Mount Rainier Ingraham Direct, Elevation 14,410ft

Author: Jason Hummel

Mount Rainier is a distraction. Whenever I'm climbing or skiing elsewhere in the cascades I can't help but think what it would be like to be on top of Rainier with my skis. This thought is usually a frightening one because in the winter the temperature hovers well below freezing not to mention the wind speed and visibility. Clear days provide the exception. We often ask ourselves how much we'd pay to be transported to the summit and which route we'd choose to ski. Thousands of dollars and Central Mowich is our usual response. Tens of dollars and Ingraham Direct is our more realistic response. Reality echoes the usual, though, a phrase that we have come to live by – ‘earn your turns’. It seems, over the next few days, each of our turns would be earned with pain and sweat. No problem. As mountaineers, we crave the challenge of the ascent, and as skiers, we crave the challenge of the descent – and – as ski mountaineers, we covet them both, the ascent and descent, as the ultimate experience in mountaineering. The pain and sweat is only a means to an end.

Monday night we packed and Tuesday morning we found ourselves parked at the Visitor Center. Outside Ben’s Mazda the weather wasn’t too friendly. It was snowing hard, the wind was blowing, and it was foggy. None of us were very inclined to even leave the car, very much, climb the mountain. Josh was certain the climb wouldn’t go. He put the odds at a million to one. Truth be told, if I had my own car I would have drove back home, but Ben had a feeling, and he wasn’t about to waste gas. We dressed, shouldered our packs, and headed up the mountain. Maybe our chances were a million to one, but how would we know if we didn’t try.

I guess it was near the bottom of Pan Point where I realized we weren’t going to make it to Muir. Looking back I could see no one behind and doubted anyone had even left the parking lot. Up ahead, Josh and Ben had disappeared. A few minutes later I saw them next to a rock shelter preparing to carry their skis. By the time I was ready to go I don’t think anyone had said anything. We just put our heads down and battled the wind. We had a long way to go and that long way turned out to be about 200 yards. Ben was skinning again but had managed to slip down a few hundred feet. There was about 2 inches of snow on top of ice and so he decided to walk again. About halfway up he noticed wands and a snow cave. He yelled at Josh and I, saying something about people there. Just as Josh and I showed up Ben yelled inside the cave, "What are you fools doing up here?" In fact, there was no one there and we were the fools. At that point, we could barely stand because of the wind so going up was no longer a viable option.

The next few hours we spent digging and setting up camp. The cave turned out to be a lifesaver. The snow we dug out was used as a wind block so we could set up my tent. The cave wasn’t big enough to sleep three, but the space offered us a place to eat, relax, talk, and just enough space for Ben to bivi. Josh and I placed our tent in front of the cave and used the fly to cover the entrance. As Josh put it, "This is a little piece of heaven." Ben had brought a lantern that provided vital light. We spent the next few hours eating everything we had and drinking as much water as we could. If the weather cleared we wanted to be ready. If not, we sure didn’t want to carry it back down.

Before I went to bed I thought I saw a star.

My sleeping bag isn’t the greatest in the world. I was jealous of Ben’s down bag cause my 3D-insulation had long since expired. Somehow, I tried to concentrate on staying warm and trying to sleep. I didn’t sleep much. About one in the morning Ben said the weather was beautiful. At that point, I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I guess it was good because we could climb and a bad thing because I had to get up. I ground my teeth and faced the music. Once my boots were on things were getting better and as soon as I fired the stove up and consumed some Top Ramen and hot chocolate, I was a new man. Ben ate oatmeal and Josh had hot chocolate. Before packing, I went outside and could see that our little piece of heaven had invested in some serious real-estate. I couldn’t see a cloud in the sky and, best of all, there wasn’t a breath of wind. By that time I had a grin from ear to ear. After a moment or two, I returned to the cave to pack. A million to one. Heck yea! A million to one.

Okay, so we had a long way to go. We were at 7000ft, an hour from the parking lot. Camp Muir was another two hours away and it was already 2am. We had to get moving.

Skinning up was a bear. We came across patches of ice from time to time but I guess it was better than skinning up deep powder.

Ben was the first to reach Muir; Josh and I weren’t too far behind. We stopped to look at the hut, which was buried. We would have been in trouble had we gotten there the day before and had to dig in. So far we hadn’t stopped and Ben was already climbing over to Cathedral Gap so Josh and I continued. We met him halfway and stopped to get a drink before continuing. A few minutes later we stopped again at the bottom of Cathedral Gap to put on our crampons. This turned out to be the only time we had to take off our skis baring a few technical difficulties. After that, walking would have been impossible. Skinning now became a chore and our progress slowed dramatically. Instead of ice there was a few feet of packed powder to contend with. Now we felt better about the ski, but worse about the climb. Deep snow on open terrain is never fun to climb. We reasoned that it was safe to continue, and yet our ears were open to the definitive "Wooffff" that would signify our end. With one route to choose from and nobody else within miles, surviving an avalanche was slim to none. You’d have a better chance jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

Somewhere around Cadaver Gap Ben snapped his first photo. The light was amazing. Sunrises on Rainier are the best I’ve ever had the privilege to witness and this one was no different. I spent as much time looking behind me as I did looking up. Even so, we slowly made our way up the Ingraham glacier, switchback after switchback. At 12,000ft Ben went to the back and Josh took the lead. Once he could go no further, I took the lead. Finally, we decided to rest at 12,500ft. Getting some food and water before the last push was necessary. The view was amazing and the weather was even better than we could have hoped for. We didn’t want to stay long because it was already midday and we had a lot of vertical left. After twenty minutes we headed out.

By 13,500ft we were more tired than we cared to admit. Skinning up 30 to 40-degree slopes in deep snow was sapping away our energy. By that time we were concentrating more on going up than on our surroundings. What happened next is a lesson that is best learned from others. It so happens that you get to learn it from us. You must understand that we all make calculated risks when we climb. Sacrificing food for water, ice axe for crampons, boots for tennis shoes, or even a rope for time. Calculated risks are just that, and they carry the possibility of getting in a bad situation, which can result in injury or death. We started from Pan Point and even though Ben carried a rope we left it packed because skinning seemed relatively harmless. Time isn’t a luxury in the winter and climbing/skining with a rope takes time. We felt the time gained was worth the risk. What we didn’t expect was the risk becoming reality.

This is how it happened in Ben’s words:

Ben and I took a good 30 minutes to reflect on our ordeal and another 10 or 15 to cross the slopewide crevasse we had neglected to take full measure of in the first place. We continued because there was no reason not to. Mostly, we didn’t want to acknowledge what had happened. Afterwards our attention was crystal clear.

The upper slopes were a mix of wind-scoured styrofoam and powder. Skinning became easier, but time was running out. Since Ben and I weren’t up to leading, Josh took the lead. Eventually, he became wore out so I took his place. It wasn’t long before we reached the summit crater. At that point, we figured we should turn around and enjoy the ski. It was already 3 in the afternoon and if anything went wrong, we would be stuck in the dark. We wanted to go to the true summit but that would take close to an hour that we weren’t willing to sacrifice so we turned around. Our luck had long since expired and when it came to time, we wanted to have some to spare.

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