It’s hard to have a conversation about Mount
Rainier (14,410 feet) without mentioning the classic climb Liberty
Ridge. Every climber aspires to climb Liberty Ridge for good reason, the Ridge
is amazing. Liberty Ridge is on the “remote”
side of the mountain, the non Paradise and the non Camp Muir
side. Don’t expect to see to many folks once you leave the Glacier Basin Trail
and head over St. Elmo Pass. The Ridge is framed by the turbulent Carbon
Glacier and rugged Willis Wall to the East. Getting to Liberty Ridge involves
hiking several miles up the Glacier Basin Trail, ascending St.
Elmo Pass,
dropping onto the lower Winthrop Glacier and descending Lower Curtis
Ridge onto the broken Carbon
Glacier. Once on the Carbon Glacier climbers travel directly South to the base
of the Ridge. Liberty Ridge forms an incredibly striking line up to the high Liberty
Cap Glacier. Who wouldn’t want to climb this line with dramatic and active glacier
scenes the entire way?
On June 14th 2012 at 10:00 am my partner, Terray
Sylvester and I left White River Campground parking set out for Thumb Rock.
Most parties take two days to get to this point but June 15th
offered the only promising day of good weather in the extended forecast. Thumb Rock
is a pillar of crumbling volcanic rock at over 10,000 feet that offers a slight
bit of protection from the active ridge above. Below Thumb Rock there is space
for a handful of tents on an icy perch. The National Park Service Rangers warned
us that even in this “protected” area climbers should sleep with his or her
helmet on.
Leaving the campground the Glacier Basin Trail was snow free
for about a mile. The snow on the trail was firm but once we set foot on the
Inner Glacier the snow became soft and slushy with miserable post holing. Snow up St. Elmo pass all the way to Lower Curtis
Ridge remained isothermic.
Steeper sections of lower Winthrop Glacier had a couple of wet slides that ran
through the boot track. We trudged along
burdened by atrociously heavy packs to the base of Curtis Ridge
at about 7,900 feet. There we bumped into three Canadians from Victoria spending the
night. By this time it was late
afternoon and they gave us sideways looks when we said we were continuing on to
Thumb Rock. Below Curtis
Ridge was the massive and
900 foot deep Carbon Glacier. The glacial
river was raging, rocks from the cliff side were tumbling onto the glacier and
large cracks and crevasses plagued the glacial landscape below us. The
sensations were unreal.
We descended Curtis
Ridge to about 7,200 feet
and climbed onto the glacier via a massive snow bridge spanning the turbulent glacial
river below. I suddenly felt small and vulnerable for the first time that day.
Even though Terray was roped to me and only 40 feet away I also felt alone,
very alone. Terry hit the nail on the head when he called his experience on Carbon
Glacier “wrathful.”
As I walked on the Carbon Glacier I tried to walk lightly
and purposefully so the glacier didn’t know I was there. Stepping over a crack
I strattled the crevasse looking down into the blue that morphed darker and
darker until it turned to black. Peter Athen during my Alpine Ascents
International guides training had quoted someone saying:
"When a Man Stares Into the Abyss and sees nothing but
darkness, this is the time that he finds his character. And it is his
character, that keeps him from falling into the abyss."
Maybe it was more like Nietsche's quote about the abyss:
"When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at
you."
All I know is the Carbon Glacier starred back at me. Right
into my eyes. I was tranquilized until the rope tugged on my harness. Terray
had yanked me out of my trance.
We slowly worked around cracks making our way up the Carbon
glacier. It was funny I could hear one of the loud and outspoken Candians on
the ridge above us criticizing every zig and zag we made around crevasses on
the glacier. He had the advantage of having a birds eye view of us at this
time. Thanks Victorian buddy. We should of given him a bull horn and called him
coach.
Liberty Ridge grew closer and closer until we arrived at its
base where the rock jets out of the glacier. We mistakenly tried accessing the
ridge on climber’s left. We thought we saw a mellow ramp that would place us on
the ridge proper. But after reaching the base of the ramp we found it ended in
a jumbled serac field, followed by a massive bergshrund and steep dangerous pumice
climbing. This realization was heart breaking because it meant Terray and I had
to descend back down the glacier and ascend around to the climber’s right side of
the ridge. This bone head move wasted and hour of valuable day light and sleep.
By now it was getting later in the evening, the sun was sinking and we were
just above 8000 feet. We had planned to be at about 10,000 feet by now. With
our one day of predicted good weather there was no choice but to keep moving
higher despite aching shoulders and tired legs.
Hiking on the West side of the ridge we stumbled over a
massive debris pile that had avalanched off the entire upper Carbon Glacier
wall. It was like the Glacier had far to many White Russians to drink the night
before and blew chunks of ice every where, wall to wall. The piles of avalanche debris made what was
already “wrathful” seem eerie in the fading evening light. We continued on silently
knowing this was no place to stop, pause or hesitate. Shockingly there was an old tent platform in
the snow about 100 feet before the avalanche debris started. Either some
climbers had got very lucky with dumb luck or heavily soiled their merino wool
underwear? We tip toed over a fading
snow bridge that ascended a bergshrund and finally climbed a slushy snow slope
that put us on the pumicy crest of Liberty Ridge. It finally felt like we were
making progress.
It quickly became obvious that Thumb Rock was farther away
then we predicted. I saw why most parties take two days to get to this
point. Now we were racing the
diminishing evening light. We decided
setting up camp in the light would be more desirable and safer then in the
dark. We kept climbing to mirage like
saddles on the ridge hoping a flat spot big enough for a tent to rest on. No
dice. Finally we just decided to dig our own platform right into the steep snow
slope. I set up a T- slot snow anchor in the loose granular snow, crossing my
fingers and throwing in a couple signs of the cross. To back up the
questionable snow anchor I slung a piece of crumbling volcanic rock to make a
multi point anchor. Roped in for safety
we started to dig a ledge into the steep snow slope.
After 30 minutes of digging, chopping and hyperventilating we
had a tent sized ledge in the 50 degree snow slope. It would have to do. I laid down in the tent on the downhill side with
my shoulder pressing into the tent wall. I new very well my shoulder was
hanging over the void, but hey the tent was a Bibler these things are built
tough, right? I decided to untie and take off my harness for comfort. Terray,
obviously the more intelligent of the two of us, slept with his harness on tied
into the safety anchor. I figured if we started sliding down the slope I would
just bear hug Terry and call it good. I had seen people in the movies jump out
of air planes without parachutes and grab onto another free falling guy with a
parachute and survive. Terray thought my logic was flawed but he didn’t argue.
Terray started the laborious task of melting water from snow. I shut my eyes
and woke up to Terray handing me a hot Nalgene of pumice laced snow melt, water
with a crunch. I describe myself as an
insomniac and I had fallen sound asleep in one of the most exposed places I had
ever laid down. Maybe back at home I didn’t
need melatonin and ear plugs, I just need to sleep with one shoulder hanging off
a steep pitched roof?
The opportunity to climb Liberty Ridge in great weather is
presented to few. We decided to sacrifice sleep for the chance of climbing on a
splitter day. Things were looking good at sunset, the sky was clear, wind calm
and stars littered the night sky. We decided a few hours of sleep would due. Unfortunately
I forgot to switch my alarm off vibrate and slept through it. We woke up at almost
5 am to a warm morning sun and stillness in the atmosphere. “Mother $%^&**,”
I yelled to wake Terray up. I should of been thankful the tent had not fallen
off the ledge but instead I was irritated that we had slept in. We should have
been climbing hours ago. We rallied
broke camp and skipped breakfast. We were climbing in 30 minutes.
The climbing one Liberty Ridge is not very technical but the
steepness and exposure make it exhilarating. We only had 4 snow pickets for
protection so used them very sparingly.
Most of the time we just simultaneously climbed carefully without any
protection. Terray was going for old school points and had only brought one ice
axe. Sensible climbers bring two ice tools each to climb the Ridge. I wasn’t
looking much better with my two mountaineering axes. One was more of an 8 pound
cane I call Thor. My mountain axe Thor was about as useful as one square of
toilet paper and the runs on the steep slopes. Soon we reached the Black Pyramid at over
12,000 feet. Due to our late start I was anxious to keep moving. The slope to
the East of the Black Pyramid was slushy and heavy in the morning sunlight. I
was worried about a wet slide and wanted to get through the next steep section
before it got any warmer. Terray had other plans. I turned around and he had a
look of desperation on his face. He refused to keep moving. Terray was in the middle of a Gastrointestinal
emergency.
After Terray took care of business anchored into a snow
picket we climbed to the top of the Black Pyramid. We took a short rest on a
steep saddle when the tranquility of the climb was broken by a Chinook
Helicopter. The helicopter thundered by. I was overwhelmed by a sense of panic.
The booming blades made me think the cacophony
was going to collapses a serac on us. Once this fear subsided I thought there
must be a recue going on. It was a very
unsettling feeling. The Chinook made several passes of the ridge, even hovering
above us, until it disappeared.
After several more rope lengths of simultaneous climbing the
terrain eased and we were on the upper Liberty Cap Glacier. I could see the
“crux” bergshrund not far ahead. It looked benign and easily passable. The
final 70 feet of the climb was the real crux. A short section of waterfall
three ice lead to a 65 degree slope of loosely consolidated ice. Putting an ice
screw into ice of this quality is just a waste of time. The climbing was
manageable for me with my two mountaineering axes but I worried about Terray
with his one mountaineering axe. As I climbed I did my best to cut steps and
hand holds for Terray. 
About 15 feet from the Liberty Cap summit ridge the rope
pulled tight. I was still front pointing at nearly 14,000 feet on a 50 degree
firm snow slope with my calves on fire. I swung the adze of Thor into the slope
until I had made myself a small platform to stand on. I then wacked a snow
picket into the snow and equalized it to a mountaineering axe. I dug my crampon
points into the slope extra deep. I thought to myself, “Terray you better not
fall.” I yelled, “Belay on,” and Terray started climbing to my stance. Terray
didn’t waste time stopping at my belay perch, he kept climbing to the safety of
the gentle ridge above. I let out a sigh of relief. I looked down on the upper
glacier below and 3 dots appeared. I though to my self, “good grief, the
Canadian’s rallied, right on.” It turns out the three dots were National Park
Service Climbing Rangers. The Chinook Helicopter we had seen lowered the three
rangers to Thumb Rock so they could blitz the Ridge in a day with ultra light
packs. Helicopter assisted mountaineering, how rad is that?
Terray and I reached the Liberty Cap Summit ridge without
event. We were surrounded by crystal clear views of the North Cascades and Mount Baker. Both of us smiled ear to ear as we took in
360 degree stellar glacier views. The calmness and tranquility of the weather
allowed us to really take in all that was around us. We hung out casually on
the Liberty Cap Summit for 15 minutes before starting our descent towards the
Emmons Glacier. From the Emmons Glacier the descent back to the White River
Campground involves hours of walking down moderately steep glacial slopes followed
by some intense post holing on the Inner Glacier. By the time I reached the
Glacier Basin Trail I was pretty spent and had entered a zone between conscious
and unconscious where my body continues forward and my mind fades somewhere
lost in my skull. I was thinking, “dirt.. dirt… dirt… woooaaa brown hair.” Hundreds of pounds of black bear brought me
to my senses. It was a beautiful bear with dancing fur of reddish brown on its
back and golden tuffs of leg fur. Leisurely the bear strolled towards me only 25
feet away. I yelled at it, made myself look big and backed away slowly. The
bear pursued. “Ummmm.... that’s suppose
to work with black bears,” I thought. I climbed the dirt slope above the bear
and yelled at the bear with it now directly below me. The bear fled crashing
down the hill on the other side of the trail.
After seeing the bear I had another 20 minutes of mindless
walking before reaching the parking lot. Back at the car my pack came crashing
off. I tore off my boots and slipped into comfortable sandals. Terray handed me
a pre-noon victory beverage and we celebrated with a high five.
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