A Fork in the Road

The Fork

By 1997, I had been living in Colorado for over a decade. Now in my mid 30's, I had become a modern mountain man. Climbing nearly all of Colorado's Fourteeners had honed my mountaineering and climbing skills. Likewise, I had established a growing network of mountaineers and climbers as friends. I had studied mountain craft in books and had participating in training exercises both formal and informal wherever I could. Perhaps most importantly, I had built up experience applying these skills with my friends during a wide variety of alpine adventures. Over time my climbing group of friends had established confidence in each other’s capabilities and teamwork. Most of us were at similar stages in our lives. Climbing when we could but all the while grinding through work week after work week. Although we all had our responsibilities, we could now generally afford to finance a week or two of serious expeditionary adventure.

With increasing experience, our mountaineering options were expanding. Some of my friends were considering climbs outside the continental United States. I too had been reading up on Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Western Hemisphere and I was actively lobbying for it to be the logical next "step up". What would it be? My most active group of friends, sort of the "A" group of my climbing peers, formed an exploratory committee to consider various ascents outside the US. Ultimately, it boiled down to two options. Aconcagua in South America or the Peruvian Andes of Central America. Unfortunately for me, my friends opted to climb in Peru. Disappointed that Aconcagua was out, I declined to join the Peru Expedition and instead began to consider my domestic adventure options. Something which would consume no more than a week or two of vacation time with my other, less ambitious, friends.

Looking back, it is clear to me, that I had stumbled through a fork in the road (so to speak). Although I had matured into a capable mountaineer, the decision to forgo the Andes had consequently re-set my course back toward domestic mountaineering objectives. Mountains that could be driven to. There were, of course, benefits to this new strategy. For one, my wife was quite pleased that I would not be leaving the country and that staying closer to home would cost less. Although staying in the US would obviously be somewhat less glamourous, there were still many mountains yet to climb within my r0am-zone.

The Plan

After doing some research and planning, I formulated a trip that I could pitch to my remaining climbing friends. The idea would be to check out the Sierra Mountains and the Cascade Range. I proposed we leverage my trusty pick-up camper as a mobile “base camp” during a driving excursion up to Washington State and then south along the backside of the Cascade peaks of Oregon. We would camp, climb, and explore along the way. Ultimately, working our way down into California to tackle a few of the state's northern fourteeners.

Mount Baker would be our first, northern-most peak and then we would selectively climb or explore a few of the highest mountains on our way south. Our final and southern-most peak would be California's, and the continental US's highest fourteener: Mt. Whitney. It was a grand plan for a few weeks of vacation. Little did I know exactly what I was actually proposing.

My truck at the time was a big-block V8. It ran 6-10 mpg so splitting the cost of gas was key to keep the trip cost down. After proposing the concept, two of my friends, also fellow peak-baggers, signed up. A third friend, would join for the California section after one of first two would head home after Oregon. The first tow agreed to fly up to Seattle where I would pick them up before we jointly proceeded up toward Mt. Baker. Two of my friends, Jack and Dave, had climbed all the Colorado fourteeners and were presently working there way through all of Colorado’s thirteeners (the tallest peaks over thirteen thousand feet high and below fourteen thousand feet). My other friend, Dean, had been doing a good bit of rock climbing with me and was also quite capable.

For both Jack and I, this would be our first exposure to the slumbering volcanos of the Pacific North West (PNW). Dean had some experience, and it was not good. He had attempted a solo, exploratory day trip, up one of Rainier’s routes years before. Unfortunately, he had lost the trail in the mist and snow and had spent a few miserable nights out while bushwhacking his way out through the surrounding rain forest. Eventually stumbling upon a farm, unknown miles away from his car which remained at his original put in. Luckily, the kind farmer who lived there gave him a ride back to his parking spot. Heeding Dean’s experience, we thought Mt. Baker might be more manageable than Rainier. However, after climbing Baker, we would plan to reconnoiter Mount Rainier as the basis for planning a future ascent.