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366daysandnights · 5 years ago

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i set a whole host of goals this year.

spend 30 nights outside. pay off my student loans. finish enough of our home renovation that my children can safely walk around the house on christmas day.

and climb a mountain. a literal one.

i have never, ever felt interested in or called to mountaineering. it has always sounded completely insane to me. you like to hike? let’s do something where you just stare at your feet the entire time! you like to ski? how about an activity where you slip and slide and trek through snow and ice, but don’t actually have any fun? you like to climb? go ahead and load up with ropes and packs and hardware and never really feel the satisfaction of a secure grip.

down to my bones, i am wired and bred to desire warmth. i like eating fruit and salsa at every meal, wearing running shorts and bathing suits despite my undeniable mom-bod, i like sunsets drenched in golden humid air and tunnels of saturated green trees. i don’t do cold – i don’t even like air conditioning. sleeping on a snow field was out of the question.

so beyond the physical challenge, which is formidable, just the idea of climbing mount rainier this year was ridiculous.

the full moon rising over mount baker and a pillowtop of clouds. view from camp muir.

i have written before about the experience of giving birth to both of my children. being a mother is absolutely, undeniably, the most rewarding experience of my life so far. every day i feel like i am living into a biological calling. however, i cannot glamorize pregnancy, childbirth, or the post partum period. i loathed them all. there is only one other time in my life that i have felt so out of touch and out of control of my own body – and that time was puberty.

in the days and months following my delivery of my daughter, i waded through an emotional minefield of feelings that my body had completely failed me. i sobbed in the NICU over my child attached to beeping machines and wires, apologizing to her, apologizing to my husband. i was angry at my womb because i didn’t grow a healthy child. the bones that i had trusted and called home suddenly became a really hard place for me to inhabit. things that felt strong became stretched. movement that felt natural was sometimes painful. i was (correction: AM) exhausted all the time, and the feeling of being fully rested felt like a distant fantasy. the idea of being desired by anyone ever again seemed impossible.

i am grateful for my ability to grow babies, nourish babies, comfort babies. i know this is such important work. the most important thing my body will do. but still, it was hard to take my clothes off and see a topographical map of saudi arabia.

are you exhausted by this narrative yet? it sure did wear me out. i wish i could proclaim that i was able to flip a switch and turn off this chatter, but the truth is it was slow. agonizing. sort of, as it turns out, like climbing up a mountain.

in april, i received an email that applications for REI’s climb for a cause program were open. this fundraising climb got it’s start when a 2013 climb left a group of employees stranded on mount rainier in a whiteout. appreciative of the mount rainier national park climbing rangers that rescued them, they returned with a commitment to give back to search and rescue efforts in the park. REI has partnered with the Washington National Park Fund every year since to organize a fundraising climb, and the Co-Op invites employees to apply for participation. if your application is accepted, you are responsible for your own travel expenses, gear, and commit to raising at least $2,000 towards the effort.

i had started thinking about the possibility of doing a big climb during my sabbatical in 2021. mount rainier had not crossed my mind. i was considering doing something that was categorized as non-technical hiking – mount kilimanjaro or mount whitney were strong contenders. mount rainier is arguably the most formidable peak in the lower 48 – it is not the highest, but it has 13,000 feet of vertical relief and has so much mixed terrain. i had no experience with crampons, ice axes, rope team travel, crevasses, avalanche safety or high exertion at high elevation. this seemed completely out of my wheelhouse (spoiler alert: it was completely out of my wheelhouse), but i was also so tired of telling myself that my body was not capable of doing hard things. i was ready to pack up that baggage and set it the fuck down. or, figuratively, throw it off the side of a very tall mountain.

so i applied.

and, since i don’t believe in false modesty, we’ll fast forward through this next part. i knew my application would be accepted.

panoramic view of high camp with little tahoma at the forefront

in the months that followed, i spent a lot of time hiking up and down lookout mountain, and a lot of time getting up close and personal with the southwest facing stair climber at the ymca. i borrowed gear from my amazing co-workers, who offered high fives, enthusiasm, and training tips. i shared training progress through the summer and my friends, family and community helped me to reach my fundraising goal. i went to SheVentures, one of my favorite events of the summer, and shared with the women at camp my dream of climbing mount rainier as part of a journey to trust my body again. the support and energy that poured in from everyone around me was indescribable. i hiked with my dad. i hiked with my children. i felt supported by people i love, and by people that i had only just met.

when i packed my bags and arrived in seattle earlier this month, i was undeniably freaked out, but i also felt good. i felt confident in my legs and i felt bolstered by the support of my amazing tribe.

our team was composed of 8 REI employees from all over the country – washington, oregon, texas, connecticut and tennessee. we were joined by 4 guides from international mountain guides. we had varied levels of experience. none of us had ever met. i feel like this is laying some groundwork for a really good reality TV show (i’ll build that out in the next post). we enjoyed a couple of casual, introductory meals together, got our gear checked out, and started our trek.

on the first day, we ascended from the paradise visitor’s center parking lot to the shelter at camp muir. this route travels through a lush stretch of foggy evergreen and wildflowers, through a snowfield, to the base of the ingraham glacier. it gains about 4,600 ft over 4.5 miles. i threw up when we arrived at the shelter. following that glamorous introduction to mountaineering, i committed to drinking more water, abandoning performance food for burritos, and focusing on pacing my breathing.

on the second day, we did skills clinics with our guides on some basics of mountaineering – how to use crampons, how to self-arrest in the event of a fall, how to travel on a rope team. when we started this leg of our hike, i roped in behind our lead guide nickel (like the coin) and just listened. i don’t know how the universe aligned to gift us with a lead guide that was also a certified yoga instrutor, but hallelujah. this was a shorter day – i tried to mimic nickel’s very deliberate pace, the crunchy sound of his step, the audible “whoosh” of his breath. we ascended another 1,100 ft to our high camp that afternoon and talked about summit day plans over dinner. this time, i didn’t throw up. that felt like progress.

that night, we went to bed around 6pm. at 11pm, nickel came around to wake us all up. i sat up on my sleeping pad in the tent and was immediately out of breath. i was super nervous. nickel suggested that our rope team leave 15-20 minutes ahead of the other groups so that we could be intentional about pacing and not have to stress. more pacing, less stress – this all sounded good to me. we loaded up a lighter summit day pack with snacks and extra layers, clipped in, and set off to ascend the ingraham glacier and the disappointment cleaver.

hiking across the flats in the dead of the night was breathtaking. the moon was almost full and luminous in the clear, black sky. constellations twinkled, bright jeweled pinpoints reflecting against an expansive white snowfield. the dark red rock of the disappointment cleaver loomed ahead of us, but luckily i couldn’t see much other than the hypnotic black and crystal sky. it was beautiful. our pace was steady and deliberate – a raking “step, step, breathe.” as we started climbing up the cleaver, all i noticed was that one of my hip flexors was starting to feel kind of stiff and i actually felt relieved. like, thank GOD – something other than my lungs are wearing out!

crevasses leading up to our high camp. disappointment cleaver and the rainier summit in the background.

the cleaver separates two of the 25 glaciers that make up mount rainier. disappointment cleaver is exactly the right name for it. hiking up that thing is 100% disappointing. every step was cautious, made even clumsier by my inexperience wearing crampons. i was tripping over myself, and thinking (over thinking) cautiously about every spot i placed my feet. every time i teach or take a yoga class, there is a moment (or a few) that i pause and ask myself or my participants, “hey, just checking on something real quick – are you breathing?” people usually chuckle and then release a huge exhale. i kept repeating this to myself.

hey jacki, just checking in – are you breathing?

internal monologue is so powerful. the only thing that can combat internal monologue is a) a very convincing external factor, or b) practice. memory. muscle memory, psychological memory. i have a sign by my bed that says “sometimes you wake up in the morning and you think ‘i’m not going to make it.’ but then you laugh inside, remembering all the times you felt that way.” my inexperience in this activity and landscape reared up and my internal monologue took over. by the time the other groups caught up with us, it was not super affirming. i just kept thinking, “i am slowing everyone down.” and just like that, i was pulling for air. irregular wheezing. i couldn’t catch my breath, and i knew i was done.

descending back down to paradise

before we started our final ascent, our guides made something clear: summitting was optional. returning safely to the parking lot at the end of the hike was not optional. reaching the columbia crest at the summit of mount rainier was only 50% of the distance we had to travel. when we reached the top of the disappointment cleaver at 12,300 ft, i turned to nickel and told him, “i have to be honest, i don’t have 50% left in the tank.” i was just vocalizing something he already knew.

the rest the team continued the remaining 2,000 ft to complete their summit. i turned around and made my way down the cleaver with another guide, and i can confirm that descending the cleaver in total darkness is just as disappointing as ascending. i watched the sunrise from my tent, and heard the guides check in with their main office over the radio.

“we had 7 of 8 successful summits. it’s been a great trip.”

it was at that point that i cried, packed up my stuff and got ready for the return trip down the mountain.

that beautiful monster

and here’s the funny thing. the descent was amazing. i had plenty of rest at that point, had spent all of the emotional energy i had available to mourn my failed attempt, and the sun was up. i was warm. my legs felt good. i paused to take photos as we crept down the mountain. we decided to glissade down the snow field, which is basically just a fancy word for sliding on your ass, and it was seriously one of the most fun things i have ever done. as we emerged out of the snow and back onto the dirt trail, i still had enough in the tank to look around and wonder at the delicate beauty of the subalpine meadows.

when we arrived at the parking lot, laurie – the executive director of the washington national park fund – was waiting for us with a cooler of cold drinks and a huge smile. she was filled with sincere pride and gratitude for the trek we just made and the contributions we made towards the park fund. we learned that the money we raised this year would go towards two underfunded programs in the park – the mountain rainier roadside assistance program, and the mount rainier/mountain rescue association joint patrol program. we toasted champagne, shared a closing ceremony pizza, and my new friends and teammates signed the summit board at IMG headquarters. i felt proud to watch them sign their names, proud to have shared the experience, and proud of what we were able to contribute back to the park as a team.

being on a glacier is like being on another planet. it is a powerful, living thing – moving, creaking, creating new landscapes in it’s wake. knowing that the vast appalachian range that i call home was formed by glacial movement, and that there is about 100 ft of glacial dust under the western part of tennessee, i returned home with a renewed connection to this vast thing that is both powerful and also frail. putting my boot on the ground and seeing the clear blue glacial ice below it is something i won’t ever forget.

peace signs at high camp

in the meantime, i learned a lot about my body. it didn’t do what i asked it to do, but the world didn’t end either. i still think that mountaineering is completely insane. but i also know that i will be back on mount rainier, back on that cleaver, to learn just a little bit more.

this was waiting for me in the mail when i returned home. the universe always knows.

we started at the bottom, now we’re here. i set a whole host of goals this year. spend 30 nights outside. pay off my student loans.

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