Second Beach

Earlier this week, Rick, Jason and I made a quick trip to the Olympics for an overnight/ snowshoe trip from Hurricane Ridge to Mt Angeles- more or less a 3 mile course from trailhead to Class 3 summit scramble. It took forever to get out of town thanks to side events including a quick call to the cops on crackheads near the building, Rick taking a grumper and failing to convince woah-easy-does-it ferry toll collectors that you really should get on the ferry that's leaving in 2 minutes. But then we were on the peninsula, working our way across the Hood Canal Bridge to Port Angeles.

Arriving at close to 21:30, we inched up to the Ranger toll station and were immediately confronted with a giant "ROAD CLOSED" sign. 100 feet past the station was a well constructed barricade that we would never be able to get around. This winter has been one giant snowstorm after another out in the Pacific Northwest, including several days of back-to-back accumulation- frequently a foot or more of fresh powder. Fantastic for snowboarding, not so fantastic for trying to drive up to Hurricane Ridge.

After spending about 5 minutes bitching and complaining, we made a group decision to head to the coast. Why not? We were almost there ("almost" on the Olympic Coast being a relative term.. sort of like when we are in DC we are almost near New York since they are both on the east coast) and had a car loaded to the gills with camping gear.

So off we went. I think we finally hit La Push at close to 11:15, and made it down on to the beach at 11:45 with our gear. Using Night Vision Goggles to search out the high ground for a bivouac site, we scared up a tiny spit of sand that seemed like it might work when high tide hit around 3:30 (it didn't).

Jason kicked off a fire with duraflame logs and wood that had been saturated by rain since October while Rick and I set up the tent, moved the tent to higher ground when sneaker waves came in, moved it back, and then moved it again. All the while, we cooked hobo meals (a combination of meat, potatoes, onions and other miscellaneous veggies wrapped in aluminum foil and which you essentially throw in the fire to cook). While pitch black out, the crash of waves and lapping of water just feet from the tent made for an amazing setting. Peering out at the sea stacks through NVGs gave the setting an almost ghostly feel as we realized that we were the only people for miles.

For the next four hours we joked around, drank scotch, fought to keep the fire going and ate dinner. After we were confident that we had safely passed through high tide on our little spit of sand, we let the fire go out and hopped into the tent. Our final site was a small and safe area pitched in between massive driftwood logs that litter the beach. If any wave came in at that point it would have to be significantly larger than these goliaths that acted as a wave break and allowed us to sleep comfortably. We slept away the rest of the night, waking to the gentle sound of waves crashing and rain pelting the side of the tent. In the morning, I unzipped the fly and took a look. Pretty cool view from the front door, no?

We were drenched in rain, but spent an hour exploring the coast of Second Beach at low tide, in some cases walking several hundred yards out to one of the monsterous sea stacks and checking out tide pools that are created in rocky areas where the unbridled force of the Pacific Ocean meets land. In these little pools exist creatures that take a brief rest from the turbulence and persistent crashing of waves that nail the area twice a day at high tide.











Finally, it was time to depart. We packed up our site, hiked out through the pelting rain while scrambling over giant logs and then through the forest. Two hours later we were in Port Angeles and then two hours after that we were back in Seattle. It's always amazing to me that this sort of environment is so close, yet so rarely visited. Truly unique.

Teeth

In many respects, there are plenty of little "gotcha" things that can reach up and scuttle this trip well before I even lay eyes on the Hillary Step. One of those items is simple enough- teeth. Get a cavity in Base Camp, and I'm not going any higher. In the Marines, a mandatory stop before you can deploy is a swing through dental to make sure that the chance of a tooth emergency is minimized. Last place you want to be with the need for root canal is some remote corner of the world with medieval tools jammed in your mouth while the rounds are flying.

Same goes for climbing. I watched one episode on TV where a climber was sitting at about 22,000' when a crown popped right out of his mouth. The pressure and temperature extremes made an exposed nerve go bananas, he immediately flipped out, and his climbing partners basically had to then deal with a crumpled mess in the snow. The team lead tried emergency tooth surgery with some sort of cotton jammed into the hole and rudimentary epoxy solution to try and re-attach the tooth. It didn't hold for more than an hour, which of course immediately led me to wonder what this world is coming to when you now can't find reputable epoxy in any quantity at 22,000 feet in the Himalayas. Anyway, to make a short story incredibly long the climber had to go down- climb over for him.

So who knows. Cavities happen and maybe one too many cups of yak butter tea will do in a molar mid-April. But having them checked out now seemed like a good idea and an effective way to minimize via preventive maintenance.

Now I can eat all the Sour Patch Kids I want with no worries, right? ;)

Why I Climb

The days have been ticking by, the hours and hours in the gym becoming almost routine. 30 minutes of bike here, 30 minutes of treadmill there. It almost became mundane until yesterday when I looked at a calendar and was shocked into the realization that I have about 5 weeks until I'm flying east. Five weeks! Yee cats. That gave me a new sense of urgency and immediately went back to the gym.

Interestingly enough, (and maybe the reason I took a look at the calendar) yesterday my good friend Pam Vitaz asked me a simple question: "why do you climb, Doug?" How many climbers have been asked that question? More importantly, how many have had a reasonable answer? Countless explorers and adventurers over the centuries have been compelled to leave the warm bounds of hearth and home to head afield. Why? It's truly one of those questions that elicit deep thought in some, casual brush-off in others.

Some examples to The Question:
George Mallory- "Because it is there."
Sir Edmund Hillary- "Nobody climbs mountains for scientific reasons. Science is used to raise money for the expeditions, but you really climb for the hell of it."
John Muir- "Doubly happy, however, is the man to whom lofty mountain tops are within reach."

My favorite quote- which is more a Golden Rule of climbing.. and until recently I credited to a guy I climbed McKinley with is now one that I know actually came from Ed Viesturs.. "It's a round trip. Getting to the summit is optional, getting down is mandatory."

Spiritually, it makes me feel closer than ever to my Grandparents, Sampson and God. Hokey, I know. But when you are in an environment where something as simple as a sunrise can make you stop for no reason other than to revel in the majesty of the moment, it is profound. Looking out from thousands of feet above the sleepy day-to-day of cities, highways, town, and the welcoming warmth of our planet.. how can you not believe that there is a God? Honestly, it's just plain that simple.

To me, climbing is more a passion than a challenge. Simply put, I love it. Just you and the mountain, challenging your skills in a place where you have to rely wholely on yourself and in many cases on your teammates. It forms a bond among members rarely seen outside of this environment. It makes you push yourself in ways you didn't know you were capable of being pushed. You invest more than just time and money- you invest your dedication and spirit in an endeavour not guaranteed. I have always -firmly- believed that the mountain isn't going anywhere, and if conditions aren't right? Turn around. I have done it time and time again, to climb another day, and this mountain will be no different in that respect. But even though being smart about it means you turn around, it doesn't necessarily mean that you feel good about not making the top. Sometimes you feel sad, sometimes you feel frustrated. But every time- every last time- that I have turned around, I have still felt a sense of reward about being able to make it under my own power and via my own skills to a place where few have tread.

Feathered Friends

The upper limits of Mt Everest sit squarely in the jet stream. The reason that most climbs happen in the month of May is that throughout the year, the top of the mountain is buffeted by winds so fast that it remains unclimbable. Then in May, right before the summer monsoon season begins, a few weeks of calm weather prevail and the jet stream raises high enough that you have the opportunity to sneak up to the top in relative calm. This doesn't remove the temperature extremes, just the wind. Negative 40 is a standard temperature seen at high camp on summit day, so imagine what that would do with winds. I have a great picture of me on Washburn's Thumb, Mt McKinley in negative 40. The difference here is that Washburn's Thumb sits at 16,500', which happens to be 1,000' below the elevation of Everest Base Camp. All stars coming into line, add another 10,000' on to that before I'll be at Camp 4, preparing for our summit push. Please note the frost on my forehead. There's no other way to say it, negative 40 is cold. Mind numbingly cold.

In order to be comfortable in high winds, I'm having a down climbing suit built specifically for this trip. In a nutshell, this is a giant ball of down, wrapped around you in a way where you look like that kid on "Christmas Story"- the one that was all bundled up and then after his mom had just finished wrapping him up for school said that he had to hit the bathroom? Yeah. You have this little teeny slit where you can see out of and the rest of you is encapsulated in foofy down. It's truly kick-ass, but when I tried on a sample for sizing purposes it made me sweat inside of 3 minutes.

Feathered Friends is a local outfitter in Seattle and which focuses on specialized high altitude climbing equipment. It's actually a bit of a local legend and it's walls are adorned with climbing memorabilia from countless climbs spanning the globe. Unlike REI which is a sales machine for the masses, Feathered Friends is there to provide specific gear to a specific market, and based on this experience making such high quality gear, I went in and had one sized. I'm a humongo fan of the bumblebee look- easy to find in the white landscape and not all that common. So the fabrics I chose are wind resistant, breathable and bright, screaming yellow.

Permit Co$ts- Ouch

The first chunk of serious cash is now in. I wanted to cry. Seriously. That's not a joke. To make it even freakier, this was just to cover Nepal climbing permits. While there is a bit of speculation on exactly what is happening in the future surrounding climbing permit fees both in China and Nepal, for now there is definitely a difference in costs:

China- North Side: $4,900 per person (regardless of team size)
Nepal- South Side: $10,000 per person (team size can change overall cost)
Nepal also incorporates a $20,000 surcharge on teams wishing to attempt South Col Route.

It's not exactly a secret that China isn't hurting for cash these days. Nepal on the other hand, is. The poorest country in Asia, Nepal's climber permit philosophy essentially follows the adage of "the higher you climb, the more you pay". Given that there doesn't appear to be another mountain shooting up from the sea to challenge Everest's title as World's Highest Mountain, Nepal clearly recognizes that climbers from around the world will continue to come to Kathmandu. So, they can consistently overcharge with no fear of competition.

This link provides an interesting perspective on team costs and interface with the Chinese and Nepali Governments on climbing permits: http://www.mounteverest.net/news.php?news=16429

Interestingly, one of the article points involves China's interest in bringing the Olympic flame to the top of Everest during this coming year's Olympic Torch Relay leading up to the Beijing Summer Games. In a nutshell, the Chinese are very interested in the flame, and not so much on other teams being on the north side of the mountain. That does say something for the South Side and at the very least being able to feel like I'm part of an International climber community looking to achieve something alongside others. I'm guessing that with all the visibility of the Olympic flame this season, non-Chinese teams on the North Side are in for an interesting coexistence.