The Mt. Baker Retrospective
My car bottomed out on the forest service road leading to the trailhead probably more times than I would’ve liked. The day was cool and clear and perfect for our approach to Sandy Camp. Two days prior my dad had flown in to Seattle from Boston. It was time for our climb up Mt. Baker, our first foray into mountaineering. We had signed up for the trip with Alpine Ascents, a well-known and reputable outfit located right in Seattle.
While both my dad and I were experienced hikers, the idea of crampons, ice axes, and rope teams all together was a new experience for the two of us. Our itinerary was a three-day affair. We left Schreiber’s Meadow with our team comprising myself and my dad, a family of five (mom, dad, three girls), and our two guides, Brooke and Stuart, the latter of whom has over 200 ascents of Mt. Rainier to his name. Our third guide, Lee, was already at camp.
While making our way through sub-alpine terrain we came upon our first real views of Mt. Baker; Koma Kulshan as it has been known to indigenous peoples of the Northwest for centuries. We hiked up a railroad grade, a single track with significant drop offs on either side. Our guides pointed out how far the glacier had receded in the past century, and it was pretty shocking.
We traversed a mix of rock and snow, passed glacial pools, and other campers as we landed at our first destination and basecamp for the expedition, Sandy Camp.
The next few hours was a bevy of glacial school techniques; walking in crampons, traveling on a rope team, and one of the absolute must-haves, self-arrest. A self-arrest is when a climber who has fallen uses their ice axe, boots, hands, feet, and knees to stop themselves from further sliding down. The whole rope team, comprised in case of at least three climbers, mimics the self-arrest to prevent the whole team from being taken out. If by some chance someone was to fall into a crevasse, this technique stops the whole team from going under.
While the weather of bluebird skies and sunshine was a delight, it is tough to overstate how intense the sun was. Glacier glasses, a buff, and a lightweight hoodie was crucial to keep the sun off of you, and that includes sun reflecting off of the snow. Snow blindness is a constant threat and we heard a few stories of what happened to people who lost their glasses on expeditions.
Traditionally, the itinerary called for a full day of glacier school on day 2, with a summit attempt on the third day. With a weather window ahead, we were going for a summit push on day 2. That meant (very) early to bed and early to rise.
Day 2
My watch alarm went off and my eyes snapped open. Lee, our lead guide, was going around to all the tents making sure people were up and moving. The morning was all business; get geared up and ready for breakfast. One Mountainhaus meal to the face later, and we were on our rope teams. Mountaineering legend Stuart Robertson led our rope team, with my dad in the middle, and myself bringing up the rear.
There was very little conversation as we began our trek. Our headlamps illuminated the mountain, and the “crunch, crunch” of our crampons on glacial ice provided a harmonious sound. At one point we crossed over a little hump and as I looked down, I realized we were on an ice bridge over a crevasse that dropped off into black nothingness. My stomach churned and I chuckled a little.
After a stretch of climbing, the faintest reds and pinks began to illuminate to the east. For our first break, we sat down, threw on a jacket, and grabbed some food and water. By now, the whole mountain was illuminated and we saw a cloud cap up at the summit, along with other rope teams making their way to the top.
The next few hours were relatively easy climbing, no major grade changes. As we came into the final stretch, we were hit with the smell of sulfur from the volcano. Just beyond lay the final, steep push; the Roman Wall. This was a “head down and go” sort of climb. We crested the top and multiple football fields worth of flat glacier lay ahead. The summit was to the northwest.
We ditched our backpacks, threw on some layers and climbed the ridge. The wind was howling and my dad snapped a photo that I will have forever.
We began our descent and I had the opportunity to lead our rope team. We made quick time as we skate slid down the mountain. The full force of the sun was beating down on us and I could spy the camp over a few more ridges. While I wanted out of the sun, I wanted to enjoy this as best as possible. I was rarely in wild environments such as these, and this is what I moved to the Northwest for.
The early wake up and intense adventure hit us all at once as we got back and everyone retreated to their tents for some much needed sleep. I managed to get some rest but the sun quickly heated up my tent to near unbearable levels, and I headed outside to do some reading.
Honestly, I don’t remember how the rest of the day went beyond relaxing around camp. Eventually my dad and I walked around the perimeter, of the camp, recapped the climb, and had a chance to catch up. This was such a special trip, and I’m so lucky we got to do this together. It was another early to bed night, but I stayed up a little longer to read, enjoy the stillness, and take in as much of the environment as I could.
Day 3
The weather on our final day was much different than the previous two. Socked in, with rain coming down in batches, we packed up our bags, had breakfast, and headed out. Walking down the railroad grade was more harrowing than going up.
Our decision to only wearing the mountaineering boots was coming back to haunt me and my dad. It was like walking in ski boots.
As the parking lot came into view, I felt an immense level of satisfaction. All of the hill climbs, training sessions, and mental preparation paid off in dividends. This was exactly the experience I had been hoping for.
As we drove down the bumpy forest service road, my dad and I had the same idea.
“Five Guys burgers?”
See you next time.