June 29th.

             It’s too early in the day to stop our ascent. We should be moving higher; we should be summiting today. Toby’s condition is worse than it was yesterday. We would stop to drink water in the middle of the top of the Nisqually, just below Point Success, not saying much. Toby’s sloth was exacerbated by the fact that I felt, although a bit oxygen deprived, great. I was getting impatient. A feeling I would have to control. My mindset wasn’t making the situation any better. I was admittedly frustrated with our team's progress because of Toby, and that isn't a good place to be at 13,000 feet in the middle of a glacier. Jim, leading at this point, I brought up the rear, which put Toby in the middle.

                  After two solid days on glaciated ice and snow, we began to approach bare rock that we would crossover to continue our ascent. The loose volcanic soil had zero cohesion underneath our feet. As we crossed it seemed to slide more quickly and instead of friction taking hold eventually, as usually happened, it seemed that the more we slid the more the rocks released. I had an easier time climbing the ice. Toby at this point called out that he was, "done"; "he couldn’t go any further." I kept the rope taught, and Jim walked back to Toby and sat with him. I had a hunch that just over the ridge we’d find a flat spot to set up camp, and I think Jim had the same feeling. It was about 2pm and as early as that was, 13,000 feet would be our break point for the day. Jim was trying to convince Toby to get just over the ridge so we could build a platform and set up our tent. 

   Two distinct thoughts occurred to me at that point, just before Jim and Toby got up to move forward one last time for the day. First, I thought about our steep ascent of the Kautz Glacier proper. Second, I thought that if we had to bail on this climb, our only route back down was the route we came up;  I realized that because we had decided to descend a different route than we had come up, we were heading up towards the summit in a sort of V shape with our planned route down. The two trails converged at the crater. If this had been another mountain and we needed to cut the trip short or "bail" we might have been able to traverse East across the South face at our current elevation to our planned descent route; we'd just cut the summit by 1,000 feet and hit our descent trail at a lower elevation and just head down. On many 13ers and 14ers in Colorado, a plan like this is not out of the question. Tree-line is around 11,500ft, so above that, it can be easy to navigate across terrain to cut a route like this short. But this was Mt Rainier. This was not like any of the 14ers in Colorado. The glacial crevasses that calve the snowfields all over the mountain are a large part of what makes this 14er more involved and more dangerous. When you get into trouble there isn’t a more direct route available to you off trail. You either continue in the direction you were planning, because the trail itself navigates you around the Crevasses (or attempts to), or you must be willing to go back exactly the way you came.

                I took a big deep breath. I wasn’t afraid of going back the way we came. I had the skills to descend the steep slope we had just ascended. I wasn’t going to be (too) disappointed if we’d have to turn around. Making decisions under these circumstances is just as much a part of the challenge of mountaineering as reaching the summit. Good mountaineers know when to push it and when to admit that attaining the summit won’t happen this trip.

   Jim somehow convinced Toby to muster the strength to get just on the rocky section and back onto snow where we could build a camp, eat some food and talk about our next decisions. Toby threw up when he got to the rock section. He collapsed in the volcanic stone and threw up again. He tried franticly to stand, and then threw up again. He was embarrassed and disappointed. We’d all trained really hard for this and none of us wanted to be the reason we didn’t summit. Toby sat defeated against a large bolder and Jim and I climbed 20 feet to a flat spot to start building camp. I set up the tent while Jim built and set up the kitchen and started boiling water.

            At high altitude, you want to ensure you measure the effort, the energy it takes to build a decent camp. Protecting from the wind and snow is worth the effort. Ensuring your tent and gear are secure from the wind, worth the energy. Setting up an elaborate kitchen makes things more comfortable, but isn't always worth the energy.

            When we were finished with the tent up, Toby crawled inside the tent, set up his sleeping bag and went to sleep. Jim and I went about the routine of boiling water for replenishing our water bottles and making food. A trick that i like to use in the cold is to fill water bottles up with boiling hot water and toss them in the sleeping bag. This can help keep you warm most if not all of a cold night, and in the morning when you wake up, the water is cool enough to drink. Jim and I heated two of these up for Toby and shoved them down into his sleeping bag to keep him warm for the night, hoping that the better sleep he got, the better he would feel in the morning.