Rainier Report: Sunday, July 28

Mark Eppley and his high-tech pack

4:30 a.m.: Heading to our meeting point at Keil Hillman's house just east of Seattle, I make good time on the abandoned streets of Sunday's pre-dawn I-90. I'm meeting Keil, Anthony Bolante, Mark Eppley, and Annabel Spencer to spend a week climbing Mount Rainier--and broadcasting the progress of our climb here.

The Northwest summer has been brilliantly hot for the past 15 days, and we've packed plenty of sunscreen. From the radio, amid the "Greatest Hits of the '70s," comes a sing-song "Northwest Weaaaather" update: the three-day forecast has changed and now includes a high chance of thunderstorms for the next day and a half.

5:35 a.m.: Standing in Keil's driveway, the five of us stare at a mountain of food, tents, hardware, and electronic gadgets. Our first challenge is figuring out how to get this load into the van. We all choose to ignore the obvious question--how is all this junk going to fit in packs and on our backs?

6:32 a.m.: An hour later we hit the road, barely squeezed in the van.

7:45 a.m.: We stop for coffee. Mark, glancing back at the load, orders a triple-Americano. "Substitute the water for drip coffee," he says.

9:41 a.m.: Arriving at the White River campground in Mount Rainier National Park, we struggle to find a place to unload and sort our gear amid the packed campground and parking lot. The place is bumper to bumper. Every road shoulder, camping space and parking spot is full. We make do with a reserved camp spot and hope to move along before the owners arrive.

10:46 a.m.: Unbelievably, we manage to pack all of the gear we've brought along. The loads we have to carry are truly epic, including a week's worth of fresh food, climbing gear, down parkas, a laptop, cellular phone, several kinds of cameras. With the help of Anthony, I shoulder my load. It stands tall above my head and I can't remove or put it back on without a hand from behind. It contains many humorous items. Some of the funniest include a three-watt cellular phone about the size of a briefcase and seemingly made of lead. Another funny one is a one-gallon canister of white gas. Ha ha.

10:49 a.m.: We begin hiking up the trail to the Inter Glacier, where we will camp tonight.

11:19 a.m.: We have gone, perhaps, a half-mile up the trail.

11:29 a.m.: My knee is clicking oddly.

1:34 p.m.: We take a break from hiking and, despite the monster loads we're saddled with, everyone feels great. None of us but Keil has carried this much weight before. But we feel comfortable moving slow and intend to take the mountain gradually.

2:02 p.m.: Our 3.5-mile hike has ended at the base of Inter Glacier. From here we will ascend up to about 10,500-feet tomorrow. Today, though, having gained about 3,000 feet, we will camp. Glancing southeast over my shoulder I notice tall pillars of rain.

Pausing to rest near Glacier Basin

2:31 p.m.: We've rested and had plenty of water. So far we've not had to rope up or put on our crampons. Any snow we've crossed has been soft enough for easy footing and we've yet to actually head out onto the glacier, where a rope would be necessary. Our campsite is just about a half-mile past the tree line. We can see a great distance, including a splendid view of the mountain.

3:50 p.m.: We emerge from an abandoned mine shaft that Keil, our guide, remembers from his days as a Boy Scout. Locating it took some doing as the shaft's entrance is still covered in snow. After a few minutes of digging, we broke down the lip into the entrance. We made our way down into the hole, headlamps burning bright.

Exploring the mine shaft was pure Huck Finn fun, though probably very much like a host of other fatally flawed adventures on the mountain--little forays that have thousands around the country shaking their heads in disbelief, muttering, "Damn kids, won't they ever learn?"

The walls, though, were extremely solid. The floor of the mine shaft was covered with five or six inches of water everywhere and the ceiling was high enough to walk upright most of the time. It extended about a hundred yards into the mountain before dropping off at an angle too steep for our quaking boots. About 10 minutes into the shaft, we all turned off our headlamps briefly and smiled in pitch blackness, beneath a massive piece of Mount Rainier.

3:52 p.m.: That angry gang of clouds has started to rumble somewhere directly above us. While Keil, Anthony, and Mark coil the rope and break down the anchor, Annabel and I race to set up the tents and furiously begin throwing the gear in them. We're using a The North Face VE-25 and Westwind. The VE-25 goes up slick as can be and holds all the gear. The Westwind, now a discontinued, non-freestanding model, elicits a few curses.

6:39 p.m.:After resting from the mad scramble, we begin to assemble the supplies for the first night's dinner. The skies are really dumping now and we're all looking around a little frustrated at the prospects, wrapped up tight in our storm gear. This is a bad break. Mark calls NOAA and finds out that there are serious thunderstorms scheduled for the next day or so. This could mean really bad news because if we get wet and cold, it'll be hard to continue. Protecting the ridiculous amount of electronic gear could also get dicey if the moisture becomes too heavy. Not to mention our 70- to 80-pound packs, which are just about killing us now. If they get soaked, I doubt we'll make much progress. For the first time, real uncertainty creeps into my mind.

7:45 p.m.: After an enjoyable meal of burritos, cheese, and a great dessert pastry that defies description, we drink some hot cocoa and turn in. Everyone's beat and we have to get up early to hit the day tomorrow.