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The weather at Everest Base Camp is cloudy but the temperatures are nice. We have heard that more climbers have successfully reached the top of Mt. Everest. Kaji and Dawa after going to the South Col yesterday have comeback to Base camp. Lam Babu has also returned to Base Camp from Camp 2. Tsering and Yubarj plan on carrying loads to the South Col tomorrow early morning early if the weather allows. Speaking of weather, the forecast for lighter winds has been adjusted to more moderate speeds, we have heard of a number of teams adjusting their summit schedule to a later date. Everyone is looking for that perfect weather window. Some teams are in position for summit attempts tonight and tomorrow night. Our team at Base Camp continues with the resting and eating routine. We are working hard to fatten up Dave, Linden, Sara and Bill. We had a few friends over today to throw some horseshoes. The focus now is keeping track of the forecasts and monitoring resting patterns. How much simpler could life get. RMI Guide Mark Tucker

On The Map

Sunday, May 23, 2021 - 11:31 pm PT

Cold temps and wind greeted us as we began our move to 11,000' Camp, our Camp 2 this morning.  The climb warmed up as the sun hit us and we enjoyed stellar views. The day remained windy with blowing snow but our team powered through it.  Arriving at 11,000' Camp, we settled in and built our camp in fine alpine style.  We were pleasantly surprised to run into the rest of our RMI teams here at 11,200'. Hopefully the reunion will be short as those teams progress up the mountain while good weather remains over the range.

RMI Guide Eric Frank

Holly Hollar, RMI Guide Elias de Andres Martos, and the rest of their rope team on the summit of Mt. Rainier. ---- In honor of our 50th Anniversary, we are featuring stories of first climbs. Stories from guides and stories from climbers. Today, we are excited to share Holly Hollar’s story of her first climb – Mt. Rainier in May 2018. We have edited her story for length. ---- Our mountain guide, Elias, is yelling at me with his heavy Spanish accent as the wind wails around us and ice pellets sting our faces at 13,600’, “Come on girls, we are close now!” The sun is up now, our headlamps finally switched off, and we are roped up, three of us ladies, to Elias. I’m in front. Behind me is Laimei, a physicist trying to solve the global energy problem in her post doc, and Robin, a lobbyist who is trying to work with legislators on privacy issues and anti-money laundering efforts to ensure criminals can’t fund terrorist activities in the U.S. (I am outclassed by both of these incredible women). The snow is shin deep, making it hard to find purchase in our crampons. For Laimei and I, it’s our first time attempting anything like this, Robin is the most experienced of the group - she’s already climbed Mount Elbrus. We are screaming at each other because the wind is so loud. “Come on, let’s dig!” I shout back to them, because I am terrified of what I see overhead of us, two giant blocks of ice that, should they choose to break free, would surely scrape us off the face of the mountain and into oblivion. We’ve tethered into ice anchors, but it’s little consolation on the steep, icy slope. Only a few minutes ago I had wanted to quit. Frustrated by my inability to find secure footings, and slipping back with every step, I turned to Elias, who had told me they had someone waiting at the bottom of the pitch for a few extra minutes in case someone changed their mind about going further. “Elias, I don’t know if I can do this,” I said. He took off his sunglasses. “Holly, look at me. You can dig. Dig deep girl. You can do this.” I rack my brain for motivation. I think of the words of a personal coach who inspired me last fall, “Joy is always a choice.” I recited this to myself along with other positive thoughts as we continued toward the top. The three of us are all that’s left of the 9-person team who began this boondoggle two days ago. Meeting at the RMI BaseCamp in Ashford, Washington, we unpacked our gear for gear check with smiles on our faces. Everyone was jubilant on that first day as Elias de Andres Martos introduced himself to the group and laid out the game plan for the following three days. He explained his extensive climbing experience, having guided in the Himalaya and on Denali, and explained what would be expected of us. “I was a teacher, a kindergarten teacher, but I found I did not like teaching. I like it when my students listen. You will listen to me as we climb because I have knowledge that will help you be more efficient. Efficiency is everything. You do not want to waste energy. Sometimes people say I am too harsh. It is because I want you to succeed and I don’t want to take too much risk. We have a margin of safety. So I push and sometimes I yell. But we will get there okay?” We nodded our heads in agreement. RMI requires at least one day of mountaineering training before heading up Rainier, so we spent the following day learning techniques like rest stepping and using our ice axe to stop ourselves from sliding down a glacier or into a crevasse. I was worried about getting enough sleep the night before the big climb, but that was no issue as I had worn myself out partly due to the exertion of learning to walk uphill in knee deep snow and partly from the stress of Elias spontaneously screaming “FALLING!” throughout the afternoon to build our self-arrest reflexes. Holly and the rest of her RMI team on their way to Camp Muir. Finally, it was time to climb. The hike to Camp Muir covers 4,500’ of elevation gain in about 4 1/2 miles. So we climbed roughly 1,000’ an hour and stopped to break at each milestone. The pace was slow and steady, harder for some than others but mostly a slog for everyone. Though it was snowing and grey when we began, the weather cleared as we climbed and soon we were above the cloud line and rolling into Camp Muir. It’s a good thing I hadn’t imagined Camp Muir to be a sort of mini-Ritz Carlton Bachelor Gulch because I would have been sorely disappointed. The camp is basically five or six little huts and one big bunkhouse where the RMI climbers sleep. After dinner it was time for “real talk” with Elias. “Okay guys. Here is the deal for tomorrow. There is going to be three breaks and a break at the summit. At each break we are going to ask you to tell us right away if you are committed to climbing the next hour to hour and a half. We are going from island of safety to island of safety, so you cannot quit in the places between our break points because it is too dangerous. If you are going to turn around, we will send a guide with you back to Camp Muir. But here is the issue. We can only have a team of three guests per guide. That is our ratio. If we lose too many guides, and don’t have the ratio, we may have to turn a team around. So, it is best if you be decisive and, if someone else is going already and we are at break number one and you are iffy, you need to decide to go down. Remember, the true summit is the parking lot at Paradise, not the top of the mountain, okay?” We were told a few tips on what to pack, how to pack and what to wear and then we were put to bed with the promise of being awoken sometime between midnight and two in the morning to begin our climb. The first stretch out of Muir was hard but not terrible. The deep snow made for some challenges, and for some it was simply too much with the altitude or poor boot fit/equipment mishaps, to continue. So, we lost several climbers at the first stop. But then the real fun began. Though we had planned on climbing another 1,000 feet or so before the next break, we came upon another climbing team who was ascending the wrong route up the Ingraham Glacier. I could tell Elias was getting frustrated, as every second we were stopped the team grew colder. One moment you were sweating in two layers with max exertion uphill and the next the sweat was freezing to your skin. Time was passing, with every second contributing to the deterioration of the climbers. Elias made a quick call. “Okay guys! We will take a very quick break here to let the other team get ahead of us. Put on your parkas!” We dutifully threw on our parkas. I could feel my fingers begin to burn and wondered if this is what the beginning of frostbite feels like. Fortunately, it was too dark for me to see that we were surrounded overhead by refrigerator-sized ice blocks that had tumbled off the glacier and come to rest, for the moment, just so. I got a good look at those coming down and I’m not going to lie, it put a bit more pep in my step. We began ascending again, this time to the proper break point where we did another quickie-style break. Sunrise on the upper slopes of Mt. Rainier. The final stretch seemed to go on forever, I think in part due our scheduled stops being disrupted by the other climbing team. We took one final, brief rest below the crater. I realized then that looking up was a mistake. Every time I looked up at the mountain I felt a soul crushing disappointment that we still had so far to go. It was much easier to look down and see how far we had come. The wind is ripping around us, we’re hanging on to our parkas for dear life and we begin the last push of five hundred feet or so. Final doubts come and go, but we are pushing onward. At last Elias looks down at me and says, “Holly, that is the crater rim, right there. You are going to be so proud.” In five more minutes, we cross the rim and tears come to my eyes. They are tears of relief that our efforts have finally landed us at the top. I turn and yell to the rest of the girls “It’s right here! We’re here!” It’s a cry fest up top, but don’t think for a second it was just the ladies. There’s a special kind of catharsis reserved for suffering of that nature, and now I know what it feels like. We have the crater to ourselves and take full advantage by snapping pictures and taking a much-needed water and snack break. In the back of my mind, I’m wondering how it’s possible, that what began as a dream with a picture at my desk five years ago, finally became a reality. The descent was not completely without drama, and certainly not as fast as I would have liked. Now, in the light, you can see all the hazards and scary stuff you couldn’t see on the way up. I’m eager to get out of harm’s way and back to Camp Muir. Everyone knows the worst accidents happen on the way down, not on the way up. Thankfully, we got to Muir in one piece. The rest of the folks were kind in helping us remove gear and get situated inside to recover for an hour or so before hiking the rest of the way down. It was a gorgeous afternoon as we rolled into the parking lot feeling like heroes. We gathered for one final time at Rainier BaseCamp to reflect on our climb and trade contact info. I am so grateful for having met these awesome ladies and for sharing with them what is without question, a peak experience in my life. I am also left with a lasting lesson learned: no one gets up there without a little help. If you are open to accepting help and guidance, and you follow through on it, you have a distinct advantage over the individual who thinks they can do it their way and ignore the advice of experts. I am grateful to our guide and the experienced team at RMI who took a novice mountain hiker and turned her into a mountaineer. --Holly Hollar

The Paradise Glacier Seminar is in full effect with loads of exciting training taking place. We have a beautiful camp at 8,500 feet on the Cowlitz Glacier surrounded by steep walls and breathtaking crevasses. Our team is all in great spirits and thriving in what has been described as a high excitement summer camp for aspiring mountain climbers. The weather is not as sunny as the two previous days but at least some of the forest fire smoke has subsided opening up some great views. We are all getting psyched for our move to Camp Muir tomorrow. Team Paradise sends their best to family and friends. RMI Guide Adam Knoff

Hey everyone, this is JJ Justman, I have an incredible news story coming to you live on the summit of Aconcagua. Hey everyone. Everyone on Team 3 made the summit of Aconcagua at 1:30 (ART) this afternoon. 100%! The team did just absolutely fantastic. Team give a shout out to everyone back at home. [Cheers from the team!] I'll tell you its always a tough day getting up here, but the rewards are great. Beautiful day climbing. We are the only ones on the summit of Aconcagua right now. There is a little bit of wind so hopefully I'm not yelling too loud, but definitely want to let you guys know that everyone did great, everyone's safe and sound. We're gonna take a few hero shots and then we're gonna start heading down hill. Thanks for following a long. We will touch base with you when we get back to high camp. Everyone's doing great. Everyone says hello to family and friends. Take care from the summit of Aconcagua. Congratulations to Tom Shilson! Your guess of 1:23 is the winning summit time. An RMI t-shirt and hat is on its way to you! RMI Guide JJ Justman

On The Map

We finally got some Alaska mountain weather today. We made our final preparation for moving higher today by putting in a cache in at the top of the fixed lines and we got into a little wind and blowing snow in the process. When we set off this morning at 9am it was clear and cold with some obvious, but not outrageous wind on the ridge. Everything went smooth on the way up and only on the descent did we get some 20-25 mph wind and blowing snow. Just enough weather to make things fun. RMI Guide Walter Hailes P.S. Steve would like to wish Denise a happy birthday.

That storm finally eased, now for the next one. Actually, we hope the next one is a long way off. We enjoyed a fine and quiet rest day at Low Camp. Long meals, long naps, lots of drinking water, some books, some music... an altogether great day in the mountains of Antarctica. We had good strong sunshine for much of the day, but as we ate our dinner (at around 9 PM) things began to cloud up again. There isn't any wind forecast to go along with the clouds so our fingers are crossed for a good moving up day tomorrow. Best Regards RMI Guide Dave Hahn

On The Map

Rest day for our entire team today. The Sherpas were certainly entitled to one after their big day going to Camp II and back. And for the rest of us, it has been several days back-to-back of hikes and training. Time to slow it down, catch up on food, hydration and rest. And of course, hygiene. Today was shower day... we've got a little on-demand propane burning water heater rigged up on a shower tent that does the trick nicely. Not every day, of course, because propane isn't exactly naturally occurring in this valley, and because getting water just where you want it to be is rather labor intensive, as well. But every now and then it is oh so nice to get clean again. Just before lunch, Mark Tucker made it into camp, fresh from Island Peak and another full circuit of the route to Lukla. So with our Basecamp manager on scene, the entire team is now assembled. The climbers are getting gear ready for a "dress rehearsal" in the Icefall tomorrow, a practice run to the halfway point. The Sherpas are getting ready for a holiday... Nepali New Year tomorrow. To help with the festive atmosphere, Seth and I gave out brand new RMI uniform gear: Eddie Bauer First Ascent climbing clothing for the staff. Best Regards, RMI Guide Dave Hahn

The Four Day Climb led by Dominic Cifelli and Josh Geiser reached the top of Disappointment Cleaver today.  The team had a good day of climbing with winds of about 20 - 25 mph, and some hazy skies due to wildfires in the area. We have several guides on the upper mountain working to establish a route to the summit. 

This spring, while another hot and dry winter in Utah began to wind to a close, my friend, and fellow RMI Guide, Steve Gately and I were desperate to find a real winter. The island country of Iceland, once an isolated and expensive island destination to visit, has made a big effort to attract foreign tourists, since the 2008 collapse of their economy, by subsidizing direct flights from Europe and N. America. Lucky for us skiers, this presented an opportunity to explore and ski the volcanic peaks and fjords that Iceland harbors amongst its wild and otherworldly landscape. It being both of our first time to the island, Steve and I made our goal to ski as many of the coastal mountain ranges as we could. Arriving in the city of Reykjavik after a red-eye flight, we spent that first day battling heavy eyelids, touring the walkable capital city, sampling the wide array of fresh seafood and local brews, and beginning our feeble attempt to learn a few Icelandic phrases to help get us by for the next two weeks. “Tveir bjora, takk”, meaning, “two more beers, thank you”, was the only phrase we could retain well enough to use during that first day. Car rentals are notoriously expensive, but we found a deal on an old Toyota Rav4 with decent tires that seemed to be held together well enough for half the price, and we were off. We drove the length of the main highway on the south side of the island, also known as the Ring Road, passing by the active and massively glaciated volcanoes along the southern coastline. Finally reaching the Eastfjords, we were a bit discouraged by the high snow levels in these broad fjords, but found charm and beauty in the tiny and isolated fishing villages. We spent a couple days skiing spring “corn” snow as it slowly softened with the warmth of the low angled sun of the springtime. An experience of a lifetime, the clear nighttime skies lit up with the Northern Lights like we could have never imagined. Domes of vibrant green and purple rocketed over our heads while we camped in the empty Neskaupstadur town campground, taking in the show in awe. Moving northward and then west, we drove across the volcanically active rift valley where the Earth’s crust was being created in real time, creating hundreds of miniature volcanoes, steam vents, and rugged lava fields. Eventually, we reached the Troll Peninsula, the skiing mecca of Iceland. In recent years, the “Troll” has increased in popularity with skiers through recent ski films and the presence of Arctic Heli Skiing. The popularity of this place was well justified; we found some of the best spring corn skiing we’d ever experienced, with the Arctic Ocean serving as our backdrop. The aesthetics and quality of skiing was only matched by the hospitality of the people we met in the small village of Dalvik. Our days here were spent skiing while evenings were filled mingling with locals and tourist skiers alike on the front steps of the local Kaffihaus (Coffeehouse), which doubled as a pub in the later hours of the evening. As with many of the small communities in Iceland, the owners of our hostel also ran this Kaffihaus, serving their own fish stew from their friends’ fishing boats, and serving beer brewed a couple doors down the street. Traveling onward, we drove the barren and isolated roads from Dalvik to the northwest corner of the island: a series of peninsulas collectively referred to as the Westfjords. We hunkered down in the town of Isafjordur, surrounded by hundreds of steep ski runs that plummet to the ocean, as the snow began to fall. We spent the next six days drinking coffee, while the snow pounded down outside, immediately jumping in the car as soon as the sun made one of a few brief appearances. In a neighboring fjord near the village of Flateyri, we found the siren that had drawn us to Iceland: a beautiful fjord that held the deepest and driest powder of the trip; a long series of steep chutes looming above the ocean. After a winter of scraping and scratching by in Utah, this mythical run made our ski season whole! During these rare moments of sun the formula looked something like: drive around the fjords looking for ski runs (the best were steep rock-lined couloirs), climb up, ski right back down to the car, manage to drive our manual transmission Rav4 in ski boots to another ski run, and repeat. The snow in the Westfjords did not let up for days, even as our time to return to Reykjavik approached. The most hair-raising adventure of the trip was driving the fjords and passes back to civilization in southern Iceland. Over one particular pass, we had to put our rental to the test, busting through snowdrifts until we found a lineup of cars waiting to follow a supersized snowplow the rest of the way back to the main highway. Back in the capital, Steve and I celebrated the end of our trip just like we did at the start; enjoying the fresh fish and brews of Reykjavik, knowing that we had only scratched the surface of the skiing that this country has to offer. _____
Robby Young is a senior guide at RMI Expeditions, leading trips in Washington, Alaska, and Peru. Robby calls Park City, UT home, where he is a ski patroller at the Canyons Resort. When not guiding, Robby is found chasing splitter crack climbing and perfect powder around the globe. He is also a talented photographer: view his images at www.robbyyoungphotography.com.