Want a picture of the banner on the summit?

Send me an email at otter_sports@yahoo.com with your name and the name you submitted, and I will provide the electronic copy of the photo.  Feel free to print out as many as you want.

At a minimum, we are trying to reach out to everyone who submitted a name for the banner.

Thanks!

Shameless plug for Rainier Mountaineering Inc

If you, assuming that you have little to no mountianeering experience like myself, decide that you want to try something like this, I would strongly encourage you to obtain the services of a commercial guide.  Furthermore, I would highly recommend Rainier Mountaineering, Inc.  I've said before that I've never touched an ice axe or crampons before going into this adventure, and I can honestly say that RMI provided the appropriate amount of training and guidance to provide the opportunity for my group not only to reach the summit but also safely descend back down the mountain.

I entitled this entry a "shameless plug" but it is a little more than that.  Here's a specific example:

Right after my group got started from Camp Muir, we encountered several groups on a segment called Cathedral Gap which is a rocky climb between two much larger rocky ridges.  By this time it was about 2 or 2:30 AM and other groups on Cathedral Gap slowed us down a bit, much like the stop-and-go of rush hour traffic.  I could tell our guides were a bit frustrated with the slow pace, and once we reached the slow group, I could tell why.  Their rope between climbers was pretty slack.  One guy had about 5 feet of slack behind him, and it was getting caught on rocks/boulders and he was stepping on it with his crampons.  He was yelling at the lady in front of him to keep going and she was yelling back.  It wasn't pretty.  Being mindful of our training about maintaining proper rope interval (aka keep the slack out of the rope), we zipped right by them in a safe place and went on our merry way.  That whole time I thought "I am so glad I signed up with RMI."

I was the last climber on my rope team and another RMI-led rope team was right behind me.  Right after the slack-rope incident, someone from that troubled rope team hollered to the guide behind me "Hey, is this the way to the DC (Disappointment Cleaver)?".  Guide: "Yep, we're headed that way and you can just follow us."  Now, let me recap.  It's pretty dark at 2:30 AM.  This rope team is struggling to get through a rocky section. They've been on the trail for about an hour or so, and at least one person is wondering if they're going the right way? Seriously? I obviously signed up with a guide service but I still knew landmarks and sections of the climb like Cathedral Gap and the DC.  I admit that I assumed I knew where I was going and it's easy to say that because I was doing the following, but I can guarantee you that if I were going "unguided" that I would know the route forwards and backwards (and have the proper training to boot) before attempting anything like this.  I only assume that these people weren't with a guide.  Not sure which would be scarier--a group of independents not well versed in rope travel or in the route itself, or if the folks were with a commercial guide who didn't provide proper training and who didn't know the route.  Either way sounds like much higher risk for bad news.

Little to no experience?  Don't know anyone you can trust with your life (quite literally) to take you up the mountain?  No problem. Hire RMI!

Day 4 Part 3: Final meeting at basecamp

Once I reached Paradise, I removed my pack and boots with the probably the largest sigh of relief I've ever had.  I had felt the blister forming on my "ring-toe" earlier in the descent but didn't pay much attention to it, it wasn't hurting too badly.  Upon inspection, it covered the second knuckle of my toe.  Others in the group experienced "shin-bang", where upon descent the shins constantly bang against the plastic top of the boots--there are both plastic- and leather-style boots.  Rentals were mainly plastic with a liner inside, a lot like a ski boot.  I think the most unfortunate guy was Will, who will lose several toenails from his feet sliding in his boot and constantly hitting the toe of the boot.  He was walking pretty gingerly when arrived to Paradise.

RMI's climber hangout

The group hopped on the shuttle to Ashford.  On the way, we were informed that there will be a highly informal 'ceremony' to celebrate everybody's efforts over the last couple days.  The only rules:  no showering beforehand, and that there will be beer.  So, lucky for us, RMI has its own little restaurant right there at basecamp (those business people are smart).  The food--pizza, burgers, and other bar food--was pretty good and prices weren't too crazy.  Certificates of achievement were distributed and we all hung out enjoying the company and getting some last minute pictures.


RMI is required to maintain a 3:1 client to guide ratio, thus our group of 8 had 3 guides.  They were all great, and here are pictures of me with the three guides (left) and of my rope team.  Will joined our rope team for a little while higher on the upper mountain for both the climb and the descent.

Josh, Joey, Anne Gilbert, and Mike

Rope team: Joey, Anne Gilbert, and Brad

A little more on the guides and RMI in a following post.

Day 4 Part 2: The Mandatory Descent

After the adrenaline rush of making it to the summit, reality set in and we once again donned our packs for the 9000 vertical feet of downhill ahead of us.  On the ascent from Muir, we had 4 scheduled stops.  On the descent, we were scheduled for 2: one above the Disappointment Cleaver and one a bit further below it.  Upon departure from the crater rim, I still hadn't eaten much in a few breaks--I had eaten a half a Snickers in the hour on the summit.  Nothing sounded good to eat and it sounded worse when I thought about eating.

The descent was almost as hard as the climb.  It was finally daytime and I didn't get to see much on the way up in the darkness.  Looking around at my surroundings meant that I wasn't watching where I stepped, which translated into slipping and sliding around a little on the snowy route.  At times the descent demanded my full attention, especially where the snow was slushy.  With each step, despite the crampons, my foot continued to slide down the slope and a few times I fell on my rear right on the trail.  I wasn't the only client having these issues, but I didn't see any of the three guides fall once.  On training day our lead guide promised us that he would not fall on this journey and if he did, he'd quit guiding.  Here's a short video of the descent, around 13000-13500 feet, where the snow was packed and descending was easy.

Crevasse near the trail - shadow of Brad in front of me

Climbing in the darkness can be mentally advantageous (and ignorance is bliss) because I couldn't fully appreciate my surroundings on the ascent.  For instance, I don't recall seeing this crevasse on the way up.  Many of you readers might think 'well that's dangerous, being that close to a crevasse and not knowing it'.  Partly true.  Our guides often warned that danger lurks in the darkness and to keep our ropes tight between us and to move swiftly.  Staying on the path was always understood.  These are rules you don't see how far you can push.  I did ask permission to take a picture and was told as long as I keep moving.  Done.  First break was on top of the Disappointment Cleaver.  It was warming up but the cold wind was still blowing.  The guides told us that if we run hot, then go down to a single layer.  My first 2 layers were a little sweaty and I was pretty cold and worried about the cold wind, so I kept 2 on.

The Cleaver was surprisingly a welcomed section for me.  I was growing weary of sliding through the slushy snow trail, and having a solid foundation of rock and bare earth to stand on was delightful.  Below the Cleaver was more slushy snow and I felt the rope teams were really making some time.  My two layers and I was pretty hot and sweaty, and I was getting tired from not eating/drinking enough.  The last break before Camp Muir was miserable.  I drank the remainder of my water (last break before refills), and put the equivalent of a mini-size Snickers in my mouth.  Now, I love Snickers and could probably eat two full bars pretty easy, but I couldn't bring myself to even chew it.  I hated the way it felt in my mouth, I was disgusted.  Knowing I had to eat it for a little boost, it stayed in my mouth for a good 5 minutes before I could start chewing it.  It's now a full week later, if someone gave me a Snickers right now, I'm not sure if I could eat it--maybe give me a couple more days.  My rope leader obviously saw how bad I was and I was pretty grumpy returning her conversation.  She advised me that at the 1-hour pit stop at Camp Muir, I needed "to take 5 or 10 minutes and drink as much as I can and eat if possible.  Don't lay down and rest, instead get the remaining gear in your pack and drink and eat more. If you lay down to rest before packing, all of a sudden you'll have 10 minutes to pack and you won't be ready."  So that's what I did.  I didn't like it at the time, but near the end of the hour break, I actually felt a lot better and was able to eat some trail mix.  I owe her a lot for the tough love and pep talk.

The descent from Camp Muir was the most surprising thing about the trip.  I was actually dreading it. After descending ~4500 feet with 20 pounds on my back, now I had to add another 20 pounds and descend another 4500 feet??  Key differences: no crampons, no ropes, I used trekking poles, and the snowfield was snow, not icy like the glaciers on the upper mountain.  The group got to spread out a little and the snow (and my size 12 boots) allowed me to almost ski down the hill.  I stepped broadly forward and slid about a foot before taking another similar step, using the trekking poles for extra balance. Using fresh snow rather than following other climbers' footsteps was way easier.  Oh, and sliding down the steeper sections helped the descent too!

I did pause near the end of the descent to take one last photo of Mt. Rainier.

This isn't the end of the line.  I still have a couple of stories to tell.  Stay tuned!

Day 4: Push for the Summit!

12:20 AM:  wake up call.  "You have one hour to get ready!!"

The hot water was already sitting in the hut.  Downed some oatmeal, and yes, another Clif Bar.  Drank almost a full liter of water and hit the bathroom.  The night sky was littered with stars.  I don't recall ever seeing so many stars.  I'm pretty good a picking out a few constellations, but I must say I had a hard time.  One image I'll never forget.  After gearing up, we got separated into our rope teams and away we went across a glacier with only the light of our headlamps and billions of stars.  We climbed up through Cathedral Gap, which lies between two large rock ridges.  The upper mountain climb was much like the trek to Muir with regard to climbing about 1000 feet followed by a rest.  Here, our rest included getting our large parkas on to maintain body temperature in addition to eating and drinking.

The second leg of the climb is known as the Disappointment Cleaver and it was difficult.  It was steep the whole way and rocky in many places.  The steel of the crampons scratched the rock and made terrible sounds, and it also made for difficult footing.  Looking up made the situation worse as I saw how close (but much higher than me) other headlamps were.  It meant more climbing.  "Just keep your head down and keep going."  Another break after the Cleaver was welcomed.

Sometime after the Cleaver, perhaps around 13,000 feet, the sun poked out.  Borrowed this picture from a friend. My hands were cold and I couldn't convince myself to get my ski gloves off to find my camera.  The views were remarkable.

Sunrise at 13000 feet: I knew I could steal a picture from a friend while trying to warm my hands up in my thicker gloves.

The crew at High Break.

Our last break to the summit was at 13,500 feet.  My appetite was pretty suppressed from the altitude.  I didn't have problems drinking, but my 7th Clif Bar in two days was too hard to get down.  I switched to half a Snickers and a PowerBar shot a colleague from work gave me.  The slope ahead was steep and daunting. Again, "just keep your head down and keep going."  Aside from my loss of appetite, I felt good and strong.

On the false summit

After several switchbacks the route went to straight up the hill.  The luxurious footsteps from people ahead of me became few and far between, which meant digging my crampons into the ice and snow became required and climbing became more strenuous and awkward.  In order to dig all my crampons into the slope, my ankles had to bend accordingly.  I tried to avoid having my toes point straight up the slope because it causes calf and hamstring strain, instead, I sort of walked up the hill sideways crossing my feet over one another, a technique learned on the training day.  Disregarding the voices in my head, I kept sneaking peeks uphill and I could see the 'top' of the mountain.  After another 10 minutes or so, my rope team reached the "false summit", or the crater rim.  Rainier is a volcano, and I was standing in (on) the crater.  

Will and Joey

Once my team reached the crater rim, I had a choice to make.  I could either rest for an hour, or make the 40 minute round trip to the true summit, and break up the remaining 20 minutes as rest however I'd like.  It didn't take me long to make the choice.  On the way up to Columbia Crest (the true summit), the logbook is stashed near several large rocks.  The guides were all over us to just write our names to conserve time, but I wrote "Joey Ott - alz".  Another quick couple of minutes and I reached the true summit of Mount Rainier, 14,410 feet above sea level.  Broke for a couple individual pictures, then I got the banner out.  Here's the same picture from the earlier post.

As I unrolled it and while rolling it back up, I read each name aloud.  I did pretty well on the unroll, but while rolling it back up and speaking the names, the whole culmination of effort and preparation, memories of my Grandmother Wilma, and knowing that all others who submitted names feel the same as I do about this disease hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was on one knee when I put the rubber band back on, and I stayed there, sobbing and remembering and praying all at the same time.  I'm not sure how many minutes I was there, but for those moments I was frozen in time.  Josh the guide came over to me and told me that we did a great thing.  Much later that day, I had to apologize to him for "Tebow-ing" on the summit.  : )

Those who know know that climbing a mountain is only half the battle.  There's a cliche in mountaineering that summiting is optional and getting down in mandatory.  The mandatory story will be shared soon.

Day 3: Ascent to Muir

Note: for a better view of all pictures, click on them and you'll get a bigger shot!

We hopped on the RMI shuttles around 8:00 AM in Ashford WA and they took us up to our starting point in Paradise, Washington (elevation ~5400 feet).  We hit the trail around 9 AM with our boots (no crampons) and hiking poles.  In the beginning there was more bare earth and rock than snow on the trail.  Pebble Creek is about the halfway point to Camp Muir from both distance and elevation gain points of view.

Mt Rainier from Pebble Creek

Above Pebble Creek, the trail turned into all snow all the way.  As a team, we hiked up the Muir Snowfield in single file, trying to walk in each other's footsteps to make the trek easier.  Slogging through the snow, gaining about 1000 feet between 15 minute breaks.  Breaks consisted of getting that 40-45 lb pack off, taking a seat on it, drinking a half a liter, and eating a few hundred calories.  My snacks consisted mostly of cold pizza and Clif bars.  I did sneak a picture of the view that I saw most of the way up.

Just trying to focus on hitting the footsteps and trying to find that rhythm.

Finally after several hours of trekking through the snow, we could see Camp Muir.  The little speck in the snow to the right is a guy, and you can see Muir just above him.  Click the picture to make it bigger if necessary.  Despite loving the sight of High Camp, it still looked a long ways away.  Kept the head down and kept walking!

Click the pic, Camp Muir is down and to the right of the large rock right of center.

It was a sight for sore eyes, but not much to look at.  The views were way better than the camp itself.  Nabbed these picture before the rain/freezing rain and thunder started.  The thunder was literally right outside our door.

Standing on our front porch, 10,060 feet above sea level, with stinky socks drying on the line.

Our neighbors in the stone hut.

Once we got at Camp Muir, we got to eat and drink as much as we wanted.  Supper for me was another piece of cold pizza, yet another Clif Bar, some "calorically dense" trail mix, and a Snickers.  That's a lot, but I knew I had to choke down as much as I could to fill up the tank for the next day.  I also somehow guzzled about a liter and a half of dilute Gatorade.  During dinner and unpacking, the guides gave us a synopsis of what to expect on the next day.  After making my "bed" and organizing a bit, I packed up for the next day and tried to rest/sleep with about 15 of my new friends.  Earplugs are gold in Camp Muir.  I was a bit worried about the weather, but tried to clear my head as best as possible.  And then there's the months-long building anticipation for the summit bid in the back of my head.  Resting was difficult, but I did manage to doze off a few times.  The goal for the day (per the guides) was to get to Muir and to feel good.  Mission accomplished.  'Go back to sleep, you need to rest!'

One more day

From Joey: Sorry I know you all are waiting to see all sorts of pictures and stories, meanwhile I'm trying to unpack and get organized.  We will be speaking to the Daily Journal (Franklin paper) in a couple of days and the Indy Star may do a story as well.  I will update the blog starting tomorrow (Sun 22-Jul) evening so please stay tuned over the next week or so!