Even as I trudged up the Muir snowfield I refused to accept the fact that Big Tahoma sat perched above me. I had arrived in Seattle almost a week earlier and had yet to glimpse her weighty bulk. Eventually the reassurances of the guides rang true, as fleeting, razor-like slits in the cloud cover revealed Mount Rainier’s massive southern ramparts. “Of all the fire mountains which, like beacons, once blazed along the Pacific Coast, Mount Rainier is the noblest,” as John Muir stated.

View towards the upper mountain from Camp Muir and zigzagging trail visible on the far right. Photo provided by the author.

For many years I have had a passion for the mountains and the myriad nuanced backcountry scenes that await me once I stepped off the beaten path. Mount Rainier caught my attention because it is commonly used as a stepping stone to harder, more technical climbs. It has a storied past, having launched the careers of many iconic American alpinists such as Lou Whittaker and Ed Viesturs. After some overly ambitious plans to climb in Bolivia fell through over the course of the previous winter, I committed myself to tackling this formidable peak. Possessing very little experience with steep glacier travel and route finding in rough weather, I joined a group led by guides from RMI (Rainier Mountaineering Inc.). They are seasoned veterans, with several senior guides coming up on their 400th summit.

“Getting to the top is optional, but getting down is mandatory. A lot of people get focused on the summit and forget that.” Viesturs was the first American alpinist to reach the summit of all fourteen peaks above 8,000 meters, without the use of supplemental oxygen. This general dictum was the first thing our lead guide Andres uttered as we sat down for pre-climb orientation. He then proceeded to meticulously check over all of our gear, tossing aside anything he deemed suspect.

The second day of the program consisted of mountaineering school, which was essentially a series of quick lessons in the glacier travel and rescue skills that are critical for negotiating the upper mountain. An important skill of the trade termed ice axe arrest was basically an excuse for a volunteer to be pushed off a precipitous slope so the guides could evaluate his/her commitment to self-preservation. Stopping the slide, even with the assistance of an ice axe, was no easy feat in the icy bowl Andres had selected as the preferred classroom setting. Our final qualifying task would be walking as a rope team—the customary mode of travel on glaciated terrain. Walking at a steady and constant pace while keeping the rope taught in between climbers was important in case of a fall, at which point the remaining rope-team members would assume ice axe arrest positions to halt the downward motion of the tumbling climber. That evening several of us settled down at the base camp pub to sample the local IPA microbrews, and to cheerfully consider the adventure ahead.

Mount Rainier is a stratovolcano, which is essentially a cone of superheated lava ready to part ways with large chunks of its rocky encirclement at anytime. This particular beast is currently in hibernation; however geologists have hinted that spring could be just around the corner for Big Tahoma. These considerations, as well as ice avalanches and rock fall, were potent and omnipresent on the morning we set out for Camp Muir—our jumping off point for a summit bid the following day. This strip of rock and ice sits at 10,000 feet above sea level, perched precariously between the relatively carefree Muir snowfield approach and the intimidating Ingraham glacier above. We would spend the next eight hours here eating, hydrating, and attempting to get a few brief moments of sleep in-between the clanking of ice axes and the roar of the wind. When midnight rolled around, our three guides came crashing into the cramped bunkhouse with news of clear conditions and good weather; it was finally time to attempt the summit of Mount Rainier.

At precisely 1 A.M., eighteen climbers and six guides (the entire RMI contingent on the mountain) set out across the Ingraham glacier. Rest stops on a climb of this type are dictated not by the obvious exhaustion of the climbers, but rather by the location of objective climbing hazards such as rock fall and icefall. This is precisely the reason that climbers attempting the summit of Rainier generally leave Camp Muir at or around 1 a.m.so as to avoid the very soft snow conditions which let loose rock and ice during the heat of midday. As we snaked our way up the mountain all I could see in front of me were meandering lines of headlamps scattered on the route above. By the second rest break, above a particularly difficult section of the route known as Disappointment Cleaver (a cleaver is a rocky outcropping that signifies the divide between two glaciers), I was becoming increasingly cold−even when wrapped in my enormous down parka. For me, the rest breaks were the biggest test of all, with the intense cold and loss of appetite I was experiencing high up on the route ever-present in my mind. We were down to a group of six climbers and two guides now, as some people had thrown in the towel and had to be escorted back down by their fearless leaders. The last hundred feet of elevation gain saw my last reserves of energy being very quickly depleted, but soon we were in sight of the crater rim and the rocks that lined its wind battered mote.

The crater of Mount Rainier is a bowl-shaped gulley filled with drifting snow and dozens of active steam vents. Even the fierce wind can’t seem to dislodge the smell of sulfur dioxide from every nook and cranny of this barren landscape. Andres discovered a large geo-thermal area where we finally had a chance to rest out of the wind. Falling down on my pack I began to understand that getting to the top truly was only half the journey, as I looked over the vast and broken glacier sitting at the center of our route of descent. The only other mountain visible over the cloud cover was Mount Baker, another magnificent stratovolcano. With the wind finally howling elsewhere, our group of eight greedily absorbed the morning sun’s first rays on the summit of Mount Rainier at 14,411 feet.