Notes From the Trail [Part 5]

By Alden Solovy

Attempting to summit Rainier after 12 days on the trail is a trek of heart, mind and spirit

Climb day began early, around 1 a.m. We ate and dressed as the guides gave final instructions on weather, what to wear and what to pack. Josh, our guide, hooked us to a rope laid out along the side of the trail. The plan: four hikes over snow and rock to the summit, with 15-minute breaks between. We were off.

Step, breath. Step, breath. We crossed the Cowlitz Glacier then Cadaver Gap, the first of two rock formations. I kept catching my crampons on my gaiters, adding random stumbles to the trek. Step, breath. Step, breath. My legs felt heavy, like dragging logs through snow. Sometime beyond the rocks, we reached our first rest stop. I tried to eat, but couldn’t stomach food. Two climbers gave up. Then, we were off again.

My pace was slower than Josh required. He’d yank the rope and I’d lurch forward. Then, one of the other climbers would stumble, pulling me back. There was nothing but darkness and forced motion. When we reached Disappointment Cleaver the wind kicked up, gusting between 40 and 50 miles per hour. “Shoulders into the wind,” Josh yelled, as the wind pushed us off our feet.

Had I been honest with myself at the first rest break, I would have turned back, but the deadly combination of desire, pride and encouragement kept me silent. Every few steps I’d miss the snow pack created by the previous climbers. My leg would sink and I’d struggle to pull it out. Josh’s tugging kept driving me forward when I wasn’t slipping on ice, sinking in snow, yanked from behind or forced down by the wind. We were a herky-jerky roped-up parade. Finally, step after lead-legged step, we reached a rest stop.

The guides received a radio report from scouts up the mountain. High winds and poor visibility made the climb too dangerous. They estimated our elevation at about 12,800 feet, only 1,610 feet shy of the summit. The entire expedition turned back. On that particular day, I climbed as high as our guides would take us.

I’d been around Rainier, hiking for 12 days with 45 pounds on my back, in rain and sleet and sun, dizzy and dehydrated, with aching knees and hands. Then, I went up it, nearly to the top, in 50 mile winds, shivering cold, with nothing left in my legs. A 15-day journey, of heart and mind, body and spirit. I was spent.

At breakfast the morning before the climb Gary asked, “What’s the difference between bravery and stupidity?” I remembered his question as we began our descent.

Perhaps the difference is action. Do we act in the world, or does the world act upon us? What, I thought, is there left to fear? What can the world do to me that the wind hasn’t already done? Driven to my knees, blown off course, forced to the ground. Breathless, exhausted, finished. I stood up to return home, to reclaim my place and my power.

The world can do nothing to my spirit that I don’t allow. The world cannot steal my enthusiasm, strength or hope, unless I give them away. I will try to speak less, listen more, reject anger, restrain my pride and love each moment for what it is. That’s a tall task for me. Like a mountain.

You can contact Alden Solovy at asolovy@healthforum.com

This article first appeared in the July 2007 issue of H&HN magazine.

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