Entries By kel rossiter

Pawel had previously been a part of the Emmons and Kautz Seminars on Mt. Rainier. Finishing up the ice challenges of the Kautz, Pawel set his eyes on the prize, investigated ambitious alpine objectives and developed a plan. That plan included the North Ridge of Mt. Baker and the North Face of Mt. Shuksan. Last winter he trained for six days in Ouray, CO honing his ice skills to get ready for the task. And, as alpine climbing demands creativity, since then he's trained hard in gym and combined it with a rigorous running schedule, sometimes with a pack, at home in Chapel Hill, NC. We met up for the planned 3-day climb of the North Ridge of Mt. Baker on a Monday in the face of a grim forecast—rain coming in Tuesday morning. The plan was to establish base camp on Monday and launch Tuesday morning. So, not good. But you can't win if you don't play and a large part of success in alpine climbing is putting yourself in position for it and then letting the cards unfold as they do. We set off toward base camp, hiking along the Heliotrope Ridge Trail, popping with alpine flowers. On the hike in it was clear Pawel's creative North Carolina training had paid off. He crushed it in two hours and—just as the thought entered my own mind—he suggested, “What do you think about going for it today?” Even with the crushing time to base camp, it was still 1p.m.—a rather untraditional start to the North Ridge. While we set up camp, I considered the timeline: We'd be pushing the weather forecast, but we felt comfortable descending the Coleman-Deming route (the standard descent) in poorer weather. Once on the ice pitches of the route (approx. 9,600') you're pretty committed to the North Ridge, but we left camp with the caveat that should the weather change or the travel become more complex than planned, we'd turn back for another try later. Later never came. We made it to the ice cap in just over 3 hours, which is just over half the typical time. With a puffy cloud front still way off over the Puget Sound and a few small cells sweeping up over Colfax Peak, we committed. All the moments of consideration up to the moment of commitment in a climb like this is a struggle on par with Ali-Frasier—but once the decision is made, clarity begins—just climb. And climb we did. Up through the ice cap, onto the upper flanks of the mountain, navigating through the upper bergschrunds, to the top. Descending the Coleman-Deming route to camp we were treated with blazing red sunset reflections on Puget Sound, rolling into camp just eight short hours after leaving camp. We reconvened a day later for the North Face of Shuksan, a seldom climbed route. Seldom done for many reasons, among them being the formidable approach. After 5 hours of Amazonian bushwhacking and at least a Red Cross pint donation of blood from both Pawel and I, we arrived at the base of the actual climb. Not surprisingly, after that “warm up” the climb was like cake. Pawel's commitment to fitness and technical prep paid off and we stacked pitch after pitch after pitch of climbing until arriving at our lovely bivy atop the ridge. The next day was an open road with a full tank of gas. We connected smoothly from the Crystal Glacier to the Sulphide Glacier, crisply circumambulated the mountain, ascended the SE Ridge, and then moved out smartly toward Winnie's Slide to camp. Arriving at camp at slighly past the stroke of noon, it occurred to the both of us that a trip out to the trailhead was easily doable, and since Pawel had some good friends in Seattle he wished to visit, we decided to go for it. Four short hours later, we were at the trailhead. Packs were off, sandals on, sitting down. Life was good. And getting better. We met up for a culmination of the climb at the Chair 9 Bar and Grill. It was a pure pleasure to wrap up this stage of Pawel's alpine journey. In the face of a formidable forecast, we'd pulled off two major North Cascades objectives—a tribute to the power of positive preparation in the face of pure challenge. Well done Pawel! RMI Guide Kel Rossiter

The Four Day Summit Climb led by RMI Guide Kel Rossiter reached the summit of Mt. Rainier today. Kel reported clear and cool weather with light winds. The Four Day Summit Climb team left the crater rim at 6:50 am to return to Camp Muir. We look forward to seeing all the climbers at Rainier BaseCamp this afternoon. Congratulations to today's Summit Climb teams!

The Four Day Summit Climb July 20 - 23, 2016 led by RMI Guides Mike King and Kel Rossiter reached the summit of Mt. Rainier this morning with clear skies and winds around 15 mph. The team began their descent from the crater rim just before 8 am. We look forward to seeing them at Rainier BaseCamp later this afternoon. Congratulations to today's Summit Climb teams!

The Mt. Rainier Summit Climb team, led by Kel Rossiter, reached the summit at 6:00 a.m. The team was above the clouds, with the cloud deck hovering around 11,000ft. After spending an hour on top, they began their descent. Congratulations to today's climbers!

The Four Day Summit Climb team for May 18 - 21, 2016, led by RMI Guides Elias de Andres-Martos and Kel Rossiter, reached the summit of Mt. Rainier this morning. The teams only spent a short amount of time on the crater rim before starting their descent to Camp Muir. The teams will continue their descent to Paradise and return to Rainier BaseCamp later today. Congratulations to today's Summit Climbers!

Our Four Day Summit Climb Teams led by RMI Guides Casey Grom and Kel Rossiter Reached the Summit of Mt. Rainier early this morning. The team reported moderate winds of 20 – 30 MPH and a bit of light Snow. The team was able to spend a brief amount of time on the Crater Rim before starting their descent. The team is en route to Camp Muir and will be back at Ashford Basecamp this afternoon. Today also marks the 200th Summit of Mt. Rainier for our lead Guide Casey Grom. Casey has been a guide with RMI Expeditions for over ten years, and has successfully reached the top of many peaks all over the world including Mt. Everest. Congratulations to Casey on a very successful climbing career, we look forward to sharing many more summits with you!

Before the big mountain bug bit me, I viewed snow as a blanket that came in the winter and lay quietly in place 'til spring's thaw. All that changed when I decided it wise to educate myself about avalanches. Taking part in the introductory Level 1 avalanche education course, I quickly learned how the snowpack, terrain, and triggers (like climbers or cornice falls) can transform that quiet blanket into a raging white dragon. Interested in learning more about this beast, I enrolled in a Level 2 avalanche course a few years later, and came to understand that each layer of snow that falls forms something of geologic record in that season's snowpack: if the snow falls warm, that layer will stay warm for a long time; if hail falls, it can be evident in the snowpack months later. Even more incredibly—similar to plates of geologic sedimentary matter—that seemingly silent white winter blanket is often actively undergoing radical metamorphosis due to vapor and temperature differences in the layers. This February—with the support of the RMI Guide Grant—I participated in a Level 3 course. It's something of a graduate level course in the University of Avalanches: A rigorous curriculum that explores the intricacies of snowpack dynamics and the techniques used to assess how stable the snowpack is. Our course took place in the Wasatch Mountains and it began a few days after one of that area's avalanche forecasters had declared it one of the weirdest snowpacks ever. An excellent classroom had been arranged! A key focus of the course was learning to quickly identify weak layers in the snowpack and then to assess the structure of that instability. One aspect of instability has to do with the kinds of snow crystals in between the layers. A Cliff Notes summary would be: square ones are bad, round ones are good. But how can you tell with something so small? Were they the good guys or the bad guys? First, I had to identify which layer to look at, a process of first poking the snow with my finger to determine layer interfaces, and then prodding it with a fist, four fingers, one finger, a pencil, or a knife to get some grip on the specific hardnesses. Once all that was established, it was time to sort out the good from the bad. Somewhat ironically, amidst all of the grandeur of the Wasatch, I was often peering into the little lens of a snow microscope looking at the edges of myriad little bits of snow to determine their personalities. Ultimately, beyond peering down a microscope, knowing the snow is a very sensory experience, incorporating sight, sound, and touch in order to determine its stability: windslabs are often squeaky like styrofoam, while faceted grains bounce off a gloved hand and make for a poor snowball. Of course, once stability is determined, the sensory experience is the pure enjoyment—how well does it ski? Through careful tracking of the Wasatch area over our week of study, we knew that north aspects were retaining the best snow. So, after our final exam, involving each person doing a complete analysis of the season's snowpack and weaknesses, we gathered together for a final run back into the front-country. We ripped our skins and then laid tracks down a beautiful bowl, each up us kicking up huge roostertails of powder joy—a reward for all of our diligent study. The pleasures of backcountry skiing and the benefits of big mountain climbing with skis are becoming increasingly known in the outdoor world and RMI is right out in front of the trend. Safely partaking of those pleasures and benefits involves really coming to know the snow. While in its essence knowledge of the snow is like knowledge itself, where “The more one knows the more one knows they don't completely understand,” coming away from the Level 3 avalanche course, I feel good in knowing that I'm keeping the learning edge sharp. That sharp edge will aid me whether cramponing up alpine routes on Rainier or schussing down couloirs in the North Cascades.

The Mount Rainier Four and Five Day Summit Climbs, led by Kel Rossiter and Ben Liken, reached about 12,300 feet before thunder and lightning forced the team to turn. The team is safely back at Camp Muir and began their descent to Paradise at 9:00 a.m. The skies are currently hazy with a fair amount of smoke in the skies from various wildfires in eastern part of Washington. Geoff Schellens and the Expedition Skills Seminar - Kautz turned from their summit attempt yesterday at 13,300 feet. They will finish their day of training and be back at RMI Basecamp later this afternoon. The RMI Expedition Skills Seminar - Emmons, led by Eric Frank, checked in from camp this morning. Their team is doing well, training today, and preparing for their summit bid in the morning.

RMI Guides Elias de Andres Martos and Kel Rossiter led our Summit Climb teams to the top of Mount Rainier this morning. Their views spanned out to Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams and other peaks in the Cascade Mountains. Both teams began their descent after 8:15 a.m. Congratulations Summit Climb Teams!

The Four Day Summit Climb teams led by RMI Guides Eric Frank and Solveig Waterfall reached the summit of Mt. Rainier early this morning. The teams enjoyed clear blue skies and warm temperatures. RMI Guide Kel Rossiter led the Expedition Skills Seminar - Emmons to the summit via the Emmons Glacier route. Congratulations to today's climbers!