May 2004:

We had big ambitions this year anticipating a summit on Mt Rainier. A winter assent of Mt Baker would be just the right ticket to help prepare. Mt baker in the winter is every bit as tough as Rainier, but less in duration. We had wanted to get an early start 7:30am on Friday, but borrowed crampons we had secured for Ryon Sanders (who was coming from Portland) did not fit. The nearest store was Marmot Bellevue. I had worked for many evenings on a pair of super gaiters. This was one of my new inventions that I was anxious to try out. To my great chagrin, when I walked into Marmot, there was a whole wall of complete bootie style insulating waterproof gaiters. Well it’s darn hard to come up with a new idea, but my implementation was every bit as good and still ½ the cost so FINE! After that stop and a bite to eat, we finally wound up the mountain road until the snow finally stopped us. The weather looked a bit overcast as we assembled our packs and changed into our hiking gear.

The hike in was brisk and since we started 2-3 hours late, we pressed our bodies to the limit (at least this ol’ guy did). After about 2 hours or so the afternoon sun began to cool and with it a bit of corn snow began to fall; lightly at first and then in earnest. About then, the trail got a bit faint and confusing. We figured the trail had to head up a ravine and we chose one that had a faint boot track. That ravine swept up the hill in an ever-increasing angle for several hundred yards. At last with myself nearly exhausted, soaked from the inside out and precariously kicking steps into a ridiculously steep buttress, I had to traverse off the face into the trees. Chris and Ryon Sanders had already headed off the face to the left and Jordon followed me into the trees to the right. That provided a bit of relief but as I cached my pack against a tree and tried to get at my mittens out the chill was so great that I could hardly work the zipper with my fingers. I don’t know what I’d do without my awesome son, who stayed with me and could see my poor condition. He reached into his pack and quickly pulled out his mittens for me. I gratefully donned them and then grated my teeth as the slight warmth burned like fire. I felt so bad, I was seriously tempted to take my hands back out into the cold, but I just pushed through the apparent pain and then suddenly my hands felt great. I also felt a lot calmer. I get a bit hyper when I get critically cold. That’s why I took so much trouble to create the super gaiters – which where actually working very well. My biggest problem at this point was that I was wearing cotton blend tops and bottoms and they were sucking the heat right out of me. Jordon and I climbed a bit in the trees and then traversed back to where the Sanders brothers were.

We found a pretty flat spot in the trees and set up our tents. As for my clothes, I changed into my polypropylene set and tossed the wringing wet ones into a corner of the tent. Dinner was eatable, but that was about all.

The morning came early with a simple hot breakfast. The snow had cleared and the stars shown brightly. We once again donned our snowshoes and by 6am we were climbing. When the sun finally started to peak behind Mt Baker, it created a fantastic iridescent halo about the peak itself. The pictures hardly do the spectacle justice as we climbed in wonder and awe. Within the hour, however, a white blanket stretched up to us from the valley below until it completely covered us. At one point you couldn’t see 25’. The ground became the sky. With compass, map and GPS we continued to climb. At one spot what appeared to be a wall 50 feet off turned out to be just a riffle in the snow a few inches high! We hung out on a knoll and there was some talk about retreating, but I figured the fog would climb past us and shortly it did just that.

This section of the mountain was a series of very steep sections followed by parts that roll off and give a bit of rest. 

One thing was very clear, we were the 1^st climbers to grace these slopes since the last foot of snow had fallen. This meant we were blazing the trail.

We finally saw a few tents below and a few welcome wands poking up through the snow bolstered our confidence that we were blazing in the right direction. It was actually pretty hard to identify all the important features. Off in the distance we saw a few dots. There were fellow climbers but they were climbing on skis. Remarkably, they were gaining on us.

There seems no end to the up. Breaking the new trail was constant super high energy for all of us but most especially for the lead fella. Each us would take turns breaking trail while the rest of us would gratefully follow in the leadman’s footsteps. 

All of us had good water wicking outfits, which kept us from getting soaked and we peeled layers occasionally and consumed water at a fast rate. We anticipated the every hill had to be the break over, but no! There seemed to always be just one more. Finally, though, we got a good view of the final set of pitches. 

By now we had roped up as obvious crevasse loomed off on all sides. It really did not appear the least bit treacherous but you never know. The skiers we had spotted in the distance now began to overtake us and we, for a while got to tred in their thin tracks. It helped a bit – only a little bit. To our great chagrin they just floated on the top as we sank in deep behind them.

The wind at the top was evident as lenticular clouds swirled off the peak. Pictures nor words come close to expressing how the swirling "tie-dyed" iridescence pealing off the crown struck our tiny group.

We diverged from the skier’s route, which I felt tracked dangerously into a field of crevasses, so we worked our way directly upward towards a large wall with fabulous seracs calving off. Only a few crevasses seemed exposed and for a while we easily avoided them.

At about 8500 feet we found a roughly flat ledge to rest and eat a bit. The sun bathed us warmly and almost no wind left us with peaceful incredible silence. I think it is these brief poignant moments that make the massive ardor of the journey compelling. After all Moses was on Mt Sinai for 40 days, yet the journey is only famous for a few brief moments of his encounter with God.

When you are trying to do the most difficult, there is just too little time for rest and relaxation and altogether too soon we had to saddle up an move on out.

The last 500 feet to the pass placed us into a narrow saddle and the wind really began to pick up. The temperature plummeted and our strength seemed to really be put to the test. It was my turn to lead, after Ryon. He had done well more than his share. After passing that awesome cleft of seracs, we pressed right up the headwall leading to the top of the saddle. The saddle is the launching point for the run to top – a lot like the shoulders would be to the head. We had crossed the skier’s tracks, which made a wide s winding up the wall. The whole crew was really spent and a shortcut directly up the hill seemed rather attractive. The problem with that route was a crevasse straight across the path. On the other side of the crevasse a steep hill made self-arrest less than sure fire. The only way this route could work was if I determined that the bridge was bombproof. The bridge was about 15 feet wide but the crevasse was a good 10 feet wide too and endlessly deep. 

The team prepared to hold a fall as I cautiously crossed. After I passed and judged it solid, I alerted the team to be prepared to dig in deep after crossing if we had to hold a fall. It was bomb proof and we all crossed without a hitch.

This was very steep and deep and it was quite a slog kicking steps all the way, but fortunately it was only a couple hundred feet at most.

Broaching the top of the saddle, the wind picked up to sandblasting fury. It was so harsh that we sought shelter in a small depression and we dug in a bit and put our packs in the way to provide a bit of respite. The ever-resourceful Jordon broke out a poncho and made a little lean-to. Snacks were barely satisfying and as I took inventory of our water resources, it was painfully clear; that 1-pint between the four of us would not serve us the 3 hours it would take to summit and return to our present perch. It would not even comfortably supports us back to our high camp. There was precious little pleasure getting pitted by the fierce ice wind and there was no argument when I suggested that we must turn back.

We donned our packs again and hastened our departure. We followed the same path down that we had just made and watched with sweet jealousy as a few skiers gracefully carved figure-8s passed us having summated with much greater ease if one dare use that term!

We just charged down the hill; the soft corn-snow smoothly breaking or decent instead of what is often a knee jarring experience.

Once off the saddle, the air was still and even balmy. We had a nice break and enjoyed the spectacular views.

I didn’t have nearly the downhill speed and stamina of my younger teammates, lagging a bit. After we passed the last of the crevasse hazards, we un-roped. We didn’t get too far spread out, but we pretty much rolled into camp as we could. Our stoves were wet and refused to cooperate to melt snow so we just pack up post-haste and started to slide down to ravines. That was the fun part and turtle shelling was my favorite way to peel off altitude. I don’t know what the del is, but that last few miles on the trail always seem longer going out. I was very glad to stop at a stream to filter some badly needed water. Ohh baby that sure tasted good! I think it was about 7 or so when we finally had our car packed. The fresh clothes in our car made the return trip soo much nicer. Down the highway, we called ahead for pizza and then just really feasted. We thanked the Lord gratefully for a safe and truly enjoyable journey; Hardships expected.

Pasted: Steve Marquis 6/27/2004