The following is from Nate Johnson, a Troop 2 Eagle. It documents his trip to the top of the 14,000 foot tall Mt. Rainier on July of 2010.The letter mentions and pays tribute to JL (John Lonergan), one of the many "elder statesmen" of Troop 2, and Ron Parry, a long-standing Scoutmaster.
First off let me just tell JL that yes indeed we got lost. Well at least we took a wrong turn. It took us two hours longer, and meant that we probably didn't get the primo tent site.
But let me back up. After practicing with ropes in the backyard, packing and repacking our personal gear, climbing gear, and other group gear two friends and I drove two hours south of Seattle to Mt Rainier National Park. Checking in at the ranger station, I remember Ron and JL getting out of the vans at dozens of parks across the US to check Troop Two into their campsites. I was out in these northwest woods with them in 1999. But now its 11 years later, and the campground is just a brief resting place, not our destination.
5am the next morning and we're up eating and packing. 7am and we're on the trail. No scale to weight the packs but mine was definitely over 55lbs with 160 feet of climbing rope on top. We have 5000ft of elevation to gain in just over 5 miles. Everyone's nerves are up. What does the mountain have in store for us? This is no joke, someone was lost (and still not found) just weeks before. There is one hard rule; do not, for any reason break up your team. We are staying together, literally tied together for most of the next 55 hours.
We hit the snowline, reapply sunblock, put on glasses and keep moving. When it seems likely that we're off solid ground and staring up the first glacier we rope-up. Jocelyn, the most experienced of us, takes the lead. Me, the only guy, and the heaviest and strongest in the middle, and Karen on the end. If either the front or the back person falls into a crevasse (a big gaping hole in the glacier concealed by recent snow) it's my job to plunge my ice axe into the snow with all my weight and stop their fall. If I fall in, they've got to stop me.
But for now life is good. We're climbing 30-40% slopes slowly but steadily with our heavy packs. JL used to say that there were two speeds in hiking; slow and slower. In this terrain with these packs its more like crawling. It takes two hours to go two horizontal miles- and that's a good pace.
Dozens of people have been making this trek this week. The weather has been phenomenal. However at some point the bulk of people started heading straight up the headwall instead of cutting over to a pass on the left. We followed their track and ended up 500 feet above our intended tentsite looking down over a cliff. About-face! Knowing how to use maps and compasses (as we all do very well) doesn't help when you don't bother to look at them.
We head back down to the pass, and over onto the Emmons glacier that will eventually lead us to our summit. We cross the first crevasse with no consequence except a thumping chest and a bit of adrenaline. On the second crevasse my leg busts through, and I have nothing but 18-30inches of snow holding me up. I hear the snow I broke loose hit something a full 2 seconds after its dislodged. But, ok, my rope team has got me, I'm tied in and they're both safely on the surface. I scramble out the other side with my ice axe and I'm safe once more. That would be our first and last major crevasse issue of the trip.
We make it to out camp at 9400ft. Food, water, shelter, and tomorrow's weather are the only things we think about. By 8pm we're in bed trying to sleep as the wind whips the sides of the tent. 230am comes quickly and we're up to shovel in some oatmeal, tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. We pack our bags for the summit and stash the rest at our camp. 4am and we're roped up and moving up the emmons glacier by the light of our headlamps. Late June and early July are the best time of year for getting up this mountain. The weather is milder than winter, but the snows are still fresh and the crevasses on the glacier are still largely covered by plenty of snow to walk across. In fact you can't even tell they're there.
Sometime before 5am the sun lightens the sky and we turn our headlamps off. 8am and we're at about 12500 feet. Time for lunch. Then moving again. The air is getting thin, and I count one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, before taking each next step. I've got to keep the rope tight between me and the leader. That way if she falls, she can't gain momentum before the force of her fall is transferred to me. Likewise if I fall, she can stop me.
I'm not going to lie- I am scared here. These are steep snow slopes, I'm tired, and winded. My heart is pumping hard. I really can't take much more of this. I call up to Joc for a break and tell her how I'm feeling. She reassures me that we're fine. I really do trust her and we keep moving on. Finally after 8 hours on snow I spot a patch of rock up in front of us. It seems to good to be true, just a rock outcrop not the real summit. I've been fooled before by false summits. We get there and I throw down my pack literally curling up with my head down trying to sleep on it. "Joc," I say, "if its more than a few hundred feet more I really need to trade off my pack or at least get rid of some weight." She looks at me funny and tells me we're only 200ft off the summit. What a miracle!
I trade packs with her anyways and we tour around to the 14,410 foot summit. I feel much better, even in the biting 45mph gusts on the top of Mt Rainer. This is a long way from hiking up Sugarloaf overlooking Newfound Lake, or Cardigan overlooking Sugarloaf, or any of the White Mountains. But I never would have gotten here if I hadn't started there.
We got ourselves back down safely, to our camp at 9400 feet that night, and the next morning all the way back out to our car. Off the glaciers and unroped on the walk out I have alot of time to think about how I got on top of that mountain. There have been many people that have helped me get there. My family, teachers, hiking partners, etc. But Troop Two, Ron Parry, and John Lonergan are at the top of my list. I owe them all, and Troop Two as a whole a deep debt of gratitude.
