The Clouds Below

Chapter 1: The Decision

Two o’clock p.m. on September 26th, 2007, marked a pivotal moment in my life. I found myself perched on the slopes of Mt. Rainier, battling a fierce internal struggle. Thoughts raced through my head like a whirlwind: "Should I do this? Can I do this?" I took a hesitant step forward, pondering the limits of my abilities. Could I push through and return safely? How could I determine my true limits without risking it all? Would I take that gamble, even if it meant the possibility of never returning home?

As I contemplated these questions, a fierce wind roared around me, gusting at a relentless thirty miles per hour. The temperature hovered just below ten degrees Fahrenheit, freezing the very air I breathed. In the midst of my contemplation, a faint voice pierced the howling wind, urgently shouting, "Grab it!" I looked up and saw a black object hurtling towards me, bouncing off the hardened glass-like ice and chipping away small fragments with each impact. Before I could react, it shot past me, emitting a strange humming sound, and vanished into what seemed like an unfathomable abyss.

"There goes our contact with the others," the voice called from above. Our two-way radio had been torn from our grasp, lost to the mountain's unforgiving embrace.

I stood there, grappling with unanswered questions, facing the monumental risks that lay ahead. Ultimately, I made a choice. At an elevation just shy of 14,000 feet and only 500 feet from the summit, I decided to turn around. On that day, Mt. Rainier would remain unconquered by me. I descended and reached Camp Muir, positioned at 10,000 feet, just past 6 p.m. It had taken me twelve grueling hours to ascend 4,000 feet and return.

Oddly enough, I did not feel the sting of disappointment. Instead, I relished the journey of getting as far as I did and, even more so, the safe return. I had pushed myself to new physical and mental limits, and I discovered that my mental fortitude had ultimately shaped my decision. Was it the relentless wind, which made it challenging to think clearly? Or the force of the wind that threatened to knock me off balance with every step? Perhaps it was the fear that I could have been that two-way radio, plummeting down the icy slope into oblivion. Maybe it was the echoes of countless books and interviews emphasizing that the summit is only the halfway mark, that the true challenge lies in the descent. Perhaps it was the knowledge that others lower on the mountain had already made the? choice to turnaround earlier that day.

Yes, it was a combination of all these factors that played havoc with my psyche. I was physically capable, yet my mind convinced me otherwise on that fateful expedition. My tank wasn't empty, but my emotions told me it was time to descend, to ensure I'd live to climb another day. This experience led me to realize the incredible power of the mind in shaping our perception of our physical abilities. It raised the question: Is a person with a true fear of heights physically incapable of standing on the edge of a flat rooftop?

Back home, I eagerly shared my ordeal with friends and family, often attributing my failed attempt to inadequate physical conditioning. While it's true that I hadn't trained adequately and wasn't in peak physical shape, I now understood that my reservoir of strength ran deeper than I had thought.

It wasn't until three years later, in August 2010, that I would truly comprehend just how much remained in my tank.

Chapter 2: Deciding to Go Back

The battle with my looming failure had left a mark on my psyche, a persistent itch that needed scratching. I couldn't leave Mt. Rainier unconquered. I made the bold decision to return, this time with a familiar face by my side.

To conquer not just the mountain but also my own doubts, I knew that my physical conditioning had to be impeccable. I embarked on a rigorous training regimen, determined to ensure that even if my psyche wavered, my body would not. I tackled stadium stairs, embraced incline training, and transformed my garage into a makeshift climbing gym.

This time, we planned a more challenging route, determined to push ourselves beyond previous limits. We set off one week before our climb, and the news of a recent death on our chosen route sent shivers down our spines. The mountain, it seemed, was not to be underestimated.

The journey from Brooklyn to Seattle presented its own set of challenges, from a heated altercation at JFK while checking bags to a migraine that threatened to derail our plans. Last-minute shopping followed our gear check, as I adhered to my rules for packing food for an expedition: only bring what you'd eat at home, and then halve your initial estimate.

Chapter 3: The Ascent Begins

Our first day took us from White River Campground to Inter Glacier, a grueling climb from 4,100 to 8,500 feet. We sorted our gear, each carrying packs weighing between 60 to 65 pounds. These loads would be the heaviest we'd bear; as we ascended, the consumption of food and water would lighten our packs as the climb progressed. We set out with two 32-ounce water bottles each, knowing we could refill from the glacial streams higher up. Some treated their water, but above the tree line, I felt confident drinking it straight from the stream, accepting the potential consequences later.

Finding our rhythm was essential. The first 15 to 20 minutes were arduous, but soon, a cadence emerged not just in our hiking but also in our breathing and our thoughts. Sometimes, my rhythm flowed so smoothly that I resisted stopping for breaks. Yet, even welcome rests brought challenges, as restarting and reestablishing that cadence proved difficult.

During a brief rest stop just before departing from the maintained trail, two day hikers approached us, warning of a large black bear with two cubs just ahead. My initial reaction was mixed: part fascination, part trepidation. I recalled a previous encounter with a black bear on the Grand Teton, an experience that had forced us to retrace our steps uphill. For about twenty minutes, we backtracked before the bear finally vanished into the woods, allowing us to continue our descent.

Chapter 4: The First Night

Our first night on the mountain, positioned at 8,500 feet, tested our resolve. In an effort to minimize our loads, we carried only one tent for three people. Rob and I shared the tent components, with Ted joining our camp team. I carried the tent itself, Rob took the tent poles, and Ted shouldered the tent fly. It was hard to determine who got the better end of the deal, but I was relieved not to bear the entire burden.

As punishment for my grumbling demeanor during our flight from New York due to a migraine, Rob decided to retaliate in a most unpleasant way. He unleashed a barrage of noxious fumes that defied human description. As one of my comic heroes once said, "He could knock a buzzard off a shit wagon." The absurdity of the situation lay in the fact that we shared a modest 9x9 tent with a man we had met just hours earlier. Ted proved to be a good sport, and I sensed he was the type not easily perturbed or, at the very least, not inclined to display it. Two months prior, Ted had successfully summited Mt. Rainier via the D.C. Route, the same route that had eluded me three years earlier. Ted's desire to attempt a more challenging route this time only fueled my inner demons. "Try something more difficult?" I knew, albeit reluctantly, that the Emmons route we had chosen was considered more challenging. The D.C. route started at 5,600 feet and ascended 8,811 feet to the summit. In contrast, the Emmons route began at 4,100 feet and rose 10,311 feet to the summit. While a 1,500-foot difference in elevation might not seem significant, it was when you considered that the elevation gain from Mt. Everest Base Camp to the summit of Mt. Everest was 11,435 feet, just 1,124 feet more than the Emmons route. I wasn't drawing a direct comparison in terms of difficulty, but rather in elevation gain. Everest Base Camp sat at an elevation 3,189 feet above the summit of Mt. Rainier. Climbing at such altitudes exponentially heightened the challenge, and I was now faced with the prospect of climbing 2,000 feet higher than my previous attempt. This was my Everest.

Chapter 5: The Ascent Continues

Day two brought us from Inter Glacier to Camp Schurman, perched at 9,460 feet. It was a relatively short climb, with less than 1,000 feet of elevation gain. We reached the ranger station, a welcome sight, complete with a porta-John. Camp Schurman struck me as a post-apocalyptic survival outpost, a haven for battered souls seeking refuge from an inhospitable environment. Imagine an island of rocky outcroppings, surrounded by snow and ice, infested with mice. These tenacious rodents had nibbled their way through every bit of wrapped food, leaving us with unappetizing scraps. One unfortunate climber had endured the peculiar experience of accidentally trapping a mouse inside his tent overnight. He awoke to the sensation of a wet shoelace being dragged across his face, only to discover it was the cold, damp tail of a mouse scurrying over him as he slept.

Chapter 6: The Summit Bid

The day we had prepared for, both mentally and physically, had arrived. We awoke at midnight, hastily grabbed some sustenance, and began gearing up for the summit climb. The night was clear, the temperature around 20 degrees Fahrenheit, and the wind blew steadily at about 15 miles per hour. Our strategy was to climb through the night to avoid the heat of day, which could weaken the snowpack, making the ascent more perilous. As the sun rose, the risks multiplied: snow bridges over crevasses grew unstable, seracs teetered on the brink, and the danger of avalanches loomed. At 1:50 a.m., we stepped out of Camp Schurman and onto the glacier, our headlamps casting a feeble two-foot-by-two-foot glow before us. Progress was slow but steady, and I felt a surge of strength within me.

Approximately two and a half hours into our ascent, we encountered an unexpected obstacle. One of Rob's crampons had dislodged from his boot. Our initial thought was that we could simply reattach it and continue, but upon closer examination, we discovered that the wing-nut required for the adjustment was missing. There was no way Rob could continue with only one crampon, and descending to Camp Schurman from our current position without both crampons would be treacherous. It was a precarious situation: 4:15 a.m., 11,000 feet above sea level, a 30-degree incline, pitch-black except for the narrow beams of our headlamps, and standing in a V-shaped rut of snow barely wide enough to accommodate a single boot. The walls of this rut rose as high as my waist. We had no idea when or where the wing-nut had come off; it could have been a thousand feet below, long before the crampon had loosened enough to fall off. It was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack, but incredibly, within about ten minutes, we found the elusive wing-nut just a few feet below.

Chapter 7: The Climb Resumes

With the wing-nut crisis averted, we resumed our ascent. The climb through the inky darkness of the night continued, guided only by the feeble light of our headlamps. The mountain loomed vast and unforgiving around us, its icy slopes a stark reminder of the challenges we faced.

The higher we climbed, the thinner the air became, and the weight of our packs seemed to multiply with each step. Breathing became a laborious task, and even the simplest movements required immense effort. Yet, despite the physical strain, there was a sense of determination that fueled us.

As the hours ticked away, the horizon began to lighten, heralding the arrival of dawn. The first rays of sunlight painted the snow and ice in shades of pink and orange, casting a surreal glow over the landscape. We knew that this was the moment we had been waiting for, the reward for our relentless toil through the night.

Chapter 8: A Narrow Escape

The ascent continued, but with the breaking of dawn came a heightened sense of danger. The rising sun had a transformative effect on the mountain. Snow bridges that had held firm in the cold of the night now threatened to give way under the warming rays of the sun. Seracs, those towering ice formations, became increasingly unstable, and the risk of avalanches grew more pronounced.

Our pace quickened as we navigated these treacherous conditions. Every step was a calculated risk, and our hearts raced with a mixture of fear and determination. We were acutely aware of the need to press on while the mountain allowed, but also of the ever-present danger that lurked around us.

Chapter 9: The Final Push

The summit was within sight, a tantalizingly short distance away. We could almost taste the victory, but we knew better than to let our guard down. The last leg of the climb was often the most challenging, and complacency had no place on the slopes of Mt. Rainier.

With every step, the air grew thinner, and our bodies screamed for oxygen. We were pushing ourselves to the limit, drawing on every ounce of strength and resilience we possessed. It was a test of not only physical endurance but also mental fortitude. Doubts and fears lingered, but the desire to conquer the mountain burned brighter.

Chapter 10: Triumph and Reflection

At long last, we reached the summit of Mt. Rainier. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming, a culmination of years of preparation, setbacks, and unwavering determination. We had pushed ourselves beyond our previous limits, and in doing so, we had conquered our own doubts.

The view from the summit was nothing short of breathtaking. The world stretched out before us, a vast expanse of snow and ice, with distant smaller peaks punctuating the horizon. It was a moment of pure awe, a reminder of the majesty of the natural world and the insignificance of our individual struggles.

As we stood on that windswept summit, we reflected on the journey that had brought us here. It had been a battle against the elements, against our own limitations, and against the relentless pull of the mountain. But it had also been a journey of self-discovery, a testament to the power of determination and the human spirit.

We had learned that physical strength was only one part of the equation. Mental resilience, the ability to push through fear and doubt, was equally essential. And perhaps, in the end, it was the mental battles we had won that meant the most.

Looking back on that day, we knew that the summit was just a waypoint on the larger journey of life. It was a reminder that challenges would always arise, and doubts would always creep in. But it was also a testament to our capacity to overcome, to push beyond our limits, and to achieve greatness.

As we began the descent, we carried with us not only the memory of that triumphant moment but also the knowledge that the summit was just one peak among many in the grand adventure of life. Mt. Rainier had tested us, pushed us to our limits, and ultimately rewarded our perseverance. And in doing so, it had become more than a mountain; it had become a symbol of what could be achieved when we dared to dream, dared to push ourselves, and dared to reach for the summit, no matter how distant it may seem.

And so, with the wind at our backs and the mountain at our feet, we descended from the summit of Mt. Rainier, forever changed by the journey, forever inspired by the heights to which we could rise, and forever grateful for the lessons learned along the way.

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Chapter 11: The Descent

The descent from the summit of Mt. Rainier was a journey in itself. As we retraced our steps down the mountain, the challenges were far from over. The same obstacles that had tested our mettle on the way up now challenged us on our way down.

The warming sun had transformed the mountain's surface. Snow bridges became more precarious, crevasses more visible, and seracs more unstable. It was a race against time and nature, as the sun's rays continued to soften the snow and ice around us.

Each step required careful consideration. We navigated the hazards with utmost caution, acutely aware that the mountain demanded our respect. There was no room for complacency, for even a momentary lapse in judgment could have dire consequences.

Chapter 12: Reflections on the Journey

As we descended further, we had time to reflect on the profound journey we had undertaken. The summit had been our goal, but the true essence of the experience lay in the challenges we had faced, the doubts we had conquered, and the bonds we had forged.

We realized that climbing a mountain was not just about reaching the summit; it was about embracing the entire journey. It was about the struggle, the triumphs, and the moments of doubt that ultimately made the achievement all the more meaningful.

The mountain had taught us invaluable lessons about perseverance, resilience, and the power of the human spirit. It had shown us that limits were often self-imposed, and that with determination, we could push beyond them. It had demonstrated that fear and doubt were natural companions on any ambitious journey, but they could be overcome with the right mindset.

Our descent continued, and with each step, we carried with us the knowledge that the summit was just one peak in the larger landscape of our lives. We had conquered a formidable challenge, but there were more summits to scale, more adventures to embrace, and more lessons to learn.

Chapter 13: Returning Home

After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached base camp. Exhausted but elated, we relished the simple pleasures of rest, warm food, and the camaraderie of our fellow climbers. It was a moment of reflection and celebration, a time to share stories and experiences.

Back home, we eagerly shared our triumph with friends and family. We no longer blamed lack of physical conditioning for our initial failure; instead, we understood the crucial role that mental strength played in our success. We knew that the mountain had tested us, and we had emerged stronger for it.

The journey up Mt. Rainier had been a profound chapter in our lives, a testament to the power of determination, resilience, and the human spirit. It had taught us that the summit was just a waypoint on the larger journey of life, and that the true reward lay in the challenges we faced and the growth we experienced along the way.

As we looked back on our adventure, we knew that there would always be more mountains to climb, both literal and metaphorical. But the lessons learned on the slopes of Mt. Rainier would stay with us forever, a reminder that with unwavering determination, we could reach new heights and conquer even the most daunting of challenges.

And so, our journey continued, filled with the knowledge that we had the strength to overcome, the courage to persist, and the spirit to embrace whatever summits lay ahead. Mt. Rainier had been our proving ground, and we emerged from its shadow with a newfound sense of purpose and a deep appreciation for the beauty and resilience of the human spirit.