Mount Shuksan – July 2017

We climbed Washington State’s 2783m Mount Shuksan over 3 days in early July, 2017, via the Fisher Chimneys and Southeast Rib. The climb was particularly fun, one of the most enjoyable I’ve recently undertaken.

Shuksan Thumb

Mount Shuksan

We began with a false start ‘warmup’ hike in/out of Lake Ann due to a bad stove nozzle, which resulted in a full bottle of gas being wasted. The approach was very much snow covered, and route finding was a little bit tricky – having a GPS track was useful. After making the approach once, our subsequent gas-retrieval and exit hikes were easy enough!

After doubling down on the approach hike, we counted ‘the first day’ as our third hike to Lake Ann, where we camped overnight. On the second day we climbed to the summit from Lake Ann, via the Fischer Chimneys route. The chimneys involved loads of cool class 3 scrambling, the glacier above the chimneys offered easy but beautiful snow slopes, and the southeast rib of the summit pyramid presented us with four pitches of interesting, low class 5 rock which was straightforward enough to securely solo (I climbed the rib in my beater Koflach shells) in its entirety.  We made ~6 rappels on the way down, several in the summit pyramid gully to avoid downclimbing on snow covered rock, and two in the chimneys for a greater sense of security. It took us about 6:45 to climb from our tent to the top, without rushing.  On the final day we hiked out to the car. Below are images from the climb.

 

Mount Goode – June 2013

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Mount Goode, from near Long Lake.

Keen to enjoy some hiking and camping in California’s Sierra Nevada, our trip began at the White Mountain Ranger Station in the town of Bishop, where my friend Don and I stopped to pick up our overnight permits and rent a bear canister.  The rangers in Bishop told us that the trail was in great condition, with all of the lakes at least partially thawed.

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The White Mountain Ranger Station in Bishop.

Having already acquired a map at the REI in Sacramento, and with the promise of good early summer weather, we left the ranger station promptly and began driving to the South Lake trailhead.  We had a rough plan to try and hike two or three 13,000 foot peaks in the Bishop Pass area, but ended up just hiking one, 13085 foot / 3988 meter Mount Goode.

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A map of our three day hiking trip.

Day 1: On arrival at the South Lake trailhead a short drive later, we were greeted with distant views of Hurd Peak, the first of many impressive granite mountains on our route.

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The South Lake parking lot, Hurd Peak in the distance.

After getting our bags ready and bear-boxing spare food, we began heading down the trail towards Bishop Pass.  The trail is well maintained and easy to follow, with signposts marking the way.  Near the trailhead we encountered a few people out fishing for the day, looking relaxed in the lovely weather and fantastic scenery.

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South Lake.

Past South Lake the trail moved through forest.

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The Bishop Pass trail.

Once above the trees the views were fantastic, and we couldn’t help but take our time stopping for photographs and enjoying the weather.

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On the the Bishop Pass trail.  Hurd Peak in the background.

We reached a fork in the path, splitting east to Chocolate Lakes and south to Bishop Pass.  We decided to stash our camping gear, switch to light packs, and head in towards Chocolate Lakes.  To the east waited 13525 foot Cloudripper, one of the peaks we intended to take a shot at.  In front of us, appropriately named Chocolate Peak reflected off of Bull Lake below it.

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Chocolate Peak and Bull Lake.

Further in, Cloudripper stood above us.  We could not make out the straightforward hiking/scrambling route which our guidebook described, so we chose to try ascending near the wide scree slope located just to the right of the peak in the below picture, with no idea whether or not it would offer us a way up.

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Cloudripper, from Chocolate Lakes.

We began climbing over the big rocks and talus beside the scree slope, enjoying the scrambling upwards.  Soon we were above Chocolate Peak, and had some great views of nearby lakes and mountains.

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Looking down on Chocolate Peak.

As we climbed higher route finding became more involved.  Equipped with only our hiking poles, we stuck to moderately sloped scrambling as much as possible.

Climbing up the rock and talus on Cloudripper.

Hiking up the rock and talus on Cloudripper.

Soon we were above the talus and scree and found ourselves faced with big granite slabs.  Climbing past two fairly straightforward but hazardously exposed pitches it became evident that the terrain above only became more difficult and dangerous.  We realized that the route we had chosen would probably not yield us an accessible way up.

The scrambling quickly transitioned into exposed climbing.

The scrambling transitioned into exposed climbing.

Faced with considerable exposure to serious fall on nearly vertical rock, equipped with no rope, and knowing we would have to down-climb any further progress to return to our bags, we decided to descend.

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Trying to find a route up.

As we turned around a light snow began.  We felt disappointed, but grounded in the reality that we were unprepared to safely continue.  Later we found pictures better illustrating the standard route up the west side of Cloudripper, which follows a chute to the left of the peak – next time!  As consolation we enjoyed great views of the whole area below us, including the north and east slopes of the next day’s objective, Mount Goode.

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Looking down from high on Cloudripper, Mount Goode is the highest peak in the top left corner.  Mount Goode’s south-east slope, used for hiking ascent, is to the left of the peak.

Once off of Cloudripper we slowed down to enjoy the easy hike back through the Chocolate lakes area, reuniting with our heavy overnight packs and continuing south towards Long Lake.  Soon Mount Goode stood in front of us, a commanding, aesthetically pleasing fortress of granite.

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Mount Goode in the distance.

Slightly south of Long Lake we turned off of the trail and pitched camp in a sheltered, quiet little area at the top of a small hill.

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Our campsite near Long Lake.

We enjoyed a fiery sunset as we cooked dinner and drank Californian IPA beer.

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First night’s sunset.

Day 2: Up before the sun, we began hiking south towards Bishop Pass, and the southeast slope of Mount Goode.

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Mount Goode’s north side.

Once we reached Saddlerock Lake we cut west, off of the trail and overland between Saddlerock Lake and Bishop Lake.  The terrain here was pretty, with lots of rolling granite, shrubs, and snow banks.

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Looking up Mount Goode’s southeast slope.

To the southwest, Mount Aggassiz stood mirrored by Bishop Lake below it.

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Mount Agassiz and Bishop Lake.

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Looking back at Saddlerock Lake and Bishop Lake from the southeast slope.

Initially the route took us over rock and brush, but soon changed to sand and scree.

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The sandy lower slope.

Not too bothersome due to the gentle angle, we were soon through the worst of the sand and moving over big rocks.

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Looking up the southeast slope, almost above the sand.

We chose a direct route straight up over the rocks and enjoyed some scrambling as we reached the top, where we were met with a sharp drop off down Goode’s north face.  We were west of the summit, and could see the highpoint jutting out from the ridge.

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Looking east along Mount Goode’s north face, the summit ahead of us.

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West of the summit, looking west.

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Looking East, towards Mount Agassiz and Thunderbolt Peak (right).  Bishop Pass is below Mount Agassiz.

We climbed east, moving along the edge, passing over snow and big rocks to what appeared to be the very top, where we stopped to snap some photographs and take in the views.  This area was surprisingly large and flat.  This was unexpected, as viewing the mountain from the north we had earlier marveled at the narrow, jutting apex of the north buttress.

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The summit of Mount Goode.

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Looking down the north face.

Far below we could see the winding trail and many lakes we had passed earlier.

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Looking down at the Bishop Pass trail.

After spending a good 40 minutes on the top, we quickly descended and began hiking north, back to our campsite.  The afternoon weather held for us, and we enjoyed a lovely blue sky.

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Melt water rivers.

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Looking back at Mount Goode.

At camp we celebrated a fantastic hike with a final pair of beers and a big dinner.  We were treated to another wonderful sunset, and turned in for the night.

Day 3: After sleeping in we packed up camp and enjoyed an uneventful hike out to the South Lake trailhead, arriving before lunch time.

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Second night’s sunset.

The Sierra Nevada is a beautiful wilderness, and it was wonderful to experience it firsthand.  The hiking was scenic and covered some very enjoyable terrain, with plenty of opportunity for engaging scrambling.  The Bishop Pass trail offers fantastic, compelling views of granite mountains the entire way in.  I left with a strong desire to return, and definitely shall!

Accessiblity:

The Bishop Pass trail is accessible year round, although full winter weather mandates the use of snowshoes or skis due to heavy snow coverage.  We brought ice axes and crampons, given our early season hiking, but had no need for them.

California’s permitting process is developed and very user-friendly – permits can be applied for in advance or on the spot, and are picked up at several different ranger stations and visitor centers.  The website for Inyo National Forest camping permits is here: http://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/inyo/passes-permits/recreation/?cid=stelprdb5144746

Mount Shasta – June 2013

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Mount Shasta from the south.

Standing alone in northern California, 4322m Mount Shasta is the state’s fifth highest mountain and the second highest of the Cascade Range.  As Mount Shasta is isolated, it has considerable prominence over surrounding terrain.  An active volcano, near the summit the smell of sulfur is noticeable, and areas with steam vents have historically been used for warmth and emergency shelter by early climbers.

I climbed Mount Shasta by the standard Avalanche Gulch route, using a high camp at Helen Lake.  Avalanche Gulch, so named for the frequent winter avalanches which occur, covers 2200m of elevation gain over 17.7km.  The below map outlines our route.

A map of our itinerary up Avalanche Gulch.

A map of our itinerary up Avalanche Gulch.

Avalanche Gulch.

Avalanche Gulch.

Day 1: After getting out of the airport and meeting my climbing partners – my friend Don, whom I’d met in Taiwan, and one new friend, his colleague – we took a short trip to the local REI to pick up some last minute food supplies and a few bits of gear.  It was hard to believe we’d be sleeping on snow the next day, as Sacramento was seeing temperatures in the high 30s.  Yet snow was our destination, and I was very keen to attempt Mount Shasta after discussing trip ideas for months, deciding upon Shasta as an attainable goal, and finally having the opportunity to visit California and see the state’s famous mountains.

From REI we had a long drive ahead of us.  ~275km north from Sacramento along Interstate #5 took us into the aptly named City of Shasta Lake, near the base of the mountain and our trailhead at Bunny Flats.  In Shasta Lake we visited a local outdoor equipment shop called The Fifth Season in order to check up on the weather and recent snow conditions, then grabbed some food and continued our drive up to the trailhead parking lot.

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The Bunny Flats trailhead.

At Bunny Flats, 2120m, we discovered the parking lot filled nearly to capacity.  As we were arriving on a Saturday evening, a large number of climbers were already on the mountain.  Our initial plan had been to spend the night camped in the parking lot, as a night here would serve as an excellent acclimatization interval for the next day. However, by the time we arrived we still had several hours of daylight remaining, and decided it would be much more comfortable to head a few kilometers up the trail and camp somewhere quiet.  The trail begins ambling up through lovely forest over a wide, well-maintained path.

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The beginning of the trail from Bunny Flats.

About an hour in, at a relaxed pace, we decided to start looking for a suitable campsite. A nearby sign indicated we were 0.7 miles / 1.1 km from Horse Camp, commonly used as a starting camp and first overnight.

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The forest here was beautiful, tall evergreens ringed with moss.

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Rings of bright moss covered the trees.

We decided to use a flat, open clearing about 100m off the path.

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Our first night’s campsite.

Day 2: Awake early, we packed up camp, cooked breakfast, and continued upwards.  Through the trees we began to catch views of Shasta and the route we planned to ascend.

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Shasta from below Horse Camp.  Thumb rock, a landmark of the Avalanche Gulch route, protrudes from the ridge.

Ahead, Horse Camp came into view. Situated 3.2km from the Bunny Flats trailhead at 2420m, Horse Camp serves as a base camp and emergency shelter for climbers approaching Shasta from the south.  Horse Camp provides climbers with several resources including a sturdy ranger hut, an accessible runoff water source, several campsites, and most importantly a well-maintained solar toilet.

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Horse Camp.

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The runoff stream close to the Horse Camp cabin.

At Horse Camp we filled up on water and continued towards the base of Avalanche Gulch through increasingly sparse trees.

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Approaching Avalanche Gulch above Horse Camp.

We had gained a bit of elevation above the treeline and enjoyed a nice view over the forest behind us.

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Looking back towards Horse Camp.

It was unpleasantly hot here with the sun reflecting off of the snow, and no clouds or cover providing shade.  Helen Lake isn’t visible during this section, which makes each little hill somewhat deceptive – we kept thinking that we’d spot it just over the next ridge, only to find yet another hill awaiting us!

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Looking up the route.

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While our route of ascent could be seen, Helen Lake was still not visible.

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Looking down.

Still well below Helen Lake, we began to pass the first campsites.  Many skiers and snowboarders climb Shasta, and prefer to camp low for an easier descent.

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Low campsites below Helen Lake.

Finally we crested a hill and saw Helen Lake ahead of us.

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Helen Lake, the highest, wide hill in the middle of the picture.

Helen Lake is frozen over and snow covered most of the year, and provides no water source (aside from snow!).  The area is mostly flat and a nice snow ridge serves as excellent wind protection.  When we arrived there were at least two dozen tents, and a large number of climbers were visible descending the route.  The crowd were headed off of the mountain however, leaving us our choice of camping spots.

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A crowded high camp at Helen Lake.

Above us the route to the summit was clear, and appeared to be in decent condition.  Others in camp told us that the snow was firm and reliable early in the day, if somewhat boot-tracked due to a lack of recent snowfall.

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Above Helen Lake.

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Our route to the top – Red Banks, The Heart, and Thumb Rock.

We pitched one of our tents and lounged with the doors open in the intense heat, waiting until other climbers finished packing up and began to descend.   Once the others had departed we found a good spot for our tents and set up camp, carefully anchoring our tents in case of strong winds overnight.  We were almost alone, with only a few other teams arriving later in the day.

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Our campsite at Helen Lake.

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Freeze dried dinner at Helen Lake.

After getting our tents up we  kept busy melting snow for water.   We went to sleep early, planning for an early departure to ensure firm snow conditions.

Day 3: Awake at 2:30 a.m., we made a fast breakfast and began heading up at 3:35 a.m.  There was no wind, and the temperature felt like it was hovering around 0 Celsius.  Shortly after leaving camp my new friend decided to turn around – he was experiencing bad stomach cramps and wisely decided that he shouldn’t continue upwards.

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Looking down at Helen Lake.

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The moon was still visible in the morning sky.

Far below, we could make out our tents at Helen Lake.

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Helen Lake, our two tents to the far left of the row of tents.

We made steady progress upwards, and were near the bottom of The Heart when the sun began to rise.  We struck up conversation with another climber whose partner had decided to turn around and descend to camp and continued on with him, making us a trio once again.

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Near the bottom of The Heart.

Mount Shasta cast a huge shadow below us.

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Mount Shasta’s enormous shadow.

Above us, the Red Banks came into clear view.  This wall of loose, red colored volcanic rock poses a climbing obstacle and is an objective hazard due to high rockfall potential.  Without heavy snow coverage, the route gains the top of the Red Banks by ascending a notch through the rock.  With more snow cover climbers can circumnavigate these rocks by climbing up between Thumb Rock and Red Banks.  Due to recent warm weather this latter option was undesirable for us, due to the melted-out bergshrund which forms at the top of the Konwakiton Glacier on the north side of Thumb Rock.

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Red Banks above us.

Approaching Red Banks we quickly found the correct notch to ascend.  Viewed from below, we took the third notch from the right.  It offered a direct route through Red Banks via a narrow gully of snow.

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The notch in Red Banks.

This was the steepest section of the climb.  The rock here is very loose and crumbles away if touched, so we climbed carefully to avoid sending rocks down on those below us.  The day before, several climbers at Helen Lake had been complaining about heavy rockfall during their ascent, a result of the large crowd following the route.

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Looking down from the Red Banks.

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The narrow gully of snow leading through Red Banks.

Once past the Red Banks, a gently angled slope continues upwards through more exposed volcanic rock.

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Above Red Banks.

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Above Red Banks.

Ahead, Misery Hill posed the last terrain feature to be passed before the summit block.  Misery Hill is a gentle slope and easy hike, but is so named because many climbers find themselves somewhat exhausted upon reaching it.

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Misery Hill.

Rather than follow the usage track directly over Misery Hill, we opted instead to go around the side.  Here we discovered some lovely suncupped snow.

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Suncupped snow on Misery Hill.

We had a good view of Thumb Rock and the Konwakiton Glacier.

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View from Misery Hill.  Thumb Rock is below, to my left in the photo.  The Konwakiton Glacier is directly below Thumb Rock.

Once past Misery Hill the summit block came into view, with only gently sloped hills between us.

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Shasta’s summit, center of the picture.

The standard route circles around the summit block and ascends via a moderate slope from the west.  Approaching the base of the summit we discovered a more direct route through a gully of ice and snow.

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Looking towards the summit, the gully we took to the top in the middle of the picture.

A short but very fun climb through the gully deposited us on top of the summit block, with the true summit just a few meters away.

Heading up the gully, our final push to the top.

Heading up the gully, our final push to the top.

The time was 8:30 a.m., the ascent taking us just shy of five hours.  We appeared to be the first ones up the mountain for the day, and had the summit area all to ourselves.  We all felt strong and very happy; it was incredibly rewarding to successfully reach the top.

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Shasta’s true summit, an exposed pillar of rock protruding from the summit block.

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Another team approaching the summit, middle of the picture.

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On the summit of Mount Shasta.

We enjoyed a clear view underneath a cloudless blue sky.  We spent a good ~45 minutes on the summit eating snacks, drinking water, taking photographs, and absorbing the views.  With nothing much around Shasta approaching its elevation, we could see far over northern California.

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View south.

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Taking a break on the summit, view north.

More climbers began to arrive, and after signing the climbing register we decided to begin heading down.

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Looking back at the summit.

As we descended, an extraordinary thing happened.  Somewhere around the top of Misery Hill, I managed to lose my camera.  We were in good spirits and busy talking, and as I did not feel the need to take any pictures I didn’t notice that it was gone until we reached the top of Red Banks.  It was still quite early in the day, and we had plenty of time to descend before the snow became uncomfortably soft, so I dropped my pack, grabbed some water and my ice ax, and headed back up to look for it.  I retraced our steps up to where I last remembered using it, but to no avail – it was nowhere to be found.  With my hopes of getting it back quickly sinking, I told every climber I encountered that I’d lost it, described the camera and gave them the location of my tent.

My exhilaration and joy with the beautiful, thus far successful climb was overcast – we had a hike planned to begin in two days, and I was due to head to Washington state for an attempt of Mount Rainier the next week.  Buying a new camera on short notice would be inconvenient and expensive – and worse, I’d lose all of my photographs.

Back at Helen Lake, things turned around quickly.  Someone came by my tent, and asked if anyone had lost a camera.  While this person’s team was descending the summit, behind my group, another group ascending had found a camera in the snow, and asked them if it was theirs.  I realized that when I had retraced back up to the top of Misery Hill, the party who found the camera would have been near or on the summit.  Sure enough, an hour and a half later this group returned to Helen Lake, and told me that the other climbers whom I had spoken with when retracing the route had already told them all about the guy who lost his camera.  I was blown away, both by the friendly, helpful disposition of Californians, and the pragmatic communication of the other climbers, strangers who went out of their way to spread the word and help me out.

In a great mood once more, we packed up our camp and headed down.  The section from Helen Lake to the treeline was a slog through deep, slushy snow heated up by the mid-day sun.  As during the ascent of this section, the descent was remarkably hot.

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Returning to the treeline above Horse Camp.

Finally we entered the forest, the shade providing relief from the glaring sun.  At Horse Camp we stopped to use the washroom, hydrate, and take a 20 minute nap before continuing onward.

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Descending onto dirt trail below the snow line.

Below the snowline the forest was lovely in the sun.

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The forest above Bunny Flats.

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The forest above Bunny Flats.

At Bunny Flats we changed into clean clothing, packed our gear into the car, and took off for the City of Lake Shasta.  

Looking back at Mount Shasta from the Bunny Flats trailhead.

Looking back at Mount Shasta from the Bunny Flats trailhead.

In Lake Shasta we stopped for an enormous meal of American diner food (huge portions, and very rich!) to celebrate our climb.

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Shasta steak sauce complemented an enormous meal at a diner in the city of Shasta Lake.

Climbing Mount Shasta was an excellent experience, and particularly rewarding.  Planning and executing a trip like this is a large part of the enjoyment, and we felt quite accomplished on the summit when everything worked out as we’d intended.  My friend who turned back was not disappointed – he had already climbed to the summit of Shasta twice, and had also made the decision to turn around on Shasta once before.  Shasta is a beautiful mountain, and one I would definitely revisit if given the opportunity.  I left the mountain feeling very pleased with the climb.

Accessibility

Mount Shasta is highly accessible, with parking lots at the popular trailheads, although access to the upper mountain is dependent upon seasonal weather.  In the winter Mount Shasta frequently experiences fast changing, inclement weather, and heavy snowfall can create high avalanche risk.  Despite this, Shasta remains a popular winter climb during weather windows.  Route conditions begin to deteriorate by mid summer, as the snow will often melt out and create higher rockfall hazard around the middle of July through beginning of August.  This varies year to year, and in 2013 the route was reported as being very dry by the beginning of July.  Shasta can experience high winds and stormy weather, making the upper mountain dangerous or inaccessible, at any time of year; monitoring of weather reports and good contingency planning is imperative to climbing safely.

The permitting process for Mount Shasta is easy and well maintained.  Self-issued wilderness permit applications are present at the major trailheads, along with drop-boxes for payment.  If climbing above 10,000 feet / 3050m one needs a summit pass in addition to a wilderness permit.  Fees are reasonable: $20 for a three day summit pass, $30 for a year-long pass.  Permits can also be obtained at the Sacramento REI, and at The Fifth Season outdoor equipment shop in the City of Shasta Lake.  The Fifth Season is also a superb place to visit to check up on recent conditions right before climbing.  Their website is here: http://www.thefifthseason.com/

The Mount Shasta Avalanche Center maintains an excellent resource for climbers with route conditions, weather reports, and avalanche risk assessment.  It can be found here: http://www.shastaavalanche.org/

The Shasta-Trinity National Forest website is another good resource, with information both general and specific regarding the mountain and surrounding area.  It can be found here: http://www.fs.usda.gov/stnf/

Mount Rainier – June 2013

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Mount Rainier, seen from the airplane on the way into Seattle.

4392m Mount Rainier, an active stratovolcano, is the most prominent mountain in the lower 48 United States and the highest mountain of the Cascade range.  Rainier is heavily glaciated – the most heavily glaciated mountain in the lower 48 states – and also hosts the largest glacier in the lower United States, the Emmons Glacier.  Due to Rainier’s prominence and extensive glacial coverage, and because of the pacific-northwest’s tendency for unpredictable, inclement weather, climbing Rainier is as much an endurance climb as it is dependent upon weather and conditions.

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Mount Rainier, seen from the airplane on the way into Seattle.

There are numerous routes up Rainier, some highly technical.  I decided to climb Rainier via the relatively straightforward Emmons-Winthrop route.  With a maximum pitch of ~40 degrees, and low objective hazard besides crevasse presence and the potential for avalanche following heavy snowfall, the Emmons presents one of the more accessible routes up Rainier.

For my climb I joined a team guided by IMG, and climbed between June 10th-13th.  The IMG guides set the route and itinerary, provided transportation to and from the mountain, handled food, managed ropes and protection, and led each rope team.  As a result, the trip was very structured; carrying personal/group gear and managing personal equipment were the only things left entirely to me.

Rainier Beer was on tap in Ashford.

Rainier Beer on tap in Ashford.

The Mount Rainier National Park maintains detailed climbing statistics, with route usage rates and success (climbers reaching the summit) percentages.  A look at these numbers reveals that climbers on Rainier have had roughly a ~50% success rate since the mid 1970s.  In 2012 the National Park reports that 70.32% of climbers ascended the Disappointment Cleaver route, 14.12% the Emmons-Winthrop, 3.73% the Kautz Glacier, and 3.17% the Ingraham Direct, the remainder following other routes.  The year 2012 saw unguided climbing make up ~55% of activity on Rainier, while guided climbing contributed ~45%, the ‘guided’ numbers including both guides and clients.

The Mount Rainier National Park reports and statistics page can be found here: http://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/annual-mountaineering-reports.htm

Rainier on the horizon, past the Sea-Tac Airport in Seattle.

Rainier on the horizon, past the Sea-Tac Airport in Seattle.

Day 0: Our team met near Mount Rainier National Park in the town of Ashford, got organized, and drove into the Crystal Mountain ski resort to overnight before the climb.  This put us conveniently close to the White River trailhead we would use the next day, and gave teammates time to begin getting to know each other.

Day 1: After a short drive from the Crystal Mountain lodge, we arrived at the White River  trailhead, starting point for the Emmons-Winthrop route.  The trailhead sits at around ~1350m above sea level and leads onto the Inter Glacier via the Glacier Basin trail.  The below map outlines camp locations and gives a rough idea of the route we took up the mountain.

A map of our campsites.

A map of our campsites.

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The White River trailhead and Glacier Basin trail.

The trail began moderately, following a well maintained path through forest, heading towards the base of Rainier’s Inter Glacier.

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Following the forest path in sunshine.

With ~25kg packs, the level slope and wide path made progress quick.  I was told that previously this approach had led through dense forest, and that a lot of work has gone into maintaining and clearing the access route.  Along the way we crossed numerous glacial runoff streams.

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A runoff stream on the approach.

Further ahead landslides and avalanche detritus created gaps in the trees, and we got our first close-up views of Mount Rainier.  The clear, glowing snow of the mountain stood in contrast to the trees on the approach path.  Little Tahoma peak, a sharp and rocky sub-peak of Rainier left over from long-term erosion, was framed through the trees.

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Little Tahoma Peak in the distance.

Further along we had good views of the heavily crevassed lower Emmons glacier.

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Crevasse fields on the lower Emmons Glacier.

The weather was perfect and the sky was clear of clouds.  Rainier is famous for its quick-changing, inclement weather, and we were very fortunate to have unobstructed views of the mountain.

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Rainier in the distance.

Higher up, the maintained trail disappeared under increasingly heavy snow cover.  We continued following a route through the trees marked off by national park wands.

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Continuing through the trees over snow.

Finally we broke the treeline, and the Inter Glacier came into view above us.  The Inter Glacier was covered in ski and snowboard tracks, and we saw a few skiers descending.  In such great weather I found myself wishing I had my snowboard with me!  Our itinerary for the first day was relaxed, and the plan was to pitch a short-camp near the top of the Inter Glacier.

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The Inter Glacier, covered in ski tracks.  We would pitch our first day’s camp near the highest rocks in the middle of this picture.

After gaining some elevation we arrived at our campsite – a tent platform at around ~2450m which IMG had dug on another climb a few days prior.  After fifteen minutes of chopping and digging to enlarge the platform and smooth it out, we began to unload group gear and pitch our camp.

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Our first campsite, a nice tent platform.

Our camp was fairly large; four tents for twelve people.  We staked everything down carefully in case of high winds overnight and worked together to get everything up quickly.  

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Pitching camp.

Below, we had a great view across the Inter Glacier.

Our view from camp.

Our view from camp.

To the northwest, heavy clouds hovered along the ridge.  These would sit across the ridge and below our camp for several hours, until at dusk they began to spill over and engulf us.

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Clouds to the northwest, slowed by the ridge line.

As the clouds poured over the ridge the sun set, and we turned in for the night.

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Sunset on the Inter Glacier.

Day 2: Awake with the sunrise, after a quick breakfast we packed up camp.  Today’s itinerary involved a short climb off of the Inter Glacier, across the southeast ridge south of Camp Curtis and above the lower Emmons Glacier to our second overnight at 2883m Camp Schurman.  Here we would prepare for an overnight ascent to Rainier’s summit.  As we left camp we broke into three-person rope teams for crevasse protection.  Passing above the lower Emmons Glacier we had awesome views of enormous crevasses and of Little Tahoma Peak.

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The Emmons Glacier below us.  Some of these crevasses could easily swallow cars.

The clouds were thick today, but remained well below us all the way to Camp Schurman.

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Little Tahoma Peak across the Emmons Glacier.

Above us the Emmons and Winthrop glaciers were clear in the sun, and presented us with the route we would take straight to the summit.  To the top we would ascend the rough middle of the northeast mountain face, aptly named ‘the corridor’.  This is more or less a midpoint between the two glaciers, trending left onto the Emmons.

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The Emmons and Winthrop glaciers, our route to the top of Rainier.

Below Camp Schurman several large crevasses needed to be bypassed or carefully crossed.

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A large crevasse just below Camp Schurman.

Above, the ranger hut at Camp Schurman was visible.  The hut is constructed on the tip of Steamboat Prow, a boat-wake-shaped pair of ridges which separate the lower Winthrop and Emmons glaciers.  Camp Schurman hosts two permanent structures, a sturdy ranger’s hut and a washroom.  The washroom is primitive – a barrel underneath a toilet seat – but more comfortable than alternatives.

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The ranger hut and washroom at Camp Schurman.

Steamboat Prow and Camp Schurman represent a safe area for camping on an otherwise thoroughly unstable part of the mountain.  The ridge is free of moving glacial ice and thus free of crevasse hazard, and has enough relatively flat, clear space for several campsites.

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Camp Schurman and Steamboat Prow.

Camp Schurman.

Camp Schurman.

A plaque on the hut bears an engraved poem, by Camp Schurman's namesake.

A plaque on the hut bears a poem.

Camp Schurman is ringed with numerous crevasses, many partially hidden beneath the snow, making it unsafe to stray far from the ridge alone.

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Crevasses outside Camp Schurman.

After arriving, we cleared a platform for our tents and got to work assembling a sturdy camp.  Our plan was to leave for the summit early the next morning, climbing overnight to the top.  The weather forecast for the next day was poor, calling for cloud cover and snow, but only moderate winds.  Weather is an unpredictable variable on Mount Rainier and it is not uncommon for teams to be weathered off due to high winds or escalated avalanche risk following heavy snowfall.  Due to the mountain’s prominence, isolation, and location in the pacific northwest, the upper mountain often experiences its own weather, which can change rapidly and unexpectedly.

Looking up the Winthrop Glacier from near our campsite.

Looking up the Glacier from near our campsite.

Soon after pitching camp clouds began to rise and roll past us, and light snow began to fall.  As clouds moved by visibility became variable, with windows of blue sky opening and then closing, taking with them our views of the upper mountain.

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Looking up Rainier.

As on the day before, as the sun set the clouds ascended in force.

Sunset over our tents at Camp Schurman.

Sunset over our tents as clouds roll in.

Day 3: We began preparing for our climb to the summit at 3 a.m., a relatively late start.  By the time we began getting ready the sky had completely cleared, the stars were out, and wind was very low.  A thick layer of clouds hung below us, but the upper mountain looked promising.  After a fast breakfast and a hot drink, we roped up and began heading out of Camp Schurman at around 4:30 a.m.  We were the only team ascending today, and had the route entirely to ourselves.

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Getting ready to head up.

As we headed upwards on the Emmons, the sun began to rise over the clouds below us.

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The beginning of sunrise.

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Sunrise on the Emmons.

Sunrise on the Emmons.

Sunrise on the Emmons.

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Little Tahoma Peak in the sunrise.

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Sunrise on the Emmons.

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Camp Schurman, surrounded by crevasses.

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The Emmons below us.

We followed the corridor upwards at a steady but moderate pace, crossing and bypassing several crevasses.

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Crevasses off route.

As we gained elevation, the pitch grew steeper.  Higher up, interesting snow formations stood like sculptures.  Off route, overhanging walls of ice and snow.
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Overhanging walls.

Wind carved walls.

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The upper glacier shone, contrasted against the dark blue sky.

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The Winthrop Glacier.

The weather was perfect; low wind, crisp snow, and warm sunshine.

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Looking down the Glacier.

Below us a thick cloud ocean was slowly growing larger.

The cloud ocean.

Clouds boiled and rose below us.

Looking east.

Looking east.

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Steamboat Prow bottom right.

Our lead guide placed pickets for several minor obstacles, and we used three more for a short section with a steep, icy drop-off and some decent exposure.  We navigated across and around more crevasses, our guides wanding them for descent as we went.  As we approached the top of the Emmons/Winthrop, we found ourselves at the bottom of the glaciers’ bergshrund, a large crevasse formed where moving glacial ice meets static rock.  We began traversing to the west, where others in camp had told us a safe and easy crossing could be found.

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Curtis Ridge and Russell Cliff to the west, near our crossing point.

We reached our crossing and stepped over the bergshrund.  Above, the slope began leveling off.

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Looking back at the bergshrund, it is visible as a long crack along the length of the right-hand ridge.

To the west Liberty cap marked our progress, and although it was not yet visible, we were only a short distance from Columbia Crest, Rainier’s high-point and true summit.

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Liberty Cap to the west.

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Liberty Cap.

The weather was still excellent.  We were extraordinarily fortunate, encountering very low wind and clear views the entire way up.  The clouds began to rise quickly as we approached the top, and Columbia Crest came into view above us.

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Columbia Crest, Rainier’s summit, above us.

The crater rim came into view, devoid of snow.

The crater rim.

The crater rim.

We gained the top of Columbia Crest at 11:30 a.m – 7 hours from Camp Schurman at a very moderate pace.  Wind gusted hard at the top, and despite the sun it was very cold.

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Columbia Crest, Rainier’s high point.

It felt great to reach the top under a blue sky – everyone in our group was strong at the top, and it was fantastic to share the summit together.

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On the summit of Mount Rainier.

Our team on the summit.

Our team on the summit.

In the distance, Mount Adams loomed out of the clouds.

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Mount Adams, from Columbia Crest.

After roughly 45 minutes on the summit, we began to descend.  Below us the cloud ocean continued to rise, and as we descended it enveloped us.  The rest of the descent would be through variable visibility, with occasional patches of blue sky appearing as clouds rolled over us.  We followed our ascent route downwards, using the wands placed earlier to guide us through the cloud cover.

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Looking across the Emmons in a brief patch of blue sky.  Visibility was very poor for most of our descent.

The rolling clouds gave the glacier an otherworldly, alien appearance.  We made good speed descending, slowing down only for tricky crevasse crossings.

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Looking down the Emmons Glacier.

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Looking back up the Emmons.

At around 4:30 p.m. – a full 12 hours since leaving – we arrived back at Camp Schurman.  Several other teams had arrived while we were climbing, yet others had left.  In high spirits, I lounged around camp hydrating and eating snacks.

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Returning to Camp Schurman.

Shortly after our return to camp a steady rain began to come down.  It was cold, wet, and thoroughly unpleasant – we were all grateful that we had been lucky enough to ascend in clear weather.  As the sun began to set, the rain turned to sleet, then snow. From here on our itinerary was very relaxed, and our plan didn’t call for descending until the next day.  We turned in early, planning to get a sunrise start.

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Our camp in the sleet.

Day 4: Up early, we were greeted by a clear sky and gorgeous alpenglow on the upper mountain.

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Alpenglow in Rainier.

Rainier in the morning sun.

Rainier in the morning sun.

The mountain looked fantastic in the clear light.  We could make out two teams ascending, and it looked like they would enjoy a weather window similar to ours the day before.  The sun was refreshing after the cold, wet night.  We quickly broke camp, and prepared to descend back to the Inter Glacier.

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Sunrise at Camp Schurman.

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Looking down the Emmons.

As we began descending, it was hard not to stare at Little Tahoma Peak and the lower Emmons glacier.

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Little Tahoma Peak across the Emmons.

Defined crevasse fields below Little Tahoma Peak.

Crevasse fields on the lower Emmons Glacier below Little Tahoma Peak.

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Crevasse fields on the lower Emmons Glacier below Little Tahoma Peak.

As we reached the Inter Glacier, we were immersed in thick clouds.  The morning air was warm, and the fresh snow underfoot had softened into a slushy, ankle deep mess.  After around an hour of descent, we reached the bottom of the Inter Glacier, and regained the Glacier Basin trail to the White River trailhead.

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Leaving the Inter Glacier for the Glacier Basin trail.  Old avalanche debris remained from the winter.

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The Glacier Basin trail.

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Final view of Little Tahoma Peak.

Further down we cleared the snowline, and returned to a groomed path.

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Near the White River trailhead.

Returning to the White River parking lot, we drove back into Ashford to celebrate with a huge meal.

Rainier was a superb experience; having climbed it I was left with the urge to return and do so again.  The Emmons Glacier was spectacular in clear weather; many of the views left me in awe of the mountain’s raw, beautiful, unforgiving landscapes of rock, ice, and snow.

The structure of a guided team climb was a new experience for me, and though the climb itinerary was spread out and very moderately paced, everything fell into place and worked out wonderfully with the weather.  Our team got along very well, and it felt good to work cooperatively while pitching camp, contribute by carrying loads of group gear and food, and operate together on the rope.  Climbing with a guided group definitely made the climb safe, but also far more accessible due to the guides’ considerable experience and skillset.  Rainier cannot be considered anything but endurance testing and potentially dangerous; heavy packs, glacier navigation, lots of crevasses, unpredictable weather, and a long summit day all contribute to making it a solid climb.  I will definitely return to Rainier.

Accessibility

Rainier is relatively accessible, but safe access is highly dependent on weather patterns.  While Rainier is climbed year-round, the normal climbing season runs from May to September.   Mid-July through mid-August is said to offer the best weather.  For reference, the guide companies start their non-winter trips in mid-May, and finish at the end of September or beginning of October.  There is always a chance of being turned around by inclement weather – high winds and heavy snowfall in particular often make the upper mountain dangerous or inaccessible.

Many climbers approach Rainier through one of the three guide companies which are licensed to operate on the mountain.  I climbed with a team guided by IMG, and was very impressed with their guides’ attitude, experience, and safety consciousness.  I finished my climb feeling pleased that I chose their service, and feel confident recommending them.  The three guide companies operating on Mount Rainier are:

International Mountain Guides (IMG): http://www.mountainguides.com/rainier.shtml
Alpine Ascents International (AAI): http://www.alpineascents.com/
Rainier Mountaineering, Inc. (RMI): http://www.rmiguides.com/

The Mount Rainier National Park statistics page with success rates, annual usage counts, route statistics, and much more, can be found here: http://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/annual-mountaineering-reports.htm

Climbing on Mount Rainier is controlled by the Mount Rainier National Park.  Their website has an abundance of information on permits, routes, access, and climbing fees: http://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/climbing.htm