Mount Baker — Mountaineering School

This was a five day mountaineering school with Northwest Alpine Guides, and it changed what I thought was possible for me in the mountains.

Stoke is high for my first volcano

Day 1

We met at the guide hut in Sedro Woolley for a gear check. I showed up with everything in a bin, organized and ready to be packed into my bag. I had sacrificed some sleep the night before triple checking that I had it all. I might have been mildly worried I would freeze to death if I forgot anything. Baker in May is COLD.

We drove over to the Park Butte trailhead area up Forest Road 13. There was still heavy snow coming down the road, so we drove as far as we could, parked, grabbed our packs, and took off. Oh boy, here we go. In some fresh mountaineering boots. Rip to the skin on my heels.

We ascended and made high camp, a group of 10 or so lads and 5 guides. Quite the party. We shoveled out a luxurious camp near the trees to cut the wind, set up a common area for cooking and boiling, pitched all the fancy mountaineering tents, and enjoyed a sunset over the Sisters. A somewhat tasty dehydrated meal later, we called it a day.

High camp, dug in near the trees to cut the wind

Sunset over the Sisters from high camp

Day 2: Glacier School

The next day was mountaineering school. We learned knots, hitches, self arrest, rope team glacier travel, how to put on and use crampons, more self arrest, and pacing techniques to conserve energy on glacier travel. It was a hella informative day.

Based on the weather, the guides decided that night would be best to push our alpine start. That certainly got the nervous system fired up. We wrapped up training, had an early dinner with another beautiful sunset over the Sisters, and tried to sleep. I’m a great sleeper in the outdoors, or wherever really, so no issues for me. I had my summit pack ready to go (same pack, much less gear), fully automatic crampons ready to step into, boots and pack under the vestibule, layers on, harness and hardware ready to slide on at the foot of my sleeping bag. I slipped into the bag feeling dialed in. It was going to be somewhere in the ballpark of 5,000 ft of gain from high camp. I knew it would be cold, but the time was here to send it.

Day 3: Summit Day

Alpine start, nice and early. Alarm set for 12:30am. I woke up, boiled some water, drained a couple packs of oatmeal, clicked the headlamp red lights on, and we started once everyone was ready.

As soon as we hit true glacier territory, the guides prepped the ropes with evenly spaced alpine butterfly knots. I was assigned the caboose of our rope team. I’ll admit I was proud, thinking maybe I showed promise and earned a spot on the end of the rope. Thinking back, they just saw me as a heavy enough anchor to hold the guide if he went plunging into a crevasse. We started up the rolling, crevassed hills of the Easton Glacier. Most of this was head down, taking care not to step on the rope with my crampons, kicking clean into the icy, firm boot path we were hammering out as we went.

Our second rope team slogging close behind

We took reasonable breaks, and this taught me a lot about managing pace and effort uphill. I realized always pushing for a quick pace and making “good time” was actually not productive, especially at altitude. It wore you out much quicker. Hydration, food, and consistent breaks turned out to be the real keys to a successful summit on big objectives.

Before we knew it, we were at the infamous Roman Wall. The volcanic sulfur smell was pungent. We could see rising steam and smell the active volcano, but we were socked in by clouds and couldn’t make out much even as the early morning light started to crest. This part was tricky. We short roped and walked in teams of 5 back and forth in tight switchbacks up the steep section. It went really well. The teams moved smoothly and efficiently, nobody kicked rocks or ice onto each other, and we reached the false summit. The last stretch was a short hill, and the summit sat about a football field away. This was it.

Heavy clouds looming

We summited completely consumed in thick clouds. I could see just enough to know I was by my team, and that walking much further meant falling into the crater. Bummed there was no view, of course, but proud of the accomplishment no less. With the lack of light and the early hour, it was cold and windy up top. We took some pictures, enjoyed our moment, and started the descent.

Solid 5 feet of visibility at least

Remember, the summit means you are halfway there. 80% of accidents happen on the descent. Stay frosty (easy, in these temps) and stay alert. Those snacks from earlier play a big role in fighting fatigue on the way down.

We had successfully beat the other NWAG teams who were skinning up during volcano ski school. We took pride in that. The pride dissipated almost instantly when they cooked us with their rapid ski descent. As we came down, a beautiful inversion took place and the summit cleared for a short window. It was the first time we could take in what we had just climbed. We sat for another break, this one in bright, morning sunlight for the first time, and looked back at the summit in awe. Mount Baker is a glorious sight, and it earns its name as the Great White Watcher.

We made quick learners of the plunge step and flung ourselves down the glacier. Back at high camp before we knew it. Home sweet home. Or was it?

Dropping back into the clouds on the descent

Day 4: The Storm

We took some well earned rest in our tents. Me and another tall guy (earnestly named Dan, along with two other Dans on the trip, affectionately the Dans) bunked in a guide tent as the only two. Most tents had three. Chalk one up for the tall fellas. A major luxury win for a five day trip. We woke, ate an early dinner, caught an okay sunset through some clouds, and turned in early. We had spent three days on this mountain now.

In the morning it became clear why we pushed so aggressively on the alpine start timing. A snow storm began to blow through. On one of the most glaciated and heavily snowed mountains in the US, it was gaining momentum. It was cold, the snow eventually started blowing horizontally, and standing still without movement meant very cold distal limbs. That taught us a useful trick: a quick sprint up a tall, steep hill generates a lot of heat. That kept us warm.

We were out braving the storm because we had been promised a crevasse rescue clinic. And we got it. I’ll be honest, it was tough to retain much. We ran a relatively rudimentary system (without any of the more expensive tools we had been told to buy), and the 3:1 felt overwhelming at the time. We slogged through each station: rescuer, victim, and rope team holding the weight. The rope team laid flat on the snow for the duration of each rescue until the anchor was deployed and they were out of the system. Let me tell you, those were some long, cold minutes laying in the snow.

After building the 3:1 successfully, we called it. The guides told us to get in our tents and warm up. No point staying out in the storm. What to do with no service? Scroll the photo gallery. Eat snacks (if you had them, I had packed light and was basically out of food by Day 4). Sleep. Sleep came easy to me, and I wasn’t hungry enough to go sit in the snow and boil water. I’d survive. I chose sleep.

Woah, I’m awake. Another alpine start? Am I dreaming? Yes and no. This alpine start was nature’s call, and buddy, that snow storm was still kicking. This qualifies as the coldest bio break of my life. I told myself to suck it up, go outside, and move on. The goal was to stay as dry as possible so I wouldn’t have to fuss with layers and wouldn’t get my sleeping bag wet. Heeewwww it was cold out there. I’ll never forget it. Looking back, it really is pretty funny to imagine now. I am proud to say I left no trace despite the circumstances.

Day 5: Out

Time to go. We woke to a pleasant sunrise. I made my way up to a nearby ridge and snagged some last sunrise pictures. What a glorious trip. And hey, we survived a pretty gnarly snow storm plus five days on Mount Baker in May. Not the worst conditions in the world, but certainly not the best. It was incredibly confidence inspiring for what I want to do next.

Last sunrise from the ridge above high camp

I set my sights on a new goal for the summer: bag the Big 5 Washington volcanos. With my newfound confidence and experience, I felt I could do it. Some of them don’t even require a climbing partner. Just send it.

We walked out over melting snowbridges, a few of which blew out on us. We learned about the red algae on the snow and to avoid it so we wouldn’t get migraine level headaches. We bushwhacked a bit through some pines and snow, and suddenly we were back on the road. A good deal of snow had melted out from the warmer days at the start of the trip, so the walk to my truck was cake. An extremely welcome sight. I had stashed a Gatorade and some extra snacks in the truck to start recovery right away, amazing advice from the guides that I was glad I followed.

The terrain is epic

Crossing the moraine and the long walk back to the trailhead

I had no rental gear to return, so I tipped the awesome guides and went on my way, with big goals ahead and so much to rehash in my brain. Everything I have just done, everything I have learned. I suddenly feel a lot is possible that I was unsure about before this objective. This is just the beginning of some amazing experiences in the mountains and the future ahead in the great Pacific Northwest.

Sunrise after the storm

A lil cooked but happy

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