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On The Map

On The Map

The Mt. Rainier Four Day Climb led by RMI Guide Daniel May called Ingraham Flats their high point this morning. While route conditions prevented the team from climbing higher, they spent time at 11,200' watching the sunrise over Eastern Washington and the Cascades. We look forward to welcoming the team back to Rainier BaseCamp this afternoon.

The Four Day Teams with RMI Guides Joe Hoch and Alan Davis reached the 14,410' summit of Mt. Rainier early this morning. The team climbed from Camp Muir to the Summit in 6 ½ hours. The climbers and guides spent some time on the Summit enjoying the sunrise before starting their descent at 7 am. 

Congratulations Team!

Whittaker Father-Daughter Kilimanjaro Climb from Eddie Bauer on Vimeo.

Chapter 6

The Bond Girls squirrel up Squirrel Hill. The Bond Girls completed quite a mission today!  We left 11,000' camp and moved a cache to 13600' in preparation to move to 14,000' Camp tomorrow (if the weather allows).   We finally infiltrated Motorcycle Hill, which has been staring at our camp since arriving here last Friday. Before I tell you about our day, I have to tell you what made the day possible.  After some weather at 11,000' Camp, serious trail breaking was needed.  All of the guides at 11k Camp worked together as a team to discuss weather and a plan to put in the route for everyone.  Climbing this mountain is not possible without teamwork (unless you’re that guy who climbed it in like 11 hours, but even he probably had some help).  We all pitch in, carry group gear uphill on shared ropes.  We set up camp together, eat meals together and make each other laugh over hot drinks when the weather outside is… well, Denali.

Back to the daily adventure! The wind rushed through our hair on Motorcycle Hill. Trying to get my full zip gortex pants on was like trying to get Church the cat from Salem’s Lot into a cat carrier for an exorcism.  Luckily Jack saved the day. Thanks Jack!  It is a pretty humbling experience to not be able to wrangle your own side zip pants!  After Motorcycle Hill we took on Squirrel Hill. Climbing Denali, you become like a squirrel, caching treats and clean socks… or the books you don’t feel like carrying any higher, deep under the snow, marked with a little flag, to come back to when you are able to collect them. Squirrels are endowed with luxurious tails, we brandish orange plastic sleds. Luckily we did not bring the sleds today.  Squirrel Hill stole Windy Corner’s thunder as goggles and summit parkas struggled to keep us warm. Pony Rider led the charge across Polo Field with a war cry, and Windy Corner was actually quite pleasant today. The weather cleared up for the team to enjoy a break at the cache and take in the majestic mountain paradise of Denali.  The walk back to camp was beautiful.  Now we hydrate, try to not smell so bad and get ready for burritos. The caches at Basecamp are a bit more celebratory. Visions of beer, cigarettes and hard liquor cheer exhausted climbers on to the finish line; the airstrip of the Kahiltna glacier.   There bush planes take you back to reality...Talkeetna, where the past three elected mayors have all been cats (two long haired Siamese and one tabby to be precise). I am grateful for the knowledge, experience, fortitude and tenacity of this team. We take on hardwork with a smile and show up for each other. Trash Man, Sled Dog, Polar Bear, Goldie Locks (formerly known as Pony Rider) Joey Dreamboat Manship and Bond-O are a few of the many nicknames this crew has, surely more will be given before The Bond Girls break into our base camp cache and get weird while we wait to fly off of the Kahiltna glacier.  

Thanks for stopping by to check up on your favorite secret agents!

Tune in tomorrow night for another installment of, “Who’s Cache is it Anyway?"

Shout out to Jessee and all of my Wyldcats! To Mom, Dad, Maggie and Lenora, I love you!

-Katherine

Last night, we were sitting in the dome at camp 2. Dinner was finished, and everyone was in their tents for bed. The steam of freshly boiled water was rising as we poured the last of it into the hot pot.

We sat as a guide team, looking at updated weather and coming up with a summit strategy when in popped one of our team members,

“Hey, Can I talk to you guys?”

“Sure, sure. Come on in.”

She stepped through the door.

“I’d like to help carry this teammate’s weight tomorrow. I want this for him so badly and he’s struggling.”

This morning, after a breezy night straight into a breezy morning, I sleepily walked from the guide tent to the dome tent. Jack immediately handed me my little 1/2 L Nalgene filled with warm coffee,

“Dom made it for you.”

Packing up our bags to carry a load to Camp 3,

“How is your morning, Reacher?”

“I didn’t sleep well. I woke up early to the wind and helped tie down other people’s tents.”

Climbing mountains is an inherently selfish sport. We work hard to get ourselves to the top. It benefits us, the climber, more than anyone else. And there’s no problem with that.

I found my own healing in the mountains, my own growth, the ability to drive and push myself further than I thought possible.

And I fell in love with guiding because I loved helping others do the same - get out of their comfort zone, try really hard, take a really big risk.

But if there’s one thing this team keeps teaching me, one tiny miracle at a time, is that there is more than just our own little dreams happening. Even though 14 days ago we were total strangers, we are now people who have built deep relationships, so much so that we’ll offer to help carry another’s weight because we already believe in that other so much. We’ll share our bag of banana chips at every break, even though instinct tells us to hold fast to those calories we hefted all the way to 18,000 feet. We’ll tie down tents in the lonely early morning just because we don’t want our friends to blow away after a windy night.

And today, when all of us felt a touch alone in our struggle to Camp 3 at 19,600 feet, I looked a little closer and saw the sort of miracle that was a team coming together. Climbing a mountain not just for ourselves but with and for those we are inspired by. I saw that whatever has happened between us is profound and no matter if we stand on top or not, we won’t leave here unchanged.

RMI Guide Jess Wedel

A leisurely morning at La Casa Sol was in order following yesterday. Particularly for Andrew, who in the bus to taxi switch before hiking Fuya Fuya, forgot to grab hiking shoes. He sent Fuya Fuya, in sandals, and with minimal issue. Jaime and I also got ourselves into a dizzying misadventure in our attempt to hike a lesser known mountain near Otavalo. It turned into us driving windy roads through the Ecuadorian countryside and running out of time to summit before dinner. We did however get some great views of Cayambe and a huge mushroom cloud over the erupting Volcán Reventador. 

After copious cups of coffee and tea, we headed for the Otavalo Market. On Saturdays, the market is bustling and extends beyond the normal square where it is held. Sensory overload is real there: colorful textiles, yelling merchants, loud music, food cooking over coals and so on. I typically choose to sneak into an alley and enjoy my favorite coffee I have found in Ecuador at a little shop called Tayta Wasi. After a couple hours, we hopped back in the bus and headed for the town of Cayambe. Once there, we enjoyed a quick lunch with complimentary bizcochos, which are basically the driest butter biscuit you can imagine. Their popularity as a staple food in this region continues to baffle me.

Finally, we made our way towards the volcano and are now settled in at the refuge. Book reading, organizing, gear adjustments and heavy breathing were the afternoon’s activities. Tomorrow we will brush up on basic glacier travel skills before our first big objective of the trip, Volcán Cayambe.

RMI Guide Dustin Wittmier