/s1600-h/IMG_1288.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1eWwN3J8qvI2avVPQ0csrc9lDuoLlb6ZZzRmGPwkgMGxkH3wCqzonw5Pt3q4UKNVGDsv8SbnfhsG8Yo6zSF5JstL_zQVarftPOb1sIMbNCBT7xdL2Z1zG8o-KIj3b-XpQRwomkmNkog/s200/IMG_1288.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365761367541248098" border="0" /></a>Bracketing photos here show more ice blocks upthrust from glacier ice pack compression (left), <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRKLzWAkOiBXlt45P9keOvKQexzD9nFrZYKQORtNKffgPjFVMi8mcBNHpoIkoKqU9OX7gWWtSnjZFo6tMPqIPl2ArtK9uC4PZV6BZe_PLxGD2XdQDGvexp43jUqSV_iA7cB1ZrQPIaw/s1600-h/IMG_1289.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRKLzWAkOiBXlt45P9keOvKQexzD9nFrZYKQORtNKffgPjFVMi8mcBNHpoIkoKqU9OX7gWWtSnjZFo6tMPqIPl2ArtK9uC4PZV6BZe_PLxGD2XdQDGvexp43jUqSV_iA7cB1ZrQPIaw/s200/IMG_1289.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365761476554183970" border="0" /></a> the Curtis Wall and the distant horizon (right) to illustrate steepness of the terrain we are in, and of Jody and Francesca working their way down the lower 12,000' section, with Little Tahoma more visible before us.. These are purely eye-candy shots to share with you what we were seeing, experiencing. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1C0xIM6h5ui6jPgAC-tE2wpiJSEkHUyGZ57Wm77m2NpmGy7AqJpi3iv4UkxYLI0PCBwX-_JoLM3WG4auE5XV7-49A88elRF1lIctqYMoZdwRcf8d983UjSp0cfC8Hm9qbeubzryQ-A/s1600-h/IMG_1291.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1C0xIM6h5ui6jPgAC-tE2wpiJSEkHUyGZ57Wm77m2NpmGy7AqJpi3iv4UkxYLI0PCBwX-_JoLM3WG4auE5XV7-49A88elRF1lIctqYMoZdwRcf8d983UjSp0cfC8Hm9qbeubzryQ-A/s200/IMG_1291.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365762690224721218" border="0" /></a>Because I can only 'talk' for so long here, but pictures show more than words.<br /><br />A little more than 3 hours after we left the summit, we were back down to...the Catwalk. The snow was <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>damned soft at this point (but it would only get worse before the day was out), which would make it more fun to scurry across the narrow ledge. And hopefully not fall. We stopped just short of the crevasse to assess the situation. While we were discussing the various options on how we were going to do the traverse, two guides who did not summit earlier this morning due to helping get clients down, were roaring up the Upper Corridor. In the 6 minutes from the time I first spotted them they were on us, and through the Catwalk, moving quickly. There's some confidence and mountain skill for you! Photo series below.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKe7c4LwFrcQiTHrg7NSqPkqYcQexEdri6aNhX1WR5e-VIOp9XsMYLkCmROYvkFTuBORgrhbNsEljFetHTGdTGiD0LC8QE1MqmWTknb6s_A0KORSaLNfW41nh6yrLp-z8S-dOhHMyJA/s1600-h/IMG_1295.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKe7c4LwFrcQiTHrg7NSqPkqYcQexEdri6aNhX1WR5e-VIOp9XsMYLkCmROYvkFTuBORgrhbNsEljFetHTGdTGiD0LC8QE1MqmWTknb6s_A0KORSaLNfW41nh6yrLp-z8S-dOhHMyJA/s200/IMG_1295.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365763747487876018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyODR95zeYpeRKwOnw2y4hy2rckkR5CeoGJIXcK2ZBIkY56J2jdYX5-IzVWhAmUgK7P_yX1ZB9Hzmv8dqx1xlXBCBPhaf4nUeTBVnDB2wl_ShRT9pCpU0KbSCYvTEbokgboV13NyYpg/s1600-h/IMG_1297.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyODR95zeYpeRKwOnw2y4hy2rckkR5CeoGJIXcK2ZBIkY56J2jdYX5-IzVWhAmUgK7P_yX1ZB9Hzmv8dqx1xlXBCBPhaf4nUeTBVnDB2wl_ShRT9pCpU0KbSCYvTEbokgboV13NyYpg/s200/IMG_1297.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365764076302416930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0xbsaPnnreB8SNBGLYSlYoqA3yglnCfNH9HUIo54U608x1PMMdcnxYfrsyiRA9gzGtiI_LZfKA7aCV2u6V_6N03uYsHicUwYBu7M3esmh52Z1VNI3igy5eDVsmMSBvg9EnXtfWTUPw/s1600-h/IMG_1296.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0xbsaPnnreB8SNBGLYSlYoqA3yglnCfNH9HUIo54U608x1PMMdcnxYfrsyiRA9gzGtiI_LZfKA7aCV2u6V_6N03uYsHicUwYBu7M3esmh52Z1VNI3igy5eDVsmMSBvg9EnXtfWTUPw/s200/IMG_1296.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365763936689398098" border="0" /></a>Finally we worked out what we were going to do. Francesca would take the two snow pickets from Jody and I on the off-chance the RMI group removed their earlier-placed pickets (they had, as it would turn out). She would then go across the crevasse, and up a little ways on the Catwalk, plant (as best as possible) a snow stake, continue higher up the Catwalk (while Jody followed across the crevasse with me belaying), plant the second snow stake, and move on to get off the Catwalk. At this point I would be coming across the Catwalk, removing the stakes as I went. The following series of three images is of Francesca moving up the first part of the Catwalk and attempting to hammer in the first snow picket. Unfortunately, she was unable to get it down very far before hitting a layer of hard ice.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA4IaATZpfTIFPhsteqMMoCJpdxPU3TRSORIdETwdOYeQcuata-B1XfVVs3hOjbzYuGzGJfy0hdGfhoaYS2S7Gy7P-yaMsoCQN3iVTcTw9ykOno68ITO5NQkhWLremrHHmB7S-Y-F2g/s1600-h/IMG_1298.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA4IaATZpfTIFPhsteqMMoCJpdxPU3TRSORIdETwdOYeQcuata-B1XfVVs3hOjbzYuGzGJfy0hdGfhoaYS2S7Gy7P-yaMsoCQN3iVTcTw9ykOno68ITO5NQkhWLremrHHmB7S-Y-F2g/s200/IMG_1298.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365766111396193586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfDRFygXWZ20NME3aiIRxC82YVVXQq0Kf2lpdE2DTXUUp83TYp6vQtUUTwYB6CKG3hEY73VJI_uum22B8sDBhpkxvSBrTxzxRQmWC60vYHpryxdDmn794PqD5X7qJAye4xwVscXGyrw/s1600-h/IMG_1300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfDRFygXWZ20NME3aiIRxC82YVVXQq0Kf2lpdE2DTXUUp83TYp6vQtUUTwYB6CKG3hEY73VJI_uum22B8sDBhpkxvSBrTxzxRQmWC60vYHpryxdDmn794PqD5X7qJAye4xwVscXGyrw/s200/IMG_1300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365766590280527858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShaV9k9nz6wuwJSCnIwskhrcfrHsS-dS5eTRBae_yV4nnp-ea7IyG5_Z40aYt1Kqq6e1ZKb42bVnlOdBfVlndCP9KjNEXPyb_o1pNIIuIHwxJ9Ac2GhEoV45KmHVamrucug5uzNSQ4Q/s1600-h/IMG_1299.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShaV9k9nz6wuwJSCnIwskhrcfrHsS-dS5eTRBae_yV4nnp-ea7IyG5_Z40aYt1Kqq6e1ZKb42bVnlOdBfVlndCP9KjNEXPyb_o1pNIIuIHwxJ9Ac2GhEoV45KmHVamrucug5uzNSQ4Q/s200/IMG_1299.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365766351950635858" border="0" /></a><br />The next three shots are of Jody as she made her way back across the Catwalk.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKIxsvBOqU1lCoukkcW7iilM61pQFa75kuwL-Fzg13OG7kOVX2-_XQR63Bq5ATcmLsTSwjDDr83mM6iqOp-kIuJIyW0Xve96iajWKEUtD5HUJMLfwEvjCL5L-r1xBJl3j3Gt_Ksg3og/s1600-h/IMG_1303.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKIxsvBOqU1lCoukkcW7iilM61pQFa75kuwL-Fzg13OG7kOVX2-_XQR63Bq5ATcmLsTSwjDDr83mM6iqOp-kIuJIyW0Xve96iajWKEUtD5HUJMLfwEvjCL5L-r1xBJl3j3Gt_Ksg3og/s200/IMG_1303.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365772098163696386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5o8gCJsQWn_HJzDh4pMj9r7B4M6oSEPORDa_2LdtrbEiAlWAt73LzXWMDj_g9H9Nxcerr5p2tHhIsZURtgTI7LWUuhYlO6f3-8HBb0F4LCUEa7-N7V9-th80xbLpjT07XvJsT8QwTQw/s1600-h/IMG_1311.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5o8gCJsQWn_HJzDh4pMj9r7B4M6oSEPORDa_2LdtrbEiAlWAt73LzXWMDj_g9H9Nxcerr5p2tHhIsZURtgTI7LWUuhYlO6f3-8HBb0F4LCUEa7-N7V9-th80xbLpjT07XvJsT8QwTQw/s200/IMG_1311.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365772459552174178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGGdt0QrkxumgEHl-OnlrP-tzef1J-xOQaIqfdeoLMkPkEymvLixjB9r_6AYH2cEQugYoyNQYkp6xxG4JF_P6qU__uMUgtCsenIjB3acN7U9kNhkwsNSo6vucQksunSPNBp90u7wfMw/s1600-h/IMG_1306.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGGdt0QrkxumgEHl-OnlrP-tzef1J-xOQaIqfdeoLMkPkEymvLixjB9r_6AYH2cEQugYoyNQYkp6xxG4JF_P6qU__uMUgtCsenIjB3acN7U9kNhkwsNSo6vucQksunSPNBp90u7wfMw/s200/IMG_1306.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365772289348298226" border="0" /></a><br />When my turn came to scurry, I delicately stepped across the crevasse, very aware of the crumbling snow beneath my feet dropping into the void below. Without tarrying or lingering, I made my way up to the first picket, retrieved it (geez, the snow was soft; that would have barely held a fall), up to the second picket (much better placed and better snow conditions there; would have held a fall), then I followed Francesca and Jody down onto the Upper Corridor. Glancing back as I hit the high point of the Catwalk I could find no sign of the two guides. Either they had moved <span style="font-style: italic;">fast </span>and were beyond a fold in the glacier, or they had both fallen and were gone. More likely they were just moving fast.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNlI-gjFsP9L4OMMPCyO8ltWtJaQ90f_5pQD6finq86sFc4-7OeqZ-wFMUd8lyzEwClxT__ZBCr_BUnH5Tq6VWoTVuGoz29S0EUxhF-vIipAt3IFdsCABHdtphuJCpRABwoYdu0YzSw/s1600-h/IMG_1314.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNlI-gjFsP9L4OMMPCyO8ltWtJaQ90f_5pQD6finq86sFc4-7OeqZ-wFMUd8lyzEwClxT__ZBCr_BUnH5Tq6VWoTVuGoz29S0EUxhF-vIipAt3IFdsCABHdtphuJCpRABwoYdu0YzSw/s200/IMG_1314.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365775622657064482" border="0" /></a>Photo left is of crevasses and ice blocks to the side of the Upper Corridor.<br /><br />As I had no place to stow the snow pickets, I half hand carried them down with me a hundred or so feet before calling for a break. Now we had 2500' of pretty much straight downhill to deal with. The snow conditions would go from slushy to worse. Francesca wanted to glissade down as this plunge-stepping was going to wreak havoc on her knees. I fully understood, but I did not want to glissade in this mess, especially with the increasing number of crevasses. Trying to self-arrest in a butt glissade is difficult to begin with, but if one member of the team goes into a deep crevasse, they have the very real chance of pulling everyone in while butt glissading. The soft snow just meant punching through a hidden crevasse was more and more likely, plunge stepping or butt glissading. I would step through 2-3 more crevasses before we were safely back at Camp Schurman, the last one less than 100' away from camp. We did opt to remove our crampons, however, as the crampons could have the side effect of suddenly grabbing the snow and holding us while we were sliding downward, forcing a face-plant fall instead of a butt-plop fall.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPytK-PORzaJAi30tIgn68oRXrix8R6icqEF8WR0qIlq5WAx3o-VOutEyFVys-0aAnG-QR6YPg8LA9mFe_pIJ8Fh2R2idMrn8mAtitsmEXu7TYap_5xIdBbhH6vqWlzeqMbpwaA6X5A/s1600-h/IMG_1318.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPytK-PORzaJAi30tIgn68oRXrix8R6icqEF8WR0qIlq5WAx3o-VOutEyFVys-0aAnG-QR6YPg8LA9mFe_pIJ8Fh2R2idMrn8mAtitsmEXu7TYap_5xIdBbhH6vqWlzeqMbpwaA6X5A/s200/IMG_1318.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365776034925926226" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Photo right of Little Tahoma as we neared the 11,000' level.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4f23C74LbO18th5hKp_n7XwgQmdcF-VjDVcjnyfwbeA774fIhtVL9KZZwkiT55xED7WvOxnAvK7Djrdf5QlB-S8uspX7IsKDmpG9RhBj9IJuxLudWKuMPU6ZAWQvK72D_0oSubzE5A/s1600-h/IMG_1328.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4f23C74LbO18th5hKp_n7XwgQmdcF-VjDVcjnyfwbeA774fIhtVL9KZZwkiT55xED7WvOxnAvK7Djrdf5QlB-S8uspX7IsKDmpG9RhBj9IJuxLudWKuMPU6ZAWQvK72D_0oSubzE5A/s200/IMG_1328.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365776682088617202" border="0" /></a>We moved downward. I took very few photos during this time. Occasionally I looked up to snap an image, but otherwise I was concentrating <span style="font-style: italic;">very </span>hard at staying on my feet. But during one brief break I did spy a neat shark-fin like feature off to our right (photo left). From this angle it looked like a fin, but from below or from the other side it looked like a pyramid face or a triangle. Nevertheless, it was neat.<br /><br />I mentioned in an earlier blog entry a couple days before that the snow levels of the Inter Glacier were far, far lower this year than they were at this time 7 or 9 years ago. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tOKiPiWHBHduoB6enzjBO7X9s145fK8ceulFjZDieY9MLTWV0NGZGv-19MYc6Wr-npLl-i8PV9VvPCPA3H8MQb4tY8oQeoDEOZK2QBYq4AD0D4c-TeV-FGuRm-po9lW-s1EGuSasfw/s1600-h/view_down_emmons_2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 96px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tOKiPiWHBHduoB6enzjBO7X9s145fK8ceulFjZDieY9MLTWV0NGZGv-19MYc6Wr-npLl-i8PV9VvPCPA3H8MQb4tY8oQeoDEOZK2QBYq4AD0D4c-TeV-FGuRm-po9lW-s1EGuSasfw/s200/view_down_emmons_2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365777262706801586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJahdbKsXl353JUfHgDfXFswX1-s4_6y-67iPUm_mLiZGdUBEzfyORb58ixDSMfilHGg9Q1G4cCTygsLNH39GatovZdemj48iB5Tt5_Sn7Lf2kiq9ZxLCuw9GcAOjhgvcQBt14Mihi1Q/s1600-h/view-down-emmons_2000.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJahdbKsXl353JUfHgDfXFswX1-s4_6y-67iPUm_mLiZGdUBEzfyORb58ixDSMfilHGg9Q1G4cCTygsLNH39GatovZdemj48iB5Tt5_Sn7Lf2kiq9ZxLCuw9GcAOjhgvcQBt14Mihi1Q/s200/view-down-emmons_2000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365777398404850338" border="0" /></a>Below are two shots taken from 11,500-12,500', of generally the same area of the Emmons Glacier, Camp Curtis, and Camp Schurman. The image left was taken on this trip during our decent of the the Upper Corridor. The image right from the 2000 climb somewhere around 12,000'. You can see the rocky ridge that goes from <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Wmh7hS48TRo3IzcBWRc3FERdWKJthE1n86PegU-ArEy3q503y9YEOw6GOtac-TUS1cj1lXZcyqdWpolYO8eJbk8Os6dJCwD0u3UIaBj0f9TcMhj0Ce4VaPLj4Y94QbzCPTAlXBPuEw/s1600-h/view_down_emmons_2009_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 99px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Wmh7hS48TRo3IzcBWRc3FERdWKJthE1n86PegU-ArEy3q503y9YEOw6GOtac-TUS1cj1lXZcyqdWpolYO8eJbk8Os6dJCwD0u3UIaBj0f9TcMhj0Ce4VaPLj4Y94QbzCPTAlXBPuEw/s200/view_down_emmons_2009_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365780252587752098" border="0" /></a>Camp Schurman to Camp Curtis and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCVLCXMAawVtdvcJNOz_-7qbhvPADzRe_TgRXECoXYEidytIQeSzqB8uOZYd1MQu7klABe_W1vNiv83cwRxIXGG7dw2sbDfnNGkuNxCCGVUf9ghGuNVEo_sp6ADGiBCHMvEz-7sFLF4Q/s1600-h/view-down-emmons_2000_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCVLCXMAawVtdvcJNOz_-7qbhvPADzRe_TgRXECoXYEidytIQeSzqB8uOZYd1MQu7klABe_W1vNiv83cwRxIXGG7dw2sbDfnNGkuNxCCGVUf9ghGuNVEo_sp6ADGiBCHMvEz-7sFLF4Q/s200/view-down-emmons_2000_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365780418314879954" border="0" /></a>beyond has a LOT more snow on it in 2000 than it does now. And even the rocky outcrop of Camp Schurman where we were camped now was mostly buried in snow back then. Very dramatic the changes in under a decade. Below are the same two images, but this time annotated so you can see the path from Camp Curtis ("C") to Camp Schurman ("S").<br /><br />Anyway, back to our story...<br /><br />Continuing down, I constantly was slipping, sliding, and falling, in this stuff called "snow". Francesca and Jody were doing a little better than I, but were having their share of falls, too. The hill was steep, the snow had no holding consistency. Francesca and Jody were doing a decent job of plunge-stepping in this mess. Me, being heavier, would slide through several of their steps in a row, obliterating their passage. Felt bad for the people who would be coming up in about 8 or 9 hours, but there was nothing I could do. I was basically "boot skiing" down behind Francesca and Jody. And not by choice.<br /><br />Plunge-stepping is a lot of hard work. Boot skiiing, while seemingly easier, is just as difficult, maintaining balance and wobbling all over. But, we were making good time getting down. Nonetheless, I punched through one or two more crevasses along the way. I think Francesca said she also stepped into one as well. In all cases the crevasses were small enough to not swallow us whole, and our forward momentum made us fall forward onto hard snow, and not drop straight into the void.<br /><br />As we neared the bottom half of the Lower Corridor, we all remembered the icy patch that we had climbed up through earlier that morning in the dark. There were crevasses all over the place there. And now we had to somehow get back down through that section in a controlled manner. When we finally hit this stuff, we slowed way down, delicately belaying each other down through this mess. I took no photos. We needed all our concentration to not slide 20-30' on ice, and/or over into a crevasse.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnFRa-Ij42syMGbPnnqd9bCHieYSuI9bHyyG52qGwzx2alpK6rNmkUmZOVcM7UgVrjOfNFXnlkmYWsgmaSSWDLMFGVpqzLPFpVj9xNI1TS9vXGGfQ75X6-EryBP-whbCdwrDEs4NBrQ/s1600-h/IMG_1332.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnFRa-Ij42syMGbPnnqd9bCHieYSuI9bHyyG52qGwzx2alpK6rNmkUmZOVcM7UgVrjOfNFXnlkmYWsgmaSSWDLMFGVpqzLPFpVj9xNI1TS9vXGGfQ75X6-EryBP-whbCdwrDEs4NBrQ/s200/IMG_1332.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365785515232143938" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvLRdSLBEgyrfYQuR12Y60ELSSb3lAtW1ND9epvN4ysNOwCSPF6Gm5T97vr01YrDqyqV05drCIfuPeCB0IqPpTesWeH1kslKYEN06VltNebMSz6LecmABLaFVF4xGaQzZY9wEHSZTFw/s1600-h/IMG_1334.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvLRdSLBEgyrfYQuR12Y60ELSSb3lAtW1ND9epvN4ysNOwCSPF6Gm5T97vr01YrDqyqV05drCIfuPeCB0IqPpTesWeH1kslKYEN06VltNebMSz6LecmABLaFVF4xGaQzZY9wEHSZTFw/s200/IMG_1334.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365785742340497170" border="0" /></a>Finally through this section we were on our feet again, going downward. We could see a few people in the Emmons Flats camp packing up and departing - leaving no one there (photo right). But Camp Schurman was actually fuller, despite the fact the RMI and Backpacking magazine groups had left (photo left). Plenty of people had come up during the day, it seems.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IooS97-3rwGbxmOCgmR_xlH1VpeD_7Z-uRhV9truiTcX4Nf4uYMs3cFq7dsXd9Sb9ViIAbUP3RwusWDm1tdfFAdrmzjbF2E1SOkXT10UWTsQk-VtAPhu0FQMd0R7wWcho2Vt_E2XSw/s1600-h/IMG_1339.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IooS97-3rwGbxmOCgmR_xlH1VpeD_7Z-uRhV9truiTcX4Nf4uYMs3cFq7dsXd9Sb9ViIAbUP3RwusWDm1tdfFAdrmzjbF2E1SOkXT10UWTsQk-VtAPhu0FQMd0R7wWcho2Vt_E2XSw/s200/IMG_1339.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365786844495880562" border="0" /></a>5:15pm. We made it back into camp, exhausted and tired (and that's not a redundant statement!). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx56gdANSXeAkv6pR2DDIswOH2n9TKHQ28LyFkcsj5jR0vESm36vkiVC1N3A0n7jdRqFkoKwbXl-yT-ZfNHssrFPQ-nOT2Nik4VgumON9GBqF81yIqYP1y4jnmE47cbUT33-1vV2ODFw/s1600-h/IMG_1340.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx56gdANSXeAkv6pR2DDIswOH2n9TKHQ28LyFkcsj5jR0vESm36vkiVC1N3A0n7jdRqFkoKwbXl-yT-ZfNHssrFPQ-nOT2Nik4VgumON9GBqF81yIqYP1y4jnmE47cbUT33-1vV2ODFw/s200/IMG_1340.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365787066187187650" border="0" /></a>I went to fill water bottles up (I was parched, and it was nice, cool and refreshing melting straight from the glacier :-) ) while Jody and Francesca started organizing to heat up some water for dinner. Schurman was a bustle of activity with all the new faces around, but they didn't ask us much and we didn't chat with many of them. We were just too tired to think or care. Photo left of Francesca ("it...hurts..."), photo right of Jody ("uhhhhh....too tired to eat").<br /><br />Not long after dinner the two of them crawled into the tent and went to sleep. I still had some energy left, now that we were down to 9,500' again. David (the ranger) had mentioned to me the day before that one can see sunset from atop the Steamboat prow, and that the Puget Sound really comes out at that point. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9jgdq-UJq0phujN_ZOIyWlC3wMzTIL2KiA748nE2JywEENH7fWJdB0BO-z8vak9ed619t3wImSiosNYgJiNWYMBc_ghvNP6tsA2kSQ8jzMpFLyqJCDEz8IX2C4JrDILe9LaRQ4u6bQ/s1600-h/IMG_1341.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9jgdq-UJq0phujN_ZOIyWlC3wMzTIL2KiA748nE2JywEENH7fWJdB0BO-z8vak9ed619t3wImSiosNYgJiNWYMBc_ghvNP6tsA2kSQ8jzMpFLyqJCDEz8IX2C4JrDILe9LaRQ4u6bQ/s200/IMG_1341.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365788721176170402" border="0" /></a>What he neglected to mention, and I figured out from my knowledge of sun movement patterns and time of year, that this happens close to the solstice, not several weeks after. I started to scramble up the Steamboat prow to check out the sunset, but halfway up I realized 1) the terrain I was in was loose and unforgiving of slips, and 2) I was too damned tired to try to safely make my way back down again in the twilight. I aborted the climb halfway up. But got some nice shots of Camp Schurman from this vantage point. In the photo left, you can see tents not only all over the rocky outcrop, but also down in the snow field to the right. And there are more people (5) still coming up, even this late in the day.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaUONqeSgKAqafUWvj7eOiHS8T4CMJRxx6kwA0k72zUxfDKl7WKXFDlZF4BOZy3yBrWQTH69DfIug7UQAwRbH5yHfVVGG-P4WximNEmT4-G-sCFpXAqwga_rgMbh0bgv32DmH7k_XCQ/s1600-h/IMG_1347.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaUONqeSgKAqafUWvj7eOiHS8T4CMJRxx6kwA0k72zUxfDKl7WKXFDlZF4BOZy3yBrWQTH69DfIug7UQAwRbH5yHfVVGG-P4WximNEmT4-G-sCFpXAqwga_rgMbh0bgv32DmH7k_XCQ/s200/IMG_1347.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365789185011607650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Once back at camp I was treated to a little sight I had not witnessed in my previous three journeys out here: the shadow of Mt Rainier as the sun sets slowly in the west. I'm pretty sure most people who come up here to climb the mountain don't see this spectacle: they were either turning in to get a few hours sleep before their summit bid that night, or had come down and either hiked out like the RMI/Backpacking magazine crews or crashed and were asleep like Jody and Francesca.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDDBBFm3uWj6bL611t_r6iQmKmKFu1-eCRLE6Ha3GDtcUohsMVGtY4HQEEbQqhCC1knSFewZegoEiC6RWQgWF7wNYqq5oGY0nZc4znRLwG2a2NDXkMW6bVZCtSbVgOePrsM7bReN9vA/s1600-h/IMG_1349.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDDBBFm3uWj6bL611t_r6iQmKmKFu1-eCRLE6Ha3GDtcUohsMVGtY4HQEEbQqhCC1knSFewZegoEiC6RWQgWF7wNYqq5oGY0nZc4znRLwG2a2NDXkMW6bVZCtSbVgOePrsM7bReN9vA/s200/IMG_1349.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365790305839025266" border="0" /></a>Eventually exhaustion set in, and I needed sleep, too. We still had a long hike out tomorrow. But at least the worst part of the adventure was over.<br /><br />Or was it...?Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-3063948435423293852009-07-30T09:07:00.061-04:002009-08-20T23:24:46.738-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 5, Part 1: The Summit Or Bust!<span style="font-weight: bold;">July 21, 2009</span><br /><br />Midnight came all too quickly. Especially considering I had a difficult time falling asleep, and didn't really drop off until sometime around 9p. Gurgh.<br /><br />The four-season, three-person tent we had was reasonably roomy - if all occupants were laying down. But all three getting up to change or don garb for the day would be elbows-in-faces action. I decided to lay there for a few minutes longer while Jody and Francesca got themselves situated. After they tumbled out of the tent, I got my clothes of the day on and was out myself, into a little buzz of activity around camp.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOA1nT6zRTQ2buWRCudJtodygeHOVJbQZr9f01-Oft7LREhKzBXVpLg_CG-OS3Mn1SkGLn30x1oRAFotJ2jbpoCzBxaYiHVTSPj4c2fQPRJovwvQLSmByJqbAzn915Kp3tHmmhwOYHw/s1600-h/IMG_1159.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOA1nT6zRTQ2buWRCudJtodygeHOVJbQZr9f01-Oft7LREhKzBXVpLg_CG-OS3Mn1SkGLn30x1oRAFotJ2jbpoCzBxaYiHVTSPj4c2fQPRJovwvQLSmByJqbAzn915Kp3tHmmhwOYHw/s200/IMG_1159.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364598611017123266" border="0" /></a>The Backpacking magazine crew were up and getting themselves organized for the day's climb (photo right). And the RMI group was also getting up, a little earlier than they had originally intended.<br /><br />The night was cool, crisp, and clear. The stars shone brightly, sprinkled across the heavens. Jupiter was a brilliant beacon just off the left flank of Rainier, itself faintly visible in the starlit night.<br /><br />We cooked ourselves some hot breakfast and redid our gear. Got some fresh water for the climb and did the bathroom thing one more time. I was feeling a little listless at the lack of sleep.<br /><br />Finally we got ourselves set up by the glacier. The snow was crunchy, consolidated. This was nice. Not the soft, slush of a slurpy. We were underway by 1:40am. A bit later than I had intended, but not horribly so. The RMI group was a good half hour ahead of us at this point.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QPtUgR_u87c7C-fyd1FHMRNBjBokBzhc6XNkuqTSHafOoqb2RDA35SIz9w1Gk_v5rMFBngNsJstNROMad3JIX1_FvtlFTQwXGr_zG1lE0Ge_MLtgANDsB7E_b2iG0LHfmLa4NK6Qsw/s1600-h/Emmons_route_view.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QPtUgR_u87c7C-fyd1FHMRNBjBokBzhc6XNkuqTSHafOoqb2RDA35SIz9w1Gk_v5rMFBngNsJstNROMad3JIX1_FvtlFTQwXGr_zG1lE0Ge_MLtgANDsB7E_b2iG0LHfmLa4NK6Qsw/s200/Emmons_route_view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364612973752270514" border="0" /></a><br />We kept the same order as yesterday: myself in front on lead, Jody in the middle, Francesca in the back as anchor. The usual route follows up the Lower and Upper Corridors, then as the season and conditions dictate, goes up to the crater rim at some point somewhere above. Our route (annotated photo right) would take us straight up(!) the Lower Corridor (9900 - ~11,000'), do the S-curve weave to the Upper Corridor, head straight up(!!) the Upper Corridor (~11,000 - 12,000'), then angle right to follow a rising traverse over to the Liberty Ridge saddle, turn hard left and head straight up(!!!) to the Columbia Crest. There were an awful lot of 'straight up' sections on this climb.<br /><br />Climbing the Corridors is really and truly just an exercise in going straight uphill. It's grueling, unfun, monotonous, repetitive, exhausting. One step in front of the other. Breathe. Step again. The darkness helped mask the progress we were making. So when it did start to get lighter and we could see without the headlamps, we had actually made reasonable headway. We estimated our ascent was about 500'/hour.<br /><br />Along the way up we met three separate parties - one of 3, one of 4, and one of 2 - on their way back down to Schurman. They had not summited. Each team had turned around due to various issues with one or more members of the group: altitude sickness or shin bang (where the top front of your boot was "banging" into your shins so badly it was impossible to continue any upward progress). We could still see lights of the Backpacking magazine and RMI parties on the Upper Corridor while we were on the Lower. But we soon lost sight of them as we went behind folds and ice walls in the glacier terrain.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgaLpTj1pi1-_MfyP697ajgmF2cJFz_-0HgZ1Gd4Izhmn9gU85EOimqjY1sUJDbDXSNk6_NBFCtQqHY1UbsaS2oW-dZnc5J0B6qEDl2x9xDNwlDKNcu9E4EOR23PXt2a9pUcJTEKflQ/s1600-h/IMG_1163.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgaLpTj1pi1-_MfyP697ajgmF2cJFz_-0HgZ1Gd4Izhmn9gU85EOimqjY1sUJDbDXSNk6_NBFCtQqHY1UbsaS2oW-dZnc5J0B6qEDl2x9xDNwlDKNcu9E4EOR23PXt2a9pUcJTEKflQ/s200/IMG_1163.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364625154295904530" border="0" /></a>Around 3:00am Venus rose behind us, shining bright enough to cast shadows (noticeable only when we turned off our headlamps). By 4:30am it was fairly high in the sky, and the northeast horizon was subject to a blanket of growing brightness (photo left). Jupiter had long gone behind the mountain. And in the increasing light of twilight the rest of the stars above faded from view. Their accompanying us done for the day. Sunrise came an hour later, fairly sudden through the thick layer of smoke and smog. As it rose higher and cleared tha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIuWdIpy2N2AUvcV0ovcG1IdtZ_IYH4rVSM4-oSsyiFYOupOqBFU9fC6n2Vy66A2Gc9VdW5pBy7SpUdoO-XnfxppElDeABntZPkXkCnY64B-L_jm9Y-qMKbm2_t6Tjo4WnY9zm3ZK9BQ/s1600-h/IMG_1168.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIuWdIpy2N2AUvcV0ovcG1IdtZ_IYH4rVSM4-oSsyiFYOupOqBFU9fC6n2Vy66A2Gc9VdW5pBy7SpUdoO-XnfxppElDeABntZPkXkCnY64B-L_jm9Y-qMKbm2_t6Tjo4WnY9zm3ZK9BQ/s200/IMG_1168.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364625665094885410" border="0" /></a>t thicker layer of atmosphere debris, the glacier caught the light and reflected it all about. Time to don the glacier glasses!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJuOWUSdiJGx4278BWT-cfge7Bp_7PzOb5zsGvgp_Q1XEK8NEnuLTNyVgsIGXwiFN5Nyc50x76jawyc4vfoVnaG1Home2A6NLYAJEGQCckOtj5FGM9gc8DhTgHIohNkC8imjSHSXJ4Q/s1600-h/IMG_1171.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJuOWUSdiJGx4278BWT-cfge7Bp_7PzOb5zsGvgp_Q1XEK8NEnuLTNyVgsIGXwiFN5Nyc50x76jawyc4vfoVnaG1Home2A6NLYAJEGQCckOtj5FGM9gc8DhTgHIohNkC8imjSHSXJ4Q/s200/IMG_1171.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364626517198145426" border="0" /></a>The light of the new day showed our progress: we were above Little Tahoma Peak (11,138'). We were getting well into the Upper Corridor at this point. You can judge the steepness of the terrain we were climbing (straight up!) by comparing it to the horizon in the photo. You can do this in all the photos where the horizon is off to the side.<br /><br />As we climbed I started feeling various altitude effects: dizzyness, tired, nausea, headache. Never more than one symptom at a time, but they were present nonetheless. I hadn't felt these since the very first time I went to altitude back in the 80s, when I had no idea of what "altitude sickness" was all about. Better learned now, I was consciously aware of them. I tried to take breaks and eat/drink as often as possible w/out going too slow, but it was still too slow for Jody and Francesca's likings. In the end I chalked these symptoms up to being a result from lack of decent sleep prior to the climb and for humping up the heavy pack as quickly as I could the day before (and for not being in as good a shape was I was in 7-10 years ago).<br /><br />Interestingly, the headache came on around 11,000', started out dull, then became somewhat piercing. This wasn't good. I was having serious doubts about the climb, and letting my team down. :-( But then by the time we got to 11,900' it had subsided quite a bit, and once above 12,000', was completely gone. Jody and Francesca, however, didn't believe me on this. Still we pushed on.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUvCP65-NrttoZj40JeMbxeZQd9zSAK_-vcQVbdZiuKecO3ECJdgU-qvpQMt42UYceCoFpwhK7iGrn31r5GlA5fw9Zit_Z9NaN64D2q1WuNBlUuA2mm7mwd9HQW_qPW2Rq-daoXxEPQ/s1600-h/IMG_1180.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUvCP65-NrttoZj40JeMbxeZQd9zSAK_-vcQVbdZiuKecO3ECJdgU-qvpQMt42UYceCoFpwhK7iGrn31r5GlA5fw9Zit_Z9NaN64D2q1WuNBlUuA2mm7mwd9HQW_qPW2Rq-daoXxEPQ/s200/IMG_1180.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364628110843959442" border="0" /></a><br />The day before we had been warned/cautioned by various people, including the ranger, David, about a technical section on the route that many were referring to as "the Catwalk" (the feature did not otherwise have an official name). All anyone told us for location is that it was somewhere at, around, or above 12,000'. Somewhere. And depending on with whom one spoke, the traverse went from "not too bad" to "terrifying, glad we did it at night!". In David's opinion, given the current melt and snow conditions, he did not expect the Catwalk to survive another 4-5 days. Glad we were here now! In another week the route will have to be changed again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-9y6VNeLaxCGHT9MTt9d55ru8EUQef3WnHbViEAiPh2EQa566UPTJprmQY8Uo2F8zLSKCIx5KSOMZsi-q6ZzuQtw6JyaHAwlDPKUH_fUQO7b-s4osd5E2JUrt1e8hTWYw4IPGgtzfWA/s1600-h/IMG_1181.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-9y6VNeLaxCGHT9MTt9d55ru8EUQef3WnHbViEAiPh2EQa566UPTJprmQY8Uo2F8zLSKCIx5KSOMZsi-q6ZzuQtw6JyaHAwlDPKUH_fUQO7b-s4osd5E2JUrt1e8hTWYw4IPGgtzfWA/s200/IMG_1181.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364629211630625314" border="0" /></a>As we neared the top of the Upper Corridor, I noticed two climbers scrambling over a hump on the glacier. Well, they easily trotted across, so that couldn't be the Catwalk...could it? There was a huge horizontal cleft at the top of the hump, looked for all intents and purposes like a sidewalk. Not to scary.<br /><br />As we got a more side-on view, we could see the large crevasse directly below the hump (photo upper left). Didn't want to fall in there!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRknrVNId_2WWAmT6YJPpJjW9uIhzKZxH6Oe_mchiyiz7PR7UIMUd2kCh4qg-utqFev5ee0KeHw0TPkyHovOdw0za5s4nPu8dc3jzsFSwxgWGY3aaNByfjL-k511rVZZg8kDR8tzmJw/s1600-h/Catwalk-side-view.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRknrVNId_2WWAmT6YJPpJjW9uIhzKZxH6Oe_mchiyiz7PR7UIMUd2kCh4qg-utqFev5ee0KeHw0TPkyHovOdw0za5s4nPu8dc3jzsFSwxgWGY3aaNByfjL-k511rVZZg8kDR8tzmJw/s200/Catwalk-side-view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364636487831753474" border="0" /></a><br />As we continued up the final 100' or so of the Upper Corridor, our perspective changed. The cleft I thought was the traverse was actually - another crevasse! Geez-o-flip, how many crevasses were there here?!? It was clear now that this was The Catwalk.<br /><br />From the im<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWcDZs4_GlR0sdAtDUKkwZbbtNJ3Cmyc2mDsbXzVI0V60TjAZLnr8GK3GTW7eT4kElFz1pAybCe3W7aVRodr_CTgDfT7kGlKmFpW65WAiaxdEC4vaRmBogcNJQs723gkNwE6lpXY98Q/s1600-h/IMG_1184.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWcDZs4_GlR0sdAtDUKkwZbbtNJ3Cmyc2mDsbXzVI0V60TjAZLnr8GK3GTW7eT4kElFz1pAybCe3W7aVRodr_CTgDfT7kGlKmFpW65WAiaxdEC4vaRmBogcNJQs723gkNwE6lpXY98Q/s200/IMG_1184.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364637835197361490" border="0" /></a>age right you can see the foot trail leads above the crevasse cleft, and the steep drop below to the larger crevasse (outside the view of the photo). When this thing melts out, the first thing that will happen is that the foot trail will collapse into the cleft crevasse. Then ultimately the wall below will drop into the larger crevasse. Could be fairly dramatic to watch - from the side. But hopefully this wouldn't happen today.<br /><br />In the photo left you can see just how narrow the foot ledge is.<br /><br />I noticed when the other two climbers scampered over they had clipped to a red cord in the snow (visible in the same photo up left). Turned out this was a buried snow picket, left by the RMI group. Sweet. We would do the same.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhb5wDN1wLu5uFSnKBYnOypOnPUwYDsoI-vrs0Jj6aE3H2fQ8INVFtkBGDiJa4bGEo0VUX7lFDwfNCwQ7dUppecK765-O8HjD3lSSfHbvszFdHNqu93sRVKeTsabbNyTpKtT3xC515g/s1600-h/IMG_1185.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhb5wDN1wLu5uFSnKBYnOypOnPUwYDsoI-vrs0Jj6aE3H2fQ8INVFtkBGDiJa4bGEo0VUX7lFDwfNCwQ7dUppecK765-O8HjD3lSSfHbvszFdHNqu93sRVKeTsabbNyTpKtT3xC515g/s200/IMG_1185.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364639350990274098" border="0" /></a><br />As I got up to the first snow picket, I looked over the back side of this uplifted wall of snow (photo right). Urp! There was yet <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> crevasse! Not super deep, but jumbled with ice and snow blocks. Would hurt to fall into. And man, when this Catwalk goes, it is going to go big.<br /><br />After I passed the first snow picket I spotted a second one lower down on the far end of the traverse. 10' after that second picket the crevasse from behind the Catwalk came around front - the final part of this little airy traverse was to delicately <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjFMW4aW0V4hO7rU1ucWd20tCjX1crRYIAfQ3gqMmuhmC4J0HtpbN1s6h7LQRUl-LJxUdksV6EZ3m_ofz8A9C_eD1FkdPRAzCDRRlCLw3zS4bBARXDkaTLcOT0up63TnMxWPO6gLsHA/s1600-h/IMG_1186.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjFMW4aW0V4hO7rU1ucWd20tCjX1crRYIAfQ3gqMmuhmC4J0HtpbN1s6h7LQRUl-LJxUdksV6EZ3m_ofz8A9C_eD1FkdPRAzCDRRlCLw3zS4bBARXDkaTLcOT0up63TnMxWPO6gLsHA/s200/IMG_1186.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364642755916623074" border="0" /></a>s-t-e-p across the void onto the "solid snow" on the other side.<br /><br />Overall the traverse wasn't as scary as some had made it out to be (photo left of Jody at the first snow picket; you can see how narrow the footledge became). But it was not trivial, either. On the way back down the snow conditions would be softer, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zCq0_Z5Z_RNoMvcxPkDF-03eo2hRBQgYRfDAQgNrUUj2JsKMJWRF1ZuIHwTnIBlor5VgclPIr47oPHuAaSdGs4G74_9jigp1necc0eeBaNLFCE5jYbspK2Fy2imKvg2TlICD2h33Kw/s1600-h/IMG_1190.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zCq0_Z5Z_RNoMvcxPkDF-03eo2hRBQgYRfDAQgNrUUj2JsKMJWRF1ZuIHwTnIBlor5VgclPIr47oPHuAaSdGs4G74_9jigp1necc0eeBaNLFCE5jYbspK2Fy2imKvg2TlICD2h33Kw/s200/IMG_1190.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364643436316715762" border="0" /></a>making the proposition of dancing across this a little more....well, daunting (photo right of Francesca at the second picket, working her way down the Catwalk; you can see the crevasse behind the Catwalk shadowed in the foreground).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-In-gB6IkojJZgyWlUx1wn-kyfpr5bR5UBTYds9FbFEX8lWco1dYSTfRCyuMME1vw_Gk_36Lk9elWn0b1jGSMthwRgI0YPx3TU0PPzxtJnQOOWIG-HFwxbt1szNwX3kw6Xf3xT-RYA/s1600-h/IMG_1192.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-In-gB6IkojJZgyWlUx1wn-kyfpr5bR5UBTYds9FbFEX8lWco1dYSTfRCyuMME1vw_Gk_36Lk9elWn0b1jGSMthwRgI0YPx3TU0PPzxtJnQOOWIG-HFwxbt1szNwX3kw6Xf3xT-RYA/s200/IMG_1192.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364672592065804626" border="0" /></a>A few minutes after we started the traverse, we were safely across. We were right about 12,000'. We started at 9,500'. It was now 6:30am. We had been going for 5 hours at this point. (photo left you can see Camp Schurman as the little blurb of rock just fully in the sun below the Steamboat Prow, 2500' below us). We pushed on...<br /><br />The "rising traverse" zigzagged through additional (large) crevasses,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcOVHY5twA2PG_wtIkwS4r7BGhyJS3ZDwdjcuHjDRNB5R_A4DuG9dAu7Iz64RtbaMGQqbXuClRGyt75wf7x12QdtcgXvbXSPzdeUfWBMV7RgivVkY7U5EARMmloY5Kgm4lqASOHiIBw/s1600-h/IMG_1195.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcOVHY5twA2PG_wtIkwS4r7BGhyJS3ZDwdjcuHjDRNB5R_A4DuG9dAu7Iz64RtbaMGQqbXuClRGyt75wf7x12QdtcgXvbXSPzdeUfWBMV7RgivVkY7U5EARMmloY5Kgm4lqASOHiIBw/s200/IMG_1195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364672830131004226" border="0" /></a> sometimes going up left, sometimes going straight up (ugh!), but usually trending up right. But always going up. It was slow. It was painful. But looking back over Little Tahoma (photo right), yep, we were steadily rising!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_v42z5EM8I3m5berTvt0HMn9A1ELKAvBcirPrHxR3YVat9KqIyukKi2IQnCy_RJH-j7UUuy90Tv2fyQ3BGAbKXqqSlRbUhAPzxT0BY7fiGf0wVvHpVrsCjYY-Pyw5SsYDnoQp8Jbfg/s1600-h/IMG_1196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_v42z5EM8I3m5berTvt0HMn9A1ELKAvBcirPrHxR3YVat9KqIyukKi2IQnCy_RJH-j7UUuy90Tv2fyQ3BGAbKXqqSlRbUhAPzxT0BY7fiGf0wVvHpVrsCjYY-Pyw5SsYDnoQp8Jbfg/s200/IMG_1196.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364674285593399618" border="0" /></a>Steadily upwards we went, still averaging 500' vertical per hour. At times the trail just seemed to go on (photo left) and on, and on, then it would switch up and head a different direction. No matter how high we got on the glacier, crevasses were an ever-present danger. For the most part any crevasses we crossed over were still covered up. But occasionally the trail would skirt the edges of one (or two) whose snow cover had melted away, revealing the yawning chasm below. Occasionally a trail would lead to a dead snow bridge, and a new trail would swing further around the exposing crevasse. An ever changing evironment up here.<br /><br />The below three images are of one of the crevasses we had to negotiate around. The left image shows most of the length of it. The middle shows where the trail was going up until a couple days before, when the snow bridge started melting out. The right image is peering down (at an angle) into the crevasse (it maybe went down 30-40' - deep enough!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5qLQqx9ebpx4vJYDKOs7Ekb1wd7_TySxsssEySJR_SrPIzk0hiVe84R3EGS70pgZqdAhdImiRo-cvQC4lwgBVDpJloeagtlmJg4gqUkWVXHlsDlkmkItAWQl1xuLqXrbeZcc0AlY5Q/s1600-h/IMG_1199.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 99px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5qLQqx9ebpx4vJYDKOs7Ekb1wd7_TySxsssEySJR_SrPIzk0hiVe84R3EGS70pgZqdAhdImiRo-cvQC4lwgBVDpJloeagtlmJg4gqUkWVXHlsDlkmkItAWQl1xuLqXrbeZcc0AlY5Q/s200/IMG_1199.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364680880179499746" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lboX657varCypGDgTvg53pulPV-J7_Qms0IjHFtoy-4EpsjFbx15eR9u1iiouORdE31f63M4XqGYGVVV_zaxJQ5t19DGxJ8jwG7vMUme_XB2Rl2Ks0Oa9eSAaAo1R4q2WvRt92TO-A/s1600-h/IMG_1197.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lboX657varCypGDgTvg53pulPV-J7_Qms0IjHFtoy-4EpsjFbx15eR9u1iiouORdE31f63M4XqGYGVVV_zaxJQ5t19DGxJ8jwG7vMUme_XB2Rl2Ks0Oa9eSAaAo1R4q2WvRt92TO-A/s200/IMG_1197.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364680791746165890" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUOlhxVFWnppc6G0Jnasoi6rwQ7TMxEn4jmJqLvOuOPCZOms48Voc3_Udb020VLGfxhmdRGIQLhPzS4rXHROoHdklaPImloGQvi2vAWELihU04JNruY8ixu1dM1_FEwcN1LmhqZeuvQ/s1600-h/IMG_1198.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUOlhxVFWnppc6G0Jnasoi6rwQ7TMxEn4jmJqLvOuOPCZOms48Voc3_Udb020VLGfxhmdRGIQLhPzS4rXHROoHdklaPImloGQvi2vAWELihU04JNruY8ixu1dM1_FEwcN1LmhqZeuvQ/s200/IMG_1198.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364680837799726146" border="0" /></a><br />As we broke 13,000', we had one final technically difficult crevasse to deal with. This crevasse was reasonably deep (20-30'), but the opposite side where we needed to get to was a good 8' higher than the side we were on. So, one at a time, we had to step across the 3' wide gap, and then climb up three or four moves until we were standing on "solid snow" again. Having longer arms/legs, this did not prove to be overly difficult for me, but the danger of a slip while climbing up was still quite real. Once over I set up a short belay for Jody to make her run. She deftly danced over, up, and onto the trail with no difficulties. Then Francesca.<br /><br />It should be pointed out that during the entire climb, we were each using an ice ax in one hand (usually the uphill hand) and a hiking pole in the other (but not strapped to our wrist, lest we slip and fall and need to use both hands on the ice ax for self-arresting). The pole proved cumbersome to hold onto while doing the climb up. But I managed, as did Jody.<br /><br />Francesca...dropped hers. (oops!) Right down onto a ledge in the crevasse it slid. Fortunately, she was able to downclimb and retrieve it (whew).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSiWo8NfuxxGSsLbNg-P-XVBI_PYJk9kvHtP8i4qnVhauyXOiLYLLQ3717fV322L-twdLzrFkHMi-D2bzEsQ4S7ZMDRAyj-M9Y1OnyFiKAc2g2knVpS8wMT6Bt5NN_2meeUkk0ekeJ3A/s1600-h/IMG_1214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSiWo8NfuxxGSsLbNg-P-XVBI_PYJk9kvHtP8i4qnVhauyXOiLYLLQ3717fV322L-twdLzrFkHMi-D2bzEsQ4S7ZMDRAyj-M9Y1OnyFiKAc2g2knVpS8wMT6Bt5NN_2meeUkk0ekeJ3A/s200/IMG_1214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364701422535109970" border="0" /></a><br />We moved up a bit higher to get away from the crevasse, and onto a relatively non-crevassed area, before taking a much-needed break (photo right). We were maybe 13,100' or 13,200'. Looking ahead I could see the saddle where the Liberty Ridge and the final slopes of Mt Rainier met. Then I saw movement: the first group of people were on their way down. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrtamr6ROWWnmLbU8oXhj6_vkPOYPtz6Y2a33EhEivC9cMM2wm88ipUQJcrv7nXZYuwb3R7tgah2wL2eYC3O2wwQm_2UETA7nTBP33Jv4EdQyC1lC_D5b4fOZJpuFJihJyzv6r3CQZg/s1600-h/IMG_1210.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrtamr6ROWWnmLbU8oXhj6_vkPOYPtz6Y2a33EhEivC9cMM2wm88ipUQJcrv7nXZYuwb3R7tgah2wL2eYC3O2wwQm_2UETA7nTBP33Jv4EdQyC1lC_D5b4fOZJpuFJihJyzv6r3CQZg/s200/IMG_1210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364701260722168194" border="0" /></a>Within a few minutes they were on us, tired-looking but all smiles (they had summited), then were gone (photo left, looking up towards the saddle; dots are people). Two more groups of people followed them within 10 minutes as we continued up. That took care of all the Backpacking magazine and RMI groups. We pushed on, still having over 1000' (vertical) to go...<br /><br />Shortly before hitting the saddle we stopped for a second break. This time to put on some warmer clothes under our shells. The wind was a little stiffer than before, and who knew how strong it would get once we got onto the saddle. We each opted to not put on our down parkas at this point, but were wearing pretty much everything else.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlLMb8CdbxAMdVmrJYT-nTatJJ6dPb2K83pJa-hhZOqaWBPrWZBuxCxzn1vLa_FVgLSAhteUq8B-UZURgEkwNijb7zGIkY95nNB2TBahKZPPCaJMRukgM5wLt2doU7nuG-r2gkPR0UQ/s1600-h/IMG_1225.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlLMb8CdbxAMdVmrJYT-nTatJJ6dPb2K83pJa-hhZOqaWBPrWZBuxCxzn1vLa_FVgLSAhteUq8B-UZURgEkwNijb7zGIkY95nNB2TBahKZPPCaJMRukgM5wLt2doU7nuG-r2gkPR0UQ/s200/IMG_1225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364707107659676210" border="0" /></a><br />Finally the saddle was immediately before us. And look...<span style="font-style: italic;">another </span>crevasse to surmount! (photo right; the line leading up is the trail to the top) Fortunately while this one was long (spanned most of the saddle), the snow bridge was solidly intact.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRzL3obeQbLb6VxdRNTEHcyxcbaZuy_Z6ZiYYXgRUm39mcpUceltyGckC9gbBd5dyjAkMfgcWZa7vIzEi9jITu8Eyxa1Rxy158pedoI6ZPP0c3IL9qTSbXjFKf39nIh5OA02AEZK5kg/s1600-h/IMG_1228.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRzL3obeQbLb6VxdRNTEHcyxcbaZuy_Z6ZiYYXgRUm39mcpUceltyGckC9gbBd5dyjAkMfgcWZa7vIzEi9jITu8Eyxa1Rxy158pedoI6ZPP0c3IL9qTSbXjFKf39nIh5OA02AEZK5kg/s200/IMG_1228.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364708310372395442" border="0" /></a>We were quickly above it, but we were also now above 13,500' (photo left; crevasse is arc behind us). The air was thin up here. Rest breaks were more necessary for me (and as I later learned, for Francesca; true to her name, Jody "Diesel" Powell had no such need for so many rest breaks and wanted to keep chugging away).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-V_cEq2TdLBNSp1lSzA2TeoBmfbaSmTEK9PKkhLB8ed9ODmmEau_D0dmXIxHynb65T8fdq8YRdXyiOUec1DlTmEfy2xBbckWEp_I9znlaRuI3KVNmY__TS7csyiZf8guvm_3inlopg/s1600-h/IMG_1229_the_last_900_feet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-V_cEq2TdLBNSp1lSzA2TeoBmfbaSmTEK9PKkhLB8ed9ODmmEau_D0dmXIxHynb65T8fdq8YRdXyiOUec1DlTmEfy2xBbckWEp_I9znlaRuI3KVNmY__TS7csyiZf8guvm_3inlopg/s200/IMG_1229_the_last_900_feet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364709061132120562" border="0" /></a><br />Looking ahead, the trail to the summit went <span style="font-style: italic;">straight fricking up</span><span style="font-style: italic;">!</span> (photo right) {sigh} I plodded on. Step, inhale, step, exhale, step, inhale, step, exhale, step, stop, inhale, exhale, gasp, hyperventilate, inhale, exhale, step, repeat. 900' doesn't seem like a lot, but up there...it took quite a while to get through. And while it seemed we were going <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vGWTe1WfdiydCEwS1tFvQZwUNEiRrG_9GKidKoKpZ7l4hiiVCOluwXhVmXSS1QaE-N7HcDbYGablBTlwCDL7n3w1rBYrqvZNa1ygmNkCKnwU8j2viYQLKqcZ_wL3BOwGjIdLpno9kw/s1600-h/IMG_1233.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vGWTe1WfdiydCEwS1tFvQZwUNEiRrG_9GKidKoKpZ7l4hiiVCOluwXhVmXSS1QaE-N7HcDbYGablBTlwCDL7n3w1rBYrqvZNa1ygmNkCKnwU8j2viYQLKqcZ_wL3BOwGjIdLpno9kw/s200/IMG_1233.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364709896871265426" border="0" /></a>slower than before, our upward progress remained about the same: 500'/hour. And actually, it was a little quicker than that, as we would ultimately cover that 900' in and hour and a half, despite taking more rest breaks than before.<br /><br />Oh, and there were 2 or 3 small crevasses we had to step over on the way up. Sheesh, they were just <span style="font-style: italic;">every</span>where...<br /><br />As we neared the crater rim, I could feel it somewhere deep inside me. Even with high altitude climber extraordinaire Ed Viesturs' mantra echoing in the back of my mind ("Getting to the top is optional ... Getting down is mandatory."), I knew we were going to make it to the summit! The skies were totally clear, the sun bright, and the winds no stronger than 20-25 mph. There was very very little that could actually stop us at this point. And the only thing I could think of was altitude sickness completely and overwhelmingly taking over one of our team. But that was not to happen.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddXH5CdQ8TlGBFl9AF4o3Vg6rRMlrri1s1VcrnvEewATK_F_wKEEjDR3R8VAIckldX7nWhZYrEwWDFMcbvpT9gcJkJCGGCWxdrE8VwyyhiuWWAIaIUkBhbNnbX7y9yHcAQpX6kQ-aoQ/s1600-h/IMG_1237.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddXH5CdQ8TlGBFl9AF4o3Vg6rRMlrri1s1VcrnvEewATK_F_wKEEjDR3R8VAIckldX7nWhZYrEwWDFMcbvpT9gcJkJCGGCWxdrE8VwyyhiuWWAIaIUkBhbNnbX7y9yHcAQpX6kQ-aoQ/s200/IMG_1237.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364710863655807570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />At 14,100', we saw <span>more </span>people coming down. Where'd <span style="font-style: italic;">they </span>come from?? The Backpacking magazine and RMI groups were already past us. Who were these and where did they come from? Turned out to be a bunch of independent parties. One trip of climbers turned out to be a father-daughter-daughter team. One of the daughter's was celebrating her 40th birthday by doing this climb. Very cool. Dad was a little unhappy, however, as he said it took them 12 hours to make it to the summit. They were going abysmally slow. Looking at my watch we were just shy of making this climb in 10 hours. Woo!! Most people do it in 6-10 hours, though I think today most of the people who climbed did it in 8-10 hours. We pushed on...<br /><br />Then just after 11:30am, there we were. On the crater rim of Mt Rainier! Yes, not yet the Columbia Crest, but that was a mere 500' "over there", with barely 20-30' altitude gain. I chose to remove my crampons and the rope, as 1) it was a rock and gravel walk to the Crest and I didn't want to dent up or dull my crampons any more than necessary, and 2) the sides of the crater were not sheer, but gentle sloped - any fall would not amount to anything significant. Francesca and Jody also removed the rope, but kept their crampons on.<br /><br />Looking around the crater rim I spied 1/4 of the way around the crater to the left, and down easily 100' or more, the rocks where I had topped out in my 2002 climb. Yeah, we had a fair bit of ground to still cover back then when we bailed due to the winds. I was extremely happy to be here now, with low winds blowing about.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyKH7fEKVqn5VN7nQDRea5Sebj-CHXITVouxjSP4Kqw1YQPgedFR_g408sC4caXPp6IlM1sriI-9wr8jFFP7cSCZ2iAubWgWMF6KvhPXLy8uV1AOIzqQrZsPAkiAgaliDBh9QQ96jOg/s1600-h/IMG_1255.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyKH7fEKVqn5VN7nQDRea5Sebj-CHXITVouxjSP4Kqw1YQPgedFR_g408sC4caXPp6IlM1sriI-9wr8jFFP7cSCZ2iAubWgWMF6KvhPXLy8uV1AOIzqQrZsPAkiAgaliDBh9QQ96jOg/s200/IMG_1255.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364714980631901362" border="0" /></a>I marched on over to the Columbia Crest. Francesca and Jody looked pretty exhausted, and I didn't want to drag them over there if they did not want to go. But the Crest was what I came here for. And finally, after 10 years and 4 attempts, I stood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBLj8-QoGgkD7MeK_d7nXXKe09mmugXIDd4GbCWG8wH_KbHSiOGcXE-xv21AKP3s7SKPcJxGCn-iptKP8A-mLfnWrcYP9gN3O3rHGjYUKeHbdlnns1L3vxi0NVNSDl2l4GYyoZytj_gA/s1600-h/IMG_1240.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBLj8-QoGgkD7MeK_d7nXXKe09mmugXIDd4GbCWG8wH_KbHSiOGcXE-xv21AKP3s7SKPcJxGCn-iptKP8A-mLfnWrcYP9gN3O3rHGjYUKeHbdlnns1L3vxi0NVNSDl2l4GYyoZytj_gA/s200/IMG_1240.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364713445003523666" border="0" /></a> at the very top of Mt Rainier.<br /><br />Once I got there, I snapped a few photos and did a 360 video pan scan. The two photos right, the first is looking back from where I walked along the crater rim to the Columbia Crest, looking northward. The dots in the distance are Jody, Francesca, and our packs. You can see a glimpse of Mt Baker on the horizon. The second photo is looking southeast at Mt Adams, from the same location as the first, at 3x. Mt Adams is the second highest peak in the state of Washington, at 12,281', <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWzUWhyBmbo232MqJMbjV7XRwfeZY3wKtRn0z3rvfyGNyDJX1VjWdi3p2o8_oiE_YVGDmEUiQLAQThiQPfRMkoBAk9XHzr6s0igDVZkNfCqtFriiXMhU39IEELZMoqJ4ffLRNLbP7wQ/s1600-h/IMG_1243.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWzUWhyBmbo232MqJMbjV7XRwfeZY3wKtRn0z3rvfyGNyDJX1VjWdi3p2o8_oiE_YVGDmEUiQLAQThiQPfRMkoBAk9XHzr6s0igDVZkNfCqtFriiXMhU39IEELZMoqJ4ffLRNLbP7wQ/s200/IMG_1243.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364713568647989810" border="0" /></a>and is a non-technical snow climb (crampons and ice ax recommended, but no glaciers to contend with) to get to the top. I'll get to that one another trip. :-)<br /><br />The video below is the pan-scan from the Columbia Crest. As it pans around, the noise you hear is the wind. I briefly zoom in on Adams, but pull back out again (I would later learn the resolution gets pretty crappy when I zoom in doing video). As the pan continues, at 25 seconds into the video, there is a f-a-i-n-t bump on the horizon a bit right of Mt Adams. I believe this is Mt Hood. Hard to see but it is there. As the scan progresses, you might see in the distance another fair-sized mountain, non-snow covered (though the resolution of the posted video isn't the greatest, you may well miss it as a jumping shadow along the horizon). I don't remember what it is called. Next the video takes you past the rocky point of Liberty Ridge (usually done in the winter time due to the rotten rock), then back to whence it started. The person you see moving is Francesca marching across the crater rim to join me at the summit.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='458' height='378' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxwhO4UGWlDH0pQcs2ljN36YAICnojfAS-x45EIIWizkQiBJmg0M7Mfjx_uuYlg8VOXKM5d8qEC_Go7jsjtsg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvwMnIngOiLrbH1b89_6eoBsqvbxT-msAACPfXZPbBasHWAe_KOJF-qXlCCVXlA7BO3rGh6gUYeJ_cktshA2G_-FESDNSTUS8Or9glieMKVufP02TVoeykXnuSWQC_fF8KIhW6M6Kmw/s1600-h/IMG_1258.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvwMnIngOiLrbH1b89_6eoBsqvbxT-msAACPfXZPbBasHWAe_KOJF-qXlCCVXlA7BO3rGh6gUYeJ_cktshA2G_-FESDNSTUS8Or9glieMKVufP02TVoeykXnuSWQC_fF8KIhW6M6Kmw/s200/IMG_1258.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364722614972807330" border="0" /></a>Once Jody and Francesca joined me we did the obligatory summit photo session. We even found the summit marker! We marvelled in the views, and in the knowledge that at this moment, on a mountain that is extremely popular to climb, we were the only three human beings at the top.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNS7Wxd5M1f9YRUj6KEdfpFNw1aFI-GwBjOTvcYEzijdKc_Ri1liT0zBohW7eUounGA4DKMUf7Ey2rNYtFifGA1UfnUJv1Vopy78saPgghm2Ii1_f_XacuUUZcY-85bnhsXaZ22A0nw/s1600-h/summit_survey_marker.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNS7Wxd5M1f9YRUj6KEdfpFNw1aFI-GwBjOTvcYEzijdKc_Ri1liT0zBohW7eUounGA4DKMUf7Ey2rNYtFifGA1UfnUJv1Vopy78saPgghm2Ii1_f_XacuUUZcY-85bnhsXaZ22A0nw/s200/summit_survey_marker.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364722923452051778" border="0" /></a><br />But, after fiddling around for half an hour at the summit, it was time to head down. We still had a long way to go ahead of us. It had taken us 10 hours to climb the mountain. Spent an hour up top. Hopefully we could get down in 5 hours or less. The snow conditions were only going to get worse as the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgHhe_WXyP5deu5K7sMWGVmRDddhAVvf92d9G7ZIEb3JXOi6jM9oxanXuZd6uez-xds0dM4LZnssn90fMTs5-seyaRhL5RLTyuwtgC9Tvs-WnckGhcqKgPO43reTLjNe_BVvZTE4Weg/s1600-h/IMG_1261.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgHhe_WXyP5deu5K7sMWGVmRDddhAVvf92d9G7ZIEb3JXOi6jM9oxanXuZd6uez-xds0dM4LZnssn90fMTs5-seyaRhL5RLTyuwtgC9Tvs-WnckGhcqKgPO43reTLjNe_BVvZTE4Weg/s200/IMG_1261.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364723817660726546" border="0" /></a>day wore on. Back to our packs we went, geared up, then with one last view of the summit, we headed down...<br /><br />Would we make it? Would we even get down before sunset, or would we be forced to bivy overnight with minimal survival gear in a crevasse somewhere? To be continued in <span style="font-style: italic;">Day 5, Part 2</span>!Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-71667403381594746772009-07-29T11:14:00.062-04:002009-07-30T00:47:13.838-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 4: The Inter Glacier, and Beyond!<span style="font-weight: bold;">July 20, 2009</span><br /><br />Daybreak came quite early. Still we slumbered a while longer. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCOzGNzJMfd1cDnni5eIjZ9O7nSGBcXhEBlhV6fwzfPG2ZPtaLDdp16s33xoUL4wHC23XeAx_1KkNhWOY1TJWWhELuZkoCXLe77aCojdGS0yVJQbh6SuWOvZ3_nVFMtb-s3R0WoqRHw/s1600-h/IMG_1039_jody_breakfast.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCOzGNzJMfd1cDnni5eIjZ9O7nSGBcXhEBlhV6fwzfPG2ZPtaLDdp16s33xoUL4wHC23XeAx_1KkNhWOY1TJWWhELuZkoCXLe77aCojdGS0yVJQbh6SuWOvZ3_nVFMtb-s3R0WoqRHw/s200/IMG_1039_jody_breakfast.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954285526174098" border="0" /></a>Finally, nature forced us to get up. I decided to take a quick stroll around the hill where we were camped, catch the morning light and views of the basin from different angles. It was all ver<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedZnwXc3J1Qfm9bQGNg9KoyYKVftx3QmtJoxg7k9oRKTQ8WrRVWQVcG0P-DjmlKF3MSZriNRr1PKDdOyF-JkLuZk5ElulRE0oJMfIFNjnIUKnX2FtBDMiAEDxWWd155yUG_wqJAi5sg/s1600-h/IMG_1041_glaicer_basin_views.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedZnwXc3J1Qfm9bQGNg9KoyYKVftx3QmtJoxg7k9oRKTQ8WrRVWQVcG0P-DjmlKF3MSZriNRr1PKDdOyF-JkLuZk5ElulRE0oJMfIFNjnIUKnX2FtBDMiAEDxWWd155yUG_wqJAi5sg/s200/IMG_1041_glaicer_basin_views.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954630498529874" border="0" /></a>y nice.<br /><br />After a hot breakfast we proceeded to take down the tent and pack up everything. Water was restocked, and one more trip to the solar compost bathroom. We loaded our packs onto our backs and set out on the trail. Today was going to be a steep hike. 3,000' elevation gain in about a 2 mile hike. The first bit would be <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56gWyE2qKzD9kz_SUJkzcTF13-kMw7a4MBJ1Rn4BBeJlJXnCKI_Y-DoZFiqdrwYhxUVV7gJAYei2SwvKNT8GUPBr7PN30Lhfipsj4gS-HQenDAMf7sqZ1SzjmwBtGrlFYEjs7QuY-tw/s1600-h/IMG_1043_taking_down_tent.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56gWyE2qKzD9kz_SUJkzcTF13-kMw7a4MBJ1Rn4BBeJlJXnCKI_Y-DoZFiqdrwYhxUVV7gJAYei2SwvKNT8GUPBr7PN30Lhfipsj4gS-HQenDAMf7sqZ1SzjmwBtGrlFYEjs7QuY-tw/s200/IMG_1043_taking_down_tent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954685083351298" border="0" /></a>gentle. Then there'd be the Inter Glacier...<br /><br />The hike up was ple<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tsbs5ZcijBl3QwbL9ZxWtLddMW8enfpLlG8dQ13GVExVl9fjSmomL4XXMK1fPD2YtvYkE7pmjXT71P7PtHbGXzBFi7nqGnZVmDUpuC7Wy1Q5PGq4fOUZfKuYV2j7S5-6fXyBNLvNSQ/s1600-h/IMG_1049_towards_inter_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tsbs5ZcijBl3QwbL9ZxWtLddMW8enfpLlG8dQ13GVExVl9fjSmomL4XXMK1fPD2YtvYkE7pmjXT71P7PtHbGXzBFi7nqGnZVmDUpuC7Wy1Q5PGq4fOUZfKuYV2j7S5-6fXyBNLvNSQ/s200/IMG_1049_towards_inter_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954752904926018" border="0" /></a>asant. The Backpacking magazine group had already taken off about 20 minutes before us. Everyone else in the camp was having a nice, relaxing get-up time. As we cleared the trees, the sun was warm, bright. The wildflowers were casting a gentle spray of color across the meadows and dotting the more rocky, barren slopes. Pollen-collecting insects danced lazily amongst the flowers. The breeze off the mountain was just gentle enough to keep us from overheating.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyZP1rNFHuEOO0VtfOl1Dhx3mbc6fhHnNDaf-2BJ6n9WiK8sY9_5ZMiX8ELbwHVoXBlBN8XZdKZvFyTTTaGXA_ePbndMLSRYEKQMlLDrtaDttcw7uKz9DnkNlNiZul55gpaWFtfr_tA/s1600-h/IMG_1058_glacier_basin_flowers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyZP1rNFHuEOO0VtfOl1Dhx3mbc6fhHnNDaf-2BJ6n9WiK8sY9_5ZMiX8ELbwHVoXBlBN8XZdKZvFyTTTaGXA_ePbndMLSRYEKQMlLDrtaDttcw7uKz9DnkNlNiZul55gpaWFtfr_tA/s200/IMG_1058_glacier_basin_flowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954896244076706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXn-T8NokXUal4qwu5MTJmW3BG0oe9c1TWNViyR5nYgMU8E-PtPSh50xemC3fJChA6vlZmxGYQ6VCBgzgQZqrC32f77DlqR1iNQWq3W9SzyE5dGucjWdz7dKUwJrvFH2E-JVAIk-bunQ/s1600-h/IMG_1057_jody_francesca_hiking_up.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXn-T8NokXUal4qwu5MTJmW3BG0oe9c1TWNViyR5nYgMU8E-PtPSh50xemC3fJChA6vlZmxGYQ6VCBgzgQZqrC32f77DlqR1iNQWq3W9SzyE5dGucjWdz7dKUwJrvFH2E-JVAIk-bunQ/s200/IMG_1057_jody_francesca_hiking_up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363954823080146818" border="0" /></a>The temperature steadily got warmer as we climbed up the basin. We stopped periodically to shed some of the morning clothing (but would re-don it again once we got to the snowfields)<br /><br />Before too long the bottom section of the Inter Glacier hove into view. Yeah....there was a lot less snow and ice up there than there was 7+ years ago! Man. But the glissade tracks were still very evident, where previous climbers had butt-slid down the glacier in a quick and relatively less jarring way down than plunge-s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtEmQpdcUSRi0LntQ_pVOGggcPvS_9uVpdLqgYxzvL5v2JVh81HdWbHiD8so0Xdu8dNteBN6PmDP3g3y_DZYgCaKksmbjPR4OhHzHO9Nc18wz1-7CVL6giCHXU6y1r9uvW592J4_aPg/s1600-h/IMG_1059_inter_glacier_and_rainier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtEmQpdcUSRi0LntQ_pVOGggcPvS_9uVpdLqgYxzvL5v2JVh81HdWbHiD8so0Xdu8dNteBN6PmDP3g3y_DZYgCaKksmbjPR4OhHzHO9Nc18wz1-7CVL6giCHXU6y1r9uvW592J4_aPg/s200/IMG_1059_inter_glacier_and_rainier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363955060148816690" border="0" /></a>tepping.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x3CRmLW00_vMiSHx4PtQEIA5wppbXL_iUMTKam0Iotrdo2Hq3RzrBVxhYxKhl28I_U40T_dIa6U-M414y6mY9udZt1HpempdTVVOwWUrpkCIIKAK67wXJVhaSSPVs3y_8_cBa9qdCA/s1600-h/IMG_1060_inter_glacier_and_rainier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x3CRmLW00_vMiSHx4PtQEIA5wppbXL_iUMTKam0Iotrdo2Hq3RzrBVxhYxKhl28I_U40T_dIa6U-M414y6mY9udZt1HpempdTVVOwWUrpkCIIKAK67wXJVhaSSPVs3y_8_cBa9qdCA/s200/IMG_1060_inter_glacier_and_rainier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363955113514009026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then our attention was drawn to the white-capped peak above the Inter Glacier.<br /><br />Mt Rainier itself, peaking from behind the Steamboat Prow.<br /><br />While we were resting for a bit, Francesca suddenly piped up with "Pizza delivery?" I said, "Sure, why not," not realizing that right behind me was a guy in sneakers packing three large pizzas up the trail. I heard, "I only take credit cards". I spun around to <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYd5nJLdg5uDOVNkKsoYaaatAwTPWyCqyixR22EhOFAhARoiXo11d0JfK5WwxUeV3fPW0xEsWy9zNCuhBHLSUYkbe5LuPoF9ycHTDNBtKlRb90hekS6cChcWkQ2IwBzrX9io74ecjcQ/s1600-h/IMG_1063_pizza_delivery.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYd5nJLdg5uDOVNkKsoYaaatAwTPWyCqyixR22EhOFAhARoiXo11d0JfK5WwxUeV3fPW0xEsWy9zNCuhBHLSUYkbe5LuPoF9ycHTDNBtKlRb90hekS6cChcWkQ2IwBzrX9io74ecjcQ/s200/IMG_1063_pizza_delivery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363955174969968066" border="0" /></a>see this sight and was a little surprised - enough that it took me a few moments to remember to fumble out the camera because NO one would believe this! By the time I did, he had already marched on - but not quite far enough I couldn't get a pic! Hehehe. Yeah. Pizza delivery up here at the base of the Inter Glacier. Not 30 minutes or less Dominos - but really, who would cares?? It's pizza delivery on a frigging mountain!<br /><br />We finally gathered our stuff to keep going through the rocky, undulating terrain. The pizza guy was nearly out of sight, traveling so quickly. We cleared a hump in the basin and suddenly got a complete full-on view of the lower section (steep!!) of the Inter Glacier. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieD5clD4l-ar0DW8wfaJcoM6qx-G5Bkk2KMUq23RzEzo1AcEnfZjOTirPOIFRTvdxS1E8tkMOj-9vURqtFPusu-xwQ9JVWG3Pl1BJb8Wwi_KyIkBrwNXCv62VoGlbjyk94J6NjLTOMoQ/s1600-h/IMG_1064_base_of_inter_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieD5clD4l-ar0DW8wfaJcoM6qx-G5Bkk2KMUq23RzEzo1AcEnfZjOTirPOIFRTvdxS1E8tkMOj-9vURqtFPusu-xwQ9JVWG3Pl1BJb8Wwi_KyIkBrwNXCv62VoGlbjyk94J6NjLTOMoQ/s200/IMG_1064_base_of_inter_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364036397587649282" border="0" /></a>And there, in the distance, was the pizza guy. As well as a handful of other people. Three coming down, and a group of 6 or so milling about (the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0zh8BRh9wU3H0ZC2vj_fnF5PgVOM4d-lXukO3yN1d-MYswG4RilL3lxEUsxAHBf_AfyX8Tzk0auljwyFhlHhLXuT0uSpfahAWEqgwWjlUcP7a6QaeFICCVceoMGgUsvbi0tJLZW1Fw/s1600-h/IMG_1064_base_of_inter_glacier_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0zh8BRh9wU3H0ZC2vj_fnF5PgVOM4d-lXukO3yN1d-MYswG4RilL3lxEUsxAHBf_AfyX8Tzk0auljwyFhlHhLXuT0uSpfahAWEqgwWjlUcP7a6QaeFICCVceoMGgUsvbi0tJLZW1Fw/s200/IMG_1064_base_of_inter_glacier_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364037031164361042" border="0" /></a>Backpacking magazine group had already cleared the first steep section of the Inter and were well above us). The photo left is an unannotated hi-res view. I left it hi-res so you could scan about and play "find Waldo" with the pizza guy and the nine climbers. The photo right is the 'cheat', with the nine climbers circled in yellow, pizza guy in red.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJoxrdVSC8abI41beP5A9oHXpGepGJm-QOAp6K58VRiA3fhIM_wM98bszYkCWsUA2UJOD19nhFRpkeG7CcnLzCkeu4Up3yzz25xZk4F2zMVnHahd_9s1aWJI3fFnoUnNxO0ArWOcCHA/s1600-h/IMG_1075_jody_inter_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJoxrdVSC8abI41beP5A9oHXpGepGJm-QOAp6K58VRiA3fhIM_wM98bszYkCWsUA2UJOD19nhFRpkeG7CcnLzCkeu4Up3yzz25xZk4F2zMVnHahd_9s1aWJI3fFnoUnNxO0ArWOcCHA/s200/IMG_1075_jody_inter_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364064852713015442" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually we got to the base of the Inter Glacier itself. Man, that thing is<span style="font-style: italic;"> s-t-e-e-p!</span> I swear the Park Service cranked it a few more degrees vertical since the last time I was here.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3I8m4uKeYMT0bMiixk0WwLnyypxeT7gpy3oHHq_UeAIujkbw-B2Nne51Hr5oLbxuERui6Lt5EBX5oPqB0DI9-yGVw21954sLFYqySQu-EfuRAgJA0blxvhCj8E3uB_G4szmL4DAud3g/s1600-h/IMG_1076_francesca_inter_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3I8m4uKeYMT0bMiixk0WwLnyypxeT7gpy3oHHq_UeAIujkbw-B2Nne51Hr5oLbxuERui6Lt5EBX5oPqB0DI9-yGVw21954sLFYqySQu-EfuRAgJA0blxvhCj8E3uB_G4szmL4DAud3g/s200/IMG_1076_francesca_inter_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364065074084406786" border="0" /></a><br />I had two hiking poles and an ice ax, whereas Francesca and Jody each had only one hiking pole and ice ax. I swapped one of my hiking poles for the ice ax to climb the glacier. We opted to not strap on the crampons as the snow was soft but seemed stable. We saw where the Backpacking magazine troop had gone up and followed in their kicked-in steps (made it much easier than kicking our own!). We also opted to not <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RpLiTkDfWse5SyUvhdxqo2sxmYk4pLJQvq1G1GP-M5yeiYPCYA4oHl6f9WAHgaq5VUg5xqRxcIGyZIEitgzWN8YGbRlAOKBOWF8-0TW3DYwOx6viLu2yZMKyKec5k4PdYrjSEjBk4Q/s1600-h/IMG_1086_inter_glacier_crevasse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RpLiTkDfWse5SyUvhdxqo2sxmYk4pLJQvq1G1GP-M5yeiYPCYA4oHl6f9WAHgaq5VUg5xqRxcIGyZIEitgzWN8YGbRlAOKBOWF8-0TW3DYwOx6viLu2yZMKyKec5k4PdYrjSEjBk4Q/s200/IMG_1086_inter_glacier_crevasse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364066070652271730" border="0" /></a>rope up, as my experience on the Inter was that the bulk of the crevasses were on the sides, and as long as we stayed in the middle, we'd be fine.<br /><br />And while crevasses we saw, we were fine, following the footsteps and glissade paths of those who had come (and gone) before.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cctI2PmjJ70cnMV-6_7yBEyufwsXwQ-RXoLopKnT7TGXAKGJTDeJzUhbsUWBda2_NOkAix1A02qu8O8XiXjODtamnFq9Av5XvucK3f8ujXCzxsa-K3zkKuqnVrlPujgz7ob-nUzmIA/s1600-h/IMG_1091_jody_and_glacier_basin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cctI2PmjJ70cnMV-6_7yBEyufwsXwQ-RXoLopKnT7TGXAKGJTDeJzUhbsUWBda2_NOkAix1A02qu8O8XiXjODtamnFq9Av5XvucK3f8ujXCzxsa-K3zkKuqnVrlPujgz7ob-nUzmIA/s200/IMG_1091_jody_and_glacier_basin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364077934231943618" border="0" /></a><br />But that is not to say we didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">see </span>any crevasses! The Inter had some rather impressively sizeable ones on its flanks that we were able to easily bypass.<br /><br />The climb up the Inter lasts pretty much forever. Of the 3000' elevation gain done between Glacier Basin and Camp Schurman, 2/3 of it is right here in this short stretch. We would ultimately travel 0.8 miles horizontal distance, and climb over 2000' vertically. You can work out the math yourself to get the average angle we were climbing through. But suffice it to say that the first 784'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMDEeQSg_K-sXQYHEjaw6Ck0GMNtxppV6xlO4VJ9BdcsE2s4abk5mUIYh-QHFfIRaRFGMHWNdCrc0tVr2n30pmMPdkrAKfq9cpdaHNnyvBjD_2NbtTUxF4Jdw9u8Npp4D7rfyrzaodA/s1600-h/IMG_1094_francesca_coming_onto_camp_curtis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMDEeQSg_K-sXQYHEjaw6Ck0GMNtxppV6xlO4VJ9BdcsE2s4abk5mUIYh-QHFfIRaRFGMHWNdCrc0tVr2n30pmMPdkrAKfq9cpdaHNnyvBjD_2NbtTUxF4Jdw9u8Npp4D7rfyrzaodA/s200/IMG_1094_francesca_coming_onto_camp_curtis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364085512473453618" border="0" /></a> was by far the absolute steepest, and was covered in the space of 0.17 miles horizontal (okay, okay, not all of you are engineer or math-driven puzzle-solving types; that translates to a 61 degree drop - i.e., pretty damned steep!). Then it eased off, but in waves. The photo to the upper right is of Jody about 1500' up from the start of the Inter Glacier.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcStt26ZpZDU5J2mvELI2ahYIb5GCAX8EPEvZXMxwuaJ_od7VR4CT8i9jvp8Jy_LGBvfCTXt0B5NyJrTg7dy_Urj-tNRMDhqZv3NwXZYS5UrCnrJxCkaZcuokD7zmE7pjgd-V7DIL4Lg/s1600-h/IMG_1096_rainier_from_camp_curtis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcStt26ZpZDU5J2mvELI2ahYIb5GCAX8EPEvZXMxwuaJ_od7VR4CT8i9jvp8Jy_LGBvfCTXt0B5NyJrTg7dy_Urj-tNRMDhqZv3NwXZYS5UrCnrJxCkaZcuokD7zmE7pjgd-V7DIL4Lg/s200/IMG_1096_rainier_from_camp_curtis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364085969006103602" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually, nearly 3 hours later we reached the Camp Curtis ridge on the upper flank of the Inter Glacier (photo to left is Francesca coming onto the rocky ridge and off of the Inter). There we would get our first real view of Mt Rainier and the upper Emmons glacier that we would be climbing tomorrow. It's a really damned big mountain...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQoHbruagE_Ri3SQPz9_SXZi1Tax6R0sUNkJB0L3gx2LomcQIDVdTIF1DTzRnSLFHuV6ygQ6xBNNtRSMHXoYBWMeaXgjqyDBlPQCWgFJPncyn96x6SvRhyphenhyphenPykigVXUMAGjQJFKY8Bnw/s1600-h/IMG_1109_emmons_crevasses.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQoHbruagE_Ri3SQPz9_SXZi1Tax6R0sUNkJB0L3gx2LomcQIDVdTIF1DTzRnSLFHuV6ygQ6xBNNtRSMHXoYBWMeaXgjqyDBlPQCWgFJPncyn96x6SvRhyphenhyphenPykigVXUMAGjQJFKY8Bnw/s200/IMG_1109_emmons_crevasses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364086734519106418" border="0" /></a><br />From this point I have always roped up. We would traverse the snowy edge of the Camp Curtis ridge and drop down onto the Emmons Glacier, which was chock full of car-swallowing crevasses (photo left). We would stay roped up until we got to Camp Schurman, where we would go unroped for a bit before deciding whether or not to continue up to Emmons Flats, or just stay in Schurman. I was getting tired and ready to lobby for staying in Schurman, especially since the ru<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7AKCms1T17nXx63NmFkqPWsIrkGtG9xw8ZOGDZhppMNYc94Ut0mT4ZOZQaQBOQWLYULkiybqjhfftFai8d5Sfjo0YAAwoPsrlh7a16Rox_rIhWZTipMirQ7KhQUPW1DAzLgwlhfDHmw/s1600-h/IMG_1107_roping_up_at_camp_curtis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7AKCms1T17nXx63NmFkqPWsIrkGtG9xw8ZOGDZhppMNYc94Ut0mT4ZOZQaQBOQWLYULkiybqjhfftFai8d5Sfjo0YAAwoPsrlh7a16Rox_rIhWZTipMirQ7KhQUPW1DAzLgwlhfDHmw/s200/IMG_1107_roping_up_at_camp_curtis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364087768152282306" border="0" /></a>mors we'd been hearing from climbers coming down were true about fresh water melting straight off the glacier and into your water bottle - would save us extra time and fuel in trying to melt snow.<br /><br />At Camp Curtis we had caught up with the Backpacking magazine group. But just barely. While we were taking a breather and g<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PYy5l3ELaqJGYIp9s7JJQya0YtL_wsF-oBW9pmRxDkXXANW3xM4R-9phBzUq_5NnHI-riwXx95KtfFTJJBRMxbPUc18SPD8QG70UUSB2A5Zvu9Rarq3u1W1esdlk_U_uVGdKSbKnXA/s1600-h/IMG_1108_traverse_to_emmons.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PYy5l3ELaqJGYIp9s7JJQya0YtL_wsF-oBW9pmRxDkXXANW3xM4R-9phBzUq_5NnHI-riwXx95KtfFTJJBRMxbPUc18SPD8QG70UUSB2A5Zvu9Rarq3u1W1esdlk_U_uVGdKSbKnXA/s200/IMG_1108_traverse_to_emmons.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364088171565810914" border="0" /></a>etting out the rope (photo upper right), they started across the ridge (which looked much rockier than I remembered it being) and over down onto the Emmons Glacier (photo left; you can see a couple of people at the end of the second snowfield next to the steeply sloped rock and gravel wall).<br /><br />It was about a half mile trek from Camp Curtis to Camp Schurman. We would drop about 100' down onto the Emmons Glacier, then have to work our way up 600' to Schurman. In 15, 20 minutes we should be there.<br /><br />We had to decide the order we would travel in. Being most familiar with the area, I would go first. Jody opted for middle of rope, and Francesca for anchor in back. This way if I were to punch through a crevasse, I would be on<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRS13UWTtIy77pVPfnNUwV5_YywTSps0KnToGKHWKp0YnltXLhhnZbkec6ovtlFZ2WchWJeaHIvagIbvBxiQYeQekmT7tHNAiwOOXcKyNEY2RmcfzgGFOFrYxpcvYe627w6IAZV-b4g/s1600-h/IMG_1111_emmons_lower_trail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRS13UWTtIy77pVPfnNUwV5_YywTSps0KnToGKHWKp0YnltXLhhnZbkec6ovtlFZ2WchWJeaHIvagIbvBxiQYeQekmT7tHNAiwOOXcKyNEY2RmcfzgGFOFrYxpcvYe627w6IAZV-b4g/s200/IMG_1111_emmons_lower_trail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364090672606890322" border="0" /></a> the uphill side of the group, making it easier for them to arrest my fall. And anything my fat ass didn't punch through meant it was probably safe enough for the two of them, being lighter, to walk over it, too.<br /><br />From our vantage point I pointed out our track to Jody and Francesca (photos right; lower of two has route in yellow). It was obvious some fairly large crevasses had opened this season, as the new trail wound further left than the old trail did, before cutting back sharply right and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHQcTeHrIHrkY3fQijaTcTsmaIk5qw7U6OX11DqXAzqp-kEzfsWGTbg5i9YdyVUHoiZGqHDgvDdMYGFTylfeKyoZpDdGJcMmRxQTN99YuRCCuZDvH7aiHOFermsh1a4vev2HBlfzesg/s1600-h/IMG_1111_emmons_lower_trail_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHQcTeHrIHrkY3fQijaTcTsmaIk5qw7U6OX11DqXAzqp-kEzfsWGTbg5i9YdyVUHoiZGqHDgvDdMYGFTylfeKyoZpDdGJcMmRxQTN99YuRCCuZDvH7aiHOFermsh1a4vev2HBlfzesg/s200/IMG_1111_emmons_lower_trail_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364091150287224130" border="0" /></a>making a beeline for Schurman. Even still, there were some hefty crevasses over by Schurman that the trail wove through.<br /><br />We got underway. The next few hundred feet would prove to be some of the most dangerous ground we traveled through as a team. In the past this ridge traverse was 90% or more snow pack. Now...it was more like 90% of loose ballbearing gravel with some unsecure loose rocks half-buried within. Had any one of us slipped, the entire team was going to go down over 100' onto the Emmons Glacier, and we'd be having a real unhappy trip. Both Francesca and Jody made it <span style="font-weight: bold;">extremely </span>clear after the fact they had absolutely <span style="font-weight: bold;">no</span> intention of roping up on that on the way out. I was feeling torn by it, because roping up is "how we do it". But their arguements were difficult to counter in this case. I decided to not pursue an <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC70X4FNteGsj8hBgYbtg8W3WIBM_HiIqIiOo1AlVfdhuv-d8W-zY8Bb6mLHkZidHw94OJQvu-oJlM3SBxFvkGcz3xvQfqpEOAsDBKPNABrnxnsiIWkB7WNPip3acyqEW80mQRMwOc3w/s1600-h/IMG_1114_stepping_onto_emmons_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC70X4FNteGsj8hBgYbtg8W3WIBM_HiIqIiOo1AlVfdhuv-d8W-zY8Bb6mLHkZidHw94OJQvu-oJlM3SBxFvkGcz3xvQfqpEOAsDBKPNABrnxnsiIWkB7WNPip3acyqEW80mQRMwOc3w/s200/IMG_1114_stepping_onto_emmons_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364092887450267202" border="0" /></a>extended discussion and save it for two days hence.<br /><br />Stepping off the shitty loose rocky ridge and onto the glacer (above left) was not exactly trivial, either. There were crevas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0zrcEP6-13rYyJ_n-FMoLeP55yXWtW3ioy6lTu-HtN8aHs7CaXPhlSdw5XCnyqoIRrT4NRySKitVKKrPPgZa1PtbPoN4DV6jgXlVteQWTMDGiP7SbXIBREd7sJdPzIXOTo_u77bx5Q/s1600-h/IMG_1116_snowmelt.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0zrcEP6-13rYyJ_n-FMoLeP55yXWtW3ioy6lTu-HtN8aHs7CaXPhlSdw5XCnyqoIRrT4NRySKitVKKrPPgZa1PtbPoN4DV6jgXlVteQWTMDGiP7SbXIBREd7sJdPzIXOTo_u77bx5Q/s200/IMG_1116_snowmelt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364093650453151410" border="0" /></a>ses - albeit not deep, but deep enough - that we would have to immediately weave about. Then we could continue in relative safety from this point.<br /><br />The snow melting off from the walls made for some interesting forms of natural art (photo right for one example). In a day or two the art would change or collapse, while new structures formed from the melt.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNNWJJT1jZyxPmfIya4lG5BBGJwv2EqFW3LCBxVJX1zFHPV8X977Kg2-8vfDqjebd3jxdYJxhtT4MeTCyAhcRugD6CA71co8E251q8Tm2CSkiPzxjsmwi2JmgzrPRXeyfzvSZmxw56A/s1600-h/IMG_1120_jody_francesca_on_emmons_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNNWJJT1jZyxPmfIya4lG5BBGJwv2EqFW3LCBxVJX1zFHPV8X977Kg2-8vfDqjebd3jxdYJxhtT4MeTCyAhcRugD6CA71co8E251q8Tm2CSkiPzxjsmwi2JmgzrPRXeyfzvSZmxw56A/s200/IMG_1120_jody_francesca_on_emmons_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364094613471351634" border="0" /></a>Once on the Emmons (photo left), we marched along at a reasonable pace, pausing momentarily to check out one or two of the crevasses that<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzIE2k5xDksEIbMLAcz5pJDPB3ruVj-KGilJ9xOLzD-AZ0KBPbdcIkFV3zp1NhLo_oNuO2_7MfsrKpG_ETj8L_-1Y6qmWGy8Ydo5zHSsgGAf4eEEraZfmK9BqVO-9HfNXCrXfxmiLSg/s1600-h/IMG_1123_emmons_crevasse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 109px; height: 146px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzIE2k5xDksEIbMLAcz5pJDPB3ruVj-KGilJ9xOLzD-AZ0KBPbdcIkFV3zp1NhLo_oNuO2_7MfsrKpG_ETj8L_-1Y6qmWGy8Ydo5zHSsgGAf4eEEraZfmK9BqVO-9HfNXCrXfxmiLSg/s200/IMG_1123_emmons_crevasse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364094187075087202" border="0" /></a> we passed rather uncomfortably close (photo right). But all was good, the trail kept us over the narrow section which we could easily step over. And a short time later we reached...Camp Schurman!<br /><br />The last time I was here, Camp Schurman was mostly snow, very little exposed rock, except by the ranger's hut. The few sites on the rocks were always taken, and I either camped on the glacier (Winthrop) or marched up to Emmons Flats. Now, there was a large outcrop of rock directly in fr<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ1Yxqqb0ofObfe4m-hhqRfBplJBv3MTmWqhENjwGWrPcMgQd9uX23p6k_uGJp2ZzerALw168jqdTl_2hyphenhyphenW9mwit9S25CYlqUYrPPy6iNco6wvN6Bzq7zLgBsqtqoPcs4ebRYtXAmTg/s1600-h/IMG_1150_camp_schurman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ1Yxqqb0ofObfe4m-hhqRfBplJBv3MTmWqhENjwGWrPcMgQd9uX23p6k_uGJp2ZzerALw168jqdTl_2hyphenhyphenW9mwit9S25CYlqUYrPPy6iNco6wvN6Bzq7zLgBsqtqoPcs4ebRYtXAmTg/s200/IMG_1150_camp_schurman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364095832585820530" border="0" /></a>ont of the ranger's hut, and it was full of potential tent sites. Since it was getting late in the day, and we were getting on tired and wanted to get to bed and sleep before long, we decided to punt on the Emmons Flats idea and stay at Schurman. Yeah, Emmons Flats would give us a 300' vertical advantage on starting out for the summit, but the benefits of staying at Schurman outweighed that one data point.<br /><br />The rock bulge where most people were setting up camp acted like a breaker against the wave of the glaciers moving down against it. This is where the Emmons and Winthrop Glaciers merged (and basically are referred to collectively as the Emmons from here on up). If you were to stand on the rocky outcrop and look towards Rainier, but down where the glaciers met the outcrop, you would see buckles of ice ridges and cracked crevasses all around. This snapshot in time was awe-inspiring, when trying to think of how the ice moved over the years.<br /><br />That is, the ice that didn't melt away first!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5CX3xEMjfSj_S9H0n1ZHgCOO_kkHiQoKWQyErJdTZ3lDdShetEyvvX72A3FTiS9OJ62vjhQ7rPldQ6rbl-ExLIUDPpjoBo4JQrboLZoTtQpPI9aPaBwZDQNZSkerbcx7AjAlJ9EuJg/s1600-h/IMG_1135_camp_schurman_sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5CX3xEMjfSj_S9H0n1ZHgCOO_kkHiQoKWQyErJdTZ3lDdShetEyvvX72A3FTiS9OJ62vjhQ7rPldQ6rbl-ExLIUDPpjoBo4JQrboLZoTtQpPI9aPaBwZDQNZSkerbcx7AjAlJ9EuJg/s200/IMG_1135_camp_schurman_sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364101498463503426" border="0" /></a><br />I don't (yet) know who Schurman was, or why this camp was named after him. Nothing in my internet searches turned up anything on the man. However, there was a quote plaque of him on the outside wall of the ranger's hut I had not noticed on prior trips. I'm sure it's been there the whole time, though. You can click on the image to the right to read it fully.<br /><br />Francesca and Jody located a site for us to set up camp while I checked out the fresh meltwater source from the glacier and took a 360-degree video pan of the area. Unfortunately, the 56 second video is 106 MB in size, and this blog only accepts video no larger than 100 MB. If I find another way to host it I'll put a link in later.<br /><br />The astute amongst you may have noticed how I described the morning all sunny and glee, but in the photos it grew<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghnO4vI6CUBos0-mi7FMOoO_V8NiRFO48iZVjIVHTpZrRH28ouuTEmn2cqeZ9F3hu3W4ZqgqINUmQGN1ScuGoc86WBitawj6TiohZjXip8qZdQMScKqGupyaKkIZjCItuPv1tU5ptdA/s1600-h/IMG_1133_camp_schurman_ranger_hut.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghnO4vI6CUBos0-mi7FMOoO_V8NiRFO48iZVjIVHTpZrRH28ouuTEmn2cqeZ9F3hu3W4ZqgqINUmQGN1ScuGoc86WBitawj6TiohZjXip8qZdQMScKqGupyaKkIZjCItuPv1tU5ptdA/s200/IMG_1133_camp_schurman_ranger_hut.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364098968774417890" border="0" /></a> more and more cloudy as the day wore on. Yeah, we noticed that, too. The <span style="font-weight: bold;">forecast </span>was for sunny and clear for the next five days. Given that Rainier can have squirrely weather and something might be developing unpredicted, we thought to check with the ranger. He should have some sort of vague idea of what was going on (ranger hut and Camp Schurman toilet building in photo left).<br /><br />When we found him and asked, vague was his answer! "Seattle and Portland have horrible weather forecasts. Rarely right. Mt Rainier is even worse. Who knows? It might <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mweOPfWpJAX2ku-jzQHXf3ioS2iLqpJ1HGpqB4hVr5cxfdsBCP1Q2rz4SR0HibekNqXhRw8xnOOR8iT9LJQ2PeizUTz79XpsGuc8ZvGYhWWy__ffrZB5yYe7MK_T07Xlj4af4OM6MQ/s1600-h/IMG_1145_ranger_david_and_phunuru_sherpa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mweOPfWpJAX2ku-jzQHXf3ioS2iLqpJ1HGpqB4hVr5cxfdsBCP1Q2rz4SR0HibekNqXhRw8xnOOR8iT9LJQ2PeizUTz79XpsGuc8ZvGYhWWy__ffrZB5yYe7MK_T07Xlj4af4OM6MQ/s200/IMG_1145_ranger_david_and_phunuru_sherpa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364099876923098002" border="0" /></a>be nice tomorrow, or it might storm. If I tell you one or the other, you will enter into your day tomorrow with that weighing on your mind. But this might blow through. Or not."<br /><br />The ranger, David (red jacket, photo right), has been a ranger here at Schurman since 1996. I first met him on my first Rainier attempt in 1999. He has a small farm somewhere in eastern Washington (that much I remembered from our first conversation 10 years earlier). He's been here every year since, seasonally, from May to Sept. This year he had a friend: Phunuru Sherpa (pronounced "peh-nu-ru"; in yellow jacket in photo right) from Khumbu village in Nepal. Phunuru is over here for 6 months training to be a ranger for Everest. He has spent some time at Denali base camp, learning the Ways of the Rangers there, and now was spending som<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B__gCkrbyZ-alZbHjRvRmlcJIgsZ25nPusgQBJ5Gss5Sc-sAA2s_QToVCgV0KsxRmGimXK6itDFTeqmYXRHSZnMJYSkZXiHuAE-Mmk-Adwgb8dGsfdBdcFWpZiuy8ek0ohAB-pcFxw/s1600-h/IMG_1144_jody_and_pink_flamingo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B__gCkrbyZ-alZbHjRvRmlcJIgsZ25nPusgQBJ5Gss5Sc-sAA2s_QToVCgV0KsxRmGimXK6itDFTeqmYXRHSZnMJYSkZXiHuAE-Mmk-Adwgb8dGsfdBdcFWpZiuy8ek0ohAB-pcFxw/s200/IMG_1144_jody_and_pink_flamingo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364102051077971378" border="0" /></a>e time here on Rainier with David. After he returns to Nepal to become the head ranger at Everest basecamp. Very cool to have met him.<br /><br />Over the years David has acquired a few odd knick knacks for his hut. Some of them inside, some of them out. Jody immediately found the outside ones. Francesca, one of the inside.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XK75KjkXpf2FvrwQdMBDTRucSe1ZSRcO8NRN6cegcOdDajKilNQwgdWKazyjZ24WkU1cQPpkTpkrDOWrIgD5rhR0D-J_79WTPn8ox_mrSHDfklfp_-zOVhri0IvGAPLn-fmC5BGjyQ/s1600-h/IMG_1146_francesca_and_pith_helmet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XK75KjkXpf2FvrwQdMBDTRucSe1ZSRcO8NRN6cegcOdDajKilNQwgdWKazyjZ24WkU1cQPpkTpkrDOWrIgD5rhR0D-J_79WTPn8ox_mrSHDfklfp_-zOVhri0IvGAPLn-fmC5BGjyQ/s200/IMG_1146_francesca_and_pith_helmet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364102980600962450" border="0" /></a><br />But now it was time to cook up a quick dinner, then turn in for the night. The sun would still be up for a couple more hours, it would be light for several, before darkness finally descended upon us. I briefly spoke with the leader of the Backpacking magazine group, Alaina. She said they were planning on getting up around 11:30pm, on the trail by 12:30am. And that she spoke to the RMI guides. They were planning on getting up around 12:30am, and on the trail by 1:30am. This way they would not be on top of each other. So I figured we should shoot for getting up around midnight, and on the trail by 1am., putting us squarely between the two groups. With that plan in mind, we turned in.<br /><br />I wrapped a bandana around my eyes and tried to fitfully sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a BIG day...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-90482963156051867062009-07-27T23:26:00.060-04:002009-07-30T00:47:38.336-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 3: Glacier Basin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0F8wwaasuxXyw8dnEFQIbD-e163f8egeNfUy0YkVBoT_g3HeHmmGDbauErYMoK-8ARobhvBXG7NU3fwGQV6xgg8lKGKQzIBfPfCyzYwe15Jz9Jk1lzlq9aWkNdhAPXTN1LbeWjlbj7g/s1600-h/IMG_0905_morning_francesca.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0F8wwaasuxXyw8dnEFQIbD-e163f8egeNfUy0YkVBoT_g3HeHmmGDbauErYMoK-8ARobhvBXG7NU3fwGQV6xgg8lKGKQzIBfPfCyzYwe15Jz9Jk1lzlq9aWkNdhAPXTN1LbeWjlbj7g/s200/IMG_0905_morning_francesca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363521465265495298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">July 19, 2009</span><br /><br />I awoke relatively early, grabbed a quick shower, then lightly bounced down to find Eric already starting to crank up breakfast. After a brief chat, I went to rouse the rest of my team. First Francesca (morning sunshine!!), then Jody ("{groan} wake me again after Francesca is done in the shower - zzz").<br /><br />After breakfast Max entertained us with a little hula-hoop action, demonstrating how to do it doggie-style. He proved to be quite talented (far better than my skills at posting photos in a blog!).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzT7fqzExFhcmNshcwzpHW6CBASixr7fckHxG7Yz_o0Yx5FFM6-VybStsLlgW2pW-z-Z7K1YMeNu4j9HQy7IDuUNFFoLpwpOaOtOg4jMnmP3ddpObC1ZpYATSDyXWCM8l7CLdFH1ATw/s1600-h/IMG_0910_max_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzT7fqzExFhcmNshcwzpHW6CBASixr7fckHxG7Yz_o0Yx5FFM6-VybStsLlgW2pW-z-Z7K1YMeNu4j9HQy7IDuUNFFoLpwpOaOtOg4jMnmP3ddpObC1ZpYATSDyXWCM8l7CLdFH1ATw/s200/IMG_0910_max_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363521713423642258" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxEdhNjj9xJ2WTmCV9THzg7DdLRPgMFFybwqMNmOir_hjBT3HNq7iT8ZAIsO_7YNQgoBAUxfvhs11AJ9td9FiCPSGYGq6AUxgC044quEwvHO3x4qK5DmjdSM-2Jp2Bvf6vQUvpdvzeQ/s1600-h/IMG_0909_max_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; display: block; text-align: right; cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxEdhNjj9xJ2WTmCV9THzg7DdLRPgMFFybwqMNmOir_hjBT3HNq7iT8ZAIsO_7YNQgoBAUxfvhs11AJ9td9FiCPSGYGq6AUxgC044quEwvHO3x4qK5DmjdSM-2Jp2Bvf6vQUvpdvzeQ/s200/IMG_0909_max_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363521860303757794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTotqQ9tWUgOISUxkxmm9_cpIu8pAcWX0Aoc9Uia1Q9jaN5LRr-3iR4jBXHUEwmlL0URnhUs3VRKwF1PnBawu7wzhO1QINOSiZvBJZ-JOrM95mC6VFRNCcf0lTIXUX9NZ-mdtkF8-Ng/s1600-h/IMG_0912_max_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTotqQ9tWUgOISUxkxmm9_cpIu8pAcWX0Aoc9Uia1Q9jaN5LRr-3iR4jBXHUEwmlL0URnhUs3VRKwF1PnBawu7wzhO1QINOSiZvBJZ-JOrM95mC6VFRNCcf0lTIXUX9NZ-mdtkF8-Ng/s200/IMG_0912_max_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363522889570319922" border="0" /></a>Afterwards we said our goodbyes and made our way south then east to Rainier National Park, stopping briefly for some food (I still needed to get some bagels for my lunches), coffee, and a bathroom break. There we had a very interesting encounter with a WW2 veteran, Bob Boardman, and his daughter in the parking lot. He was handing out pamphlets about a short (but true) story he wrote. We got to talking a little about his history and experiences in the war. He was a Sherman tanker with the famed 1st Marine Division fighting the Japanese in the Pacific theater. He only spoke in a whisper as in 1945 he had been shot in the throat by a Japanese sniper, but survived the attack minus the use of his vocal cords. Being a WW2 history buff, I would have loved to have sat down with him for a few hours and asked him many more questions, but we had to get going. Still, it was a pleasure to have met him to begin with (I'll just have to pick up his book, <span style="font-style: italic;">Unforgettable Men in Unforgettable Times</span>).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u4zVVO_ilAtHfcmfhyphenhyphenTScm_N0o_wsE4r8OZrqqz1y33fYKA_IRb3M7xNGgN718dp_UpbW9U8JXBs6lP4X800hFIWmBaRNQzXo9KjNqjjAuBPaqT3JBzx9EuzOMkImz6w_VG83oyXeQ/s1600-h/IMG_0925_park_entrance_arch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u4zVVO_ilAtHfcmfhyphenhyphenTScm_N0o_wsE4r8OZrqqz1y33fYKA_IRb3M7xNGgN718dp_UpbW9U8JXBs6lP4X800hFIWmBaRNQzXo9KjNqjjAuBPaqT3JBzx9EuzOMkImz6w_VG83oyXeQ/s200/IMG_0925_park_entrance_arch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363591354388561506" border="0" /></a><br />The day was bright, clear, very sunny and warm. Traffic was light for a midday Sunday. After and hour and a bit of driving, with whoops of joy from Jody and Francesca, we entered Mt Rainier National Park. A few minutes later we arrived at the entrance gate - only to be reminded that on this particular weekend the fees to enter were - <span style="font-style: italic;">FREE! </span>For one unemployed adventuress (Francesca), one minimally paid academics student (Jody), and one moderately paid spacecraft guy (me), this made us all quite happy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPJ_r-yQFO1INKnmRhBsLZYqvgzPpfA1yet7CXXxBrBQZ55iIWDdw2uUFyZTgaMG-yZBzo-rlaV0zux08EVMqopcr-E-lJd8iXtUlVI_d4EY9oM9mhkbb9BNeCxOBzo8lIWQhudoI4A/s1600-h/IMG_0926_fee_free_wknd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPJ_r-yQFO1INKnmRhBsLZYqvgzPpfA1yet7CXXxBrBQZ55iIWDdw2uUFyZTgaMG-yZBzo-rlaV0zux08EVMqopcr-E-lJd8iXtUlVI_d4EY9oM9mhkbb9BNeCxOBzo8lIWQhudoI4A/s200/IMG_0926_fee_free_wknd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363591457674297602" border="0" /></a><br />We pulled over at the ranger station in order to get info on the conditions of the glaciers, the routes (we were going to do the Emmons-Winthrop route on the northeast side of Rainier), and get our climbing permits ($30, good for the calendar year, not that any of us would probably be back before Dec 31st). There were a few people ahead of us, getting trail info for elsewhere in the park, so we occupied ourselves by reading the various notes, warning signs, and climbing conditions information board (left photo) in the office. From this latter I noticed that the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTjpSrfWd6IKQd355YfcmT3MIfhq5imQS6hMcARHJXzBFMdU7BpJuzVPwASP-DmfuMTe2fWyLWKCCY_lFoteZnD-aWjsR-W2QuDmLwniELBKMJyzQS6i2pOXE0LyrR8UT19DWZSAHxA/s1600-h/IMG_0929_info_board.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTjpSrfWd6IKQd355YfcmT3MIfhq5imQS6hMcARHJXzBFMdU7BpJuzVPwASP-DmfuMTe2fWyLWKCCY_lFoteZnD-aWjsR-W2QuDmLwniELBKMJyzQS6i2pOXE0LyrR8UT19DWZSAHxA/s200/IMG_0929_info_board.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363592109292095122" border="0" /></a> upper portion of the Emmons-Winthrop route, above the Corridor, would be a rather different climb than where I had trod before. "...finish directly to Columbia Crest"? Sweet!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewtzPaD_X_zfLCWiJARQXHky5Tmem2IHruYNsXBmGSjYr_0F0H7Ufrhxokfay7Ss8c7gcgv_q-uC87q1RQ1mZ4nvFcTQKn2gSQcTp2mdW7Zm_uq-3sWPwEFgduHiIyf1GPtcvYIzwjQ/s1600-h/IMG_0927_check_in_here.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewtzPaD_X_zfLCWiJARQXHky5Tmem2IHruYNsXBmGSjYr_0F0H7Ufrhxokfay7Ss8c7gcgv_q-uC87q1RQ1mZ4nvFcTQKn2gSQcTp2mdW7Zm_uq-3sWPwEFgduHiIyf1GPtcvYIzwjQ/s200/IMG_0927_check_in_here.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363592004671233970" border="0" /></a><br />Soon we were able to speak with the ranger directly. Our plan (which would be slightly modified by reality later) was to head in to the Glacier Basin campground this afternoon from the White River Campground parking area and trailhead, a rise of 1700' in 3.1 miles. Then continue to Camp Schurman (3000' vertical gain over a horizontal distance of <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">2</span> miles - steep), take a break (bathroom, restock water, etc), and continue up another 300' vertical (and perhaps 0.1 or 0.2 miles horizontal) to the Emmons Flats for the high camp (at 9800', the highest established camp on this side of the mountain). Then do our summit bid, returning to our base/high camp, rest the night then hike out the next day. Sou<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirD7EocK3sNMprK_Go3_r5Fie4EpU_O74FeYD-WWx8puNCqCppTIwjI2KQ9kUpornQ9NvMVtnsMODahwnlP7RR_s0DA0vvBYs3QhIwlsL0qmWBLMQiaYFdzDkxOgnYQY27NM5CLqr5mw/s1600-h/IMG_1558_climber_use_permit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirD7EocK3sNMprK_Go3_r5Fie4EpU_O74FeYD-WWx8puNCqCppTIwjI2KQ9kUpornQ9NvMVtnsMODahwnlP7RR_s0DA0vvBYs3QhIwlsL0qmWBLMQiaYFdzDkxOgnYQY27NM5CLqr5mw/s200/IMG_1558_climber_use_permit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363876160306396802" border="0" /></a>nded good on paper, and was written so by the ranger.<br /><br />The ranger then noted for our information that three bears have been spotted recently around the Glacier Basin campground, and to make sure about hanging our food on the provided 15' tall bear poles. He regaled us with one story about how someone had hung their food up there, but had it hanging 4 feet lower from the rope, and the bears came by that night, did one swipe on the pinata-like bag, and feasted on the goodies that fell out. Right, no hanging food low! Oh. And don't feed them.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4W2WE8gHRS9lqkP5AUn8Dnf1LQEUYcwe4TdDFLTrX_doEb_JCpTY7IIMSplioFz88yzphUwLPgJW24qXnBxDSe0VANQxRXgZUanluXOMXaVc2wVyLivKMXKbatM3HMugH32SzlKMaig/s1600-h/IMG_0931_the_hand_that_feeds.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4W2WE8gHRS9lqkP5AUn8Dnf1LQEUYcwe4TdDFLTrX_doEb_JCpTY7IIMSplioFz88yzphUwLPgJW24qXnBxDSe0VANQxRXgZUanluXOMXaVc2wVyLivKMXKbatM3HMugH32SzlKMaig/s200/IMG_0931_the_hand_that_feeds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363592734735786674" border="0" /></a><br />After getting all signed in, we headed off to the trailhead. Jody and Francesca were singing loudly to Queen songs, urging me to join in. But I, while trying not to be curmudgeonly, was feeling a bit more somber. The girls had nooooo idea what was before them. And while I had no doubts about our being able to get to the summit, having been on The Mountain three times before, the memories of how tough and challenging those climbs were came flooded back. No, singing wasn't something I felt like doing.<br /><br />We arrived at the trailhead parking lot to find it packed solid with cars. in fact, the road leading up to it through the campground was stacked with cars on both sides! There were a <span style="font-weight: bold;">LOT </span>of people in the park this day! We drove around a bit, and decided to wait in the parking lot for someone to come out and leave. It was about 1:30p, and I knew from past experience that by this time of the day, there would be SOME climbers coming out! So we parked behind a few cars and started unloading our packs to do one final repack. Not 5 minutes later three climbers came strolling into the parking lot, looking like hell, but with big smiles on their faces. Four more followed behind them. Turned out they were all REI executives, elected officers, etc! Even the REI CEO, Sally Jewell, appeared 10 minutes later with two or three other <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtujrHyw12aYtu8dV-bPdYUYuxSHRkKl_kM2aAfUl2NuWPs0bYJKm27jIPicTp5d7CTP0-1a0KHRVlxgeD6HeG7svLdLGx1ZuvNRpm7dW6bktPy2oFhAmCApkhIWb-2VezAQwQNUzVg/s1600-h/IMG_0936_pre_climb_photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtujrHyw12aYtu8dV-bPdYUYuxSHRkKl_kM2aAfUl2NuWPs0bYJKm27jIPicTp5d7CTP0-1a0KHRVlxgeD6HeG7svLdLGx1ZuvNRpm7dW6bktPy2oFhAmCApkhIWb-2VezAQwQNUzVg/s200/IMG_0936_pre_climb_photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363602968025865762" border="0" /></a>people. They all had just had a successful summit on Rainier and were now heading home for seriously needed showers and clean clothes. One of the guys, seeing how we were parked (obviously waiting for someone to leave), immediately dropped his pack and moved his car so we could have a parking spot. Very cool! Jody zipped her truck in and we finished repacking and chatting with the REI high command. It's very cool to see an outdoor company's executive peoples out <span style="font-style: italic;">doing </span>outdoor things like this! Sally graciously took our pre-climb photo before we headed in to do our climb.<br /><br />Before we got underway, Jody wanted to check the weights of the packs. We each took a turn standing on one of her scales without the packs on (I clocked in at a big, fat 184 lbs), then with the packs on (uuuurrrrr....now I tipped the scale at 255!). Subtracting the pre-pack weight gave us an idea of how much we were carrying. I had the most: 70 lbs. Jody had the least: 49 lbs. A 20 lbs difference between us! (Francesca's pack, iirc, weighed in somewhere in the 50-odd lbs range) I would spend the rest of the week puzzling through the gear I had to see where I could trim stuff down (while being constantly razzed about it by Jody and Francesca), but couldn't think to shave more than 5 lbs off of what I was already carrying. :-(<br /><br />But enough of that. We still had a mountain to climb, and before that, the first stage of our trek to accomplish! It was getting on 3pm. Time to go!<br /><br />In my past travels here, the Glacier Basin Trail was a VERY benign, level, flat, almost boring trail. Which is perfectly fine when carrying heavy packs. It allowed one to actually enjoy looking around at the scen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgvfrj4kVJ4lyG1Bnn0QgyeTCpoD99mrqhCALuvIJqdfLQzIouihyphenhyphenfOtcp3bM5z3lfexKapRM61uaj0yzMvfrKI4OPEii-HxGC-8XjBwrwBilxPvdjAunHOUTpdItuRknYAFhPg6gGA/s1600-h/IMG_0951_water-crossing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgvfrj4kVJ4lyG1Bnn0QgyeTCpoD99mrqhCALuvIJqdfLQzIouihyphenhyphenfOtcp3bM5z3lfexKapRM61uaj0yzMvfrKI4OPEii-HxGC-8XjBwrwBilxPvdjAunHOUTpdItuRknYAFhPg6gGA/s200/IMG_0951_water-crossing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363606403247542850" border="0" /></a>er<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99c1GFx5YDVKfXDHE4t-t4FCPbybuRp0SZQR1iw8fHpdHBnKHhxMjhgME3c_QALd6OZFK7t14c_pGXfnPDkjNZYTn9LqabmV83uTHRWcGEPjbuBBpNCOD3RqCuuxxSnP8n78jMniRCQ/s1600-h/IMG_0954_example_of_trail_by_river.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99c1GFx5YDVKfXDHE4t-t4FCPbybuRp0SZQR1iw8fHpdHBnKHhxMjhgME3c_QALd6OZFK7t14c_pGXfnPDkjNZYTn9LqabmV83uTHRWcGEPjbuBBpNCOD3RqCuuxxSnP8n78jMniRCQ/s200/IMG_0954_example_of_trail_by_river.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363607060571801810" border="0" /></a>y while heading in (or back out). However, a couple days ago Bob had warned us that a massive flood had coursed down the White River canyon, damaging and destroying large chunks of the trail. The new trail, marked with yellow "caution" flagging tape, now stumbled over boulders and logs and other debris (last time Bob was there was a winter 2008 hike up to the Inter Glacier and said it was quite challenging, even then). We would be fortunate in that the trail had been markedly improved since his hike, but it was still something more than f<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-kUKH1_leol0Xz5rciF7yTaa-4THlaotiZGX9_jh-BCtIGjjEdNxfp7bIgs3I_jUdI-kkKw5bvKvhHUBNZmFkxdBYcZvlWERjzRSaX7uA_xKRhMJUK1fSLtMS3gxxttR2y0mZ8L8oA/s1600-h/IMG_0953_closed_trail_section.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-kUKH1_leol0Xz5rciF7yTaa-4THlaotiZGX9_jh-BCtIGjjEdNxfp7bIgs3I_jUdI-kkKw5bvKvhHUBNZmFkxdBYcZvlWERjzRSaX7uA_xKRhMJUK1fSLtMS3gxxttR2y0mZ8L8oA/s200/IMG_0953_closed_trail_section.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363606605295830514" border="0" /></a>lat and level. It now had, ummm...character. In the four accompanying photos, from lef<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13seHxLdm8FlUV1J1p4f0Man6V-qlz2IOJ34tGEeXJ9TXgSn28R9ryCYtOXDZe6VlOO6lOuTuu4cZm8jRFCiSq45vqvjwL3xS4FNyv83XuASXZKwj8OnVKGqyYYC2AqP0BKYQWv8OSQ/s1600-h/IMG_0967_crossing_flood_debris_zone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13seHxLdm8FlUV1J1p4f0Man6V-qlz2IOJ34tGEeXJ9TXgSn28R9ryCYtOXDZe6VlOO6lOuTuu4cZm8jRFCiSq45vqvjwL3xS4FNyv83XuASXZKwj8OnVKGqyYYC2AqP0BKYQWv8OSQ/s200/IMG_0967_crossing_flood_debris_zone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363607242019071794" border="0" /></a>t clockwise (<span style="font-style: italic;">too bad for you if you only know </span><span style="font-style: italic;">digital clock faces!</span> :-D ) the upper left is Francesca is doing one of the first new water crossings, the upper right shows the trail to the left of the White River, the lower right is Jody and Francesca walking across one of the flood debris zones, and the lower left shows the old trail behind the "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Danger</span>" tape.<br /><br />Periodically as we h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vc6jYyiwvKejv_OskrnGqCFGNt1nRvItl0q4NsyD3yRoyV0pdHumTU1SUYDVePMS3lzyu1hYlrz37AGeKqwAOmIV5FMgb9bC16kZ06XuNzT8NvxlUlXj20c1e1uBP0dCb12U7pouyg/s1600-h/IMG_0965_rainier_from_trail_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 101px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vc6jYyiwvKejv_OskrnGqCFGNt1nRvItl0q4NsyD3yRoyV0pdHumTU1SUYDVePMS3lzyu1hYlrz37AGeKqwAOmIV5FMgb9bC16kZ06XuNzT8NvxlUlXj20c1e1uBP0dCb12U7pouyg/s200/IMG_0965_rainier_from_trail_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363861439339009810" border="0" /></a>eaded up the trail we could catch glimpses of Rainier poking over the trees. It was very white.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">And very large. </span>Just as impressive looking the last few times I saw it from here. Onward we marched.<br /><br />In the photo to the left, Rainier is (obviously) the main white-capped mo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsYG542oQPnTVoJbPU937wVumftyznT8GzESUB9Q9CrOWM-06ZX2Ohlbpt51TdU7lecf42Bf3F5LKNgnRMQ1wwZpDvtOvl2o9qm5MKhlHTHkOpAd4ZHEAIsQGIowsWanPAMme__axtQ/s1600-h/IMG_0981_wildflowers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsYG542oQPnTVoJbPU937wVumftyznT8GzESUB9Q9CrOWM-06ZX2Ohlbpt51TdU7lecf42Bf3F5LKNgnRMQ1wwZpDvtOvl2o9qm5MKhlHTHkOpAd4ZHEAIsQGIowsWanPAMme__axtQ/s200/IMG_0981_wildflowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363862083025164466" border="0" /></a>untain. The two bumps to the right are Curtis Wall and Liberty Ridge. These latter are easily seen from Glacier Basin, not so Rainier itself.<br /><br />Now, we were all-march and no enjoy. Along the way we took breaks, and stopped to smell (or photograph) the flowers. The trail, especially above 5,000', was just bursting with wildflowers. Made for some very colorful sections of trail.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtb63BZ5bDAgsccD-d8m9eByvySauQXjFxr-6kbOlHAVCSt-EGHNHtfhepQeXW-96CrAWSZuMZpWWeB2wrurBr5bvZvhPc6Sd8sWqN-vIWJSFyOSns2I5dukFL0ZIXeZxDJN86Nx1a8A/s1600-h/IMG_0989_glacier_basin_site_5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 123px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtb63BZ5bDAgsccD-d8m9eByvySauQXjFxr-6kbOlHAVCSt-EGHNHtfhepQeXW-96CrAWSZuMZpWWeB2wrurBr5bvZvhPc6Sd8sWqN-vIWJSFyOSns2I5dukFL0ZIXeZxDJN86Nx1a8A/s200/IMG_0989_glacier_basin_site_5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363866345354676834" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually as late afternoon came on we arrived at the Glacier Basin camp. There was a group in camp 1 (the group site) who turned out to be from Backpacking magazine. Tent sites 3 and 4 were also taken. Jody and Francesca did not want to be in Site 2 next to the Backpacking group so we took Site 5.<br /><br />I then had to show them the Glacier Basin toilets. With the exception of Camp Schu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqi_MpOmRkUXgR46BRytmQo-wk7_jboPFs8WWmSQeWIWRGS3qTURohc5q8kn9aT-x6nNPIioDVo2I8ryDjJTPux2zOHQ43H6SWovzSrr0cTHLEHJgzKHCc0RKfQOdpF_kKB2c8mcdPw/s1600-h/IMG_0992_glacier_basin_toilet_sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqi_MpOmRkUXgR46BRytmQo-wk7_jboPFs8WWmSQeWIWRGS3qTURohc5q8kn9aT-x6nNPIioDVo2I8ryDjJTPux2zOHQ43H6SWovzSrr0cTHLEHJgzKHCc0RKfQOdpF_kKB2c8mcdPw/s200/IMG_0992_glacier_basin_toilet_sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363868242033595586" border="0" /></a>rman up on the mountain, this would be the last 'civilized' toilet they would see<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlgc59fXsZdoRO9nGjKGoGzjSJ_htDT8Zn_kkKLtdpSV8Q9DR385wu5n1Apzq5Bgni4UUlr9kWTOArw11oGg6uc5fFu1ZzGA1JEtu7HrEMYErn_5So_yr8zQsTREsVU3E0yftpB0TIg/s1600-h/IMG_0994_glacier_basin_toilets.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlgc59fXsZdoRO9nGjKGoGzjSJ_htDT8Zn_kkKLtdpSV8Q9DR385wu5n1Apzq5Bgni4UUlr9kWTOArw11oGg6uc5fFu1ZzGA1JEtu7HrEMYErn_5So_yr8zQsTREsVU3E0yftpB0TIg/s200/IMG_0994_glacier_basin_toilets.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363868439928240338" border="0" /></a> for a couple days. The rangers had given us "blue bags" for a reason. ;-). These were solar compost toilets. There were two, set well off the main trail, with a wooden blind in front of them. So if you approached them and saw someone sitting behind the blind (basically from the chest up), you knew the toilet(s) were occupied. But depending on the time of day, the surrounding trees might cast deep enough shadows to prevent one from being seen. So an adopted protocol would be to leave a cup or water bottle or some other purposefully placed item in the middle of the trail to the toilets. That let everyone know someone was there. Worked like a charm.<br /><br />When<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOyEdFmKJhoVHgEPw6bFtJVRbNAPyIgJqlv8ehjUo9EhwK7EXLvlZtQ1GTJkUw9ZFrRAwISTjLGIEtiBN_PCTzK5x_0r0YkZNHJpsXen7SY5aYnXINO1J4eOKnoVXeECvnDdB-RSWRQ/s1600-h/IMG_0995_GB_toilet_view.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOyEdFmKJhoVHgEPw6bFtJVRbNAPyIgJqlv8ehjUo9EhwK7EXLvlZtQ1GTJkUw9ZFrRAwISTjLGIEtiBN_PCTzK5x_0r0YkZNHJpsXen7SY5aYnXINO1J4eOKnoVXeECvnDdB-RSWRQ/s200/IMG_0995_GB_toilet_view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363868918026977970" border="0" /></a> we got to the toilets, memories of 7+ years ago flooded in again. Yep, things were the same, but...things were different. The trees...they grew! The view wasn't as tree-free as it once had been (the tree in the center of the photo left was a tiny sapling there 7 years ago). But still, what do you expect for a box in the woods?<br /><br />We then set up the tent, and went further up the trail to drop down to the river to refill our water bottles for drinking and cooking. The late afternoon sun made for very contrasting shadows, but dramatic colors.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gkXUs8O0HmvClFPur6vvEn9YKprsqb9z5Cwa1cqkPZrLVpnMCeksrtOHa6ZaloaP1sS3jqg3YPF16ZlOaIzr2N65IPIUyiYp7CTBrtIk92XiVulJPGeOD5W_med41H0dCFU-wmBMbw/s1600-h/IMG_1009_river_level_view.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gkXUs8O0HmvClFPur6vvEn9YKprsqb9z5Cwa1cqkPZrLVpnMCeksrtOHa6ZaloaP1sS3jqg3YPF16ZlOaIzr2N65IPIUyiYp7CTBrtIk92XiVulJPGeOD5W_med41H0dCFU-wmBMbw/s200/IMG_1009_river_level_view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363870079105051250" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Looking up the trail, though, in the shadow of Burrows Mountain, I saw something that to my mind didn't look quite right. The bottom of the Inter Glacier, where we would be going up tomorrow, was...mostly rock.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpnRzviBys2l6mlB7gmx_mk5633v_EWf7oSromLRr7B0dr0wz7GlQVWoaZTu6ZLOI8ZJJ3Up0ULEHk6ABlxUnVi3-OUuhi5BCvirNjsHYZEAb1_oi2ooNsFTx8zRcMHp5Ahv-042I5w/s1600-h/IMG_1022_bottom_of_inter_glacier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpnRzviBys2l6mlB7gmx_mk5633v_EWf7oSromLRr7B0dr0wz7GlQVWoaZTu6ZLOI8ZJJ3Up0ULEHk6ABlxUnVi3-OUuhi5BCvirNjsHYZEAb1_oi2ooNsFTx8zRcMHp5Ahv-042I5w/s200/IMG_1022_bottom_of_inter_glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363869705796465314" border="0" /></a> 7+ years ago this was mostly snow and ice. Holy crap. How much receeding has the glacier done?!? It made me wonder about conditions higher up the mountain. I tried to relay to my partners the changes I was seeing in the glacier before us, but failed miserably to get them to truly appreciate the magnitude of the melt. They appreciated that I saw a different from "back in the day", but had no real feel for the changes I was witnessing.<br /><br />Back in camp we cooked up some dinner. Francesca got distracted with something while eating her mac-n-cheese and put it down for a moment. A few minutes later she came back to finish it and it...had cooled and congealed to a yellow sludge. "EWWWW!!!!" she cried. "Y<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DnqPBc1gJ2PPn_YY6wf464xURlntpucD_BAIPsQjuGHdgPfLZ89CumeQ_bNLP8sEMCTVsAYwDhWGaWlvKDxR6RnC8lSA_wbSn2xy6U3BzmYGxQgCHmarnmjP4IipeSpFCzW2RuxfTA/s1600-h/IMG_1013_eww_sludge_mac_n_cheese.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 167px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DnqPBc1gJ2PPn_YY6wf464xURlntpucD_BAIPsQjuGHdgPfLZ89CumeQ_bNLP8sEMCTVsAYwDhWGaWlvKDxR6RnC8lSA_wbSn2xy6U3BzmYGxQgCHmarnmjP4IipeSpFCzW2RuxfTA/s200/IMG_1013_eww_sludge_mac_n_cheese.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363870563536274610" border="0" /></a>ou made it, you have to eat it!" laughed Jody. "EWWWWWWW!!!!!" she cried again. But somehow gulped it down.<br /><br />While Jody and Francesca consulted the map for tomorrow's stage of the journey, I decided to go for another stroll up the trail, just to look at the basin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCey135v1Vy3plPsSFiM7Fp-l5h-r1fDhqaHgJ9OGtJhlSjBwe2wlqK3Vrj2muvFzgoqyKT1bn6ac8vvcz3aXL5N3dzBRfTWy3a3RRffaJgV-SZscKfCPG1cSC-t7HvikaN4Az7HLk9g/s1600-h/IMG_1017_consulting_the_map.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCey135v1Vy3plPsSFiM7Fp-l5h-r1fDhqaHgJ9OGtJhlSjBwe2wlqK3Vrj2muvFzgoqyKT1bn6ac8vvcz3aXL5N3dzBRfTWy3a3RRffaJgV-SZscKfCPG1cSC-t7HvikaN4Az7HLk9g/s200/IMG_1017_consulting_the_map.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363871096354338194" border="0" /></a> and refill my water bottle one more time. I didn't need the map to know what was coming. I was already rather familiar with the way. ;-) While I was standing there in the open, admiring the deepening shadows, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye up the hillside to my right. I turned and stared at a light cinammon brown patch amongst the trees. Did it just move? Was it a brown and dead pine tree I hadn't noticed before? Rocking in the breeze? Then it shifted again, and there was a head - it was a bear!! I fumbled for my camera, but by the time I got it out, the bear had vanished into a clump of pines. I never saw it again.<br /><br />I returned back to camp, elated I had now seen a full grown bear for the first time (fro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZx7uSc3ukIfmVm_0KATNr2M16K2EAhqRyq_DpqT5UXIwuSI12l3lB9ZXwvDt6DkADOxJskgUOMElJBbGVDxLex7ispRmuHGAoAk6jd7i6Ue5dxoNQSpmSpwZWE6e7PRN5fHq3940RA/s1600-h/IMG_1019_bear_pole_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZx7uSc3ukIfmVm_0KATNr2M16K2EAhqRyq_DpqT5UXIwuSI12l3lB9ZXwvDt6DkADOxJskgUOMElJBbGVDxLex7ispRmuHGAoAk6jd7i6Ue5dxoNQSpmSpwZWE6e7PRN5fHq3940RA/s200/IMG_1019_bear_pole_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363872520857932786" border="0" /></a>m a nice, safe distance; saw a baby bear once from entirely too close a distance, but not the mother), but slightly bummed I couldn't even take a smudgy photo of it. Ah well. S'okay.<br /><br />I told Jody and Francesca about the bear. Which reminded us that we needed to hang our food from the bear pole. Most of the other groups had done so already. But there was still room for our bags. However, it's not as easy as it looks. Try balancing your bag of food (which weighs a few pounds) at the end of a long pole, lift it and snag it to a protruding arm 15' overhead...not so easy!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfLe2bCZtrpSMuNeI27FykuLBLuHNOUk4saIuKe7kNcKD1jqhsmSjEAv-ZTVnPsRqrgxJ5kYyrSBYhGjNjfrXr8LebOP1VGHgR47cibw3NybacUfeKxv2lwunzakRAUFllHIZmY6zKg/s1600-h/IMG_1020_bear_pole_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfLe2bCZtrpSMuNeI27FykuLBLuHNOUk4saIuKe7kNcKD1jqhsmSjEAv-ZTVnPsRqrgxJ5kYyrSBYhGjNjfrXr8LebOP1VGHgR47cibw3NybacUfeKxv2lwunzakRAUFllHIZmY6zKg/s200/IMG_1020_bear_pole_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363872734170078402" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was getting <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3BttdgPMZiqPuDU8ZdXfP304WPw6jcbvNQbEyzQF5dflzhDWlerBY7fJuAIkXkVYxVyqQpxbS1gU43E6tqGeI-VR4kJtmPph58483cjYtbbDsJIBtGwKh-JfMyFilKHeZUozYRSQzTA/s1600-h/IMG_1016_prepping_for_bed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 108px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3BttdgPMZiqPuDU8ZdXfP304WPw6jcbvNQbEyzQF5dflzhDWlerBY7fJuAIkXkVYxVyqQpxbS1gU43E6tqGeI-VR4kJtmPph58483cjYtbbDsJIBtGwKh-JfMyFilKHeZUozYRSQzTA/s200/IMG_1016_prepping_for_bed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363873108525389746" border="0" /></a>on dark. The temperature was dropping, as were our eyelids. It was time for bed. Tomorrow we had a long day. 2 horizontal miles and 3000+' elevation gain. I remembered that slog painfully...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-44920381533804165632009-07-27T11:05:00.017-04:002009-07-30T00:48:28.645-04:00The Rainier Quest - Day 2: Supply & Organize<span style="font-weight: bold;">July 18, 2009</span><br /><br />Today would be a short but long day. We got ourselves up, moving, and repacked Jody's truck. Then with a "have fun storming the castle!" farewell from Bob and Karyn, we headed off to the great REI Mothersh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5_Q7Sux5DbeHOa61oHk5D8xxThDm-27N4s0TUIp_n_135WahB4DXeh4iUIYldQQ5fTov9-r_RyYdX_22ayinMsuLBV6HNWJk45FhT3-sJ6fVgfrgc4_F3SL0i8u8KkzRfvhiJo4Wmw/s1600-h/IMG_0870_the_team_at_mountlake_terrace.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5_Q7Sux5DbeHOa61oHk5D8xxThDm-27N4s0TUIp_n_135WahB4DXeh4iUIYldQQ5fTov9-r_RyYdX_22ayinMsuLBV6HNWJk45FhT3-sJ6fVgfrgc4_F3SL0i8u8KkzRfvhiJo4Wmw/s200/IMG_0870_the_team_at_mountlake_terrace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363341441226797234" border="0" /></a>ip Store in downtown Seattle. I had a list of items I needed to finish getting, and in addition trade in my MSR Superfly because the one I had picked up in Maryland I thought had missing parts. Turned out that the instructions were terribly misleading and the supposed missing part was actually an optional accessory, but looked to everyone that I showed the instructions to that it should be an essential part of the stove! In the end, I essentially ended up trading stoves with REI for no gain or loss on either side. Plus we had to get the rental tent, and Jody and Francesca had a few last minute items to pick up as well.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPkb8sVP7AK2xly00udpA_LGU4dH18LqwoOpsPuUhaOrWVvvozHCDiFzFdXKRvTp-eFNUF-My3b8YyFsF4gbdZbJ38J8KU7Agup2bAgK-YkpykPBjKedg3RbH0ZQkkHtUYE_3jIbEVg/s1600-h/IMG_0876_jody_in_rental_tent.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPkb8sVP7AK2xly00udpA_LGU4dH18LqwoOpsPuUhaOrWVvvozHCDiFzFdXKRvTp-eFNUF-My3b8YyFsF4gbdZbJ38J8KU7Agup2bAgK-YkpykPBjKedg3RbH0ZQkkHtUYE_3jIbEVg/s200/IMG_0876_jody_in_rental_tent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363341707284609410" border="0" /></a><br />All this took a bit longer than anticipated, but in the end, we had gotten 90% of everything we wanted to pick up. And set the rental tent up to check for dirt and damage prior to our departure (photo right of Jody inside rental tent set up in REI). I still had a need to pick up a outer shell jacket, as my other ones I had left back in Maryland because they...had serious mileage on them already, shall we say. Looking over REI's inventory of outer shells, the Mountain Hardware Typhoon jacket struck my fancy. Unfortunately, not my size. The REI sales dude suggested that I maybe then check out the Mountain Hardware store a few minutes away more centrally located in downtown Seattle. Well....cool, thanks!<br /><br />After we finished getting everything else, we realized how much time we had spent in the store. The parking garage was first hour free then pay for every hour after. A very kind sales clerk named Tia decided she liked us and comped our garage ticket for us, since we were basically foreigners to this side of the country. :-)<br /><br />At Mountain Hardware I went in to check out the jackets, and was immediately overwhelmed at the selection available. One of the sales staff named Helen came over and was most helpful in winnowing out what I didn't need/want to what I needed/wanted. Unfortunately...the only colors MH had on the sales floor were black and a light stone tan/grey. The latter would be excellent camoflauge up on the glaciers, the former color rather....dull. I was really hoping for something in a brighter color, such as orange or red or something - something that could be easily seen from a distance up on the glacier, and had a little color "life" to it. Alas...not meant to be. Helen sympathized with me, but this was all they had. And since we were heading in to The Mountain tomorrow...no time to order from the warehouse. I took the black jacket and bid my farewells, to the requests by the sales<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpPtvu4-ShpbG8quiJ7kLj2p-EPIioosoY6sfjB4k7pLOqJ8yJUdCh-MdBecyAiUr_TjfYzkt9__xCBiUYFViVvegmCiXPXdkBD9ZtLl_5xbIie84QnIecDJHbSzNEL1VuZkoUZ8R5g/s1600-h/IMG_0884_jody_and_kerry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpPtvu4-ShpbG8quiJ7kLj2p-EPIioosoY6sfjB4k7pLOqJ8yJUdCh-MdBecyAiUr_TjfYzkt9__xCBiUYFViVvegmCiXPXdkBD9ZtLl_5xbIie84QnIecDJHbSzNEL1VuZkoUZ8R5g/s200/IMG_0884_jody_and_kerry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363342020714054082" border="0" /></a> staff to return after we got down and let them know how it went.<br /><br />Finally, we were done shopping. Mostly. Still had some grocery foods to get, but otherwise we were set. So headed off to Bellevue to see and stay with my friends Kerry and Eric and their kids.<br /><br />We arrived shortly before they had dinner ready for us (image left of Jody and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-aKcjveXK7uQ_FuP9a35g9yPF1yWmvUrguTkAFtWVrkEstS3zYRr0kpy_KqUNP3YKylalV5vwzPllwAUvl6Uj-0Nm9XgIsop39DZ3HDjcW6BG_ZKk98N_9jBXoRwzPImT1hrSFdVjA/s1600-h/IMG_0898_sorting_gear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-aKcjveXK7uQ_FuP9a35g9yPF1yWmvUrguTkAFtWVrkEstS3zYRr0kpy_KqUNP3YKylalV5vwzPllwAUvl6Uj-0Nm9XgIsop39DZ3HDjcW6BG_ZKk98N_9jBXoRwzPImT1hrSFdVjA/s200/IMG_0898_sorting_gear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363342198135701298" border="0" /></a>Kerry). Very scrumptious, I might add. We visited with them a while (it was great to catch up with them again; been too long, and I had never met their daughters), then took our leave to unload ALL our gear and packs onto their ample back deck and start sorting (image right). Kerry, Eric and their two daughters looked on, bemused. Max, the golden retriever, wanted to come out and help.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_vNM-8RyX63jqaQhyCwmzYzPve5nbHo3gRILGLQBPpag9r6sbOAx4yugGw40Tjpw4XPhVfBi9FuyKPNa0MyobOjU2EwFOMxFubQgJrdHXMtg-0BaCVblute7Oa1Umm83Ta8qhPa6cw/s1600-h/IMG_0899_trying_to_save_weight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_vNM-8RyX63jqaQhyCwmzYzPve5nbHo3gRILGLQBPpag9r6sbOAx4yugGw40Tjpw4XPhVfBi9FuyKPNa0MyobOjU2EwFOMxFubQgJrdHXMtg-0BaCVblute7Oa1Umm83Ta8qhPa6cw/s200/IMG_0899_trying_to_save_weight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363342790258649186" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Weight was discussed at length, in which Jody convinced Francesca to lose a few ounces here and there. To that end Francesca decided to saw off the handle of her toothbrush ("Don't cut it too short!", warned Jody, "or you'll have a hard time reaching the back.").<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rBWweVcUejYhNUrgCHsSBr1sZncWvRHyD7UfFxwym3vKh866OmLidoYqpTf10jBUsNW2Q_H3KNIz3OvpDWMLyB_SLut9ZK4HbfKbXQJ0gx_AdQQVxfdKoSOcUPbB7OkIIzQ0HQs_LQ/s1600-h/IMG_0900_rock_paper_scissors.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rBWweVcUejYhNUrgCHsSBr1sZncWvRHyD7UfFxwym3vKh866OmLidoYqpTf10jBUsNW2Q_H3KNIz3OvpDWMLyB_SLut9ZK4HbfKbXQJ0gx_AdQQVxfdKoSOcUPbB7OkIIzQ0HQs_LQ/s200/IMG_0900_rock_paper_scissors.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363343358547072610" border="0" /></a><br />At the end of the gear sort we divied up the communal gear: fuel, cook kit, first aid kit(s), tent parts and...the rope. Francesca and Jody both wanted to carry the rope (because once we hit the glaciers, the rope would come out of the pack), so decided the only fair way to do it would be via rock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXv_NMx3Q5Th9Q_8KgKVSE6xnzFmkbpRJABVMYRA_s28xqSu-1Kco3UDL156y1em9n9cHuqhYXEt_eku449Lg59IjHvF2r6rRV11LixMTHQAQKDekHHSxSz4JqgtmxYL43Y4W4Q50OQ/s1600-h/IMG_0901_sacked_out.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXv_NMx3Q5Th9Q_8KgKVSE6xnzFmkbpRJABVMYRA_s28xqSu-1Kco3UDL156y1em9n9cHuqhYXEt_eku449Lg59IjHvF2r6rRV11LixMTHQAQKDekHHSxSz4JqgtmxYL43Y4W4Q50OQ/s200/IMG_0901_sacked_out.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363343880255474994" border="0" /></a>-paper-scissors. You can see here who won.<br /><br />After that we repacked our packs and headed off to bed. Francesca called "couch!", and sacked straight out. Jody took the first bed she came to which was of decent size. Which left me, the tallest of the group, sleeping in a true twin bed, the smallest of the lot. Yeah, my legs hung over. ;-)<br /><br />And quietly The Mountain awaited our arrival...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-80571971457491833732009-07-24T12:09:00.024-04:002009-07-30T00:48:58.505-04:00The Rainier Quest - Prologue and Day 1Sometime in the mid-1990s I realized I had taken on the project of climbing (or "climbing", in some cases) to the highest point in all the states. This is also known as highpointing. By the end of 1998 I had gotten to the highest point of 41 states as well as the District of Columbia. At that time the remaining high points were either significant hikes or serious undertakings requiring some technical skill and equipment.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCF_6D2QyexTshx9wLmI92Wd2ENls2jWhvrbGfnyoND3NsL5gvq7ifkWA6PJj0lT0zaQkyAjqFsNKQfodybtSGbNJRmYtkxvI9SK_OhIDfsVCZpF0sze-ZcqyrwfN0b4yZ7fdEEY-QQ/s1600-h/rainier-2002-127.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCF_6D2QyexTshx9wLmI92Wd2ENls2jWhvrbGfnyoND3NsL5gvq7ifkWA6PJj0lT0zaQkyAjqFsNKQfodybtSGbNJRmYtkxvI9SK_OhIDfsVCZpF0sze-ZcqyrwfN0b4yZ7fdEEY-QQ/s200/rainier-2002-127.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362875447619288210" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div> </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCF_6D2QyexTshx9wLmI92Wd2ENls2jWhvrbGfnyoND3NsL5gvq7ifkWA6PJj0lT0zaQkyAjqFsNKQfodybtSGbNJRmYtkxvI9SK_OhIDfsVCZpF0sze-ZcqyrwfN0b4yZ7fdEEY-QQ/s1600-h/rainier-2002-127.jpg"></a><div>In 1999 two friends, Aqua and Bob, were willing to go with me on two of these high points: Mt Hood in Oregon and Mt Rainier (photo right) in Washington. As Bob lived just outside Seattle, he availed himself to the local mountaineering groups to learn what he needed to safely climb glaciated peaks. Aqua and I, living out East, had no such resources. But...we had Mt Washington in New Hampshire, to practice winter condition climbing. To which we did (a very much unfinished trip report here: <a href="http://indy-adventures.net/library/mtwash99.html">http://indy-adventures.net/library/mtwash99.html</a>). </div><br /><div> </div>Later that summer Aqua and I flew out to Washington, met up with Bob, and drove down to Oregon to tackle Mt Hood (a trip report that never got posted). We were successful, saw glaciers, crevasses, and the huge-assed bergschrund near the summit, large enough to swallow 3 freight train cars. In May 0f 2002 it would swallow 9 climbers, killing 3 of them, and would bear witness to a tragic helicopter crash (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhfJDq_I1HA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhfJDq_I1HA</a>) during the rescue attempt. A stupidly sensationalized (why, I have no idea, as it is already dramatic enough as Real Life w/out the extra "thwop-thwop-thwop" and shit :-[ ) History Channel excerpt of the events here <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO1F6iqsUUE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO1F6iqsUUE</a>), where "hikers" the narrator mentions are the mountain climbers who fell.<br /><br /><div>Our next stop was Mt Rainier. Unfortunately, due to not understanding the National Park schedule, permit requirements, and true distances along the trail, as well as altitude effects while carrying 70-odd lbs packs, and finally the weather, we never got above 9500 feet (Camp Schurman) on that trip. We would try again in July 2000, but Aqua would succumb to altitude sickness at 12,500'. Rainier is 14,410' tall. Long way to still go up. My third attempt (<a href="http://indy-adventures.net/library/rainier3.html">http://indy-adventures.net/library/rainier3.html</a>) would be in 2002, when Bob would accompany me along with my girlfriend at the time, Fabrizia, and another friend and highpointer, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO9hXA2MaPkjVWxab_xOkGdA6Zl0przBQcjkVFmXof_Y_km7BWCbyOxNdbbXyrX1ux4IWkQH6tXIk-dE3xWKv277qu7ppfffqErxBhG9cfTKnPko4VLOJGi8lVWm4ZCkeE3rdynsoWA/s1600-h/rainier-2002-049.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO9hXA2MaPkjVWxab_xOkGdA6Zl0przBQcjkVFmXof_Y_km7BWCbyOxNdbbXyrX1ux4IWkQH6tXIk-dE3xWKv277qu7ppfffqErxBhG9cfTKnPko4VLOJGi8lVWm4ZCkeE3rdynsoWA/s200/rainier-2002-049.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362875128629716306" border="0" /></a>Chris, to the mountain. We camped at 9800' (Emmons Flats, see photo left) that trip. Unfortunately, Bob wasn't feeling up to the summit attempt and opted to remain in camp when Chris, Fabrizia and I went up. The three of us would eventually fight our way to the crater rim of Rainier, in the face of 60 mph winds gusting 80. But we would not make it over to the Columbia Crest (1/3 of the way around the crater from us), the 14,410' highest point of Rainier. The third time was not, as the proverbial expression puts it, "the charm".</div><br /><div> </div>The years then went by. I took on other adventures, other projects. But all the while Rainier remained in the back of my mind, taunting, awaiting for me to return.<div> </div><br />In 2007 upon hearing my previous Rainier stories, my friend Jody expressed an interest in climbing the mountain with me, after getting back from her trip across SE Asia. Awesome! A few other friends also expressed interest as well, but always time, schedules, and Other Obligations prevented a full commitment to a set (or general) date. So Jody and I sought a third person for the team (it is possible to do the mountain just as a team of two, but having three is far better, should Anything Bad happen). For a while Jody had someone lined up, but that fell through. Then I found my climbing friend Francesca had an interest in tackling mountains. Enthusiastic at having a shot at Rainier, she began training <strong>hard</strong> (<a href="http://www.francescamclin.com/blog/training-for-mountaineering/">http://www.francescamclin.com/blog/training-for-mountaineering/</a>). We set our goal to be the summer of 2009.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Life(tm), schedules, time, work, and even weather, interfered with most of the training I was planning (biking to work 2x a week, climbing up/down 6 flights of stairs with a 30-50 lbs pack 3-5x/day 2-3x/week, etc). I was lucky to bike to work once every couple of weeks, and lucky to do the 6 flights of stairs 3-5 times once a week. Really, Rainier was going to kick my proverbial ass. As were Francesca and Jody (Jody was hiking local mountains and Francesca was 1: working out on stairs and 2: gone out a week earlier than our trip to take a mountaineering course in the Cascades).<br /><br />Again, due to outside influences (work being cut off from the internet for 2 weeks, my not having internet access at home for the same 2 weeks, Other Life Events, etc), our trip planning became VERY last minute. Almost non-existent. And then with just a few days before my flight out I finally got a chance to email the people I knew out in Seattle that we were coming. Nothing like Last Minute Charlie stuff on this trip!<br /><br />But in the end things were going to be what they were. There was still gear I needed to pick up at REI out there (Seattle) that the REIs in Maryland/DC didn't carry (and had no time to ship). So anything Jody and Francesca also needed (in addition to food) we would get there (plus Francesca rented us a 4-season tent for the climb from REI, so we had to go there to pick it up :) ).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCgH1wYeWKRx0jFy61NPfMngFxosYRp2ApieVFRfQ8KQKeqY8UazYNxQxpTyTd1AzjkJmyxjqICK1qf7AMUXCeMxr7rtsxkWLACzzU4_wqRvd84kpWXyNYxfSyDFu8QccN05kdBDuQA/s1600-h/rainier_2009_0833_plane_and_mountain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCgH1wYeWKRx0jFy61NPfMngFxosYRp2ApieVFRfQ8KQKeqY8UazYNxQxpTyTd1AzjkJmyxjqICK1qf7AMUXCeMxr7rtsxkWLACzzU4_wqRvd84kpWXyNYxfSyDFu8QccN05kdBDuQA/s200/rainier_2009_0833_plane_and_mountain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362879506145170898" border="0" /></a><br />Finally, July 17, 2009, I flew out to Seattle. An uneventful flight in which I was afforded grand views of Rainier both while we were flying in, and as we were taxing down the runway to the terminals. After I got my bags, Jody picked me up and we went off to wait a few hours for Francesca to get back from her mountaineering course on Shukstan.<br /><br />To pass time, we swung by the Pikes Place Market, a WELL-known destination in downtown Seattle. Here you would find several blocks of crafts, artisians, produce, misc food, fresh seafood, and the world-famous F<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ibWSlI7xaoyMnCFOGC1IOtGdBmrNEBE6EQQTLmBsUmcyewoanebupWcsSPEwkdNdJe1VB1GIRY_yTaeBWc5dqmqaDRFlH481cwssdqB1FoJxOml0VlKgaGXxcUETMERQ3VHOgUk34Q/s1600-h/rainier_2009_0845_pikes_place_fish_throw.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ibWSlI7xaoyMnCFOGC1IOtGdBmrNEBE6EQQTLmBsUmcyewoanebupWcsSPEwkdNdJe1VB1GIRY_yTaeBWc5dqmqaDRFlH481cwssdqB1FoJxOml0VlKgaGXxcUETMERQ3VHOgUk34Q/s200/rainier_2009_0845_pikes_place_fish_throw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362883461840930722" border="0" /></a>ish Throw. This is a show the guys (and the occasional gal) at this particular seafood shop put on for the tourists. One guy goes out into the audience, and another takes a healthy-sized fish and tosses it out for the first guy to catch. The first guy bobbles it a while, in good show, but fully under control, then heaves it back across stands and the counter to the second guy. In the image to the left you can see a standard-sized fish in mid-air, with the girl about to catch it (it was her second attempt ever at catching, as you might see from her facacial expression, and succeeded on this try).<br /><br />After the market Jody and I visited the Outdoor Research store on the south side of downtown. Neither of us had a clue that Outdoor Research even <span style="font-style: italic;">had </span>a store. We figured it was most<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Zy3TEKRkM0jsUb0qoudsLKfvfzMtwTKP0JaBv9WAn-mLwEKOBwW2km4iL7abur_FqqwA0C9WSKYiKMhOFtfJOJJAbE61jxAEEuGiJfH0U4vF_BjL_g50nZPtuKgSscfujr4I90tiw/s1600-h/rainier_2009_0862_picking_up_francesca.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Zy3TEKRkM0jsUb0qoudsLKfvfzMtwTKP0JaBv9WAn-mLwEKOBwW2km4iL7abur_FqqwA0C9WSKYiKMhOFtfJOJJAbE61jxAEEuGiJfH0U4vF_BjL_g50nZPtuKgSscfujr4I90tiw/s200/rainier_2009_0862_picking_up_francesca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362980915166703218" border="0" /></a>ly a supplier to outdoor stores like REI. Who knew?<br /><br />After our quick breeze through there, off to the north side of the city did we head to pick up Francesca (right). Once we had her collected, off to Mountlake Terrace to see and stay with my friends Karyn and Bob (same Bob who had been with me on my first three Rainier attempts), who were waiting for us with dinner grilling (bottom left).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDUBP90Fo9hbGpTC4TU73cZpIOJ4YQv62IhaOVEGP2QZISjFwKZnEqwqYAV37Kjm-GJjiHAnERBE47M0TVq5udXphR-ZCUZX6x4EvwlH_c_yjGT5SR1cvgYHpyrl6WoCLjSoPLm1jSA/s1600-h/rainier_2009_0865_bob_grilling.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDUBP90Fo9hbGpTC4TU73cZpIOJ4YQv62IhaOVEGP2QZISjFwKZnEqwqYAV37Kjm-GJjiHAnERBE47M0TVq5udXphR-ZCUZX6x4EvwlH_c_yjGT5SR1cvgYHpyrl6WoCLjSoPLm1jSA/s200/rainier_2009_0865_bob_grilling.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362979872268882162" border="0" /></a><br />Once we arrived, introductions made, our gear dragged in and distributed across their small deck, we ate, chatted a while, then finally drifted off...to sleep. Tomorrow would be our final gear-up and supply day before we would head in to The Mountain.<br /><br /><br /><div> </div>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-14896151477265588502009-03-08T21:44:00.020-04:002009-03-09T09:29:07.936-04:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 4: The Return<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrHloHVh_96TvWQ9JeTLmZsE9nh5d9kXu3clelgxxiIOC-6mzSAR61cpGHQdhMr0Q7hnauzukwEkb40UL7fPFs03ywQloH-Iq9aUaui3RloKII2vGxLWm9eHScyVfaRo0AsGXLK_B2w/s1600-h/IMG_4191_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrHloHVh_96TvWQ9JeTLmZsE9nh5d9kXu3clelgxxiIOC-6mzSAR61cpGHQdhMr0Q7hnauzukwEkb40UL7fPFs03ywQloH-Iq9aUaui3RloKII2vGxLWm9eHScyVfaRo0AsGXLK_B2w/s200/IMG_4191_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311170973300548178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 23, 2009</span><br /><br />Carlos was the first of us to awaken by a good bit, and had stepped out to his rental car to reorganize gear or something. I vaguely remember waking to the sound of a car door closing, then a soft, gentle knock on the motel door. Not realizing anyone had left the room, I thought it might be some random drunk person from the night before knocking on the wrong room. Bleary-eyed I got up and opened the door to find a grinning Carlos standing there. When did he get up? I never heard, but went back to bed, still <span style="font-weight: bold;">bone </span>tired from the weekend's adventures. I drifted into nap-hood for a while.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_f3zwSqFTf3viIIH1TLkeZk6fJgQrWdCNBhJv8rKEoumI6c96Mrj0_se0qWw7GTIzY1oXu0mmoMp2Ew1pUQFcjUMiUo6RpQKEFZa0GT2YRuV1pNYor6H3RV06Tqh1N7cEa1OU8ZX5w/s1600-h/IMG_4173_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_f3zwSqFTf3viIIH1TLkeZk6fJgQrWdCNBhJv8rKEoumI6c96Mrj0_se0qWw7GTIzY1oXu0mmoMp2Ew1pUQFcjUMiUo6RpQKEFZa0GT2YRuV1pNYor6H3RV06Tqh1N7cEa1OU8ZX5w/s200/IMG_4173_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311160251864555202" border="0" /></a><br />However, within an hour or so we got ourselves roused. Showering one last time, we finished packing annnnnd....back to CoCo's for breakfast!<br /><br />During breakfast Francesca regaled us with stories, tales, and lessons learned from the days when she was for all intents and purposes a professional gambler. We learned you had to set win/loss limits (depending on your conservancy, <2-10%), style="font-style: italic;">everybody up, which is why private tables are more desired than open by gamblers who have a clue), how to tip, what is a "shoe", how many decks are in a dhoe (6-8 typically for blackjack), when to know when the house has changed the game rules on you (which they can if you are winning too much), etc, etc. Very educational. <img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35YUlORpSYGhVFG_ZJFm_jo4tB9ssre8gtyNwSJLV-pUhDIybvFwm6zIKdkwCjQVZQeCACaVus0ZomE3lfTUN_vuR0QI6erfSbfOu4y77oQFK9cWtXf6zNuWIhxH-YEaHGRLJdYPU7A/s200/IMG_4184_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311161826838250434" border="0" />After breakfast we were going to need to return our cars, but we still had over 2-1/2 hours before our flights. As we were on the exact opposite side of the airport from the rental return, we figured we had about 15-20 minutes to drive further up The Strip, see whatever we missed the night before, see what we saw last night in the daylight, and get back to the airport in plenty of time.<br /><br />So up The Strip we went. We saw Caesar's Palace, Italy/The Venetian (complete with a replica of the St Mark's Square tower that I got to go up in last year when I was in Italy), Treasure Island (or pirate island, or something like that; I wasn't familiar with it, but the rest of the group was), and the Luxor (which we mostly saw just at night with its beacon of light firing straight up into the air; I had tried for some night photos of it, but they failed to turn out as my little point-n-shoot wasn't up to that task).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnguNCgx8XMz2hwsSaIqj8z_r99LiyaBmhZTo-hGFYOHHlK2z4Big-SdSZVOu1Qvzytfqfg1l_CzkL5bWK7vd2g8HtiEF7Iuxi4iT0kubvjJ6Q9F757hZHSat78jp7CmZhHDihKJ53kg/s1600-h/IMG_4186_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnguNCgx8XMz2hwsSaIqj8z_r99LiyaBmhZTo-hGFYOHHlK2z4Big-SdSZVOu1Qvzytfqfg1l_CzkL5bWK7vd2g8HtiEF7Iuxi4iT0kubvjJ6Q9F757hZHSat78jp7CmZhHDihKJ53kg/s200/IMG_4186_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311162333300667666" border="0" /></a><br />But then suddenly it was time to go. We hustled down to the airport. Francesca, Michelle and I stopping to pick up some sandwiches for the plane flight back, Carlos and Claudia to go gas up Carlos' car before turning it in (Michelle had gassed up her car the night before on the way back from the rocks). Before splitting we said goodbye to Claudia as she was heading back to North Carolina via a different path of flights than us.<br /><br />At the airport we waited for Carlos for a bit, but he hadn't shown yet. We figured we'd better just get our bags checked and meet him at the gate (since we were all going to board together). After checking bags I got separated from Michelle and Francesca at Security as I got into the slower lane. I saw them get through and be on the far side while I was still trying to get to a bin. Then they disappeared.<br /><br />Unbeknownst to me, they had forgotten to empty their water bottles of water, and were being sent back around again. I figured they had just taken off to the concourse and gate w/out me, figuring I knew where I was going. So once through security, I headed on down to the gate, only to find none of my crew was there! Urrr...yep, B10, got the right gate. Where were they? I found a set of seats near the window that would allow for all of us to sit together while we waited, pulled out a book and began reading. That's when Michelle and Francesca appeared and relayed their tale of water woes. A few minutes later Carlos arrived. And ou<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL_EhU_vdUzB-10QakukV-8xBjpc8XGwnVmHqXK9R_4R2HBOcwACTHISCsLsOrNhAF4KqbQoHlEOF9D6lsj-7sFOJjVT_OxpOReqqT5OKSsBP-AuaHSPjwOSr-CSF1XyDJDx67U6kMQ/s1600-h/IMG_4200_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL_EhU_vdUzB-10QakukV-8xBjpc8XGwnVmHqXK9R_4R2HBOcwACTHISCsLsOrNhAF4KqbQoHlEOF9D6lsj-7sFOJjVT_OxpOReqqT5OKSsBP-AuaHSPjwOSr-CSF1XyDJDx67U6kMQ/s200/IMG_4200_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311161125265287218" border="0" /></a>r plane was here!<br /><br />Before long we boarded and all ended up sitting in the rear, as we were one of the last groups to get on. I didn't get my window seat, but an aisle. Still, I was able to snap a few pics, some last views of Vegas and Red Rock before the plane turned and headed East. The flight back was uneventful.<br /><br />Once we landed we made our way to get our luggage. A short time later it all appeared. Nothing lost! Either comi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYk_MlftIBVAJryBDR1S3Pa1H-0OsydtBfG3Krz9GESxusyJRsCjmY-odXmQi-OxbwzAqwwGwcgqYbD2cDnTPKUzX2kZ7fo8EN4jtQamTbTaLcd073xFwOhqpIWnqdhUG0rbGcOxu2w/s1600-h/IMG_4202_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYk_MlftIBVAJryBDR1S3Pa1H-0OsydtBfG3Krz9GESxusyJRsCjmY-odXmQi-OxbwzAqwwGwcgqYbD2cDnTPKUzX2kZ7fo8EN4jtQamTbTaLcd073xFwOhqpIWnqdhUG0rbGcOxu2w/s200/IMG_4202_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311160410912905266" border="0" /></a>ng or going! We said our goodbyes to Francesca, who hopped the bus to the train to the metro back to DC. Carlos, Michelle and I left together, then split up ourselves later to go home.<br /><br />All in all, it was a good trip. And there's plenty more to do and explore out there. I'm sure we'll all be back!Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-59874152085203115122009-03-07T02:05:00.019-05:002009-03-08T12:27:36.975-04:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 3, Part 2: The Night Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sH3PZEOB7dXVuCLSTHJMAj83ZP3aBiJKpmXZvoTnb8puTYYyzrQJTVXD8JPD4ayPy5sdikLcWxXzaE6cqp4eWVq6qRgd1d4eOueoSOD_adZ13RDnx5vSZwDhY8HKN8tp9C76mddF_g/s1600-h/IMG_4096_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sH3PZEOB7dXVuCLSTHJMAj83ZP3aBiJKpmXZvoTnb8puTYYyzrQJTVXD8JPD4ayPy5sdikLcWxXzaE6cqp4eWVq6qRgd1d4eOueoSOD_adZ13RDnx5vSZwDhY8HKN8tp9C76mddF_g/s200/IMG_4096_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310840857656526210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 22, 2009 (con't)<br /><br /></span>The sun set as we drove back to the motel. Carlos and Francesca were running a bit behind us as they decided to stop off at the in-town rock shop. But that actually helped with the logistics of everyone getting a shower without overcrowding. Once we were clean and changed, it was time to hit....The Strip!<br /><br />The Strip is Las Vegas' famous line of city blocks filled with a multitude of visually stimulating hotels, casinos, shops and a plethora of other attractions, all just two blocks away from our motel. At night, the place is just lit up. Not a place <span style="font-weight: bold;">any</span> self-respecting astronomer would normally be found! But this wasn't an astronomy trip. So here I was...<br /><br />Both Michelle and Francesca had each visited Vegas in the past, and knew certain things about the town: where to go, what to see, what to avoid, and even when to run (seriously). I would "learn when to run" before much of anything else this evening...<br /><br />We were partially torn between wanting to see some of these sights, and wanting some food now. No one offered up any specific suggestions (other than to try and avoid chains that we can always eat at elsewhere in the country), so Francesca offered up she wanted babyback ribs. Okay! A decision made.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9ZA307YC9DA_L-1klLGXVbg7MV8Mm8dPKv6Qwtgh2i4iHkzAWQESO4r-qFziPo29gO0DBujbq2I0M9mJNwRLDsYLjrWQBuYrDbdVZo-t0RaZQ_zMcBlUC8s3PkAeTzWmNTQGLDh8Aw/s1600-h/IMG_4100_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9ZA307YC9DA_L-1klLGXVbg7MV8Mm8dPKv6Qwtgh2i4iHkzAWQESO4r-qFziPo29gO0DBujbq2I0M9mJNwRLDsYLjrWQBuYrDbdVZo-t0RaZQ_zMcBlUC8s3PkAeTzWmNTQGLDh8Aw/s200/IMG_4100_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310841121287462914" border="0" /></a><br />Michelle led us to the Excalibur, a castle-like area across from New York New York. Their motto: "You Rule". We came into a huge foyer area with several hallways and rooms leading off of it. I was trailing behind, having stopped to take some photos, so didn't get to take the surroundings fully in before I realized the group was heading back out again. "We're leaving!" announced Michelle or Francesca amid the general cacophony of the room. I noticed a young ma<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGWJPCMgeZuh6JS50CdvKi8XGWQJQGecBhe_BFXOebGKiOEy0NKhkATnlF7CmEtN-gxkK0TQBSuEvdRVc8Ro-MwBsaPS3Kb3Oo3k-uup85AA1fztv7ZhQAXXKYVtz7MOPF5l3LROhSA/s1600-h/IMG_4103_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGWJPCMgeZuh6JS50CdvKi8XGWQJQGecBhe_BFXOebGKiOEy0NKhkATnlF7CmEtN-gxkK0TQBSuEvdRVc8Ro-MwBsaPS3Kb3Oo3k-uup85AA1fztv7ZhQAXXKYVtz7MOPF5l3LROhSA/s200/IMG_4103_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310841677295270018" border="0" /></a>n in a black suit still trying to entice Claudia and Carlos over to a desk with what looked like a terminal on it, saying "Let me show you what I can do for you."<br /><br />"That's how they suck you in," stated Francesca as she swept past me. "They give you $50 of free credit to go play, then you get sucked in and can't leave." As we departed post haste I glanced back to see the casino/slots room beyond where the young man was standing, and to see him eyeing out the crowd to find some other hapless people to draw into their tangled gambling web.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XI_hJmc-1-ldDvKZRsIxoi4hfWvqfhcE7-7F4KZtIuyuKhy7HRaGYTRJ0d5gJ7a6ohMdLKlSmH-DMj-eev86U28r4AJQDaniadb4PbSl3Fdsua-N-voxWRIcc8tYsFBd0PbyxuFgxA/s1600-h/IMG_4105_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XI_hJmc-1-ldDvKZRsIxoi4hfWvqfhcE7-7F4KZtIuyuKhy7HRaGYTRJ0d5gJ7a6ohMdLKlSmH-DMj-eev86U28r4AJQDaniadb4PbSl3Fdsua-N-voxWRIcc8tYsFBd0PbyxuFgxA/s200/IMG_4105_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310841915092385810" border="0" /></a><br />Michelle had good memories of New York New York and led us over there. She said the last time she was here, you could go past the Coyote Ugly bar and see the dancing show from outside, so no need to pay to go in. Her intent was to take us past there so we could catch a brief view, then go find some food options.<br /><br />Well, Coyote Ugly's was not a happening place when we arrived. No dancers. Just people sitting in there drinking. We didn't even linger. We were seriously getting hungry.<br /><br />We wandered through a stretch of NY NY, but Michelle couldn't find what she was looking for. So we exited and continued going up the street.<br /><br />One of our goals this evening, other than food, was to catch the water and music show in front of the Bellagio. If you ever saw the movie Ocean's Eleven, towards the end of the movie, after the heist is pulled off, the gang is standing in front of a city lake while a water and music show plays out. This is the same lake we were going for.<br /><br />But first food.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Z4M_HiOQ3Lc92WGa-9f8EsaKaQHtNroh7fSCGGBvL9hyA1zwPNVQa9lrH1lWxMkrUw2BUY5MpLQSQxYjaEww03YjC6o_Qfg5J7gplM9dWhoQ2DANB-0ukAy75MDa4Fi8WTf0RXoYzQ/s1600-h/IMG_4108_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Z4M_HiOQ3Lc92WGa-9f8EsaKaQHtNroh7fSCGGBvL9hyA1zwPNVQa9lrH1lWxMkrUw2BUY5MpLQSQxYjaEww03YjC6o_Qfg5J7gplM9dWhoQ2DANB-0ukAy75MDa4Fi8WTf0RXoYzQ/s200/IMG_4108_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310842158853082018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We wandered down a few more blocks, past some construction, when I spied a Harley-Davidson BBQ place across the street. Wait, BBQ? I pointed, and the group made an immediate right turn and bee-lined straight for it.<br /><br />Being a Sunday evening, it was all that crowded. We were seated within a minute of entering. Our waiter was a f<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5g0nWr8UDb-NPxgDDc53BdgqAL9sstmS-Dqkx91JfM-brTQk13zT_a2P-es9lR0hCfgh-vw9XWhff_y9SiKaicbf0Z18TXiEKtF8oG5RrZMnU9erJ10u8-oj1YKgl34o74OQTgoQTAg/s1600-h/IMG_4167_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5g0nWr8UDb-NPxgDDc53BdgqAL9sstmS-Dqkx91JfM-brTQk13zT_a2P-es9lR0hCfgh-vw9XWhff_y9SiKaicbf0Z18TXiEKtF8oG5RrZMnU9erJ10u8-oj1YKgl34o74OQTgoQTAg/s200/IMG_4167_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310845914597561650" border="0" /></a>riendly dude named Bob, who heralded from Ohio many years ago, but was now living out here. He took our order and made sure we were well-stocked with drink. The thirsty desert climbers that we were.<br /><br />Looking around, there were vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycles all around - on the main stage (where, for a price, you could have your photo taken by an in-house photographer), suspended in the air, etc. As well as various paraphenalia and photos and posters related to Harley-Davidsons. I wondered if the quality of the food would suffer and the real reason you came here was for the ambiance.<br /><br />But the food, I have to say, was quite good! I would certainly go back here again. And the prices? Not that outrageous. About what one might expect to pay at a moderately expensive restaurant in the B'more region - $15-25. We even decided to get some desert, which I chose to share with the group the Harley-Davidson's version of a chocolate lava cake. It was pretty darn good. Michelle, Francesca, and Claudia helped me eat it. Carlos decided he was going to get his own and polished that off himself. Hungry boy!!<br /><br />Satiated, we headed out to just take in the sights at this point. Made our way up to the Bellagio and caught the water/music show. It was pretty cool. When we first arrived, the lake was quiet. Music was playing from loudspeakers hidden in the palms aligned around the lake. We stood along the concrete railing and chatted a bit. A few minutes later we noticed that a line of dark objects had protruded slightly from the water out in the middle of the lake. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kZwUe5VjKzBg4WUitNVNwQ9LbbhluXv-HWAaYAW1eIplsdwI_BD3ZKlmUfcfGJL5OM3GXpeFYUunsXxY37VMvArKwJpiEwa06maYjMcdggBGWDyVD13-xll1yQgPKT0OG8ihGTlEig/s1600-h/IMG_4129_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kZwUe5VjKzBg4WUitNVNwQ9LbbhluXv-HWAaYAW1eIplsdwI_BD3ZKlmUfcfGJL5OM3GXpeFYUunsXxY37VMvArKwJpiEwa06maYjMcdggBGWDyVD13-xll1yQgPKT0OG8ihGTlEig/s200/IMG_4129_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310844817135374770" border="0" /></a>Then the music got quiet...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">FOOM!</span></span><br /><br />The first wall of water shot into the air, illuminated by white lights, as the music swelled and soared. More walls of water FOOMed into the air, as the lights illuminating the lower half of the Bellagio itself subtly changed from yellow-white to purple. Then, to the music, the water spouts started...dancing. Swaying back and forth, criss-crossing at times, rising and lowering in a sinusoidal wave pattern<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46xWjRDQjmPdqqaQs2WM9Z2xBg9MSKRXh2yPlti3uvrsa7K30lvPVs4WxyCmdLnM1RdN9wmjPO2M-7XvJmfWXk_05XJuwNG9UPIwS5hVHm5iSug2zPExYiPUBAoci0zYVQHQiCB25Ww/s1600-h/IMG_4135_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46xWjRDQjmPdqqaQs2WM9Z2xBg9MSKRXh2yPlti3uvrsa7K30lvPVs4WxyCmdLnM1RdN9wmjPO2M-7XvJmfWXk_05XJuwNG9UPIwS5hVHm5iSug2zPExYiPUBAoci0zYVQHQiCB25Ww/s200/IMG_4135_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310845026852196530" border="0" /></a>s, and even spiraling about. I should have taken video instead of stills. But you can get an idea from these photos, anyway.<br /><br />It all lasted about 4 or 5 minutes. Then with a final few FOOMs, the music quieted, the lights dimmed, and the water walls died off. The nozzles sank slowly beneath the surface of the lake once again, as if nothing at all had just happened...<br /><br />We headed across the street to see (but not enter) Paris, and back down the direction we came until we got to the MGM Grand, which was located diagonally from Excalibur, across from New York New York. From there back to our room, wh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXGhXIxHJ6IRP3ICrjwS62WiOng5BiqrsaTgOfNnbWkKMNpFajqIYX_-W38K44L3tDr8uHK1AINQauUstOBuYjZB18-z_hJXV-j6znuzgblJcxrBS5X4v87igqU2ahsGqd1Yjp6WWWg/s1600-h/IMG_4140_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXGhXIxHJ6IRP3ICrjwS62WiOng5BiqrsaTgOfNnbWkKMNpFajqIYX_-W38K44L3tDr8uHK1AINQauUstOBuYjZB18-z_hJXV-j6znuzgblJcxrBS5X4v87igqU2ahsGqd1Yjp6WWWg/s200/IMG_4140_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310849713126087314" border="0" /></a>ere we began an initial packing of gear. Our flights tomorrow were around 10am, so we wouldn't have a lot of time to organize come morning.<br /><br />The long day took its toll, though, and in the midst of the repacking and organizing, we dropped off one by one. Morning would be coming all too quickly...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-85862485033935720442009-03-04T18:12:00.002-05:002009-03-08T21:53:30.493-04:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 3, Part 1: The Last Climb<span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 22, 2009</span><br /><br />During the wee hours of the night, neighbors in the room next to us decided to have a party. 3am it started, 4am it continued. They were carrying on loudly with conversation and music. Then there were voices, loud, immediately outside our door. I got up and opened the door. Two people were standing there next to it, in their hands beers in plastic cups and cigarettes. They looked at me in surprise. I asked them if they could hold it down just a little, there were people sleeping in here. They didn't seem to comprehend this statement. People sleeping? at 4am?? I asked again. They moved away from our door, and the noise from the party did die down somewhat. Enough to drift back to sleep again...<br /><br />Daylight. We slowly arose. No one was in a hurry. We grabbed showers (those of us, anyway, that like morning showers), got the wall pounded on by someone trying to sleep (it was 8am; my guess it was the people next to us who were up until 4 or 5am drinking and didn't appreciate us talking), then back to CoCo's again for breakfast.<br /><br />As this was our third morning there, we were starting to become known by the staff (same five people walk into a restaurant every morning for breakfast, SOMEone's gonna notice!). Today we were treated with a double story. First, the waitress apologized for being slow in gett<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1o7FFxYk-hVJJaSwz9s4NDH4aF5vuFEN-yTG-cHEUn-aeQUbxej2I-60vhCvxwx9qYgzfm8pV5jICWoRbdRxw_QN8E6tNvD6gCtVBj_RnGDeMtiFz25GjYUkmaAiUlTwGSdpfyZQDWQ/s1600-h/IMG_3960_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1o7FFxYk-hVJJaSwz9s4NDH4aF5vuFEN-yTG-cHEUn-aeQUbxej2I-60vhCvxwx9qYgzfm8pV5jICWoRbdRxw_QN8E6tNvD6gCtVBj_RnGDeMtiFz25GjYUkmaAiUlTwGSdpfyZQDWQ/s320/IMG_3960_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309476080110113266" border="0" /></a>ing to us. She had precisely two tables - at opposite ends of the restaurant. We were one of the two. The other table apparently had a couple of, ah, professional girls at it. We ended up talking to our waitress at length about these types of girls. They always come in starving, always <span style="font-style: italic;">very </span>picky about how they want their food, but tip very well. Probably better than we did. :-/ Our waitress also told us a tale of the corner table we were at (this was our second morning at this particular table).<br /><br />Apparently, before the cops cleaned up the neighborhood a few short years ago (and it's still not a very nice neighborhood, really), the pimps and drug dealers used to commandeer this table, to keep tabs on the (lower-class) working girls who would be coming/going to/from the two motels here (making sure it's their girls coming/going, and not someone else's), and to do drug exchanges. The corner table had a commanding view of the street and access drives to the two motels. So they could see everything.<br /><br />When the cops cleaned the neighborhood up, the waitress said she put up a "Drug Free Zone" sign on the table. A few of the pimps and dealers did come in afterwards, but not in the mass group they used to. No one said anything about her sign.<br /><br />On the way out we all caught view of our waitress' other table. The professional girls, who looked rather plasticky with more make-up on than I had seen anyone wear in my life, were sitting with their, ah, boss. I thought about surreptitiously snapping a photo, just for complete documentation purposes, but opted not to. Maybe another trip... :-D<br /><br />Today's plan was very fluid. No one wanted to really commit to anything, but everyone wanted to do SOMEthing. I had gotten two nice, solid days of climbing in, and would not have minded just exploring some of the trails further afield in Red Rock Canyon, and perhaps go up one of the nearby peaks. Also, there were petroglyphs and pictographs in the park to be viewed, and I was interested in that. I had some geocache information that would bring you to a little-known set of pictographs behind Turtle Peak (itself a 5 mile round trip hike; getting to the pictographs looked like adding another 1 mile to the round trip trek). There was some talk about some of the others accompanying me, but everyone wanted to do at least a LITTLE more climbing before hiking (though Carlos was quietly hoping <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span>one would want to do some multi-pitch climbing ;-) ). So I suggested maybe we hit Magic Bus Wall, which has a half dozen routes ranging from 5.8 to 5.9+, all short bolted routes. I figured we could "run up" to the wall, squeeze in a couple leads, top rope the neighboring routes real quick, be down and out and still get a nice afternoon hike in.<br /><br />This was not to be.<br /><br />After breakfast we headed out, and stopped once more at the Visitor Center. Francesca was jealous of my Red Rock shirt and wanted one herself. :-D And I wanted to ask about the trails back behind Turtle Peak (forgetting this is BLM land, not a state park). I learned that there were no "park maintained" trails back there once behind Turtle Peak, but the ranger was sure I'd find my way easily enough to where ever I wanted to go (heh). Francesca got her shirt (one of the last!), and each of us browsed through the exhibit area (where I learned <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODabmapovJIkynnVtYCMuXLSDALBAryYsGE7zvrwUnxEjilGIJZSQVnAK80aQdUu99Jj92fwXO7C2_MAla4dQaeArkDp3QObTKuxq3IccZ8KGdkea_AmrJRSdRKczZBeEJfDhuGqPiA/s1600-h/IMG_3963_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODabmapovJIkynnVtYCMuXLSDALBAryYsGE7zvrwUnxEjilGIJZSQVnAK80aQdUu99Jj92fwXO7C2_MAla4dQaeArkDp3QObTKuxq3IccZ8KGdkea_AmrJRSdRKczZBeEJfDhuGqPiA/s200/IMG_3963_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309481366348410802" border="0" /></a>about Horace Wilson's homestead farm mentioned in the previous post, and where the rangers had a live chuckwalla lizard hanging out, both items I had missed on the earlier visit two days prior).<br /><br />They also had a weather forecast up on the wall. Hmmmm. Didnt look too promising. It was sunny out now, but the forecast called for cloudy, with possible rain by Monday. Well, that was a full day away. We'd be okay.<br /><br />Our plan was to head to the second Calico Rocks pulloff. Carlos and Francesca went on ahead, while Michelle, Claudia and I stopped short to do a geocache and drop off some travel bugs we (Claudia and I) had brought with us from the East. Then we headed up to the second overlook.<br /><br />When we arrived...no Carlos or Francesca. Urr??? Where were they? Didn't see them at the first overlook. Could they have missed it??? No way! Sign says "2nd Overlook". We tried calling them. I foun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9WdA_8Y1AbEZ-BVz0trXcxbjrmsVhyphenhyphenulEEj_PUAyHqGFBgGMFUfam2c0lOI2Oe7QsQcMyUxUpQSMppItiNlY-DQ3kyg_pBpzeFIaWLKt8APcOTiEsQdG_QEjYTEbELmLnyk-zcEOcw/s1600-h/IMG_3971_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9WdA_8Y1AbEZ-BVz0trXcxbjrmsVhyphenhyphenulEEj_PUAyHqGFBgGMFUfam2c0lOI2Oe7QsQcMyUxUpQSMppItiNlY-DQ3kyg_pBpzeFIaWLKt8APcOTiEsQdG_QEjYTEbELmLnyk-zcEOcw/s200/IMG_3971_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309693424235952082" border="0" /></a>d my cell didn't work out here, but Michelle's did. Yes, they had missed it. Carlos' guidebook said it was 5+ miles into the park, so he kept driving. Only to realize the error when they got way into the loop road. However, they had no choice but to continue driving alllll the way around and come back into the park again! So Claudia, Michelle and I geared up and started working our way in.<br /><br />Once again, our extensive knowledge on negotiating the maze of rock and canyons led us to not take always the right path. We found ourselves twice in either dead-end ravines or in narrow slot canyons that forced us to bridge up (because trying to "walk" along the floor would have been...full of issues, ev<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvIDIBa-u172bjNil8vbfjgeVRNEvnxIOUqCKXh25nvcREDcuAFGoVU4sC7FaHHc1_-0kzXbCjimEqs2P2edBp3H-pUKvNIiUWqXoqeP2DDZ_UhPx2JAUcTIniuKWGUnxpAPEJjabVA/s1600-h/IMG_3973_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvIDIBa-u172bjNil8vbfjgeVRNEvnxIOUqCKXh25nvcREDcuAFGoVU4sC7FaHHc1_-0kzXbCjimEqs2P2edBp3H-pUKvNIiUWqXoqeP2DDZ_UhPx2JAUcTIniuKWGUnxpAPEJjabVA/s200/IMG_3973_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309701739831314482" border="0" /></a>en without carrying packs of gear). Or we found ourselves scrambling over or through areas that most people probably don't go, given that there are other, easier paths to take. One helpful group called down to us at one point and said "Easier this way!" before moving on and out of sight.<br /><br />Nearly 40 minutes later, some of them exasperating, we finally found ourselves within 100' of Magic Bus Wall. And there we saw were already a dozen people up there climbing. Looking at my watch it was already after 11am. If we went up to join the throng of people, we would we sitting in line for quite a while before we'd get to climb. No hiking would happen, and while the Magic Bus routes were supposed to be nice, they weren't worth waiting in line for to miss out on something else.<br /><br />It was at this point Carlos and Francesca made it back around to the parking lot. We were around 0.1 to 0.2 miles apart from each other, shouting back and forth since cell phones were not working for anyone at this point. But communications were....well, garbled. We finally managed to convince them to stay there while we made our way back, quicker this time than when we tried coming up to the rocks.<br /><br />Back at the cars we learned what had happened to them. And we learned that the park was filling up <span style="font-style: italic;">fast </span>with cars and people. I suggested maybe we should push on to the Sandstone Quarry parking area, the next one up by a mile or two, as this is the parking spot for the trailhead to Turtle Peak, and there was climbing there, as well. Only the density of easy and moderate level routes was lower. I picked out a couple potential candidates and we drove up.<br /><br />We got lucky finding parking. Good golly, Miss Molly! The lot was full (we snagged the last two legal spots) We spied the wall I had suggested climbing on and Michelle and Claudia ran over to 'reserve' the routes while Carlos and I got the gear out. Carlos and I started talking about the routes. I had reread the description of the 5.6 route, and it took gear larger than I had available. Rereading the slab route, it indicated that it was fairly runout, meaning the bolt placements were few and f-a-r between. I wasn't comfortable leading up a crack so large I had no gear for, and Carlos wasn't comfortable leading up an extremely runout climb, so the idea to climb here was now dumped.<br /><br />We weren't doing very well with our climbing plans today.<br /><br />Exasperated, we called Michelle and Claudia back. I knew Carlos wanted to do a multipitch route (he kept suggesting going to Oak Creek Canyon and climbing around the Solar Slab area). At this point it was getting on noon.<br /><br />I noticed that the clouds were starting gather darkly to the west. Hmmm. And, say, isn't that a lenticular cloud to the south? That really didn't bode well...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Vnz8imIcjHENZnEWqo9dH-DS10jz8kykDfyQPvQxY4d0Ic-Tcl5S4ZITO9wB9-3_k1qDNw0aAadpy9oyM4LRBT-KTtwW256npQGpAzUt2qAFyphtJH_tsPsMPR3x7iy8Lao1E7qIgA/s1600-h/IMG_3986_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Vnz8imIcjHENZnEWqo9dH-DS10jz8kykDfyQPvQxY4d0Ic-Tcl5S4ZITO9wB9-3_k1qDNw0aAadpy9oyM4LRBT-KTtwW256npQGpAzUt2qAFyphtJH_tsPsMPR3x7iy8Lao1E7qIgA/s200/IMG_3986_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309702083127001746" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(ed note: Whenever you see lenticular clouds - which look every bit like 1950s flying saucers - in the mountains, it's t</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ime to leave...now. They generally are heralds f</span><span style="font-style: italic;">or serious changes in weather, which usually equates to Bad Ass Storm A-Comin'!</span><span style="font-style: italic;">)</span><br /><br />Hiking Turtle Peak, and trying to get to the pictographs was pretty much a no-go option at this point. I finally came up with Plan C. We would hike out Oak Creek to the Solar Slab wall area. Carlos could take Michelle and Claudia up <span style="font-style: italic;">Johnny Vegas</span> (a 480' 5.7 route) and I would work with Francesca on doing her own lead climbing up the 500' 5.3 <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span>. I figured she has seconded Carlos enough times that she has a decent idea of how gear goes into the rock. I would work with her on more thoughts/strategies/tactics on placing gear (the how/when/why of it all), and let her lead up a pitch or two on something WELL within her ability levels. Carlos could then climb something reasonably challenging, as could Michelle and Claudia. And everyone would get a little more climbing in. To this everyone heartily agreed. We loaded back in the cars and drove around the loop road and out of the park. Down half a mile or so to a pull off on the side of the main road for the trailhead to Oak Creek Canyon.<br /><br />We clambered out of the cars and started getting our gear out. The wind had picked up considerably in th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJiC6CLJKfZhYOp4Di-9bJmOrmz0vzaTbdKRXJYEywHyPPYhBBjE8FUnDjQ2sEOS89sztQ1H0uBKZ7v0VX52r8cyiGfG5hsoaEP69C8hA7lI5zh2dXaSOg-_2qsoARbUe9lGdO28HaA/s1600-h/IMG_3999_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJiC6CLJKfZhYOp4Di-9bJmOrmz0vzaTbdKRXJYEywHyPPYhBBjE8FUnDjQ2sEOS89sztQ1H0uBKZ7v0VX52r8cyiGfG5hsoaEP69C8hA7lI5zh2dXaSOg-_2qsoARbUe9lGdO28HaA/s200/IMG_3999_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310151932412250098" border="0" /></a>e past 30 or so minutes, and the temperature had dropped noticeably. Oh, and the clouds pretty much covered the sky, leaving only a hazy bright spot where the sun was (photo of sun and Mt Wilson, one of the highest peaks in Red Rock Canyon, near Rainbow Mountain). Yeah...we might get some rain...<br /><br />We hiked on in. The trail wasn't too bad, but there were a few side trails that converged and met with our main trail on the way to the rocks. I tried to keep a mental note of these side trails for the trek back so we wouldn't inadvertently wander off on one. Which could make for a LONG hike back to the cars!<br /><br />The Solar Slab is an enormous wall of rock rising along the flanks of Rainbow Mountain (photos to right and lower right; Solar Slab Wall is encircled in yellow). It<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLgKiNlWmPB2BjEtljJR5CesW5r8P2oQHCNkgonWsYHc68S69uuA3WjbMngeXq7JDpHv3rrMwHB9g1VY1yuBDkl-vBKNK8f_vxaXFdAwFx8lUPF-hQ9VhbXUeLTIkm_FTV2mWlFb7AQ/s1600-h/IMG_3988_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLgKiNlWmPB2BjEtljJR5CesW5r8P2oQHCNkgonWsYHc68S69uuA3WjbMngeXq7JDpHv3rrMwHB9g1VY1yuBDkl-vBKNK8f_vxaXFdAwFx8lUPF-hQ9VhbXUeLTIkm_FTV2mWlFb7AQ/s200/IMG_3988_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310152379074695570" border="0" /></a> doesn't quite go all the way up, but it does soar some 2000' from start to end, and involves some 13 pitches of climbing: 4 pitches of an "approach" climb (doing something on the lower headwall, like <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span>), followed by 9 long pitches up the main <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab</span>. It is not a climb to be taken lightly. Or in the threat or promise of bad weather.<br /><br />But that was not our goal this trip.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCJ022BEYS_s6KS4YEsPXTe37SVh5mmsy8_6MUYJhC9FlQauqURLfCrZNaerhw-1_qkmkgrBwpXuQaV9zir5MxgEBLR-4WTbz0rYvqWw9RdBUV98hLz3rl-Oy6B0z93HKdsYQQAr_9A/s1600-h/IMG_3988_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCJ022BEYS_s6KS4YEsPXTe37SVh5mmsy8_6MUYJhC9FlQauqURLfCrZNaerhw-1_qkmkgrBwpXuQaV9zir5MxgEBLR-4WTbz0rYvqWw9RdBUV98hLz3rl-Oy6B0z93HKdsYQQAr_9A/s200/IMG_3988_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310152668380622530" border="0" /></a><br />We continued on, and after over an hour of hiking we were just a couple hundred feet away and below the base of the main wall. The trail at this point grew a little confusing as it wound its way between truck-sized boulders. Carlos and Francesca went off in one direction, while Michelle and Claudia another. I was lagging behind, but it seemed to me that the path Michelle and Claudia took looked more trail-like than the direction Carlos and Francesca went, to I followed the more obvious path.<br /><br />Eventually we met up again, Carlos and Francesca having bushwhacked through some desert mountain foliage to get to us - and discovered they were covered in ticks! Apparently they found a nest. Ick. Said ticks were quickly removed. We carried on until we got to the base of the rock and stopped for lunch. We could see a party of people on <span style="font-style: italic;">Johnny Vegas</span>, the 5.7 Carlos wanted to do, but they appeared to be moving slow. We didn't realize there was more than one party on that route until later.<br /><br />All this time the air temps were cool, the clouds remained thick enough to allow only a hazy ball for the sun, and it sprinkled on us a couple of times. It was started to get onto mid-afternoon. I was thinking that if Francesca and I just do the first pitch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Sl</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ab Gully</span>, we'd call it good. I decided that I'd give her the option of doing that as her first lead. Claudia was not overly enthused about climbing at this point, as her climbing moods come and go with the sun. She opted to not climb today and after we finished eating and began sorting gear, she took one of Carlos' radios and the keys to Michelle's rental car and hiked back out. Carlos was waffling, and finally bailed, on the idea of doing <span style="font-style: italic;">Johnny Vegas</span>. Instead he and Michelle would climb with Francesca <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M5v3OpKCYBErd1We_Vma0fc0z2qK52WHK0gnqNdnfSfT4HctkmTeuhF-deMuiTtEEQvTJlYbAwKc2y2bCkH10kcEDeW4QGLxH5kcGkC8hsu05_nueA6VonG5vScHR7XFDDBA4LeRRw/s1600-h/IMG_4008_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M5v3OpKCYBErd1We_Vma0fc0z2qK52WHK0gnqNdnfSfT4HctkmTeuhF-deMuiTtEEQvTJlYbAwKc2y2bCkH10kcEDeW4QGLxH5kcGkC8hsu05_nueA6VonG5vScHR7XFDDBA4LeRRw/s200/IMG_4008_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310157253820912802" border="0" /></a>and I.<br /><br />To kind of put things in perspective, in the photo to the left, <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab</span> follows the green line up and right out of the image. <span style="font-style: italic;">Johnny Vegas</span> follows the blue/teal dashed lines. <span style="font-weight: bold;">The first 100'</span> of <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span> follows the solid yellow line, with the rest of the climb following the dashed red line to end at the start of the green line. Yes, this is a big rock...<br /><br />I talked to Francesca at great length a number of different aspects on leading: how one can get tunnel vision while going up and not see holds or gear placements just a couple feet to either side, how gear should go in and how to clip it while looking ahead to where you will be going next so it doesn't pull out sideways or something, etc. During this time I also suggested to Carlos that he and Michelle climb first. This way they would be up at the anchors when Francesca arrived, at which point I would be of little use to advise her as to what to do next. Carlos agreed and went up.<br /><br />In his guidebook, <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span> is listed as 5.1 - about as easy as you can get and still call it technical climbing. In my guide it's listed as 5.3. Not really that much more difficult, but yes, a couple levels. Carlos got about 3/4 of the way up and called down asking if this was really listed as 5.1 or 5.3. I said yes. He said it seemed much harder than that and continued up to the belay. Michelle followed.<br /><br />I gave Francesca my rack of gear at this point and she shrugged it onto her shoulders.<br /><br />"This %&@*ing thing is heavy!! You <span style="font-style: italic;">climb </span>with this?!?" To which I nodded, "Mk II Rack, standard issue. Weighs in at about 10 lbs. I made a few modifications. Get your ass up there."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ksTuxo_N067vs5oYYs_e-5Ew2MsJb6zlVU5olYzWAt7dRiGizhUH4kEcc1k_rU7-oVYwXQrw_da75zxXZUBNwObUysPXTb5nrYvk966ismduT5H_FqaV4V6yJCj6zLAKcG_87F_ehw/s1600-h/IMG_4038_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ksTuxo_N067vs5oYYs_e-5Ew2MsJb6zlVU5olYzWAt7dRiGizhUH4kEcc1k_rU7-oVYwXQrw_da75zxXZUBNwObUysPXTb5nrYvk966ismduT5H_FqaV4V6yJCj6zLAKcG_87F_ehw/s200/IMG_4038_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310160971628597250" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She went up. 10' up a 4th class section she admitted that she was suddenly a little nervous. Being on the "sharp end" of the rope will do that. But she pushed through and pressed on (photo to right of Francesca about 35' up the pitch).<br /><br />She made good progress, going up a few moves, getting a stance, putting some gear in, clipping the rope, repeat. Then she got to the hard section. I could barely see where she was given the position I was in to belay and the interposing tree. She decided to "take" (hang on the rope and rest a bit) while she puzzled out the next section. Carlos, 20-25' above her, gave some advice and suggestions. She shook her arms out, plugged in another piece or two, then continued up. A short bit later she was at the anchors. "Off belay!!!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqW3zflFUj-MSG4w0N_dgsPZMfc0PMhfidH8N4Dl8J6rdrTBYjLyZnk5U4Lea7a3I4SoEa-jfgUcBH5D1YB81YQ_hSzSZjphwDATtH3d6d51NyyQHxsIaWNAVB9UUP1J5L_r9p5xHc1g/s1600-h/IMG_4053_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqW3zflFUj-MSG4w0N_dgsPZMfc0PMhfidH8N4Dl8J6rdrTBYjLyZnk5U4Lea7a3I4SoEa-jfgUcBH5D1YB81YQ_hSzSZjphwDATtH3d6d51NyyQHxsIaWNAVB9UUP1J5L_r9p5xHc1g/s200/IMG_4053_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310162959761549826" border="0" /></a><br />While she pulled up the slack in the rope I got my climbing shoes on. As soon as she had me on belay I started on up. I brought my little point-n-shoot camera along with me to take photos of her gear placements so she could try and remember the climb and have a visual image to go along with it. Help her with future placements. I photo'd all of her gear until I got to the crux of the climb. Image to the left is of the #2 "blue" Alien in a horizontal crack.<br /><br />Hmmm! This <span style="font-weight: bold;">was </span>harder than 5.3! I paused for a moment, considered my options. I was balanced on the side of a small right-facing corner with a crack between it and the main wall. The wall suddenly got very steep, and footholds kinda...vanished. I looked around, looked up, saw what I had to do, and made the moves. Yes, definitely harder than 5.3, to say nothing of 5.1. It felt more like the hardest moves I made yesterday on <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span>, 5.6. Damn! Nice lead, Francesca! Right up there with my first lead (<span style="font-style: italic;">The Nose</span> at Looking Glass Rock in North Carolina - a 5.8 friction route I climbed in tennis shoes back in the mid-80s - yeah, an eon when pteranadons patrolled the skies :-P ). After that the climbing was easy once again.<br /><br />Looking back down I suddenly understood that the route actually climbed the main crack<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujh_7uH6I79JRRFcTAobwBBrhsYLgpJ8p33NOxLuJ94wmFBz30TJTBcaJgyL-4nowS-2Xc2fndYGCzTK5JhghIwuRFKY1XNJmxxUh4HYllMcEGiG8IVv6dkBkStSdQxH_2z5NFA7XvQ/s1600-h/IMG_4060_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujh_7uH6I79JRRFcTAobwBBrhsYLgpJ8p33NOxLuJ94wmFBz30TJTBcaJgyL-4nowS-2Xc2fndYGCzTK5JhghIwuRFKY1XNJmxxUh4HYllMcEGiG8IVv6dkBkStSdQxH_2z5NFA7XvQ/s200/IMG_4060_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310164842430382802" border="0" /></a> until it got too wide, then stepped <span style="font-style: italic;">right</span>, whereas we had gone left, following the secondary crack. After stepping right, the route went straight up over a ladder of holds, then came back left again to the main crack and followed that to the belay. This wasn't very clear from either of the guidebooks. BUT, we live and learn. :-)<br /><br />At this point it began sprinking again, a little harder than before (but not soaking). I looked at Michelle, Carlos and Francesca. Yeah, we were done. Time to rap down.<br /><br />While Francesca had been climbing up, another party was rappelling down <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span>. They got 'stuck' behind us while we were clustered around the anchors while coming up. There were three or four of them. One from Utah, the rest from Canada. As "my" group rappelled down (I was going to go last), they asked if they could rappel down our rope. "Yeah, sure." Always good karma to share rope out on the rock when possible. After all, that's what Aaron did for me yesterday on <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span> with the #4 cam. :-)<br /><br />However, I do have to say, in all my adventures and travels over the years, this is the first group of Canadians that turned out to be fairly unfriendly. They followed me down the rappel, then pulled our ropes down, but never offered to coil it or anything. Just left them piled in disarray on the ground and wordlessly went on their way to get their stuff. Later they would just as wordlessly pass us on the hike out. Up to now, every Canadian I've ever met has been warmly friendly, like Aussies and Ki<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTtrs22ksYKALZoHm1rxvflpvCM2pHrKYywGJ0QMB3nYQLQ_c3PQ2-g6ayLzChrvAoEfQPBlQkAxrUWfH27ypjNC1MvfeJGVxn4DOXoksa1m7scecWxqvTf9ybXmlpTHmubVoob5Vrg/s1600-h/IMG_4014_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTtrs22ksYKALZoHm1rxvflpvCM2pHrKYywGJ0QMB3nYQLQ_c3PQ2-g6ayLzChrvAoEfQPBlQkAxrUWfH27ypjNC1MvfeJGVxn4DOXoksa1m7scecWxqvTf9ybXmlpTHmubVoob5Vrg/s200/IMG_4014_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310162166304833058" border="0" /></a>wis. Well, whatever.<br /><br />Photo at left is another perspective of <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab Gully</span>, with <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab</span> itself high overhead. The first 100' section we climbed today noted in yellow, showing the start and stopping points with X's. <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab </span>starts quite a ways above us. Next time...<br /><br />We coiled our ropes, packed our gear, and started out. I was kinda in a less than great mood, partly due to the weather, and partly due to so many of today's plans being dumped for various reasons, and so kinda hung back to have a little quiet alone time. Michelle and Francesca had forged ahead. I didn't have an opportunity to mention to them about the splits in the trail, and in fact, didn't even remember about them until they were nearly a quarter mile ahead of me and I came to the first trail fork. Urrrr....<br /><br />Carlos was about halfway between me and the girls at this point. Michelle and Francesca seemed to be charging forward, so I shrugged, figuring this wasn't the junction I remembered, and continued following.<br /><br />By the time I got a quarter mile down the trail, past a second (and last) split in the trail, Francesca and Michelle had made it to a parking area (not ours). At this point I realized the last junction I passed was the one we were supposed to take. Durrrr....<br /><br />I eventually caught up to them. They kinda figured out they missed the junction, but by this point it seemed easier to just continue down the dirt road to the loop road inside the park, follow the loop road out, then down the main road to the cars. Michelle and Carlos started on d<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YtDafG0tse3LiTL78WcfFMKnecQdkS17iVgb12GaXAevznvHx2liHtLhFPv2TGINZWwxo8h81eClPOrJWqK1AlD6RA-utDLJj6fiEKV1vF8S0YsaxtO8Tuwd66DDngMOycAIZ0xm5Q/s1600-h/IMG_4077_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YtDafG0tse3LiTL78WcfFMKnecQdkS17iVgb12GaXAevznvHx2liHtLhFPv2TGINZWwxo8h81eClPOrJWqK1AlD6RA-utDLJj6fiEKV1vF8S0YsaxtO8Tuwd66DDngMOycAIZ0xm5Q/s200/IMG_4077_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310166050320586418" border="0" /></a>own the road, while Francesca hung back with me to chat climbing and photography, and both of us tried taking photos of the kinda wild looking clouds and sky to the north and north east (where we had been earlier in the day, and where we could see it was raining; good call to not have done Turtle Peak!). Photo right is of Calico Rocks in a light rain shower (difficult to tell on the photo)<br /><br />A long hike and good conversation later, we made it to the cars. Carlos and Michelle had long reached them before Francesca and I did. But they were hiking straight. We had taken another parallel trail in the desert and were stopping to take photos. :-) But, Day #3 was drawing to a close. And we were all hungry. We loaded up and headed back to the motel, where we all grabbed showers. Tonite was our last night in Vegas - we were going to go visit the Strip and treat ourselves to a semi-expensive meal!<br /><br />I will be back again one day, and I am going to climb the entire length of <span style="font-style: italic;">Solar Slab</span>. That thing just looked too damned cool for words.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXBp4cEm869ewEm6Vs76cL_ndwHLDOLjM1yfvIQZyas8ROpXJqGyf-1LvvM_CkEZpJwwY26iDh7xKwSiP_PJhgznyZX1DsgRc2mz4QF7i6ThwQgzbsxCIfVIYhDUhXtaV2LMhBMayoA/s1600-h/IMG_4092_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXBp4cEm869ewEm6Vs76cL_ndwHLDOLjM1yfvIQZyas8ROpXJqGyf-1LvvM_CkEZpJwwY26iDh7xKwSiP_PJhgznyZX1DsgRc2mz4QF7i6ThwQgzbsxCIfVIYhDUhXtaV2LMhBMayoA/s200/IMG_4092_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310218723325662274" border="0" /></a><br />Photo left is of one of many Joshua Trees scattered about the landscape out near the parking area, looking back at Juniper Peak which sits to the right of Rainbow Mountain.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(continued in part 2)</span>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-36782636360194710802009-03-04T09:59:00.000-05:002009-03-06T16:45:56.663-05:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 2, Cat In The Hat, pt 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_Zc0lR0dhVCOx6BLlz_7MclqrK_0qTvo12tI9IGdeQWojOh-qw0vi-T0-G0qOVk-QFi-qhH9OA413xGkV4bMuYDcIO4B0YcwncEjJ1bPCyydyG9Np334CdEuyx8oW5lqrNpCvcQhlw/s1600-h/IMG_3883_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_Zc0lR0dhVCOx6BLlz_7MclqrK_0qTvo12tI9IGdeQWojOh-qw0vi-T0-G0qOVk-QFi-qhH9OA413xGkV4bMuYDcIO4B0YcwncEjJ1bPCyydyG9Np334CdEuyx8oW5lqrNpCvcQhlw/s200/IMG_3883_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309363371101756642" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 21, 2009 (con't)</span><br /><br />As I crained my neck to catch any kind of clue about the 5th and final pitch, Aaron showed up and said that I would be best served combining pitch 4 (the traverse pitch) with pitch 5 (the final pitch) into one 170' long pitch. Yeah, okay. Still didn't know anything about pitch 5, other than remembering Carlos telling me that most of the way up the wall the crack you follow utterly disappears and you have to climb a slab to a bolt and beyond that another 30-40' to the anchors. Crap, I hate climbing unprotected sections of rock. But I had to remind myself, I've done stretches of unprotected 5.7 to 5.9 slab at Stone Mountain in North Carolina. I could handle this.<br /><br />'He's going to be shitting his pants,' thought Aaron as he also told me about the unprotected stretch to the bolt. But at the moment I was more nervous about the downclimb and traverse.<br /><br />So down I went, and over I sauntered, getting in a few pieces of gear to protect Michelle's traverse. Then I looked up. A long, broad black wall, split by a widening crack, was before me. The first third of this looked okay, but the wide section?? Crap, crap, crap, crap. I hate offwidths (offwidths are extra wide cracks, larger than hand or fists in width, that you can insert part or most of your body within; they usually suck for climbing and protecting adequately).<br /><br />Normally my palms do not perspire while climbing. As I gazed at the offwidth crack (large enough to swallow me sideways with all my gear, and far far too large for even a #4 Cam to protect), my hands began raining sweat. Which evaporated quickly away in the dry desert air. Sighing, I continued up. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. And a few other choice words I've edited for family viewing. :-D<br /><br />The wide crack proved to not be quite as daunting as I feared it was. There were holds on either side. And I could reach into the back of the crack for a couple of moves. But it was still unnerving, and I was unhappy until I got above it and got some more gear in the rock again.<br /><br />20' later the crack utterly vanished as the rock went from black to white. I was at the slab...<br /><br />Down below Aaron was chuckling, "Man, that guy is going to be shitting his pants soon!" :-D<br /><br />I paused and gathered my wits. Looking around, I saw subtle bumps and small features to delicately climb on. I stepped up, transitioned my weight, reached up, palmed a bump, stepped up again. Delicate moves and then I could reach the bolt! I clipped it with a quickdraw, clipped the rope to it, and breathed a LOT easier again (it was a long way down to my last piece). I looked up to where I had to go next. And actually saw lots of slab-style foot holds and hand bumps to play with until I got to an overlap of black rock. And then I saw the line of weakness that broke the overlap a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw1Yv8SDLfoNFN-Xy3s9ewYAWXG2wNG8cC286PKUx2jMeGolJsVmgZMiQPmPG_oqaXbJH-h_s9fPtrT3ZRrhQbzX9u7EZG5hm6IFdFiMum-RTQecfIpfSdzX7ClusefYZqoVg6hrczA/s1600-h/IMG_3845_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw1Yv8SDLfoNFN-Xy3s9ewYAWXG2wNG8cC286PKUx2jMeGolJsVmgZMiQPmPG_oqaXbJH-h_s9fPtrT3ZRrhQbzX9u7EZG5hm6IFdFiMum-RTQecfIpfSdzX7ClusefYZqoVg6hrczA/s200/IMG_3845_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309348852512529986" border="0" /></a>bove me in a crack-corner system. That's where I was heading, and I could get gear in there!<br /><br />Partway up the overlap and crack I had the presence of mind to turn around and look down. Heh! Long way to the bolt! And a much, much longer way down to the ground. :-D But I was okay at this point. I plugged in a #1 Cam and continued up (in the photo above, the quickdraw to the bolt is the short dark line perpendicular to the rope at the edge of the visible white rock as the rope disappears over the lip to down below).<br /><br />Moments later I was sitting pretty at the anchors, all tied in and happy as a clam. I could now finally breathe. :-) I brought Michelle up. As she climbed, I could take in the scenery around me. And off into the valley. Very nice views.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9js5Izv27cMjavuijGmBuy1OFelYm8XJu14ECLj2OKuMMGXBoTno5iDOTnDbZ5vGU6-LYe4Wezfg2zJ4CkUyR3gMcA4mak61yYnj0E0ImOPgQoVehbr3A5BHHrDg-I7zeGVV4OeXffQ/s1600-h/IMG_3846_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9js5Izv27cMjavuijGmBuy1OFelYm8XJu14ECLj2OKuMMGXBoTno5iDOTnDbZ5vGU6-LYe4Wezfg2zJ4CkUyR3gMcA4mak61yYnj0E0ImOPgQoVehbr3A5BHHrDg-I7zeGVV4OeXffQ/s200/IMG_3846_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309349404706039538" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As the pitch was 170' long, it took Michelle a while to come up. And from my stance I couldn't see her for most of the climb. She had a nervous time doing the downclimb, and scolded Aaron and his friend for not talking to her to distract her more, but she got through it. Then over and up the crack, then onto the slab.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5PogZyFxoErw41m9RqM0zJfOXht1jwJquKzYD0H6SifumLzS4Kmq7vLdieCXTQrogRlIo_rTlpeXsf565f2eUd4VfTa3j3fPQlNb3JX_QTIIK9UnCNlK2opUslQ4qPHXEYTR-W22og/s1600-h/IMG_3852_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5PogZyFxoErw41m9RqM0zJfOXht1jwJquKzYD0H6SifumLzS4Kmq7vLdieCXTQrogRlIo_rTlpeXsf565f2eUd4VfTa3j3fPQlNb3JX_QTIIK9UnCNlK2opUslQ4qPHXEYTR-W22og/s200/IMG_3852_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309354754353605826" border="0" /></a><br />After that she got lost.<br /><br />She had apparently wandered too far to the right below the overlap, entirely missing the crack that split it (I had not placed any gear at the overlap, but much higher above, feeling very confident on that section of rock). Finally she got course-corrected and came up the crack past the overlap. At this point I could see her once again. Moments later she was at the belay station, clipping in.<br /><br />Hot on her heels was Aaron.<br /><br />"So, how'd you like that slab section?" he asked mirthfully.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix941DS0QI7G3Zc8Fyt8Wvh_2qXfrgbu2pwvx5QwbNYr8W2B6ExOpd67gGO6jUKfMOe3gelgbBlQDRI_LHMVQnfAz7s-iNl-GOQ41bxEEeD6zhVptzKJbXPPU6LUAWQZgvfodd9A1vCQ/s1600-h/IMG_3862_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix941DS0QI7G3Zc8Fyt8Wvh_2qXfrgbu2pwvx5QwbNYr8W2B6ExOpd67gGO6jUKfMOe3gelgbBlQDRI_LHMVQnfAz7s-iNl-GOQ41bxEEeD6zhVptzKJbXPPU6LUAWQZgvfodd9A1vCQ/s200/IMG_3862_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309356975992194434" border="0" /></a><br />"Actually, not that bad. I've been on runout slab before in North Carolina. And it was quite easy after the bolt," I replied. We ended up chatting about climbing and then about caving, as Aaron is also a fairly active caver.<br /><br />All the while we had been climbing up we had been wondering what became of Team Carlos. We figured we should have seen them at some point, either going up or coming down. Or at the very least heard them. Aaron then mentioned there was a guy and two girls coming up the climb below the 5th pitch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat</span>. Might that be them? Had to be; no one else was on the climb today! Cool, they were coming up. We hadn't somehow missed them.<br /><br />Anyway, our climb was done, and it was good. It was to go down.<br /><br />The rappels basically followed the route up, but seemed to be set up in such a way as to be (mostly) out of the way of anyone climbing up. Especially on the last pitch, the rap down did not cross the climb up at all.<br /><br />Michelle went down first, then I followed. As I was rapping down, I saw the Polish guy at the bolt on the slab, casting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJXa9eTXxH8BGAIKymmt9yHYpm8Z7Xkd0pxMvyWG9yN_8dHlZpisE9OsVn0U78WVg5XxxLgkHA3gY6_0hAlxcHYWWqw8N9aBpiuAAF264kcnuuIWekhXGldCN1PNSfdT7pl6VtEQ55w/s1600-h/IMG_3870_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJXa9eTXxH8BGAIKymmt9yHYpm8Z7Xkd0pxMvyWG9yN_8dHlZpisE9OsVn0U78WVg5XxxLgkHA3gY6_0hAlxcHYWWqw8N9aBpiuAAF264kcnuuIWekhXGldCN1PNSfdT7pl6VtEQ55w/s200/IMG_3870_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309359823667143122" border="0" /></a> around for something to climb on.<br /><br />"How's it going?" I called out.<br /><br />He turned to me, and with a slightly nervous grin responded, "I am shitting my pants!!!"<br /><br />This first rappel ended at the belay station at the top of the third pitch. From there we could look over to a ledge below the final pitch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat </span>and could easily see Claudia and Carlo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH8pomln_n_L4qbTAv1YKPZ-ouEGuIrGJT-t47v4KJ3JFWcoCu0lFKdanO3Q8Sqt0uwRbxunDaiuaJ6rN4-EO7-UzddlWHVwWgWhyWzUUirQkVlG90Pi_zBG9xvIV4TFgWaUZbAMzgZA/s1600-h/IMG_3880_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH8pomln_n_L4qbTAv1YKPZ-ouEGuIrGJT-t47v4KJ3JFWcoCu0lFKdanO3Q8Sqt0uwRbxunDaiuaJ6rN4-EO7-UzddlWHVwWgWhyWzUUirQkVlG90Pi_zBG9xvIV4TFgWaUZbAMzgZA/s200/IMG_3880_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309361212935396370" border="0" /></a>s. Francesca was still 100'+ below, coming up.<br /><br />In the photo above you can see the Calico Rocks in the background. Through the trees in the lower left corner of the photo is the Pine Creek Trail. The large boulders on the hillside to the right of Carlos are single-family home-sized rocks. For scale. :-)<br /><br />We reset the ropes for the next rappel. As Michelle went down, I could see Francesca, 50' below, working up the final section of <span style="font-style: italic;">Cookie M</span><span style="font-style: italic;">onster</span> (see photo right).<br /><br />Finally it was my turn to rappel down. I took a bunch of photos of Team Carlos on their ledge, then started down. When I looked up again, they <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwa3jMZGNPTTrOCsJz2Ivw0Zu4ypzSolnr3gqnz41I7s1k53a3sHlCdtSh25qe0lY7l4K1rK6eLzTmw9WyHN5f-6s6LW4DiqiqFNy21DO3Ha1KKOXjZ81ClbV0YaykdVLw1LNdzN8PQ/s1600-h/IMG_3892_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwa3jMZGNPTTrOCsJz2Ivw0Zu4ypzSolnr3gqnz41I7s1k53a3sHlCdtSh25qe0lY7l4K1rK6eLzTmw9WyHN5f-6s6LW4DiqiqFNy21DO3Ha1KKOXjZ81ClbV0YaykdVLw1LNdzN8PQ/s200/IMG_3892_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309362577112456578" border="0" /></a>were all taking photos of me! Crazy kids...<br /><br />The rest of the rappeling went smoothly. Michelle even practiced working with the autoblock, allowing her to go "hands free" on the rappel.<br /><br />In short order we were down on the ground again, wrapping up ropes and gear, and making our way out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgia6ugz8gihK3mFjvbjdr74r1D7S4dNjIrSctYuCGB30CfBTz9MA7t2H6_XRpbqzf96F61IprYjn2DLnLQyl_NVGPCk8KyyWda5t0T_Evr5aKWqmcxJJUCskuxQN1iNQzE9hkNG39uuw/s1600-h/IMG_3936_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgia6ugz8gihK3mFjvbjdr74r1D7S4dNjIrSctYuCGB30CfBTz9MA7t2H6_XRpbqzf96F61IprYjn2DLnLQyl_NVGPCk8KyyWda5t0T_Evr5aKWqmcxJJUCskuxQN1iNQzE9hkNG39uuw/s200/IMG_3936_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309375963682811026" border="0" /></a><br />We collected a few rocks, found a more continuous "climber's trail" out to a couple of stream crossings (photo right), then were on the main Pine Creek Trail once again. On the hike out we weren't so focused on Mescalito, and could relax and look around at the surrounding terrain. Some very nice scenery around here (photo lower right).<br /><br />As we continued on out we came upon the remains of a foundation. We would later learn this was the ruins of an old house built and lived in by homesteader Horace Wilson in the early 1920s (photo below left). Michelle took a nap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmrUeXTDcfoDvQalEBxgT9C1V3LPJQYOOFE9qDApq0TKTOD8d2mJ2-RQ01PJvcEVv1eD5CzES7-ZZk9U9g6YEQ6wtLQbLZX_U6qQyjl9KIQL2zagws6d2jaqouK3mNdNsiAfJAhiBuw/s1600-h/IMG_3938_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmrUeXTDcfoDvQalEBxgT9C1V3LPJQYOOFE9qDApq0TKTOD8d2mJ2-RQ01PJvcEVv1eD5CzES7-ZZk9U9g6YEQ6wtLQbLZX_U6qQyjl9KIQL2zagws6d2jaqouK3mNdNsiAfJAhiBuw/s200/IMG_3938_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309376225853741362" border="0" /></a> while I explored around a bit.<br /><br />The final leg of the hike we turned offtrail to tackle a geocache that someone had set out barely a month before. It took a bit of trail and error to find the right trail back, as we kept getting blocked by thick short trees and walls of cholla cacti. But we eventually found the way in, signed the log, and headed back to the car. There we waited a while for Carlos and crew to come out, but it was getting late. At 5:45 we<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxHkx22IZ-kmwkx-bPQmxCA93gHs5DYdr2KViv3SIVYdOS_vilc5z-9XGyFSVZI10pF2rcvQvT-DfWQ5fPJAtDFZr-HGRkezotEN1kf0WzS74cu9f0mNSj5dhA6u4Rl3KVyH7EhghLg/s1600-h/IMG_3941_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxHkx22IZ-kmwkx-bPQmxCA93gHs5DYdr2KViv3SIVYdOS_vilc5z-9XGyFSVZI10pF2rcvQvT-DfWQ5fPJAtDFZr-HGRkezotEN1kf0WzS74cu9f0mNSj5dhA6u4Rl3KVyH7EhghLg/s200/IMG_3941_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309394407348667650" border="0" /></a> decided to wait outside the park at an overlook maybe half a mile up the road from the park exit. We left them a note and went out.<br /><br />Half hour later we tried calling them. They apparently had already left the park and were heading back to Vegas! They had somehow misinterpreted the note to say we had gone back into the park to wait for them, and they couldn't figure that out at all. We were all tired and starving. After some miscommunicating phone tagging, we finally settled on a restaurant for dinner.<br /><br />After dinner, back to the motel. Showers were had, and to sleep we went...Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-23447913246181963422009-03-03T15:54:00.000-05:002009-03-05T09:02:59.875-05:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 2: Cat in the Hat, Pt 1<span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 21, 2009</span><br /><br />The next morning I awoke once again very early local time. Everyone else was still snoozing. I tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn't meant to be. I looked at my watch in the dim light of the room. Hmmm. 5:30? Maybe I should get up...<br /><br />I got up, grabbed a shower, then quietly back into the room. No one's moved. I heard Michelle's voice ask what time was it. I went back to my watch, this time with a flashlight.<br /><br />It read 4am.<br /><br />"Urrrr....4am", I whispered, realizing I had misread the time earlier.<br /><br />"What the #&%@ are you doing up?" as she threw the covers back over her head and went back to sleep.<br /><br />I was well awake now (it was 7am East Coast time). While the rest slumbered, I decided to take a walk around downtown Vegas for an hour or so. There were some geocaches in the area I might be able to try for, and the walk would do me good (the 'fresh' air of downtown Vegas was crisp and invigorating, compared to the warmer atmosphere of five bodies in a cozy mot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG971oQWAMykLSvuDu1hV54lzRkgLdj3OW4vEu57FGTVTFuU5UGl64AJUP0vioMMDqd9_kq5gX2IyCCga_gB1kYwZYTNNHQi6QfiFWwzdmR7_4ZbQ3HakFAzaApQjnlctX3vrnUGTSbQ/s1600-h/IMG_3759_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG971oQWAMykLSvuDu1hV54lzRkgLdj3OW4vEu57FGTVTFuU5UGl64AJUP0vioMMDqd9_kq5gX2IyCCga_gB1kYwZYTNNHQi6QfiFWwzdmR7_4ZbQ3HakFAzaApQjnlctX3vrnUGTSbQ/s200/IMG_3759_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309071581143109474" border="0" /></a>el room ;-) ). I slipped out quietly, trying not to disturb my companions any further, and set out to do a little exploring Vegas, using the geocaches to guide me.<br /><br />I wandered about for about an hour. I found all three of the caches I set out to find (two of them were virtual caches - caches that have no container, but you have to locate and identify an object, or take photographs of it; in these cases one was the giant MGM lion and another was the M&M World store), and got to see a mostly, but not fully, quiet Strip. Still a fair number of people walking about (and about half of them drunker than a college frat party), but it wasn't wall-to-wall pedestrians. And of wha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHr2hoJ2QY4S-sqzSLD9mFGjzj04K3BFIjvNz136vHOFlB3UQNAJe_3vfDpsZ0YBUYOdxrAD19OuZIZ3W5urEYE7nWjWCcWS6jSNUc_hfIC4EyjA70ZkIJjWvFEY0JCI6hHGtBYG1QAg/s1600-h/IMG_0000_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHr2hoJ2QY4S-sqzSLD9mFGjzj04K3BFIjvNz136vHOFlB3UQNAJe_3vfDpsZ0YBUYOdxrAD19OuZIZ3W5urEYE7nWjWCcWS6jSNUc_hfIC4EyjA70ZkIJjWvFEY0JCI6hHGtBYG1QAg/s200/IMG_0000_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309071726642595202" border="0" /></a>t little I got to see of the Strip, New York New York was still the most impressive thing.<br /><br />Back at the hotel room the gang was slowly stirring. The sun was juuuust starting to brighten the eastern sky as we resorted gear and piled it all into the cars. Over to CoCos for breakfast again, and this time the food was better. The wait staff was still very personable and fun. Even the manager. No pretentiousness or anything between anybody. It was all very cool. After breakfast we headed out. I was to climb with Francesca today up <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span>, while Carlos would take Michelle and Claudia up <span style="font-style: italic;">Cookie Monster</span>, a 5.7 route that ran parallel to <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span>, and finished on the same last pitch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.<br /><br />Part of the reason for my non-sleep was the time shift; I was still on East Coast time. The other part was today's upcoming climb, <span style="font-style: italic;">Ca</span><span style="font-style: italic;">t In The Hat</span>. I could easily climb at the difficulty level of that route (5.6), but it was the unknown nature of the route that was nigging at my subconscious. I tried to ignore it so no one would know (after all, I had been climbing since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and other than Carlos, was the only other experienced multi-pitch leader of the group; I didn't want to let anyone down - besides, I really did want to climb the route). But Francesca and Michelle picked up on it pretty readily, discussed the situation amongst themselves, and made a command decision to swap places. They both figured I'd be more comfortable climbing with Michelle (since I've climbed with her more than Francesca), and since Francesca has climbed with Carlos a fair number of times, he'd have someone who he knew, whereas he has only climbed with Claudia a few times, and I don't think ever multipitch. Decision made, we headed out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0fq0XqzjsBj2fERYeeNvcIEmt5sMe_EhpkYLtTObhqSXLVzSVgNL5VtyNwHKckdG6-gRINVNGTrvjLjzL3JxecxkNYkeVKA397XuI9uiGYoUQWG7JWaYGazQLZUehuyCIBWB2jIzKA/s1600-h/IMG_3764_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0fq0XqzjsBj2fERYeeNvcIEmt5sMe_EhpkYLtTObhqSXLVzSVgNL5VtyNwHKckdG6-gRINVNGTrvjLjzL3JxecxkNYkeVKA397XuI9uiGYoUQWG7JWaYGazQLZUehuyCIBWB2jIzKA/s200/IMG_3764_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309074896248621234" border="0" /></a><br />As we drove out, I noted again (but forgot to mention in the Day 1 entries) that some of the overpasses along the beltway were decorated with interesting rock art or petroglyphs. I snapped photos of several, but haven't "decoded" what they mean yet. It was a nice touch to the bridges, especially considering the rest of the highway between overpasses was just grey gravel rocks.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span> is a 500-1100' tall 4-5 to 7 pitch climb<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ4UjPDUlD2OWfCoWvIG8I2U6Jv2Mq1r7sJ1rccq897BlW7D9a2iZROeOYpTRkcV2O0L_zF_WipQNkRhEKTS0fguVjXgNUJC9xbAGKz6B1cp3YXi7WObARsRlx2HMLd8KNbG64SA9NA/s1600-h/IMG_3781-Cat+In+The+Hat_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ4UjPDUlD2OWfCoWvIG8I2U6Jv2Mq1r7sJ1rccq897BlW7D9a2iZROeOYpTRkcV2O0L_zF_WipQNkRhEKTS0fguVjXgNUJC9xbAGKz6B1cp3YXi7WObARsRlx2HMLd8KNbG64SA9NA/s200/IMG_3781-Cat+In+The+Hat_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309074359443230306" border="0" /></a>, depending on whether or not you climb to the very top of Mescalito. Most parties just climb the 500' 4-5 pitch section, as the last 600' of the climb is not as well explored and getting off is...well, a bit of an adventure (the guidebook referred to it as "serious"). For the lower half of the route, there are rap stations set up at each belay ledge. Easy exit action. In the photo here, <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span> climbs the southeast buttress following the red line until it ends. The dashed portion of the line means it is climbing up the other side of the buttress.<br /><br />The guidebook I have listed the pitches to be 5.5, 5.5, 5.6, 5.4, 5.6 in difficulty. As I climbed, I would have rerated the pitches to be 5.6, 5.5, 5.4 or 5.5, and 5.6, combining the last two pitches into one. But I get ahead of myself here.<br /><br />As Michelle and I stopped so I could grab something to eat for lunch, the others continued on to Red Rock. As we followed behind, I could see in the distance the Mescalito (denoted by the red arrow in the accompanying photo lower right). Being a mere 110o' tall, it was <span style="font-style: italic;">dwarfed </span>by the neighboring mountains. Size is amazing out here. And to this little pyramid of rock is our destination of the day...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIpT4dGwf4gQVFxeGnr4OGvxpuMU-ezCcR1QMqhE5O53J32TSUbp1Pj1EH8EaGRUpRpkuHqIAHLayRQCG9oNtTu_kvsz1KW8VXemYhSftY4eai7GJl4f3U_lpSgsS21yThfsZT4fslA/s1600-h/IMG_3766_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIpT4dGwf4gQVFxeGnr4OGvxpuMU-ezCcR1QMqhE5O53J32TSUbp1Pj1EH8EaGRUpRpkuHqIAHLayRQCG9oNtTu_kvsz1KW8VXemYhSftY4eai7GJl4f3U_lpSgsS21yThfsZT4fslA/s200/IMG_3766_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309075743620393618" border="0" /></a><br />We arrived at the parking area to Pine Creek Canyon, same one Carlos and Francesca were at the day before, just as Carlos and Crew were getting on their packs to head in. We ended up milling about a little bit, then they headed down the trail. 15 to 20 minuntes later, after I finally got things reorganized in my bag one last time (still a bit nervous about the upcoming climb), Michelle and I followed.<br /><br />The trek in was mostly straightforward: follow the Pine Creek Canyon Trail until we had to turn off. I knew from the Supertopo guide and my guidebook where we had to evntually end up. The getting there was the trick. From the main trail there was an intermittent "climber's trail" to the corner buttress, and we lost it several times, bushwhacking or doubling back around thick foliage, and crossing an active stream several times. As we drew nearer, we heard someone calling out from the rocks above. It was Claudia, waving at us, let<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ipwKLz5l7nzlRhZaDwOCdDRq9joz17KEjbDrsPGkEmvqoaJmIn9Rs8DdD_oRji-dlcaC2UBi0ApLzYxMmaLPjEI0caTyK1EK8CZq0rhOhPxLWNjwYGMwj_QChPf8Xbhcij4vvTCE8w/s1600-h/IMG_3798_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ipwKLz5l7nzlRhZaDwOCdDRq9joz17KEjbDrsPGkEmvqoaJmIn9Rs8DdD_oRji-dlcaC2UBi0ApLzYxMmaLPjEI0caTyK1EK8CZq0rhOhPxLWNjwYGMwj_QChPf8Xbhcij4vvTCE8w/s200/IMG_3798_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309080028536969186" border="0" /></a>ting us know they were there. We could just make her out from her red jacket, and Carlos and Francesca from their yellow and green helmets respectively (in the adjoining photo, the red arrow points directly to a blue-jacketed dot that is Carlos). They hadn't started the climb yet, but were at the base, getting the ropes ready. Well, we'd see them higher up. While Carlos was climbing in a team of three, they were already at their route, and I figured they'd beat us to the top, particularly since I'd be going slow, even in a team of two. Plus they were about to start, and we had yet to get to the base of our climb. Thoughts of leading some of the scariest 5.6s I'd ever done at the Gunks suddenly came to mind. My palms began sweating all over again. We headed up.<br /><br />Moments later there was very friendly and cheerful guy on our tail named Janis He and his party (somewhere behind him) were also going to <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span>. There were four of them, in two groups of two. Janis and his leader, Aaron, were from Colorado Springs, while the other two (Pawel and Agata) were from Poland. They all eventually caught up to us as we scrambled up the steeper slopes of the approach to the beginning of the route. Aaron cheerfully pointed me at the route, and told me where, in his opinion, the crux (one of two) of the route was ("right there, 25-30' up"), how to do it ("smear your feet against the wall on the left, because there are no footholds"), and what I needed to place at it ("a #4 Cam"). Urrrr...I didn't own a #4 Cam (which is rather big). Largest I had was a #3, and that wasn't going to fit in the crack at the crux. Far too small (the #3 covers a range from 2-3.5 inches; the #4 covers from 2.75-4.5 inches; this was a 4 inch crack). I always considered the #3 to be large, and the #4 a boat anchor sized thing. Never wanted to drag that thing around climbing. Already carry too much gear as it is.<br /><br />I had almost calmed down until Aaron mentioned the #4 Cam and lack of footholds at the crux, then I got unnerved all over again. :-( I offered to let him go first, if just to see how to get through the crux. As I looked at where he was pointing I <span style="font-style: italic;">thought </span>I could see a smaller crack where I could get a smaller piece of gear in just above where he indicated the #4 should go. But he insisted, and in a show of amazing generosity, loaned me his #4. He just asked that we leave it in place for when he comes up behind us. Sweet! Thanks, man!!<br /><br />I was still having second thoughts about going first, but finally Michelle said, "Get your ass up there!" So I tied in and started up pitch one.<br /><br />Note: I didn't take many photos while climbing up. ;-)<br /><br />At the crux I saw that I could reach a little higher and probably slot a smaller cam, but hey, I had this big, beefy, heavy boat anchor on my rack - no sense in carrying it up 150' if I could ditch it here! So I got it in, to the cheers of Aaron and his buds. I felt...okay, and continued on up.<br /><br />As I climbed, I found lots of places for placing gear. I found lots of places for hand and footholds (but occasionally I'd have to actively look for them, as they weren't always obvious or apparent). I got to within about 15' or so below a huge ledge, the end of the first pitch, and was a fair bit above my last piece of gear. Still feeling nervous (this was my first <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">real </span>trad lead of the year), I slotted a small camming device in a bulge to my right, and looked up at the steep, steep ramp of a detached pillar before me. All I could see was the 6-inch wide maw of the crack that ran up for 20' to the top. And all I could think was that the #4 Cam was way, way, WAY down below me! I had <span style="font-style: italic;">nothin</span><span style="font-style: italic;">g </span>that could protect that cavity! Yep, I began feeling really unhappy at this point.<br /><br />I looked to the right, at the bulge where I had slotted the Alien. I looked back at the maw that threatened to engulf me and everything I had on. I called down to Aaron, asking him which way I should go.<br /><br />"Go up the crack to the left!" came his voice, some 130' below me.<br /><br />I looked at it one more time. Oh, screw that! I could see a way to go up and along the bulge! And I was right at my protection piece, no penduluum swings should I slip in the crack (I never, ever saw the plethora of hand/footholds on the face just left of the crack, so absorbed by the scary darkness was I). So right I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Qm8-Bv4FswDD9qtYnOF-KeGGarZN8Dd41ZaMLY97s_hDyjvrpFyG8dz79dn905W-4MsEp5QuXmqBpIr7nF-pEq5mL-DvZi4gxXx6hc9thR8SYjFfehsepVldqpvJySQM87U0dIUswg/s1600-h/IMG_3803_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Qm8-Bv4FswDD9qtYnOF-KeGGarZN8Dd41ZaMLY97s_hDyjvrpFyG8dz79dn905W-4MsEp5QuXmqBpIr7nF-pEq5mL-DvZi4gxXx6hc9thR8SYjFfehsepVldqpvJySQM87U0dIUswg/s200/IMG_3803_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309084506966061986" border="0" /></a> went, struggling up and over the bulge, willing my feet to not slip on the couple of friction moves I had to make, and....bingo! I made it to the ledge! <span style="font-style: italic;">Sweet!!</span><br /><br />I started to set an anchor to belay Michelle up on, but stepped around the corner only to discover there was a three-bolt anchor already there - woo! I clipped in, felt MUCH happier, went off belay, and pulled up the slack in the rope (which was 200' long, so barely 35' on this 150' pitch; remember that the knots we tied in with take up almost 5-7 feet of rope alone).<br /><br />Michelle came up fairly quickly, and as we were restacking the rope to move it over to the next belay, Aaron arrived. As he brought up his second, Michelle and I moved o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBQf_hyphenhypheniMzKU6zMdkVMy7AKkcHhugZ0AadGAvn8KH0pu92_afZjoNl5FWizTF0f0dRfGPRAOY44wzFENCLQ0QwLNWzTZwO_sB9daT_oW9K1IMURGFSnDUPCBjey0ojVwSWXLT6MJQUA/s1600-h/IMG_3825_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBQf_hyphenhypheniMzKU6zMdkVMy7AKkcHhugZ0AadGAvn8KH0pu92_afZjoNl5FWizTF0f0dRfGPRAOY44wzFENCLQ0QwLNWzTZwO_sB9daT_oW9K1IMURGFSnDUPCBjey0ojVwSWXLT6MJQUA/s200/IMG_3825_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309085679765319218" border="0" /></a>ver and up to the start of pitch 2. This would be a shorter pitch, 50' instead of 150'. And looked imminently easier. It had two "hard" 5.5 moves on it at the start, but the rest was pretty easy and straightforward. Not boring, but not "spicy", either. I made it to the next belay in short order, then belayed Michelle up.<br /><br />From our belay position at a nice tree we could see the first half of pitch 3. I gazed at it, seeing two cracks about 10' apart, running up to a short roof. I couldn't remember what the guidebook said, other than "climb the crack to the roof, traverse under it to (one side or the other), and continue to the top". Hmmmm. At that moment Aaron appeared. He indicated that I should go up the right crack, then at some point below the roof traverse left and follow the left crack up to a small belay ledge. Yeah, okay, sure thing. I got my gear from Michelle, reracked while she restacked the rope, then headed up.<br /><br />The first couple of placements I felt nervous on. In fact, at the second I wasn't in a good stance, but wanted to get something in and worked a nut into the crack, feeling just slightly off balance. Once the nut was set, I moved up and for the first time I really began to feel the <span style="font-style: italic;">flow </span>of the climb. I dropped in a couple more nuts and continued up. Then 10' below the short but wide roof I got stymied. I saw some chalk on some holds straight above me, but wasn't sure I saw easy traverse moves to the left. Looking left I saw two chalked holds up to my 10 o'clock on an otherwise blank, featureless and <span style="font-style: italic;">sheer </span>rock wall. There were no fricking footholds over there! I called down to Aaron, asking him his opinion. "Yeah, just traverse someplace up there". Great, THAT helped!<br /><br />But then I saw them. On the blank, featureless face were...footholds! They weren't there earlier, I swear. But hey, I could TOTALLY do this now! Plugging in a small nut where I was, I made my way over and up diagonally to the left finger crack, on fun moves across the face. At the other crack I plugged in a small Alien cam. Never felt nervous the whole time - in fact, it was downright <span style="font-style: italic;">fun! </span>(<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilfu5uU0OfDYSQtGA-GGIaUOqcBEez7cSXo0V0iKo8b4QvcULiG5dOrC9OgIiUIpdQ-1ttbmQAnD3R1fwaRHxGzW4vD_mvymWD23vYYSdtgcI-6ZpBy0fAKIthkso5aw_y9tHnOT63A/s1600-h/IMG_3844_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilfu5uU0OfDYSQtGA-GGIaUOqcBEez7cSXo0V0iKo8b4QvcULiG5dOrC9OgIiUIpdQ-1ttbmQAnD3R1fwaRHxGzW4vD_mvymWD23vYYSdtgcI-6ZpBy0fAKIthkso5aw_y9tHnOT63A/s200/IMG_3844_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309088419272042722" border="0" /></a>photo to left is of me just before the traverse up to the left corner of the roof) I continued up and out of sight from Michelle to the upper belay ledge. The climbing from this point up the rest of the pitch was pretty uneventful.<br /><br />On the next pitch (#4) I saw that I'd have to <span style="font-style: italic;">down</span>climb to a ledge (downclimbing is always harder than going up, because you can't easily see where your feet are to go), traverse over and up a ramp, then around a slight corner which I couldn't see where to set up a belay. All the relaxation I felt on the previous pitch evaporated from me into nerves again. I really wasn't looking forward to doing the downclimb, and knew that Michelle would be nervous as well, having to follow and have no rope above her, but rather below (thus if she slipped while downclimbing the 7' to the ledge, she'd take a much bigger fall than if the rope were above her). From what I could see from my perch on the belay station I could not make out any ledges for me to set up a comfortable belay. Blurg. That could suck.<br /><br />Also, I could not see the fifth and final pitch of the route, so had no idea what I was in for. Carlos' voice came unbidden at that point, as I remembered him telling me that the final pitch is a crack up a wall to an unprotected slab with a single bolt, and the crux was getting to the bolt. Then another runout section of slab.<br /><br />A crack that disappears, an unprotected slab except for one bolt around the crux, and an unprotected runout finish. Gee, that last pitch sounded like fun...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(continued in part 2)</span>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-73626465083921881972009-03-03T09:12:00.000-05:002009-03-03T14:35:48.177-05:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 1, Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdoSVaTRe2796XCB8mZE2DBoCx8g6Jeuo7E_ov7bMEI7e5dqgg9vrIPMudI42pvy081rh4Xgzu8Xlw8DE_Z2In3fZNAEkhuNAdHhvQ4zPyBTdtf9d9-MYyvPtnQj3GAq5vXSyC1qwWw/s1600-h/IMG_3629_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdoSVaTRe2796XCB8mZE2DBoCx8g6Jeuo7E_ov7bMEI7e5dqgg9vrIPMudI42pvy081rh4Xgzu8Xlw8DE_Z2In3fZNAEkhuNAdHhvQ4zPyBTdtf9d9-MYyvPtnQj3GAq5vXSyC1qwWw/s200/IMG_3629_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308969249975915586" border="0" /></a>As I mentioned earlier, the rock here was very cool and neat. The layered swirls of red and grey sand dunes that we went past had a vaguely impressionistic look to them. I wouldn't be surprised if some New York artist painted this on a canvas and sold it for several thousand dollars at an art show.<br /><br />Our next stop for the day was Ultraman Wall. There are 8 routes here, ranging from 5.6 to 5.9, from 100' to 165' tall. I kinda wanted to get on <span style="font-style: italic;">Ultraman</span>, a 110' slab, but it was rated 5.8+ and I wasn't feeling my oats quite THAT much. :-/ So I decided we would go up <span style="font-style: italic;">Scent of Ultraman</span>, a reasonably well protected (7 bolts) 110' long 5.7 route (noted by the green line in the photo), and the first one we came to when we finally worked our way over and up to the base of the slab. Since<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWhf-eQ1kmu3BBAVidA4sP_Z6T11Q7xuyHKdA-VKxDme6oSCDj4G0NxKUhj4uwuA49do1JxkGyC6Y4m09hjYC7uiSk4khg0nC2dh8lmkncVDmaJbyFG-blV_foQ65HVbeajAR6xYTTg/s1600-h/IMG_3643_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWhf-eQ1kmu3BBAVidA4sP_Z6T11Q7xuyHKdA-VKxDme6oSCDj4G0NxKUhj4uwuA49do1JxkGyC6Y4m09hjYC7uiSk4khg0nC2dh8lmkncVDmaJbyFG-blV_foQ65HVbeajAR6xYTTg/s200/IMG_3643_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308970999765410386" border="0" /></a> it was another bolted route, as I geared up and Michelle and Claudia flaked out the ropes, I left my trad rack reluctantly in the pack, and loaded up with all of my quickdraws. Gazing up the rock wall I could see the first four bolts fairly readily. I was admittedly a little bit nervous, for once again, a new route into the unknown. But I've been on 5.7 slab on Stone Mountain where pitches can run 200' with only a couple bolts for protection. Here I'd have 7 in 110'. That made me feel muuuuch better. :-)<br /><br />Ropes flaked, I started to head up. The first bolt was 20' above me. I reached it with no problem. In fact, the getting to the next few bolts was almost boring. I grew concerned that my partners of the day would be in tears from such an unexciting route.<br /><br />However, by the 4th or 5th bolt (can't remember now), the route got a little spicy. Sud<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnwr41gB6bjppckZ-VWOoJCnd-8CK8JufqgyOBcNJr9MRE3-uWZqfB62STcBD_0dMquwyXii5KCT6OSimRMCPLsWJeEJ1ctVqLjMsA1lV3o9Wc2pw3YNmRU7144CDgEh-HqIJvIYEAA/s1600-h/IMG_3652_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnwr41gB6bjppckZ-VWOoJCnd-8CK8JufqgyOBcNJr9MRE3-uWZqfB62STcBD_0dMquwyXii5KCT6OSimRMCPLsWJeEJ1ctVqLjMsA1lV3o9Wc2pw3YNmRU7144CDgEh-HqIJvIYEAA/s200/IMG_3652_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308972407678853442" border="0" /></a>denly my attention was torn from the landscape behind me (see photo right; the parking area faintly visible is from where we started the morning; the visitor center is the low building in the distance before the hills) to finding exactly how I was going to make the next moves. NOW we were talking! I gingerly made a few moves up a steep section of the slab, delicately placing my feet on small holds, gripping edges with my finger tips, until I could get to the next bolt and clip it.<br /><br />But it wasn't over with yet. The fun continued until I got to the last bolt, then the climbing eased off a bit.<br /><br />We had thought to try and set a top-rope up on <span style="font-style: italic;">Clutch Cargo</span>, a 5.9 to the right of <span style="font-style: italic;">Scent of Ultraman</span>, but as I looked over to the anchors 15' away, I could not see an easy way of reaching them. I thought mayb<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxQxPXvYpi0qr2P8JfoOU8Yh-zDcfUgjEuUIaaquZTHv19IeIkhSY2D-dY_jBWExH88f1hqy7S_FbeEXIWwLNNJ-zgcH_-15V7mxutylQ36vqKkw58eqECoGSKma1k9ylkCnQrDlFEw/s1600-h/IMG_3655_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxQxPXvYpi0qr2P8JfoOU8Yh-zDcfUgjEuUIaaquZTHv19IeIkhSY2D-dY_jBWExH88f1hqy7S_FbeEXIWwLNNJ-zgcH_-15V7mxutylQ36vqKkw58eqECoGSKma1k9ylkCnQrDlFEw/s200/IMG_3655_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308973575410395954" border="0" /></a>e I could get to them after rappeling down. So I continued up the last 15' into a semi-sheltered alcove with chains at the top of my route.<br /><br />I then belayed Michelle and Claudia up. They came up without any problems, but both noted that they could easily tell when the 5.7 section hit. :-) (photo at left is of Michelle just getting into the 5.7 portion of the route). Then we rigged the rappel line and they went back down. I followed last, and attempted to bounce over to the anchors for <span style="font-style: italic;">Clutch Cargo</span>. Alas, I was only able to get within 4-5' before I was pulled forcefully back by the extreme angle of the rope to the anchors we were rapping from. No way could I get over to set up the top rope. <sigh> Ah well.<br /><br />As it was starting to get la</sigh><sigh>te (it was nearly 4pm), we decided we had had a good day. Maybe we could do one more climb? I had one in mind. <span style="font-style: italic;">Chips and Salsa</span> at Tuna </sigh><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZqSOamV2ko6fw_psEMzCLcDCRl9qUi2ePvF5u-lPwOESj3B12DvKkiEU2E_RUZVeqgjATFosxaeLWhz__trJ-8YpMyENwcWa8rWnIHj0l_Q40uPzlwZek5m-G3_YYb7iqdZxWca_ng/s1600-h/IMG_3685_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZqSOamV2ko6fw_psEMzCLcDCRl9qUi2ePvF5u-lPwOESj3B12DvKkiEU2E_RUZVeqgjATFosxaeLWhz__trJ-8YpMyENwcWa8rWnIHj0l_Q40uPzlwZek5m-G3_YYb7iqdZxWca_ng/s200/IMG_3685_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308977918016351442" border="0" /></a><sigh>And Chips Wall was a 210', two pitch 5.3, but I proposed we only do the first pitch (60') (click on photo to left, the first pitch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Chips and Salsa</span> is dashed in green, and you can see a climber circled on a 5.8 to the right of it; in the upper right skyline you can make out two people still scrambling/hiking around on </sigh><sigh>the rocks; this photo was taken at 5pm). But by the time we pulled the ropes, packed up, and got back down from Ultraman Wall to the trail, it was already 5pm. The park wa</sigh><sigh>s listed to close at 5pm, and heavy, <span style="font-weight: bold;">heavy </span>fines ($200+) would be levied upon anyone still within after closing. We decided to not try for the climb, as it would probably take 20-30 minutes to work our way through the maze of rock and canyons to get to the base of it, not to mention climb up, rap off, and hike out.</sigh><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiby0pdNmCULQkk3658AVgXabsdlv94DY2ZKtxofM5piGbitjEj6Q5_fQ1sG7QNXKb3iJFAw1hqrOGApWV3Do7JYbgE-2x5eIZGw0EjSgPKEAHardm1twyfrMV0bg9mf0IPHWGWBgjhWg/s1600-h/IMG_3689_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiby0pdNmCULQkk3658AVgXabsdlv94DY2ZKtxofM5piGbitjEj6Q5_fQ1sG7QNXKb3iJFAw1hqrOGApWV3Do7JYbgE-2x5eIZGw0EjSgPKEAHardm1twyfrMV0bg9mf0IPHWGWBgjhWg/s200/IMG_3689_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308979440921010818" border="0" /></a><br /><sigh><br />Despite the hour of t</sigh><sigh>he d</sigh><sigh>ay, and despite the fines for being in the park after closing, there were HUGE numbers of p</sigh><sigh>eople still around! We saw several groups still climbing (see photo </sigh><sigh>above for one), many others still hiking (again, photo above for a couple; they would be down in no less than half an hour), and even a wedding photo being shot (at least of the bride). It was kinda sur</sigh><sigh>real. Since no one seemed in a hurry to drive out the 10 or so more miles to get out of the park (the loop road is one way), I noted there was a special type of geocache called an Earthcache nearby. I went off to tag that while Michelle and Claudia watched some climbers do some hard stuff on Tiger Stripe Wall, a bit closer to the par</sigh><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOiDVBCJ3AGik0rj-30xBA4XiSuevNUHAPlcAgDNdeRWtBH7TZSQ250siUvjL6GvdlSr-gH1N6Y3LpjrUe11uo5SP9hMDu5rKAM5yRpGYBKBrSsPSL8EcSJ4p9odZOqIjh-eRpSmgKA/s1600-h/IMG_3725_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOiDVBCJ3AGik0rj-30xBA4XiSuevNUHAPlcAgDNdeRWtBH7TZSQ250siUvjL6GvdlSr-gH1N6Y3LpjrUe11uo5SP9hMDu5rKAM5yRpGYBKBrSsPSL8EcSJ4p9odZOqIjh-eRpSmgKA/s200/IMG_3725_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308981198136961938" border="0" /></a><sigh>king area. We learned from the climbers that while there is a fine, the rangers aren't rigorous about the 5pm "get out" time. They close the front gates at 5pm, then give a reasonable amount of time for people to drive out. That was good to know. So we packed up the car and headed up the loop, stopping briefly at the "highest point along loop road" overlook to take a few sunset photos, then </sigh><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZN1wJawpQ-83KW0pcWVB4kRskkjnXPbVQdqVj8KiAR9Ws0LTrXVcB91ucD8KU5psm3YqcgeXjGRX30uSzrCRXbN2pgVsHQYL4tIDwqd-qvF2WqjIGA64qTrmIip7gfdYWFBx26qOKQ/s1600-h/IMG_3713_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZN1wJawpQ-83KW0pcWVB4kRskkjnXPbVQdqVj8KiAR9Ws0LTrXVcB91ucD8KU5psm3YqcgeXjGRX30uSzrCRXbN2pgVsHQYL4tIDwqd-qvF2WqjIGA64qTrmIip7gfdYWFBx26qOKQ/s200/IMG_3713_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308981754620160962" border="0" /></a><sigh>continued out. The photo above shows the bulk of the Calico Rocks from the overlook; we had climbed in the grey and red area on the right half of the rocks. You can see Vegas in the valley beyond the rocks.<br /><br />We drove around the loop road and found Carlos and Francesca's car at one of the last pull-off parking areas to the canyon climbing areas. We were about to leave a note when they breathlessly came running up to their car. It was quite late by this point, about 5:45p, and Carlos was aware of the late departure fines. But the parking area was still fairly full, so we didn't think there'd be any major problems for them. We headed back to Vegas to grab showers before they arrived (five people, one shower, gotta plan this out carefully!).<br /><br /></sigh><sigh>Once some showers were taken, we headed off to find some dinner. We end</sigh><sigh>ed up at a Chili's with a 25 minute wait time. As we were all starving (it was going on 11pm EST, 8pm local), we opted to just eat at the bar and do catch-up on our day's adventures. Then back to the hotel and we all crashed for the night. Tomorrow would be a much longer day. In my sights: the 4-5 pitch 5.6 route called <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span> at the Mescalito...<br /></sigh>Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-20721015285606589752009-02-27T12:22:00.002-05:002009-03-08T12:59:54.596-04:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 1, Part 1I'm rather new to this whole blogging thing, and as such do not yet know what the etiquette is in blog length or # of photos to insert. If I were doing a standard fare trip report I wouldn't concern myself about it too much, but this is a different format and venue, so...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Feb 20, 2009</span><br /><br />The new morning we awoke relatively early locally, still being on East Coast time, and in pain, from so little sleep. We went up to Coco's Diner near our motel for some breakfast. The waitress, a middle-aged lady from Washington (state) was a hoot. The food was...eh, so-so. So-so enough that I <span style="font-weight: bold;">almost </span>put in a veto on going back, but glad I did not as the food improved over the weekend.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgwtUOKFAfhp7ThLjgZ29AsTvAlVwHeuD0KFP_ygYpFKfEkopIPkBxOKE1P72Fsiy3n2t9fpVnF1snxZDSWyL_Llwt8kGqVsI8qxyWP_E4-tmHa1h00hiwWB2vf2YrHHcr-ApeBv3rw/s1600-h/IMG_3526_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgwtUOKFAfhp7ThLjgZ29AsTvAlVwHeuD0KFP_ygYpFKfEkopIPkBxOKE1P72Fsiy3n2t9fpVnF1snxZDSWyL_Llwt8kGqVsI8qxyWP_E4-tmHa1h00hiwWB2vf2YrHHcr-ApeBv3rw/s200/IMG_3526_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307532246461160194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As we were on a budget, we all got the "breakfast special" for $4.99. Which came with eggs, meat (bacon or sausage), pancakes or waffles or toast, and fried potatoes/hash browns. I got my usual addition of milk, juice, and water, only to learn when we got the bill that the milk and juice, while in huge glasses, cost more than the breakfast special did! The glass of milk alone cost the same as a half gallon jug of it back home (eep). I decided to lay off milk the rest of the trip. Stuck with juice to help ward off any nasties I might or might not have picked up on the flight out (and later back).<br /><br />After breakfast we jumped in the cars and headed out to Red Rock. The trip out would take us past/through The Strip perpendicularly, and we caught a quick glimpse of some of the man-made wonders in this area. The most prominent was New York New York, which was just down the block from our motel.<br /><br />We had agreed at breakfast to split up into two groups. Carlos, having been here before, had a much more focused direction in what he wanted to do: a 4 pitch 5.6 named <span style="font-style: italic;">Geronimo</span>. Francesca wanted to go play on that with him. Me, I had a much looser agenda and did not want to get committed onto any serious multipitch routes. I was looking for one, possibly two-pitch, routes to play on, and get used to<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJNh8JMKmA4fXycdLPcWje8aqtFF0GvrIS5Ujprp7cUDIrOMgNJDEWrRknZpIP2m6fb2AyQXQ-leIBFTkKsYlAHKs24tYfNVyBNZvgqj93MQTAYsT7W2iQ_DeZJiRSS7LC5jx_0XaUA/s1600-h/IMG_3534_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJNh8JMKmA4fXycdLPcWje8aqtFF0GvrIS5Ujprp7cUDIrOMgNJDEWrRknZpIP2m6fb2AyQXQ-leIBFTkKsYlAHKs24tYfNVyBNZvgqj93MQTAYsT7W2iQ_DeZJiRSS7LC5jx_0XaUA/s200/IMG_3534_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307532885740354946" border="0" /></a> the rock out here (very different than out East). I took Michelle and Claudia with me and we ended up in the "sport climbing area" (mostly bolted routes). I was hoping to do a little trad climbing, but top-roping and sport leading would be fine for this day as well.<br /><br />As we left the city limits, we could see snow in the mountains to the west. Looked chilly up there. We figured Carlos and Francesca, going into the mountainy section of Red Rock, might get a little cold. We, being down in the lower elevation section of the rocks, would be just warm enough. :-)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vfTtlh0XScKdK1sMMqfqvxhg-zOLCsfdRYGI1kaL_QGMQskhh7LR_sofqmZK-sHBfkdcGTZ540JSDQP6VpIyiiZ9gpIT0EcI5P_LJOrXItaf2qXeHgAvmtAFhH5JxJOVYTKDlGnXCw/s1600-h/IMG_3535_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vfTtlh0XScKdK1sMMqfqvxhg-zOLCsfdRYGI1kaL_QGMQskhh7LR_sofqmZK-sHBfkdcGTZ540JSDQP6VpIyiiZ9gpIT0EcI5P_LJOrXItaf2qXeHgAvmtAFhH5JxJOVYTKDlGnXCw/s320/IMG_3535_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307533862541558946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As we got close to the entrance, we could see the <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">RED </span>in the rocks quite easily (we could see it from the city limits as well but it was too small in the photos to come out well here). This was where we would be climbing today!<br /><br />Our first stop was at the Red Rock Canyon visitor center (and thanks to CG for sending me her annual parks pass right before she moved to Malawi!). It is a <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">very </span>nice facility, with a small gift shop, an information stand, and a nice-sized display area that talks about the history of the region, the flora and fauna, the mount<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBzDUKmQXYXBMgK8yEPUoFhyphenhyphen80XyvoOiBJtnUAWuSIDEfaJYu8hCAsBuPUm_sSXLY9Bg_xj_18GMvOw2pxVYMLOIu3lRMrPK4MKG5Z4lFQfbIYozTP4kEh6eZJbsBfVXWKqcv9t3kMQ/s1600-h/IMG_3544_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBzDUKmQXYXBMgK8yEPUoFhyphenhyphen80XyvoOiBJtnUAWuSIDEfaJYu8hCAsBuPUm_sSXLY9Bg_xj_18GMvOw2pxVYMLOIu3lRMrPK4MKG5Z4lFQfbIYozTP4kEh6eZJbsBfVXWKqcv9t3kMQ/s320/IMG_3544_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307534784799589282" border="0" /></a>ains, and...rock climbing! (a whole display on rock climbing to educate the non-climbing visitor about those crazy-@$$ed people up on the rocks :-D ).<br /><br />After making a quick round through there (and picking up a few souvenirs or info material), we headed up to the first Calico Rocks overlook.<br /><br />The rocks in the Calico band look like someone took mud dollops and dropped them in plops along a rough line, atop of each other. Very...different feel to this area. Didn't <span style="font-weight: bold;">look </span>like there was anything to really climb, mostly just scramble around. Until you took a closer look and then saw the people. Tiny dots in a sea of rusty red...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46a2NM9CWDtgsLi5GLmsaDg_-B3-ltJPAW6wXHm8KszHmSS8_p1FHeyIxCSiDiRA_2FyhZ1vTVwR39P_yZJgh1RdaTDcA4FuQjLode1eUGaxGBzdxPCJi0eAZ0laj40btKD_W2S01xw/s1600-h/IMG_3547_small_annotated.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46a2NM9CWDtgsLi5GLmsaDg_-B3-ltJPAW6wXHm8KszHmSS8_p1FHeyIxCSiDiRA_2FyhZ1vTVwR39P_yZJgh1RdaTDcA4FuQjLode1eUGaxGBzdxPCJi0eAZ0laj40btKD_W2S01xw/s320/IMG_3547_small_annotated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307535407828468882" border="0" /></a> (in the image, the people are in the green square; the partial green circle was the spot we were aiming for).<br /><br />The rock here is a sandstone, and there are three distinct sections to it: the tan rock, the red rock, and the striped rock. The striped rock, which we did not climb on this trip, is basically petrified sand dunes that compacted down, and periodically had water leach through them in regular layers to remove the red oxidation in the rock (this is, btw, a very very VERY drummed down explanation of the geology info plaque at the overlook).<br /><br />Our goal today was Panty Wall, which has the highest concentration of moderate routes in the area. Of the 14 or 15 routes listed in my guidebook, I figured I should be able to climb at least 10 of them. Lead up the easier ones, drop a top-rope and climb the harder ones. I had visions of being able to knock off most of the routes in this area.<br /><br />Little did I realize that other groups would be here, too, on such a beautiful day (isn't this a Friday; aren't y'all supposed to be workin'?). As it would turn out, we would only climb three routes here, and all off the same anchor point, as the main Panty Wall area (to the lower right of the partial green circle) would have a large group on all the relatively easy routes, and a few people on the harder stuff.<br /><br />Getting to the walls here is no trivial matter. You might look at the area and think, "Oh, yeah, just go over here, around the corner, up <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxmOy1MBYYq3FEptOn7XcizYVXreYan2-VmD1wZhjdicOl6rnO7pgzcfvIv5ZrRpmNaZZJwsPJ5xGcdcZ_SOsbJoBUuEgVf30odflZ1xVD8lBBOJyEo9dMlQyx8lMB0C_O6XKexVmNA/s1600-h/IMG_3550_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxmOy1MBYYq3FEptOn7XcizYVXreYan2-VmD1wZhjdicOl6rnO7pgzcfvIv5ZrRpmNaZZJwsPJ5xGcdcZ_SOsbJoBUuEgVf30odflZ1xVD8lBBOJyEo9dMlQyx8lMB0C_O6XKexVmNA/s200/IMG_3550_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307537162832810098" border="0" /></a>that rock ramp, step there, walk there, around that corner, and voila!" But the reality is a leetle different.<br /><br />First off, "going around the corner" could mean you end up in a dead-end canyon. Or a narrow canyon that you have to bridge off of both side walls to not slip down into a slot, or mud, or in today's case, water! And navigating once in the maze of sloping rock? Unless you have a real good sense of direction, nigh impossible. All the landmarks you saw fro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJ-26lof08RcwoptPRljMMmaKQCqVDu2Z8YUpipA3nlb0t-TtO0clTWRGxDYjnNOmArVivUkL6E99sEi1WazwdtYcn360PGfoxyG5nrvee48rMYvLh2eVaLQ0zrPHDHJIaXSN7KNdGQ/s1600-h/IMG_3559_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJ-26lof08RcwoptPRljMMmaKQCqVDu2Z8YUpipA3nlb0t-TtO0clTWRGxDYjnNOmArVivUkL6E99sEi1WazwdtYcn360PGfoxyG5nrvee48rMYvLh2eVaLQ0zrPHDHJIaXSN7KNdGQ/s200/IMG_3559_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307540607031762882" border="0" /></a>m the overlook vanish. You might catch a glimpse of one or two later, but you'll often be at a different angle and they could very well not look like what you thought they did from earlier. It can be very confusing.<br /><br />Some of the formations in the sandstone, from wind and water action, were very very cool. And the views out towards the main mountains (where Carlos and Francesca were climbing in one of the canyons) was very majestic.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw_KrH9nJ7eL3gf4UsRFkRrVd0iedYe2wICXJrhm7PV6rzW9D6Lp_u5VntvNxJfK5-ODVmaZ2E2WUeHIcyOyhCOPo7dl3rBkJs62CE3AdnLcnZKTXj7O7vWeHVyqKPItctGaA8NuFsQ/s1600-h/IMG_3556_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw_KrH9nJ7eL3gf4UsRFkRrVd0iedYe2wICXJrhm7PV6rzW9D6Lp_u5VntvNxJfK5-ODVmaZ2E2WUeHIcyOyhCOPo7dl3rBkJs62CE3AdnLcnZKTXj7O7vWeHVyqKPItctGaA8NuFsQ/s200/IMG_3556_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310862507332883586" border="0" /></a><br />In the end, we managed to get to Panty Wall. When we left the parking lot, there was a large group of 8 or 10 following us. Some of them had been here once before, so knew "the way", and they beat us to the main wall. That still left the upper slab that I had wanted to hit first open. :-) We hustled up to the base of the wall a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiIrTGOTMpa-bxTvyHdAO5dgfYVJrrypnmHvsWErIKhdPC11DMOZ9j3a9qdW2vYkZE79uUB7Qm1is1HJ3RevBCuqiwqf395lZ7ykqbQwTHXXh42fX7PWQvvGwajb96UfSXSxqv4ofDg/s1600-h/IMG_3561_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiIrTGOTMpa-bxTvyHdAO5dgfYVJrrypnmHvsWErIKhdPC11DMOZ9j3a9qdW2vYkZE79uUB7Qm1is1HJ3RevBCuqiwqf395lZ7ykqbQwTHXXh42fX7PWQvvGwajb96UfSXSxqv4ofDg/s200/IMG_3561_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307541632191535490" border="0" /></a>nd flaked out a rope. It was relatively short, only 60' tall, but it would be my first climb out here in Nevada, and first time on this type of rock. It felt gritty, and, well, sandy (odd for sandstone, no? ;-) ). I had some concerns about my feet skating out from beneath me while I climbed up. But in the end my fears were not to be justified, and I went up the bolted 5.6 route (<span style="font-style: italic;">Panty Prow,</span> which rises up the left-slanting ramp arete in the photo) with no diffic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsCefy_T14QNlL2QtXArgzD6rsW-FlTPgSTwSlyTKYed-q5_ZJTi3Cqlj4v5Un8xrWiCNo418VtJJl7VI0rIEmv6MovpiSDmxbKf_pBFrtCFZzhob6BEMqEpI1wCi-oExHwyOltjwBA/s1600-h/IMG_3575_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsCefy_T14QNlL2QtXArgzD6rsW-FlTPgSTwSlyTKYed-q5_ZJTi3Cqlj4v5Un8xrWiCNo418VtJJl7VI0rIEmv6MovpiSDmxbKf_pBFrtCFZzhob6BEMqEpI1wCi-oExHwyOltjwBA/s200/IMG_3575_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307542361259256850" border="0" /></a>ulty. However, it looks easier than it is, because the other side of the arete is a sheer wall and a drop into a rather deep canyon. Little exposure for the first climb of the area. :-D After I came down, Michelle and Claudia took their turns. Once we were all done and down with this route, we could now officially say we had climbed in Red Rock!<br /><br />After this, we decided to top rope the harder bolted route up the face. I thought this was supposed to be <span style="font-style: italic;">Victoria's Secret</span>, a 5.10b, but I had misread the guidebook topo and it was actually <span style="font-style: italic;">Panty Mime</span>, 5.10<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">d</span>! I struggled and struggled and struggled to get up this route (and by 'struggled' I mean I fell a lot). I finally made it, but it was not at all pretty. Michelle went second, and did a better job than I, but she, too, had problems. The footholds verged on imaginary most of the time, and the handholds? Even less. Claudia went next, and did a far superior job than either Michelle or I, but still had some problems here and there. After she was down, we rechecked the guidebook, because the face between the bolted 10 and the arete I had led looked interesting, and we couldn't believe i<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjw4a_G7gUhi541X4iwXpXgw7y_keR3DTE-wAvi_nSrVTCkvlqAZ0SusRjdE5HXHk903GI6kMk6VSt3gX-aWxb2F55Y7eq0GGui7UKac7VajEoemLqsqSir1PjSvrpk9SJlVAWo_kdA/s1600-h/IMG_3578_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjw4a_G7gUhi541X4iwXpXgw7y_keR3DTE-wAvi_nSrVTCkvlqAZ0SusRjdE5HXHk903GI6kMk6VSt3gX-aWxb2F55Y7eq0GGui7UKac7VajEoemLqsqSir1PjSvrpk9SJlVAWo_kdA/s320/IMG_3578_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307543604657755378" border="0" /></a>t wasn't an established route. And that's when we realized I had misread the book earlier! We were struggling up the 10d route! So we each gave the 10b a go. I was still beat from my encounter with the 10d, so went last. Michelle scampered up the 10b, having problems only at one point. Claudia also scampered up most of it, but took a slightly different finishing line than Michelle. I went up and mostly followed Michelle's path, as that seemed to me to be the "natural" line. It ended up getting very close to the arete climb on the right, but the two never actually crossed paths. I managed to finish it okay. :-D<br /><br />After we were done with this, it was lunch and lizarding time!. We ate, napped in the sun, and explored the immediate surroundings (partly to find a place to use the b<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg8ai6CoOWKrNVOOqD_FhB5H52hRgOoiBxSLhOACcRqF4QUKZZJHkC2M94uy3TuwT_W33b15uI2qdw7p5B_mF5XuwMe8zxVFXf4o-raPiurXOhLIQkw_tVk9f9pjTcyIqEf3e5v4vpbw/s1600-h/IMG_3612_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 137px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg8ai6CoOWKrNVOOqD_FhB5H52hRgOoiBxSLhOACcRqF4QUKZZJHkC2M94uy3TuwT_W33b15uI2qdw7p5B_mF5XuwMe8zxVFXf4o-raPiurXOhLIQkw_tVk9f9pjTcyIqEf3e5v4vpbw/s200/IMG_3612_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307544939725299314" border="0" /></a>athroom :-P ). Then we packed up to move down to the lower section of Panty Wall, but there were more groups there. I had a Plan B, however, and so we went over to Ultraman Wall, where there was a 100' 5.7 route waiting for us...<br /><br />(continued in Part 2)Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9041399271665151628.post-87245205188569928282009-02-27T08:22:00.000-05:002009-02-27T09:55:14.410-05:00Red Rock, Nevada - Day 0Red Rock Canyon, Nevada. A climbing mecca minutes outside of Las Vegas. A wintering over destination for guides from Seneca Rocks (WV) before they discovered Thailand. And one of those 'mystical' places I had heard of but never aspired to visit because I was under the impression that it was all "seriously hard" climbing.<br /><br />Then I slowly learned over the years of a few friends who had gone out, climbed, and not only survived, but had fun. Maybe there was something this gumby-wannabe climber could do? THEN another friend of mine, Gayle, whom I had met geocaching, and who had then become a climbing newbie, headed out there, hired a guide, and climbed a 4-5 pitch route called <span style="font-style: italic;">Cat In The Hat</span>. Well heck, if she could do it and have fun, there's <span style="font-weight: bold;">gotta </span>be other stuff out there I can climb! So I started idly dreaming....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">December 30, 2008.</span> I get to work, open my email, and see the following from Francesca, a climbing friend of mine in DC:<br /><h1 style="font-weight: bold;" class="YfMhcb"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span id=":178" class="VrHWId">QUICK! NYE fare sale on Southwest to Vegas - Who wants to go to Red Rocks? $160 Round trip</span></span></h1>What? Red Rock? Heck yeah! And in the end, five of us signed up for the trip: Francesca, Michelle, Claudia (from North Carolina), Carlos (who had been to Red Rock once before), and yours truly. We set the date for near the end of February (weekend covering Feb 19-23) and we were set! But as work was really swamping me under faster than a sinking ship, I let them "argue" the hotel and car rental details.<br /><h1 style="font-weight: bold;" class="YfMhcb"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqqQ4PnrPsjgB3Tb9DrZjelm4DhCPkd4N63hOFASLhaOxpjlzg-j8AtUvNtA8DxmneaCilbb2kXBOdad8oZhQXbdGD4XFahDfhL5a1WFZnE3AppVbnaI9eOyWD-qgFU4u7Sn6lNEd8g/s1600-h/IMG_3506_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqqQ4PnrPsjgB3Tb9DrZjelm4DhCPkd4N63hOFASLhaOxpjlzg-j8AtUvNtA8DxmneaCilbb2kXBOdad8oZhQXbdGD4XFahDfhL5a1WFZnE3AppVbnaI9eOyWD-qgFU4u7Sn6lNEd8g/s320/IMG_3506_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307475051017933522" border="0" /></a></h1> Finally it was time. Feb 19 had come, and after work I met up with Carlos and Michelle and we headed off to BWI where we met Francesca (Claudia, flying from NC, flew separately from us, but would arrive in Vegas within 10 minutes of our landing, so the timing was nigh perfect). We checked in, got through security, and hung out, eating dinner (Michelle, Francesca, myself) or sucking on a lollipop while fussing with iPhones (Carlos)<br /><br />We arrived Las Vegas late in the evening local time (note: Las Vegas is 3 time zones west of the East Coast, so it was getting on quite late for us!). We hooked up with Claudia, and we all trooped over to the Thrifty rental car area, where we had reserved two cars.<br /><h1 style="font-weight: bold;" class="YfMhcb"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXnVUzwBNnQ9hnXZWQ9zLP_iEEH37agIOHE5BxXRxfEGWaa5R3mQ_jbfzInMfJFq_s9NfwBuhwbSwLu2DKmXtg7nhGY4TiGEWkJti3JptLjWpW2Z89CoI-7PLvK9ScXYiFz6RIc0oOA/s1600-h/IMG_3521_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXnVUzwBNnQ9hnXZWQ9zLP_iEEH37agIOHE5BxXRxfEGWaa5R3mQ_jbfzInMfJFq_s9NfwBuhwbSwLu2DKmXtg7nhGY4TiGEWkJti3JptLjWpW2Z89CoI-7PLvK9ScXYiFz6RIc0oOA/s320/IMG_3521_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307476711358780098" border="0" /></a></h1><br />The next hour took....forever. There were maybe 6-8 people in front of us, but two clerks working the counter (and occasionally one of them took a break), and the going was....glacial. But finally we got our car (at this point there were nearly 30 very unhappy and grumbling people in line), and headed to the hotel: a Motel 6 a couple blocks off of The Strip, and literally right on the opposite side of the airport from where we egressed! We piled the five of us into this tiny hotel room, watched our bags explode as we dug out and sorted gear, then crashed for the night. Tomorrow we would be...climbing!<br /><br />And the weather promised to be nice. :-)Indyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07438244322637657187noreply@blogger.com0