Tag: mountaineering

Lee Farmer on conquering the Seven Summits

A couple of years back, we met Lee Farmer through a friend when we were visiting the UK. He seemed an unassuming fellow and we were surprised when our mutual friend brought up after a beer or two that Lee had just climbed Mt Everest. We don’t know if we’ll ever make it to Mt Everest, but we’ve watched every documentary we could find and think that it may happen for us someday. We asked what was probably too many questions, and Lee was more than happy to share his adventures with us.

Seven Summits

Since that evening at the pub, he has become one of only 272 people in history to complete the Seven Summits; climbing the highest point on all seven continents. When you consider that that includes the infamous Mt Everest, the deadly McKinley and Antarctica’s Vinson, you realize what an amazing achievement this really is.We had a chance to interview Lee recently about his remarkable achievements. If you want the numbers and dates, check his website…we were most interested in how and why he did it:

JRT: How did you end up as a mountaineer?  Did you just fall into it or was it something you planned?

Lee: It really happened by accident. I was into hill walking and general outdoors and I suppose you look up and see things that are high and snowcapped, and wonder, “What’s up there?” For me, it all started on Mont Blanc in 1999. I was looking for camaraderie, beautiful scenery…short term objectives. I didn’t start as a small boy saying this but I can’t sing, can’t act but I can put one foot in front of the other and do it for a very long time. I have great stamina and I’m happiest when it is a 15-20 hour day. I realized it was something I was just good at, but don’t ask me to do a 100 meter dash. I’m not a sprint guy.

JRT: Did you plan to climb the seven highest peaks before you climbed the first, or was it an idea that came after?

Lee: Around 2000 I went into a very old-world second hand bookshop in my hometown. It was one of those Indiana Jones/Harry Potter moments. I found Steve Bell’s book, “The Seven Summits” and said “Here’s something an ordinary guy could do.” It was before I did any of the summits and it started something. I had left an international company because it wasn’t working out for me so I started my own business. When the money came in we made plans for Kilimanjaro. I was a real estate broker and still am, and it has given me the finances and freedom of time to go do the Summits. About 272 have completed the task according to Harry Kikstra‘s site.I expect I’ll be about 275th around January or February 2012. My climbs happened in this order:
  • 2003 – Kilamanjaro, Tanzania, and Mt Elberus, Russia
  • 2004 – Vinson Massif, Antactica, by flying in from Chile to Patriot Hills (most expensive of all of my climbs)
  • 2005 – Koskiuscko, Australia
  • 2006 – Aconcagua failed attempt
  • 2007 – Aconcagua failed attempt
  • 2008 – Mt Everest – Southeast Ridge as an unguided expedition, as the youngest member of the team and the only one to summit with just one Sherpa. I met Hillary when I was 15 and never expected to walk in his footsteps
  • 2009 - Aconcagua, Polish Traverse, on third attempt after weather and my wife’s AMS stopped the first two attempts
  • 2010 – Delayed to join friends the following year
  • 2011 – Mt McKinley, Alaska by the West Buttress leading for 8-13 hours

JRT: What is the hardest part of the profession of mountaineering?  What would you say in warning to someone considering this as a career?

Lee: Raising funds, keeping fit and keeping a focus. This doesn’t attract the same sponsorship or prestige as golf or Formula 1; There’s a constant striving to find something new. I’ve thought about doing the other peak of the nine that make the list (Karstenz Pyramid, Indonesia) because few have done that. I’d like to go back to the Himalayas and Africa and am planning to go back to Africa next year. I’d also like to pick things we can do together and find things that would be of interest to my wife. I’d like to see more of Namibia, Ethiopia, Cameroon and Sub-Saharan Africa in general. I sometimes think of the lyrics of an 80′s pop band song, “The Look of Love”, where they sing, “Raise your sights but lower your aim.”  I’m looking a lot closer to home.

JRT: What is the stickiest situation you’ve found yourself in? How did you manage your way out of it? What did you learn from it?

My worst have involved people not even in my group. I was climbing Cho Oyu between Nepal and Tibet and saw refugees being shot by Chinese border guards. They could have arrested or shot all of us. This became an international incident and ended up in a documentary called, “Tibet: Murder in the Snow”.

Another time, I was leading a team on Mera Peak in Nepal in 2009 and we were met by roadblocks set up by the Maoists. My clients asked me to sort it out with 200 or so die-hard party members. I was so glad I had long pants on because my knees were shaking. I had to do a parent-child thing with him and try to take control. I told him we were British and in his country to climb his beautiful mountains.

There have been close calls physically but nothing serious. I’ve had porters get sick but we monitored them and everyone made it. Altitude hasn’t been a problem because I often climb something else beforehand. I believe I’m naturally good at altitude. I Have never had headaches or been sick.

JRT: What comes next after the Seven Summits?

Lee: I’m a Fellow at the National Geographic Society and I’m very interested in walking where people went before. I’m and adventurer and mountaineer but not an explorer. The lack of knowledge the explorers had in those first trips is like landing on the moon for us today. They went to the white spaces on the map. Shackleton, Lewis and Clark and the others…they were the space explorers of their time. The 100th anniversary of Captain Scott’s expedition to the South Pole is next year and I wouldn’t mind being part of it.

World-class climber Melissa Arnot, the interview

Our life revolves around getting outdoors and hiking, trekking, and climbing. All too often, I’m the only woman in sight and often draw comments from the men in our group or people we meet, amplifying the fact that so few…too few…women are out in the mountains. I’ll admit that it isn’t the same in every part of the planet, as we notice in Nepal when we mix with people from France or other parts of Europe. But most of the world over, it is the a fact that women make up a small part of the adventurers.

I’m drawn to women who get out there, and few are as noticeable as Melissa Arnot, world-class climber and mountain guide with First Ascent. As I stress to prepare our climb of Mera Peak, Nepal (6476 m) over the next three weeks, I find support from other women that help me to know I can do this. I had the chance to ask Melissa a few questions recently, and found her responses to be very inspirational.

The interview

JRT: How did you get started as a climber?

MA: I grew up in the mountains of Montana and Colorado and my parents were incredibly supportive of an outdoor lifestyle. So of course I rebelled and went to college in Iowa! After I graduated I came back to Montana to visit, and a friend of mine had started climbing. He slowly started teaching me and it began to shape everything that I did, from free time to the jobs I was taking. I became involved in medicine so that I could be more self-sufficient in remote areas and I literally spent all my free time either rock, ice or alpine climbing.

JRT: What were your early barriers that you had to break through?

MA: For any climber just starting out, a huge barrier is finding people who you trust who are also willing to teach you.  I was lucky and had a great group of friends who were exceptionally patient.  But climbing is hard and it takes a level of mental commitment.  I had to make choices to train harder and put myself out there in situations that I knew I might not succeed with.  That is incredibly challenging if you are used to staying inside of your comfort zone.

JRT: There aren’t many women who climb. Do you ever feel cultural pressure to explain why you’re one of the few?

MA: At any given mountain I travel to, women make up about 10% of the climbing community.  That is pretty small.  Often people ask me if I am going to stop climbing to have a family or when I am going to quit.  It is hard for people to understand that climbing is my passion and I am a much better person when I am following my passions.  I also find it interesting that people often expect the women on the team to be weaker, less knowledgable or need more help.  That is just not true.  It is one of the many reasons I love climbing big mountains- they don’t care what your gender is.  It is equal work for everyone.  Last spring I attempted to climb Makalu with my climbing partner and fellow guide David Morton.  We went unsupported (meaning using no Sherpa or BC support).  It was a significant amount of work for both of us, but an excellent example of how it doesn’t matter your gender, each person has to put in the work for success.

JRT: Would you like to inspire other women to become more involved in climbing?

MA: I find climbing to be incredibly grounding as well as confidence building.  Every time I see women out climbing, I try to make strides towards creating a supportive environment for them.  Being the minority is difficult at times but it can also lead to opportunities the majority would never have.  If I put myself out there as a women in a very male dominated industry hopefully another women will know that she is not alone as she gets out there.

JRT: Have you had signs of success in getting more women involved?

MA: In the last 8 years of working as a professional guide I have seen the number of women participants rise.  Interestingly the desire for ‘all women’ trips has decreased.  That is success to me.  Women wanting to get out there and play and not worry about being the only girl.  I am often told by male clients and guides that having a female on the team offers a nice balance and they would prefer it.

JRT: What are your ultimate goals?

MA: You know, I never set out with a goal of climbing Everest or doing it multiple times.  I have just tried to stay open to the opportunities that appear for me.  With that approach, I would say I just have a goal of climbing honestly and honorably and respecting the mountains and the people in the places I travel.  I would also love to help inspire people to try things and chase their dreams.  I am just an average girl who had a tremendous desire to learn and commitment to work hard.  Anything is possible that way.

JRT: What do you see as the biggest challenges standing in the way of your goals?

MA: It is difficult to keep your focus genuine as you gain more success and notoriety.  I find myself asking the question of ‘why am I doing this?’.  If I am doing it because I want to then that is climbing honestly.  If I am doing it for someone else or what I think I will gain, then I think I begin to lose the solid foundation of being in the mountains.  The greatest successes are the ones I feel and no one ever knows about.  This is a dangerous sport with real risk and so I have to be sure I am doing it for the right reasons.

Climber, adventurer, arrogant punk

These are the words that self-describe Tony Yeary, our favorite resource at the Arcadia, California REI. His knowledge and stories were so extreme that the first few times we met him, we struggled to think he wasn’t making it up. As we knew more and realized it was all true, we knew we needed to find out more about his crazy, adventurous life.

We sat down in our favorite sushi restaurant a short time ago and this is what we found out. The arrogant punk is now gray-haired and mellow, but he told us that back in the day it was about being excellent and being able to brag about it.  As he tells it, there was the Sierra Club school of thought to climb through the grades, be safe and don’t take risks. Then there was the group he fell into which was, “Climb everything you can until you fall off…it makes you learn fast.”

When asked what made him a mountaineer, Tony explains that he started by reading a book about Sir Edmund Hillary’s conquest of Mt Everest in 1953. He thought it looked like a “cool” thing. Shortly after, Mt Baldy in the San Gabriel Mountains became his Everest and he climbed it many times.

Tony’s first higher altitude climb was Mt Whitney by the main trail in 1973, but his first truly high venture was in 1983 when he climbed Mexican volcanoes over 5600 m (18,500 ft). Soon after he was in Costa Rica, Guatamala and Nicaraugua passing through checkpoints manned by government soldiers in World War II surplus uniforms and American weapons, and then 50-60 km down the road, another checkpoint manned by guerillas armed with AK-47′s and wearing Levis. He learned Spanish on the streets of places like Mexico City and Lima…much more useful than the German he had learned in high school.

Inspirations

When asked who were his inspirations, Tony cites John Bachar, one of the best solo climbers in the world in the 70′s and 80′s. He also lists Hermann Buehl, an Austrian who pushed the boundaries of alpinism by applying its techniques to high Himalaya peaks. The last inspiration Tony brings up is Tobin Sorenson, a climber who died in 1980, but not before earning consideration as the finest all-around climber in the US.

Funding passion

Financing his passion involved making money where he could, which included working for Patagonia’s Yvonn Chounard in Ventura, California in 1975 when the business was still the Great Pacific Iron Works and the products were equipment and not clothing.

In true climbing style, Tony spent 32 years and 1o months (his words) working for Ralphs Grocery in Southern California, where he could accrue a great deal of vacation time and also switch to part time when his vacation limitations held him back from his passions.

Best climb

Tony’s best climb was in 1973 on the French Route of Huascaran Norte in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru. He explains that it isn’t about success or failure in reaching the peak, but about the struggle. This climb was a failure measured against attaining the summit, but a great adventure of spending three days and two nights on a ledge at 21,000 ft waiting for a storm to blow through. While his favorite place was the Sierra Nevadas growing up, it is now the Cordillera Blanca. As he explains it, there isn’t a peak in the range more than two days from Huaraz, Peru, a place some call the “Chamonix of the Andes.” His favorite place to stay?  Casa de Zarela, the climbers HQ when in the area.

Worst climb

Tony’s worse climb was in June 1974, at the Palisades, the most alpine-like peaks of the Sierras with jagged needles and a significant glacier. Tony and his climbing partner, Steve Evans, were camped on the glacier when they heard a noise and saw something come down Clyde’s Couloir very rapidly. It turned out to be a 16-year-old named Dale Snyder from Lancaster, California.  He fell400 meters down the gully onto the ice and was killed instantly. Tony and Steve spet the next three days helping to carry the body out, including spending a night in the local sheriff’s station. Before that, Tony says that he never contemplated death even while he saw broken arm and other injuries, but never saw death. By the time they brought the dead teen down, the teen’s parents had already read about his death in the Lancaster paper. Tony sums it up with, “I’ve had friends die, but nothing like that.”

Future plans

What’s up next for Tony? The peak he’s dreamed about for at least 25 years, Alpamayo in the Cordillera Blanca of Northern Peru. At 5497 m (18,034 ft), it is not just a tall mountain, but its heavily glaciated peak is one of the most photographed in the world. Tony plans to tackle his dream mountain by the French Direct Route, one of many ways to the top. We’d love to join him if we can be ready.

His dream stems from a trip in 2002 when he was in Peru with six other climbers. The group was divided on whether to climb Alpamayo or Huascaran and it came down to the flip of a US quarter. A friend won the toss and left for Huascaran, while Tony’s group went to AlpaMayo. On the way back, he stopped to talk to American trekkers who let them know that three Americans were killed in an avalanche on Huascaran. It was his friends and they died in an avalanche based on the outcome of a coin toss. Such is life when it is lived to the fullest.

Adventurous life

Tony isn’t a wealthy man by American financial standards but he has spent a lifetime of ‘earning’ memories from fantastic experiences. He has more interesting stories from his life than can be adequately covered in this post. He has lived a life of maximum adventure that is still underway and adding new chapters. We draw inspiration for our adventures from people like Tony. If you want to meet him, he’s often found at REI Arcadia helping people with some of the best advice they can get on not just equipment, but on where to go and what to do. Thank you to Tony for all you’ve helped us with and for the awesome stories.


Mt Shuksan, Washington on Labor Day Weekend 2011

Mt Shuksan is often referred to as the classic Cascade Range Peak. At 2783 m (9,131 ft), it is lower than the iconic Mt Baker, but has a photogenic peak known as Summit Pyramid and is draped with the Sulphide, Price, White Salmon, Crystal, Nooksack, Curtis and Hanging Glaciers that make it a  tempting target for climbers. Due to its popularity, there are no less than 14 routes that lead up to the summit. Our Seattle-based friend, Joel Meyers, suggested Shuksan by the Sulphide Glacier Route on one of our climbs of Mt Whitney and we were ready to take it on.

Heading north

We flew to Seattle on Friday evening and were shopping for our first mountaineering boots at Feathered Friends the same day. We had done our homework on the best “double plastic” boots to buy for our October climb of Mera Peak, Nepal and knew that Shuksan was the perfect opportunity to test them out and break them in before going to 6,476 m (21,247 ft) in six short weeks. It is also nearly impossible to find these types of boots in Southern California since it is built for high altitude climbs 6-7,000 m (19,685 to 22,966 ft). The classic mountaineering boot has a removable inner boot that allows the climber to keep the soft liner on their feet while sleeping to avoid putting on very cold boots first thing in the morning. This is a critical point when the outside temperatures can be -29 Celsius (-20 degrees F) and starting with cold feet can lead to significant problems, including loss of toes from frostbite.

We left mid-morning for the Shannon Ridge Trailhead, driving north from Seattle before heading east to the National Park Office in Sedro-Woolley to pick up permits. We were the last group to secure overnight permits for the upper bivouac, the highest point where camping is allowed on the mountain. We grabbed a quick Subway sandwich around the corner and were soon on the final segment of our drive.

To the trailhead

Getting to the trailhead involved contenting east from Sedro-Woolley until a turnoff for Baker Lake. We drove along the lake until the road became gravel and wound higher into the forest before the turnoff for Shannon Ridge. It was just a few miles on the final road before we came to a parking lot at the road’s conclusion. The trail itself was a former logging road that continued ahead along the side of Shannon Creek.

Shannon Ridge Trail

The first section of the trail was the approach to the Ridge itself. The trail had not been maintained well, and there were several places where large trees and other debris blocked the way and various detours needed to be figured out. This was a much easier problem on the way up, as the slope could be figured out fairly easily, but this proved to be much harder on the way down, where a wrong turn could put us on the wrong side of a mountain. With multiple people in our party, we were able to each take a direction and shout out when we figured out which was the best way to regain the trail. A solo climber could easily get lost without the benefit of this approach.

When we finally broke out of the the dense forest onto Shannon Ridge, the view of Mt  Baker was remarkable. The amount of snow was remarkable, even knowing that this had been a late Spring and a wet summer. It was great to be free of the old growth woods and the slow, lazy flies that pestered us every time we slowed down. The trail was now clear though muddy in many places and we found our first snow at 1280 m (4200 ft). Unlike Southern California, where the sun is much more intense, the snowpack was relatively firm and easy to cross.

The notch

The trail changed significantly once we finished Shannon Ridge and crossed through a notch that took us around to the eastern face of Shuksan. From this point onward we were walking on a combination of rock and snow that was firm and easy going as we traversed around to a point below the Sulphide Glacier. The temperatures dropped significantly as well as we left the strong afternoon sunshine that isn’t so typical of this part of the world.

Sulphide Glacier

Reaching the Sulphide Glacier was a great day’s achievement. The sun was high enough to create a brilliant vista of Summit Pyramid and the extensive crevasses of Sulphide and Crystal Glaciers. We were able to talk to the teams returning from the summit as they arrived and were surprised to hear that they had spent 11 hours to get up and back to Lower Bivy, our campsite. Most were part of guided groups that were in some stage of a many-day trip in the Cascades.

Onward and upward

We were up at 5am the next morning to take our turn on the trail. It was cold but hadn’t frozen overnight, to our surprise. We put down as many calories as time would allow and we were ready to walk by 6:30 am. Though there were several tents near ours, we were the only ones up and moving that early and and appeared to be the first to set out from Lower Bivy.

Our first decision was to angle away from the distant peak to avoid the crevasses that were part of the shortest distance to get there. We roped up from the beginning as we could see the occasional crevasse even on the more level slopes.

After a quick discussion of our order on the rope, our means of communication, and a refresher on how to self-arrest in the event of a fall, we started toward Summit Pyramid in the distance. The snow was crisp and with our crampons we were able to make very fast progress around the crevasses and start the very long traverse.

The long traverse

Getting to the Summit Pyramid was difficult as much as it was a long walk with the challenge of maintaining our separation, not stepping on the rope, and carefully placing our crampons to avoid any mental lapse that would put spiky points into our legs. Looking back at the areas we had crossed, the patterns in the snow were beautiful and a reminder of the wonder of untouched nature. We were also now above most of the nearby peaks, including the Pickett Range, and had a clear view to a very far-off Mt. Ranier.

Summit Pyramid

We found our way to the base of Summit Pyramid, the final stretch of the climb. The snow gave way to rock, and it was apparent quickly that we needed to have a longer rope than the one we used for safety across the Glacier. A quick check of the GPS revealed that we had reached 2621 m (8,600 ft) at the base of a Class 3 to 4 rock scramble that we didn’t feel comfortable about tackling without a means to rappel back down when finished.

Heading down

Going down was a matter of following the same track back to our campsite, but with the benefit of several long glissades on the steeper sections. There’s something of a child in all of us once we start sliding down the snow, and it rarely happens without laughter…this time was no different. Beyond fun, the energy we saved was important as we still needed to eat, break down our camp, and walk the complete trail back to the parking lot far below.

Mt Shuksan is an excellent adventure and our mountaineering boots were given a live test in a way that makes our October climb of Mera Peak, Nepal less risky for equipment problems. We were also able to give our legs an excellent workout even thought the altitude isn’t comparable to what we’ll have in the Himalayas. This is a great climb for getting solid practice on glaciers.

Why would a blind person climb a 10,000 ft mountain?

On July 19, 2010, the message was posted on the Baldy for the Blind website, “Mt. Baldy was a success!!” The dream of reaching the summit of Mt Baldy, the 3248 m (10,068 ft) peak that dominates the the horizon to the southeast of the City of Los Angeles had been realized for a group of eight blind students, sixteen sight guides, and one leader, Chris Lynch, of the LA Meet-Up hiking group.

One member of the group, Melissa Hudson, is a friend of ours and an inspiration to us as she goes through life with what could be considered a significant disability, but for her is just another challenge to overcome. Not only does Melissa work through the challenges of not having sight, but she was diagnosed at 3 years old with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, the initial challenge that led to blindness and attacks the cartilage in her joints, even her feet and knees. Quite a lady.

Chris’ perspective

This dream started in the head of Chris Lynch, a writer based in Los Angeles. His own journey started when he joined the Meetup LA hiking group in Los Angeles four years ago as a way to prepare for a planned climb of Mt Kilimanjaro. As he saw some of the slower hikers getting discouraged by the fast pace of the younger and faster people, Chris decided to start a series of hikes he called “Slow-poke to the Summit” with the first climb to the summit of Mt Baldy. He’s now taken about 60 people to the summit…60 people who never thought they could get there.

Chris found helping people to push the envelope to be thrilling. This led him to the Braille Institute and the idea of taking blind students to the top of Mt Baldy. The first meeting gained twenty signups, which was pared down to two groups of seven, but finally became a core group of eight who achieved the summit. Starting four months before, they began a series of hikes with the blind students using his Meetup group members as the guides. First, there was a great deal of practice around how to lead the sight impaired, then gradually increasing distances and elevation changes…first  3 miles and 300 feet at Chantry Flats and then had hikes of increasing difficulty and length over the next four months. As Chris tells it, he realized that this was really likely to happen when the group successfully hiked Ice House Canyon to the Ice House Saddle (from 4,900 ft to 7,555 ft over 7 miles), then Mt Baden Powell (from 6,593 ft to 9,399 ft over 8 miles). Chris says, “On these hikes, even those who had a tough time made it, and keep in mind that some of the students were older and blindness was only one thing to overcome.”

Chris is very humble about his role in the climb and points out, “”I rarely led anyone or had anyone holding onto me because the sighted guides were doing it.”  He adds, “I was the experienced person who knew the trails, knew first aid, etc…but the people who did the yeoman work were the sighted guides.”

The unexpected

When you ask Melissa or Chris what the biggest initial challenge was, they won’t say fitness or desire.  It was transportation. The first time they met for practice was at the Braille Institute in Los Angeles and it was quickly apparent that getting so many people, including those reliant on others for transportation, to meet far from the day’s objective wasn’t going to work. Chris thought about the problem before pairing people up based on geography. It worked. Not only would the sight guides help on the trail, they would also make sure that everyone arrived in the first place. As Chris puts it, “There were days when there were people hanging onto your arm for ten hours and then had to be driven home.”

Melissa’s perspective

For Melissa, the hardest part was a section called, “The Devil’s Backbone.” This is a narrow section that follows a ridge top, with one side dropping toward Los Angeles, and the other toward the High Desert to the east. Just before this section, Chris Lynch stopped the group and let them know that he had done this part blindfolded with a sighted guide just to know how to help others through it. Those words were meant to be reassuring, but in Melissa’s case, caused her to be afraid and think seriously about heading back down. She didn’t, however, and to this day considers that one of the many things she overcame through this event.

Melissa credits Chris with starting small, with manageable distances and terrain so that people thinking, “I can’t do this,” would learn to press through their fears. He also gave advice on how to be prepared with the right shoes, trekking poles and backpacks for the trip.

When asked why she decided to do this, Melissa says, “I decided to go because of my husband, David. He started hiking as a fitness program and became friends with many other hikers. I decided to see what hiking was about so that I wouldn’t feel like an outsider.”  She had difficulties in getting started, but soon realized that “everyone else is blind, too.” It became easier when she knew she wasn’t alone and blindness was no longer her challenge.

When asked the question, “What did you learn from this?” Melissa responds, “I learned that I can do more than I thought. Mentally, we put barriers on ourselves. Along the way, we possibly taught the sighted people more than they taught us by teaching them that we’re everyday people who have more things in common than they thought. Hiking is also more mental than people think, as it becomes, ‘one foot in front of the other’ on the way to the top.”

Melissa has a guide dog, Anya, but didn’t take her along for this adventure. Melissa explains, “While it isn’t impossible to bring a guide dog, it is hard for the guide dogs to decide how to find the safest path. It is confusing for the dogs that are trained to get around obstacles when the whole path is made up of obstacles.”

First Annual Mutt Strut

Anya will be guiding Melissa at the First Annual Mutt Strut in Los Angeles, CA on September 10, 2011. The Mutt Strut is sponsored by the California Council of the Blind and Melissa is the chairperson for the Los Angeles event. The Mutt Strut is being put on to raise awareness of the CCB, an advocacy group for blind and visually impaired.  Melissa points out that it is “of” the blind and not “for” the blind, meaning CCB isn’t made up of sighted people helping blind or visually impaired people; it is CCB made up of blind people. Advocacy is their mission, and as an example, CCB was key in getting ‘talking ATMs’ started in California and then at a national level.

Beyond advocacy, CCB has scholarships for vocational or graduate schools, crisis intervention funds for people going through tough times, especially with all of the funding cuts happening due to overstretched budgets. They help people who are going blind and match people up with other groups that can help, such as Guide Dogs for the Blind.

The movie

A story this interesting needs to be told, and there is a movie in the works that was started before the climb.  At the website for Baldy for the Blind, you can read the following:

“Baldy for the Blind is the story of 11 blind students attempting to summit the highest peak in Los Angeles County. Boasting a height of 10,068 feet, Mt. Baldy is the ultimate challenge for this extraordinary group. The film showcases their expedition into great heights, featuring their varying levels of visual impairment, diversity, and remarkable desire to realize their goals. Led by mountaineer Chris Lynch, the students experienced a series of seven training hikes over a total of four months, preparing them for one of the biggest achievements of their lives.”

Erik Weihenmayer

Erik Weihenmayer has been an inspiration for many people, both blind and sighted, as the first blind person to climb Mt Everest and the only blind person to climb the World’s Seven Summits. He was most recently a competitor on the program, “Expedition Impossible.”

Erik created a video message for the group that Chris Lynch played on his laptop at the Mt Baldy Lodge. Knowing that someone as inspirational as Erik was aware of their attempt was a significant morale booster for a group out to meet their own challenge. In the video, Erik told them that he was following the groups progress and urged them to reach the summit and conquer their own doubts and fears.

The best description of what Melissa and the others are doing is found in the description of the documentary, “a film about summiting your own mountains.” They are an inspiration for anyone who wants to accomplish the seemingly impossible.

Mt Whitney by the Mountaineer’s Route, July 2011

Jeanne, our friend Craig and I made our second attempt on Mt Whitney’s (4421 m. 14,505 ft.) Mountaineer’s Route on June 13th and 14th, 2011.  The highest peak in the lower forty eight states, Mt. Whitney is typically accomplished as a very long hike of 22 miles from the Whitney Portal (2,250 m., 8,360 ft.) trailhead.  We’ve managed to complete the typical route twice…once as a two-day hike, camping at Consultation Lake, and once in a single day where we left at 4am and made it back to the trailhead at 7pm.  The single-day option  makes for a grueling day and I don’t recommend it to anyone who isn’t in good shape.

Starting up

The Mountaineer’s Route, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as long as the main trail, but is a very direct route up the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek.  It is only 7 miles in each direction, but the trail has boulders to navigate, fast streams to cross, a dangerous ledge that has claimed lives in the past (Ebersbacher Ledges) and in late Spring, plenty of snow.  Snow can be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on how much there is and how firm it is.  Last year’s attempt on the Mountaineer’s Route ended in the final snow chute at 2pm, when it became obvious that the slow going had soaked up so much time that we had to turn around or be stuck on the mountain overnight.  This year’s plan was to camp just under halfway up the trail at Lower Boy Scout Lake, making it easier to reach the steep chute at a point in the day when the snow would be easy to cross.

Lower Boy Scout Lake

The first day passed quickly as we left Lone Pine at 12pm, left the trail head at 2pm and were at Lower Boy Scout Lake by 5pm.  It was a beautiful and warm evening and we could see the peak looming above us in the distance.  Little did we know that it was a little too sunny and too warm for that time of the evening, that high on the mountain.  Craig went to filter water from the lake, while Jeanne and I set up the tent and started dinner.  With a plan to start hiking by 6am, we were turned in and sleeping by 9pm.  Despite the altitude, which can make sleeping difficult, we slept well and woke up to a beautiful pre-dawn sky.  It looked like it would be a gorgeous day, and it didn’t feel as though the temperature had gone below freezing.

Summit day

Other than being conspicuously warm, Day 2 was off to a great start.  We had our oatmeal, eggs and bacon and set off on the snowfield just above our campsite.  The snow didn’t seem very firm but it wasn’t very soft, either, and we were very fresh.  As we climbed higher, however, the temperature began to rise and the snow grew softer and deeper.  There are a series of snowfields as the climb passes Upper Boy Scout Lake, goes over a ridge into the large bowl below the Summit, and then up a steep hill to Iceberg Lake.  It is from Iceberg Lake that the final push is made up the snow chute.  By the time we reached this point, we were ‘postholing’ in the snow, which refers to suddenly dropping into deep, soft snow rather than being able to walk normally on the surface.  Beyond tiring, postholing causes injuries to the lower leg as there are often rocks or tree branches hiding beneath the snow’s surface with empty space around them.

The chute

We reached the final chute that leads to the Summit at 10am, far earlier than the previous year.  What we found, however, were snow conditions that were significantly softer than the previous year.  Jeanne and I climbed one hundred meters or so before deciding that the conditions weren’t safe to continue.   Our intrepid friend, however, made the decision to go for the top and soon disappeared above us.

Waiting for Craig

We waited for Craig, first in the chute, until the combination of the sun and its reflection off the snow made waiting unbearable, and then down below where we could see his return.  We were concerned that he would run out of water, and began filling water bottles with snow and laying them in the sun to melt.  Three hours later, an exhausted Craig was spotted sliding down the chute.  We were significantly relieved to see him and he was just as happy to see that we had water for him, as he had run out.  It always amazes me how much climbing dehydrates the body and how snow, unmelted, doesn’t solve the problem.

Going down

With more time than last year, the descent should have been an easy one, but the snow was so soft that at times we dropped into holes to our armpits, and only our backpacks slowed the drop.  In the steepest sections, we could sit and slide down on the snow to save significant energy and time, but there were also sections that weren’t so steep and simply had to be negotiated with care, with each of us periodically letting out a yell as we dropped into a hole.  Once we made it back to our campsite, we broke down our tent, repacked our backpacks and headed down the trail once again.  The stream crossings were made more difficult by the higher volume of water gushing down from the extremely warm and snowy slopes above.

Back at the trailhead

We were back at our car by 7pm and exhausted.  It had been another tough climb and for Jeanne and I, disappointing that our camp halfway and early start didn’t make the summit any more possible.  We have no choice but to tackle it again.