HayStack Rock

Winter!

As the season wraps up for the remaining climbing rangers here at Mount Rainier, we would like to thank everyone who came out to enjoy Mount Rainier this year. Whether you were climbing, skiing, camping or just day hiking into the alpine, we hope your trip was enjoyable, even if it was during one of those seemingly frequent stretches of stormy weather.


Remember the park doesn't close, just some roads and buildings do. So if you want to come out and enjoy this wonderful area over the winter please do! The road to Paradise is maintained year round and open, weather permitting, throughout the winter. The other roads in the park close as the snow comes, but for the hardy few who aren't turned off by the longer approach these more remote areas of Rainier can lead to some incredible climbing and skiing opportunities all winter long.


Stay tuned to this blog throughout the winter for updates (although less frequent) about conditions on Rainier and happenings related to climbing. Check out the route conditions pages for pertinent winter information about the mountain and high camps before you come out to climb.

Have a safe and enjoyable winter!

Muir Snowfield and Camp Muir

Muir Snowfield and Camp Muir on May 21 2006

There is great coverage all the way up. Most people are still using the winter trail up to Pan Point. Beyond that the trail is very well wanded all the way to muir. There has been a lot of traffic on it and there is a great boot pack all the way to Muir. Even though it is pretty soft if people stay in the boot track they only end up post-holing in a few places. The skiing on the snowfield is excellent right now. Yesterday we got a dusting of snow and had perfect corn underneath that above 8500'. Today all of that froze and the snow was rock hard down to about 8500', but below that it was a wonderful 3" of soft wet snow on top of a frozen base so it was fun fast skiing. The chute down onto the Nisqually was stellar and fairly easy to traverse back up to the main trails at the glacier vista overlook (we did not have to put our skins back on). There are also two really fun kickers just below glacier vista :)

All in all its in pretty darn good shape for skiing. I would say folks don't need crampons unless they plan to travel really early or really late in the day. Skis or a board will make it lots of fun and I don't think snowshoes are that helpful since the boot pack is so well traveled.

The Camp Muir Public Shelter was significantly refurbished in 2005. The new interior design increases the usable space markedly. The bunks are organized to accommodate more people, as is the storage and cooking space. So far, the comments have been very positive; in particular, many expressed appreciation of the increased lighting.

If you plan to stay in the public shelter, please keep it clean! Always secure the door when leaving, as a small crack will fill the hut with snow during storms. Never leave anything (food, gas, and gear.) Also, overnight travelers should consider brining own shelter in case they’re unable to make it to Camp Muir. At this time, the public shelter and toilet are accessible.

Please do your part to keep the mountain clean. Petrified feces and toilet paper flags strewn along the climbing routes and crusted on rocks near bivi sites are unsightly and unsanitary. Remember that everyone on the mountain melts snow for drinking water. All parties are required to pack their solid human waste off the mountain when not using the toilets at Camp Muir and Camp Schurman. Blue bags are available with climbing permits. Blue bags may be deposited in the large black barrels at Camp Muir or at Paradise. The barrel at Paradise is located in the restroom tunnel next to the men’s room.

Thanks, Miriam!

Sunday, September 19th - - It was a delightful day that was spent with one of my favs – Miriam Midkiff of Ancestories :: The Stories of my Ancestors. Miriam has already written about our day but I just wanted to add that it was my pleasure to be able to spend some time with her - to get to know her a little better and to meet her son and husband. Her son, being a teenager, didn't have much to say but her husband and I had several engaging conversations while Miriam was off doing something else. The pot roast was delicious. It was very nice to have a home-cooked meal for a change!

Miriam Robbins Midkiff and Becky Wiseman. Photo taken September 19, .. by her husband.
Even though I knew that Miriam and I probably wouldn't get together until Sunday, I arrived in Spokane about mid-day Friday. I had decided that this would be a good opportunity to have a couple of “down” days. I had to tend to some errands – get the oil changed in the van, laundry, grocery shopping – you know, things that “normal” people do on a regular basis ;-)

I also took advantage of having electricity at the RV park to work on the photos from August on the netbook. I don't normally stay at commercial RV parks (or resorts, as this one was called) because they usually resemble parking lots. But for some reason the state of Washington closed the campgrounds in some of its State Parks in mid-September so I had no alternative. This particular RV resort was actually kind of nice. There were some trees and bushes in between each parking space, which provided some degree of privacy. A rarity in an RV park! They also had wifi available but I kept getting kicked off the network after about 15 minutes online. Luckily there was a McDonalds across the street...and their wifi worked great.

My stop-over in Spokane was a nice break in my journey. Several tasks were accomplished and I got to spend some time with a friend. Thank you, Miriam! And I look forward to our next visit, someday!

The Emptiness of Those Lives...

Over the weekend I read The Riderby TimKrabbé.



This is not a review of the book, but I will summarise it as a stream of consciousness account of what goes through a middle aged cyclist's mind as he takes part in an amateur bicycle race in southern France in 1978.I did not know very much about The Rider before reading it, which is probably why I was caught off guard by its apparently famous opening:



"Hot and overcast. I take my gear out of the car and put my bike together. Tourists and locals are watching from sidewalk cafes. Non-racers. The emptiness of those lives shocks me."



After reading these lines, I shut the book and put it away. Needing something to do, I immediately busied myself with making tea. Was I annoyed? offended? angry? and by whom or what - the writer himself or by the feeling he managed to communicate so successfully?



I review the scene in my mind's eye. So here are the racers, getting ready. And here are some spectators who came to support them. I imagine that one is a school teacher, another an emergency room doctor, another a firefighter, another a war veteran, and so on and so forth. And then I replay it: "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."



In the course of my own life, I've been fortunate enough to live and work in the midst of various "important" people - researchers dedicated to finding treatments for diseases, rescue workers in war-torn countries, politicians who have the power to effect change with a single signature, and fine artists whose work is exhibited in the worlds' greatest museums. Not once have I heard any of them refer to others' lives as empty. If anything, they often question their own choices and complain that their work is not as fulfilling in reality as they had imagined it would be. I've also known serious athletes, who, while passionate about their sport, were not consumed by it to the exclusion of all else. But I do know roadcyclists whose thoughts reflect that famous sentence in The Rider. In fact I've met quite a few.




Amateur bicycle racers and racing aspirants have a reputation for arrogance, for "taking themselves too seriously" and truly believing that cycling is the most important and fulfilling thing in the world. For some time now this has fascinated me. Is it posturing? Are those drawn to roadcyling seeking to construct a life narrative of hardship and heroism in the absence of true hardship in their lives (poverty, illness, war, rape, ethnic persecution)? or, in some cases to distract from that hardship? Or is it the other way around - that something about cycling (what? a chemical it releases?) has such a powerful effect on the body and mind that it eclipses all else and turns perfectly sane people into crazed Ahabs on two wheels?




My curiosity about this is mingled with fear, and ultimately that is probably what made me put downThe Riderafter the opening passage. Sometimes, when I spend too much time on my roadbike I can feel myself lose perspective in a way I've never lost it before. Not in terms of arrogance per se - for someone with my abilities there is nothing to be arrogant about. But, I don't know, it's as if I can sense the existence of another dimension that I am not sure I want to cross into. Some cyclists I know, they are already there and they are "different." The narrator of The Rider(which I've since read to completion) is certainly there, and he describes that state in devastating detail.

Along for the Ride with the Veteran Cycle Club of Northern Ireland

Over the weekend I rode with the Veteran Cycle Club of Northern Ireland, and am still re-living the experience. To say that there were rare bikes, stunning scenery, and a charming group of riders doesn't do it justice. Put it this way: It was certainly my most memorable group ride to date. The Veteran Cycling Club is a world-wide organisation that promotes riding and conservation of vintage bicycles, and the Northern Ireland section has been around for 3 years under the leadership of Chris Sharp - a vintage bicycle collector who is known worldwide thanks to the jaw-dropping contents of his flickr account.





When Chris learned that my stay in Antrim coincided with the date of the club's monthly ride, he honoured me with an invitation and I gladly accepted. I have never done a purely social group ride like this before, and did not know what to expect - other than, of course, a fleet of vintage bicycles that Mr. Sharp and friends are known for.





And so, on a fortuitously sunny Saturday morning, I found myself outside a rural community center near the town of Limavady, where 17 riders from all over Northern Ireland gathered with their fine machines.






The bicycles did not disappoint, though after some time my head began to spin from exposure to too many rare and never-before-seen bikes at once. I am easily excitable, I need small doses!





I was so stunned by it all, that I didn't even manage to get decent shots of some of the most interesting stuff!







Highlights included an all-original Lapierre Porteur, which I even had a chance to ride very briefly. It was so strange to see a real French 650B lightweight with original components, having gotten used to contemporary tributes with Velo Orange parts!






The owner of this bicycle (also named Chris) is gradually restoring it and trying to locate a couple of original parts - not easy with French threading and 650B.





There was a fascinating Gundle Work Bike. The manufacturer was apparently the predecessor of Pashley Cycles.





The huge front carrier on this bike is built into the frame, right into the lugwork.It is meant to house a boxy basket.






Keith enjoyed riding this bike very much, despite his racing background and penchant for roadbikes. I believe there was even a sprint finish involved.





Then there was the mystery bike - notice the peculiar frame construction.






The frame is unmarked and the owner, Andy, does not know anything about its origin. He built it up beautifully.Any ideas as to what this frame could be? I seem to recall seeing pictures of German or Austrian frames in this style, but can't be sure.





Rose rode a stunningly elegant and very tall 1933 Elswick loop frame that Chris had lent her, and she honoured it with an appropriate outfit.






And of course there were plenty of vintage Roadsters. This particular one is a Rudge.





The bicycle I rode (also on loan from Chris) was a 1941 Royal Enfield Sport Roadster. I have a lot to say about this bike and will save it for another post. But let me assure you that it is not as innocent as it looks - and don't let the rod brakes fool you either!






This seemingly normal-looking Humber is pretty unusual as well if you look closely: It has twin fork blades! Presumably, this was done as an experimental suspension fork, to dampen vibrations from bad roads.





There was more, much more - in particular the stunning details and the rarely seen components on the many pre-1940s bikes in attendance. But to list them all would risk turning this into a catalogue.





And so I suggest visiting Northern Ireland instead and taking part one of these rides yourself, naturally!





We set off around noon and pedaled along a route that was both beautiful and suitable for the sorts of bikes we were riding. There were a couple of hills, but vintage roadsters are not as ill-equipped for them as some think. Once we got going, our procession somehow naturally arranged itself into a fairly well-organised double paceline, and we would fall into single file when traffic called for it. Riding in a group like this really helped me become acclimated to the left-handed flow of traffic. As I followed the group on turns, it became more and more intuitive.






Let me tell you though... Riding bicycles on loan from Chris Sharp is not without its consequences. By the end of the day both Rose and I were referring to the bikes we were riding as "my bike." Chris almost began to get nervous, reminding us gently that we would be returning them after the ride. Thankfully, that is the only problem anyone in the group had with their bikes all day. All the bicycles present were impeccably well maintained by their owners!





The scenery we passed was out of this world beautiful. With green jagged hills ever present in the distance, we rode along the river Roe and to Lough Foyle - the body of water that separates the western part of Northern Ireland from County Donegal in the Republic of Ireland.





But the truly special thing about this ride was its destination. Around the halfway point of the ride, our group stopped for tea and pancakes in a traditional thatched Irish cottage. This cottage is privately owned, but by some behind-the-schenes magic they opened it up to us.







This cottage has remained unchanged through the centuries, which is a rarity nowadays. There was no heat or electricity, and so water was boiled on the open fire.





The fire mesmerised everyone with its glow and for some time we all just sat there, content to be warmed by it. It is amazing how quickly a fire can warm up the interior of a small house. We were all thankful, as the outside temperature was quite brutal.







Also as if by magic (my God, I can only imagine how much work went into planning this behind the scenes...), a gorgeous and delicate tea service awaited us inside the cottage.






Delicious pancakes with butter were served to the hungry riders.





The supply of both pancakes and hot tea seemed endless. It was not to be believed.





With all our bicycles lined up outside the thatched cottage, it was quite a sight and everyone around got a kick out of it. Even in rural parts of Northern Ireland vintage roadsters are a very rare sight nowadays - let alone a fleet of them, outside a thatched cottage.





It almost felt as if a festival was underway - which hopefully made it worth it for Michael to come all the way from Belfast to join the ride!





On the return route, we stopped by a couple more scenic spots and photographed the heck out of each other and our bikes in the afternoon sunshine. Rose and Andy were particularly picturesque in their period-appropriate garments.






I had considered dressing up, but the morning was such a freezing one that my body just said "no" and I wore about 20 layers of wool instead.






Once we were back from the ride, there was a great deal of trying out each other's bikes and discussing bikes, as well as discussing why and how we collect vintage bicycles. At this point, I am pretty sure my conversational skills had deteriorated to an incoherent babble as my eyes darted from headlamp to chaincase to porteur rack, to the beautiful green hills and baby lambs that surrounded us, unable to process it all as real.





By the time it was over, I felt drunk on tea, bikes, scenery, thatched cottages, and conversation. This was not a typical club ride, and not a typical club. It was not even a typical collector's society, compared to the others I've encountered. I do not know what to make of it, other than to say that I enjoyed it and would love to take part in more rides like this in future. Maybe it's time to consider a VCC membership? Thank you Chris, Susan, Keith, and everyone else I encountered for making me feel welcome. More pictures from the ride here and also from Chris Sharp over here.

Uphill track!

I'm alive and on the uphill track! It is a good start for the rest.