Mt Baker - The next challenge.

The climb was exhilarating. I can say that now because it has been more than eight days since I have returned from the summit. Not too long ago, I would not have been so sure. We made it to the summit just as the sun was setting - a magnificent sight. The air was thin but tolerable. My breath was sure and I was not really fatigued-thanks to our trusty lead guide, Seth Timpano. He made the difference as the lead climber. I had the luxury of following in his footsteps- literally. The ascent took about 8 hours from base camp. When I look back on it, I really have to think as to where those hours went. I have no sense of the length of time that had transpired. You take an eight hour plane flight and you know it. You sit in an airport for eight hours and you know it. You climb a mountain in eight hours and it seems like only a brief interlude. Only really scary moment on the way up was a small avalanche that caused a few screams. It was headed directly towards us from about 200 yards up the mountain side. In the end, however, as all but me scrambled to safety, it turned out to be more of a loose snowfall than a significant avalanche. I do remember them screaming at me to move. I turned only to see that all four others on my rope team had made it further from the oncoming runaway snow mass than me. I just had a harder time moving in the deep wet snow as the others. My body had sunk to my knees and further movement would have been almost futile. The fall moved about three feet to my left.

The descent was probably the most difficult part of the expedition. We descended from the summit after dark with head lamps to guide the way. Made it to base camp after midnight. I learned my biggest weakness and one that concerns me the most - balance. The snow on the highest part of the glacier was soft, uneven, and deep at that time of night. It had become wet following exposure to the day's sun and cloudless blue skies.The slope at that initial high point of the descent was the steepest part of the journey. I was constantly falling and scrambling and falling. To descend at a steady pace in the thin air does require energy expenditure. To descend, tumble with a 35 pound pack on your back, scramble frantically to your feet, free yourself from tangled ropes, and then repeat the same nearly futile process every three minutes requires tenfold increase in energy expenditures. The others with steady feet never experienced the same exertion. At one point, my leg sank so deep in the snow, I almost pulled my foot out of my boot in an attempt to free myself from its vice like grip. Remind you, I was the oldest in the group by several decades. Most were in there 20s and 30s. We were all on ropes and I had a hard time keeping up with the rest of my more experienced climbing partners. I was ready to beg them to leave me behind. I knew, however, that was not really an option given the plummeting high mountain temperatures.

I think you get the picture. I was asked by a colleague here at the hospital what personal insight I had gained from the experience. An interesting question? Was I a different person? Did I know myself better? I thought for a moment and responded with the first words that came to my mind- " I am older than I thought."

C'est la vie. There is much more to be said but that will require more time. It is also time to end this chapter of my blogging. The hospital fund raiser has met its goal and our plans are to continue and involve my friends here at the Infirmary. I am grateful to all. It has hopefully for us been a unifying experience. This particular blog will open again in the future as new plans are established. As for me, I am planning a new adventure this winter. Will, likely, head to Chile and the southern Patagonia ranges to practice mixed climbing techniques and summiting one of the 13,000 foot peaks found in the region. In the meantime, training in rock climbing and ice climbing will occur in Westchester County and the Catskills. Will likely do Algonquin in the Adirondacks this fall. Need to work on more leg and core strenthening as well as balance and endurance.

As for my blogging, I have enjoyed the experience of writing. If nothing else, the process has awakened in me the joys of literature - the process of conveying thoughts with words; the pleasure of seeing how creative those many minds out there can really be. I now read more than at any time in my life. All this indeed may be a life changing event. On the other hand, I may just end up in my usual state of affairs, some place on a beach sipping pina coladas. I will be opening a new blog wouldbemountaineer.blogspot.com ( an opportunity for full blown irreverence)- practicing my writing skills in addition to mountaineering. Have no idea where this is going but enjoying the trip -climbing the summit of my sunset years

Mt. Baker - what day is it?

So last night I checked in at this spur of the moment hotel room with a big king bed within the Seattle city limits. Not exactly sure how I got there or what part of Seattle it was in. I know that there wasn't a building around that was higher than four floors. I even doubt that I could ever find the place again if it wasn't for that Space Needle Thing down the block that was stretching to the night sky like a beacon calling me to a new world order and a chance to rest; yes, a chance to rest. After I checked in and told them to leave all luggage in the car (I was certain I did not have the strength to unload my tooth brush), I then walked across the street and had an order of fried chicken at this hole in the wall restaurant. I can't remember the name of the place or how the food tasted. I knew the affair was over when they took my plate away and gave me shake so as to remind me it was time to pay the bill. From there it was but a short walk to this little movie house down the street. It was just in time to see one of those indie films, you know the ones with the shaky camera and unknown actors. It was called The Winter Bones. I think it was around 9:45 PM. when the movie started. There were about three other people in the theater. Munched on some malted milk balls for the sugar rush so that I could stay awake for the rather bizarre conclusion to the film. I then walked back to the hotel room, closed the curtains to the flashing neon lights on the street right outside my window, and collapsed on the bed. As you might conclude from all this, I am still alive - barely.

This morning I checked into the most expensive hotel I could find. It happens to be The Four Seasons on the Seattle waterfront. From the lobby it was a straight course to their outdoor pool that overlooks the Puget Sound with the North Cascade Mountains in the background. To get to the pool with its fantastic plush lounge chairs and the best Bloody Mary you could ever ask for at 11:45 in the morning, I had to walk by the fitness center. Lots of folks grunting and puffing on tread mills so intensely, it was if they were trying to beat the devil for an extra few years of life. Not that latter insanity for me today, no sir. I can't even remember why folks would be actually doing that sort of thing. As for me, I just want to sit by the pool on the sixteenth floor, take in the incredible vista, and soak up the sun and the tasty beverage I will have delivered on a silver platter - not necessarily in that order.

The climb to the summit of Mt Baker and the subsequent descent was actually more than I had imagined. I am sore and very, very, very tired. I will talk more about that later. Right now, I am headed back to one of the super soft lounge chairs by the side of the pool. Sweet dreams await.

Mt Baker -Tomorrow is the Climb

This message is being sent illegally from some hotel lobby in Seattle. Not a very heroic way of communicating my last blog before the climb but the truth none the least. The hotel that I am actually currently staying at does not have a business center. The redeeming factor is that my own friendly, rather modest inn is close to the offices of Alpine Ascents and, thus, satisfies my anxiety disorder. I want to be sure to get to gear check promptly at 2PM today, so I have been pacing up and down the street in front of their offices for the last two days. Makes sense? I really felt that I needed to write this blog. Thus, I walked until I could find a hotel with computer access. Signed in at the desk and voila. They assumed I was a guest and never asked.

After gear check this afternoon at the Alpine Ascents office, I will drive my rental car (not an XK8 Jag!) to a motel outside of Mt Baker National Park. I will there unload all my equipment, check to be sure all is in order, and repack my Denali Pro backpack in hopefully some practical way. My objective is to minimize the weight of the pack by any means possible. That means thinking in terms of ounces not pounds. One protein bar, for instance, is 3 ounces. How many protein bars do I actually need? Tried to figure out the most usable calories per unit weight and load up on that substance. Trail mix with nuts seem to be the best option. It is principally because of the dehydration process which makes it the most efficient means of energy delivery. Beef jerky is another example of the way in which removing water weight may be beneficial in reducing weight. I also loaded up on nutrient/electrolyte mixes to add to my drinking water. An interesting article in the NY Times Science section several days ago pointed out that energy levels in a randomized study increased 18% in those individuals who drank caloric mixes during exercises vs those who drank only water.

Yesterday, my biggest dilemma was deciding on whether or not to include a summit pack to my gear. The latter is a small backpack that I will use on the day I climb to the peak and obviates the need for my more weighty expedition-oriented Denali Pro. The latter is designed to get all my gear to base camp. There were several summit pack options to choose from. Comparisons were made between one weighing 24 ounces (30 liter volume) vs another weighing 13 ounces (18 liter volume). I chose the former so that I would not be short changed on space for any lifesaving clothing or equipment. I was hesitant, however, because of the extra 11 ounces, a humongous weight addition. After packing, I plan to get to bed early. I am to be at the trail head at 7AM.

The trip here to Seattle was fairly uneventful. Read an interesting book on the plane called "No Way Down: Life and Death on K2". For those of you who might not know, K2 is in the Karakorum mountain range on the border of Pakistan and China. It is the second tallest peak in the world, 800 feet lower than Everest but a far more treacherous climb. The true account by a New York Times journalist, Graham Bowley(spelling?), took place in 2008 when 11 climbers from an international expedition lost their lives. They were cut off during a descent from the summit of K2 by an ice fall which destroyed their rope lines. I read to try to understand any important message that could be used for my own upcoming mountaineering adventures. After finishing the book, I am not sure there really is one. Stuff happens and that is that. Mountaineering books tend to run in the same vein. Serious works about individuals lost, injured, or otherwise. There needs to be a different perspective. My own little mountaineering blog started three months ago and has been an experience in and of itself. Will plan on continuing the writing effort in some form after the climb is over. Still, however, searching for the right genre - adventure, humour, mystery, love story, fiction, non-fiction, or some sort of strange hybrid.

Anyway, time to go and sample some different nutrient drinking mixes. Thanks to those who bothered to read this and wish me luck.

Mt Baker -Day 11 (Oh My God - Cont)

So what is there left to say and do. I have 11 days left. Prayer at this point is probably the best option. Join me in a moment of silence.

Okay, that helped.

I did spend the past weekend practicing my camping skills. Put up my Copper Spur Ultralight -2 tent in the back yard and slept there in a twenty degree sleeping bag with a self inflating mattress. Mind you, the temperature outside was in the eighties. The tent looked a little shaky to say the least by the time I was fed up trying to assemble it correctly. Fortunately, the backyard breezes were about three miles per hour. Any stronger winds and the cursed conglomeration would have been a jumble of nylon, crooked aluminum poles, and aged climber. My dog, Jezebel-the-Beagle, joined me. The two of us were reasonably comfortable as we lay there staring at the stars overhead. I fell asleep for three hours and then decided I would be more comfortable in my own bed with the cool breezes coming from the window unit air conditioner in my bedroom. My wife, on the other hand, is fed up with the whole thing and is moving out of the house - permanently.

I also spent time this past Saturday packing and unpacking my expedition backpack with everything I will carry on the mountain. Final weight will be close to 40 pounds. Once packed and appropriately adjusted to my torso, I spent the rest of the day with the loaded Denali Pro strapped to my back, doing routine chores around the house; washing dishes, picking up stuff, weeding the garden, etc. - quite a site for those driving by the house who were not aware of my plans. After perpetual adjustments of the shoulder straps, hip pads, and myriad other adjustable laces on the pack, it actually felt reasonably comfortable.

As far as my readings are concerned, I am now focused on some key elements, foremost of which have to do with avalanches. I rushed an order from Amazon.com, the titles of which will provide clues as to my concerns - "Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain" by Bruce Tremper, "The Avalanche Handbook" by David McClung and Peter Schaerer, "Mountain Rescue Doctor" by Christopher Van Tilberg, and "Mountain Responder: When Recreation and Misfortune Collide" by Steve Achelis. Get the picture. I will need to be sure to pack my Xanax.

As far as physical conditioning is concerned, the last four days I have basically been taking it pretty easy. Paul G., my trainer, has been guiding me through the process. Staying loose is key; no heavy weights and only moderate aerobic stuff. My diet is pretty much gone to pot. Eating a lot of everything and loving every second of it. I rationalize it as a way of building glycogen stores in the muscles that I have been stressing the last six months. Got to be sure I have enough energy reserve for ATP production and O2 transport. I happened to look in a mirror yesterday and noticed that I am actually "buffed", a very significant transformation and not bad for someone several years past the age of 36. If there are any interested women out there, just let me know. I fantasize that after the climb I could get a job as a body double for some aging Hollywood actor, like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise. Picture this. The director yells action. The cameras are overhead focused on my back with me in bed with some nubile young starlet wearing only an appropriately colored hairpiece. What a life!! At this point, my only consolation is that I have, indeed, spent a lot of time getting into condition. If I don't succeed, at least I can say I tried.

The plans are to leave next Tuesday to travel to Seattle where I will be spending a couple days getting acclimated. I should qualify - acclimated to the Seattle time zone - certainly not to the upcoming thin air. The highest altitude of this part of the trip will be the bar stool of a local saloon. For those of you who don't know Seattle and have never been to a saloon, that's about four feet above sea level. Following equipment checks at the offices of Alpine Ascents in Seattle on the 22nd, I will rent a car and head to a motel near the trail head at the base of Mount Baker. The climb starts on the 23rd.



I can also take comfort that the fund raiser for the hospital "Climbing for Sight and Sound" has done well. Many of my patients and physician colleagues have contributed. It will go for a good cause. I am deeply grateful for their support to the cause. I will carry their names with me, if not on paper, then in my brain. It will certainly give me more strength.

Mt Baker - Day 17 (Oh My God!)

All this talk about movie legends of yesteryear is hopefully behind me for at least a little while. I now am back in the real world. I wake up to write today's blog. In keeping with standard operating procedure, I count the days until I climb. Not too long ago it was 84 days. Remember that?. The discussion that day was The Painted Veil, an allegory for why in the world I would want to climb some majestic peak at my age.Then there was day 64 on self-arrest and how George Mallory and crew may not have used the technique to their avail when only 800 feet from the summit of Mt Everest. Then there was day 44 on Storm Clouds Ahead, a series of blogs on the knowledge that can be applied to predicting the fickle weather when camped in some desolate location on the mountain side. And guess what, I now have a little over 14 days to go. Oh my God!! I worry about my conditioning. Do I have the necessary strength and mental endurance? Will my body give out someplace near the summit and they have to helicopter me down to safety? I do recall that I have been pretty religious in daily routines; aerobic, core training, weights, anaerobic, and hiking specific exercises. But what do I have to show for it? Yesterday, I could barely lift my left arm. My shoulder is killing me. My left biceps hurts like a son-of-a-bitch every time I try to curl even modest weight. My left knee hurts with any pressure, I suspect some irritated deteriorating cartilage on the top of my tibia. My guess is I also have a stress fracture of my left foot. Can't put any weight on dorsiflexed toes without significant discomfort. The only exercise left that I can perform without aggravation is possibly to roll over, slowly and carefully. And to think I will be climbing to 12,000 feet after a 12 hour approach to base camp. The good news is the right side of my body feels just fine. Remember those three legged races in which we used to compete during our younger days; two people standing together side by side, the inner leg of each tied together to jointly share both the burden and the restraint. We'd tear off, or should I say hobble off, to the finish line. I wonder if that arrangement can be applied to mountaineering. Let me know if there is a volunteer out there in reasonable shape with a functioning left side of his or her body. I could use the help.

Dorothy, Otto, and I remained silently frozen in place for the next five minutes. It seemed an eternity; Dorothy gazing into space as if she were trying to recall her next instructions, Otto staring at me with those mocking eyes as only some self-important mixed terrier could, and I not having a clue as to where to look or what to say. Finally, Dorothy broke the silence. "Come here!", she exclaimed. "Aha!", I thought, "you can fool me once but you can't fool me twice". I instantly turned to Otto, looking as smug and condescending as I could, and waited for the dog to rush to her side. Without turning her head to face either the dog or myself, Dorothy impatiently said, "Not Otto, I was talking to you!" If the irascible canine could have roared with laughter, it would surely would have been his next move. The arrogant little pooch looked again at me with a clearly visible sarcastic smile as if to say "but can you roll over too!"

I quickly scrambled to my feet and joined Dorothy as she stood on a large sandstone boulder on a mountain ledge. She was gazing with an unobstructed view at the horizon in front of her. She pointed, arm straight towards the sky, adjusting the arm's direction to compensate for the downward bent of the distal phalanx of her slender right index finger. She whispered to me in reverent tones, "Tell me what you see?" I looked up at the clouds. The message I had previously witnessed was still in place, but now totally in view. It read, "there is no place like home". After a brief pause and in halting and perplexed tones, I repeated the words aloud, "there is no place like home?" I repeated the words again and this time with more assurance, "there is no place like home.". Finally, again, this time with pure unbridled confidence, "there is no place like home! There is no place like home!" as if my salvation had risen like a Phoenix from the mountain slopes to whisk me in an instant to the waiting comfort of the tan leather bucket seats of my light green XJ8 Jag.

Having said the words, I quickly turned to Dorothy to share the obvious joy of my discovery. I had finally learned the true ethereal message of that mystical poster on the 6:50 AM train from Katonah to Grand Central. So this was the divine message I had been sent to find on that desolate mountain peak. It a lesson not to be found on some "smart phone." It is not an insight to be gained by travelling to unforgiving impersonal worlds. The answer is within us all. We only have to look within to find it. I repeated the words blissfully as I turned to my guiding apparition from the small farm in Kansas, "there is no place like home." But, alas, Dorothy and her little terrier were nowhere to be seen.

Within the next instant, I found myself on the ground in a most unusual position. I was propped against a boulder, my legs and torso facing to the right. My arms were spread eagle in both directions with my head facing opposite to the direction of my chest and abdomen. It was much like a rag doll having fallen below from its resting spot on a nearby table top. I was dazed and felt that I had just awoken from a deep sleep. My left forehead ached as if it recently experienced the crush of a striking blow. I put my fingers to a place above my left eye and felt a bruise the size of walnut. My guess it was the rock I was laying on that had provided the damage. There was a trace of blood on that stone that matched the drops left on my fingers from their dutiful exploration. What had happened? I recalled a violent wind and then my encounter with Dorothy. Then, the next thing I new, I was lying on the ground nursing a most untimely wound. Could there be another explanation for what I had recently experienced? Could I have possibly been blown from my standing point by the gale forces, my head falling only to encounter the hard rock with ensuing loss of conscience? Did I dream my experience with Dorothy and her terrier? Was it all a figment of my imagination?

I rose to my feet and began trecking down the mountain. I never paused to question my direction. The next thing I knew, I was on an obvious trail. There was now a clear purpose in my steps. Within a relatively brief period of time, I could hear other cars in the distance passing the trail head at which I was parked. It was a clear sign that I would soon be back to safety. I had time to recall the days events, no longer in a state of hysteria. I know now the importance of things held dear to life. I know now that endless searching will not provide the peace and happiness we need. I must look within to find the satisfaction. I chuckled at the thought that I had to be knocked unconscience alone on a mountain peak and dream the existence of the famous characters from the land of Oz to discover that truth. I chuckled again at the thought of the vivid dream as I reached my car. Finally, I put my hand in my left pant pocket to pull out the keys. The keys were there ready for use. But there was something else I felt unexpectedtly. There were two other objects, one metal and the other cloth. I pulled out both objects to view. It was a metal shoe buckle and a small red dog collar with the word, Otto, engraved on its tag.

By this time, I was about as ready to get home from my remote unknown location on Slide Mountain as I am to finish this story. I was about to ask Dorothy what was to be the next move when she abruptly stated "sit!" I dutifully dropped to the ground. At her feet, with my elbows resting on my folded knees, I suddenly felt like a boy scout in front his scout leader ready to absorb every word. Not looking at me but gazing wistfully at the distance in front of her, she went on to quietly say, "not you, I was talking to Otto." I turned my head over my right shoulder and caught a glimpse of the little black terrier sitting on his back legs, panting with a tongue hanging all the way to his thin red collar. Other than the quick rhythmic movements of his chest, he was totally immobile. The cursed pooch was stareing at me like I was some kind of idiot. I was not pleased. My left eye twitching, lips tightly closed, I returned the look at the canine traveler and silently barked, "yeah, but can you write a blog!!"