Grinding Up Mt. Hamel

Grinding Up Mt. Hamel

This is Canada:

• Really good people reside here. Jaime said it best, "Canadians aren't faking, they really ARE that nice"
• Overuse of the term eh!
• An obsession with hockey, curling and Tim Horton's.  Tim Horton's website sadly informs me that I am 253.5 miles from the nearest Tim Horton's (Whitehorse, Yukon Territory)
• Creation of some rather cruel races
• Home to the Canadian Death Race
  
  
  My feet on Canadian soil, I was headed off to one of my more unique adventures.  The Canadian Death Race is set on a stunningly beautiful course.  The wilderness of Canada, the lofty mountains, glassy blue lakes and a thick blanket of forest just screams, Adventure!  The race is 125 kilometers and touches the sky while summiting three peaks.  Using the conversion factor, a kilometer equals: extremely hilly, muddy and pain to follow.  Using the complex conversion factor indicates that rain is a must.  Eh!!!

I Challenge Diabetes - Team Shot

The route from the start line to our sleeping bags back at Tent City would scramble our two teams of 5 and two solo runners over hill and dale.  Hill would be the insufficient, lacking term, that really means mountains,  lofty peaks that this race makes no effort to avoid.  The 3 summits tagged in the death race equate to over 17,000 feet of elevation gain

Dale (Tuck) would be the race founder and C.E.O. of Canadian Institute of Extreme Racing.  With a title like that, and the creation of an event known as the Death Race, need I say more?

Starting the trek up Mt. Hamel

I was racing on the "I Challenge Diabetes" team.  This is an organization created by Chris Jarvis (a Canadian Olympic Rower with Type 1 diabetes)  for people with Type 1 diabetes.  We had 2 relay teams of 5 and 2 solo racers.  A truly amazing group of people.  Inspiration has a home.  We were here to inspire others with diabetes and to continue living the adventure that defines who we were.   We had cool race shirts and we had diabetes and we were soon to become death racers.... 

 I was on the 4th leg of the race and had much of the day to rivet into race mode.  I went over my vital, required gear list, my recommended gear list, and my necessary diabetes items. Prepared for most everything except a Moose attack, I was off to the transition zone.

A team that planks together....Igor!

Late afternoon, the first drops fell from the heavens.  Within a few minutes, Marco completed leg 3 with a hand off of the official timing chip and race coin.  That coin would be payment for Anne's shuttle across the Hell's Gate Canyon, at the confluence of the Smokey and Sulphur Rivers.  I am guessing that the ferryman is not in a very pleasant mode if you arrive without the required coin.

Game time and off I rambled. To work for a magical view means that you climb like hell.  I would have about 5,000 feet of gain within 6 miles, before I reached  the top of Mt. Hamel.  It was quite the grind but  well worth it.  There were even nice Canadians running, hiking and crawling along the route.  Suffering, but still nice.

One of my favorite quotes from the race came from Heather when she shared to the team one of our experiences.....that you all got to experience a real "Albertan summer" (rain, sun, wind, cold, sort of warm all within the same hour).  I lived the Albertan summer experience only to find that the experience would evolve into 5+ more hours of rain

                                                       Grand Cache from Mt. Hamel

I was running well as I headed down Hamel.  A heinous climb meant that there had better be a long, long downhill.  Unbelieveable sights as we wove our way down the rugged terrain.  Hamel Loop conquered, I zagged past the aid station and loaded up on H20 and began the last 6 miles to the end of this leg.  Inventory time:  H20 - check, food - check, working headlight - ok, not really, so I pulled out headlight #2 - check, trekking poles ------------------------trekking poles - uncheck.  Yea dude, the expensive trekking poles you borrowed.  Back up the hill to the aid station for poles and evidently to make up some wild dream that I needed more mileage on top of about 23 already. 

For lack of a way to verbalize that sound that a insulin pump makes when it is not happy and there are issues, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, you get the idea.  I had a dead pump and deader than dead continous glucose monitor system.  Error message on the pump informed me that it was now retired and  the latest victim of the 'death' race.  Thank goodness that I was within about 1 hour of finishing and that I was spending my weekend with a bunch of people with type 1 diabetes, and extra pumps. 

Time chip and race coin handed off to Anne, rain crashing down, mud pits beginning to swallow runners whole.  It was near midnight, I was cold, soggy wet, blood sugar was creeping upward  and I knew that this was one of the greatest experiences of my life. 

 

You must live in the present...

"You Must Live in the Present"

picture that Trever gave me after the kayak trip

A large framed picture adorns my cluttered office space. It is the picture above, while three kayak warriors camped at beautiful DeGroff Bay, during our amazing 2010 No Limits Destination Alaska Sea Kayak Expedition. Those who know me, probably know that I plant inspirational and meaningful images in my living and work areas. This surprising gift was compliments of wisdom from Henry David Thoreau and the kind thoughtfulness and checkbook of fellow kayaker, bungee jumper, adventurer and card carrying diabetic, Trever Alters. Trev joined guide Scott Harris (Latitude Adventures) and myself on the kayak journey that took us into some secluded waters of Alaska.

Trev and I had crossed paths, amazingly, through bungee jumping when my casa resided in Boise, Idaho. He understands that people with diabetes can lead incredible and adventurous lives. And he lives and breathes it (scuba diving in Puerto Rico in two weeks is another confirmation!). He was a key component to No Limits and our many unique events. Bungee jump and sky diving fund raisers, an adventure racing team, rock climbing, ultramarathons, it was a grand time. Henry David Thoreau sought to rise above common thought and ideas. He would have smiled at our lifestyles.

While I was stoked to receive a lasting memory of our incredible 4 day kayak journey near Sitka, Alaska, it was the Henry David Thoreau quote that made the gift primo.

"You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your element in each moment".

perfect. Thanks Trev.

Trever in Nakwasina Sound

A very non-scientific ratio that is in my notes from the trip and which I cannot prove or disprove, but I had noted that this year's weather was 234% better than the 09 trip of weather horror. Yes, we survived in 2009 and a bloody well yes, we had a good time but Miss Mother Nature was beasty at times.

This year the animals came out to play. Lots of them. This is Alaska! The critter log:

Grizzly Bears - 4

Eagles - vast quantity

Harbor Seal - at least 1

Mink - 1

Commorants - ok I am not a bird person so don't know the count

Porpoise- 1

Sea Lions - a few of the big guys

Jelly Fish - enough for any horror film

Jelly fish touch contest - many close encounters

Trever explores the Neoga near Hallack Point

I set up the video cam to allow each person an opportunity to share their thoughts on the trip, life, diabetes, current girl fiascos, etc. It was just the cam and their thoughts meeting on the shore as daylight slowly faded.

Much after the trip, life settled a bit and I made way to view the footage collected from an excursion awash with excellent company, stories and many kodak moments.

Before the trip, Trever had shared that he was excited about kayaking and that he had wanted to come visit me and to see the Last Frontier. I knew that he had just returned from a trip from Hawaii and in the back of my mind I was slightly jealous of a summer that included Hawaii and Alaska. Little did I know....

As darkness crept foward and the sea slowly lapping the shoreline of DeGroff Bay, Trev would share his angle on life as a person with diabetes, Alaska, etc. The footage rolled forward but Trev took a left turn from his usual fun, optimistic, humorous mood. He would bare his emotions as he dug deep to share the recent loss of his brother Nate. Nate had been hit by a car on March 18, 2010. Trever had planned on visiting him in Hawaii in May or June but that would never happen. He made the trip despite Nate's passing, as a memorial. He spent most of his time in Hawaii hanging out with Drew, Nate's closest friend. The Alaska trip was good timing for Trev as he had to deal with Nate's death amongst other circumstances that made the year a challenge. It is my guess that Trever did not want to share the tough details of what he was going through so that it would not hover or drag down our trip.

My heart fell.

Photo by Scott Harris

In the 35 miles of sea that we paddled through, we explored a shipwreck, went snorkeling, beachcombing, exploring, ate some incredible feasts created by Scott, our great cook/guide, compiled footage for a future film, saw animals galore, managed to get growled at by a bear, tree climbing and absorbing information on diabetes and the great outdoors, in a classroom called Alaska.

We did our best at living in the present....

launching ourselves on every wave.......

finding our element in each moment..... May it continue for a life time.

Scott and I are working on our the next expedition which will be July 16-19 (with a possible extension to July 21). If you are interested and have diabetes or are involved in diabetes care please consider joining us. Contact me at runalaska@yahoo.com.

L to R - me, Scott Harris, Trever Alters at DeGroff Bay ps- Trever is living in the present as he spent this last weekend in remembering Nate. He traveled to Boise, Idaho to unite with family and friends as it was the 1 year anniversary of the accident.

Inspiration, Caving, and a Montrail hat

Inspiration, Caving, and a Montrail Hat

Inspiration to write can come from many sources. Usually an approaching deadline seems to encourage me to slap words onto a page. A buzzing due date forces me to put on the writing cap (currently a Montrail hat worn backwards). These ugly deadlines seem to arrive when I am at my busiest, laziest or least creative status. Or to make my life way more interesting; all of the factors come together to create the perfect storm. But deadlines do work. I am basically dead with lines to put on blank pieces of paper. I was dwelling at the minimum allowable quota of writing inspiration so when PBS aired a program about caving onto the airways, I was inspired.

I spent many years living in Tucson, Arizona, just a hop, skip and a rappel, from a screamingly large amount of passageways that see very little traffic. I often dwell on the crazy trips we made. I still have planted in my mind my second journey into the depths, suspended about 20 feet above the cave floor, working my way along a ledge that was so small that we were jamming our knees into the jagged limestone wall, inching along the wall with each handhold I could secure. This was at the beginning of one of the most spectacular and technical caves in Arizona.

Clinging to walls, zipper tight passages, technical ropework and 15 hour journeys into the bowels of the earth were not the norm. Most trips were for the faint of heart, hanging out with great friends and exploring. Exploration took us along the ridges of limestone looking for any place that a “normal” human being would rather avoid. The true highlight of our caving world was finding caves that we did not know about. A few of these had never been entered or had only entertained a few lucky souls. We exercised extreme caution in this delicate world of speleothems. A speleo universe of soda straws, cave pearls, stalactites, stalacmites, flowstone, baconstrips, columns, cave popcorn and helictites.

Having T1 diabetes and spending vast amounts of time in the underground arena are not what the doctor or the parents recommend. I hit the subterranean zone well prepared with xtra food, sugar cubes, glucagon, insulin/syringes (for myself and a set for someone else to carry), blood glucose monitor and I shuffled some cubes/food to others in the party. I give many diabetes 101 speeches to alert those who were in the adventure zone.
What an amazing time in life!

Tina Carson on rappel

Finding Adventure at Work?

Finding Adventure at Work?
What do you get when you mix adventure with work? As a rule of thumb, I usually escape work to get out of town to locate the needed realm of adventure. In my long list of occupations I have managed to track down one job where I was paid for adventure. After a long duration in Tucson, Arizona, I was seeking a change in routine and life for me and the family as I jumped online to find what opportunity had in store for us. I came across a job listing that caused me to laugh. Bicycle Messenger? No, not a listing for Chicago, New York, or some other huge cement jungle. Shaking my head, I found myself heading north to Boise, Idaho with the prospect of my new career(?) being the driving force. Ok, maybe a short lived career. Does someone in their mid 30’s, married with a child, with diabetes make a major move to be a Bicycle Messenger? Haha guess at least one of us does. The manager, Tealdo, even held the job till I could arrive.

I would find myself as the only bicycle messenger in town. I worked for Fleet Street Couriers, a courier company that made deliveries via the automobile with one lone dude on a bike. This was a September arrival so fall and winter were looming for this unprepared desert rat. I will note that it does help one’s transition into a new climate when you are in the elements most of the day. I can largely credit this occupation as being a key step toward my transition into becoming a spastic gear junkie. One confession out of the way. The transition had taken me from my desert attire to a world of microfleece, gore tex , synthetic layering, booties, lined gloves and a thermos to carry the necessary caffeine and a very large courier bag that I soon found could carry a granormous amount of "stuff".

I am looking over a small, tidy pile of notes I had taken during the courier season as I waited for urgent calls to to send me in 4 directions at the same time. Seems to be that most of notes them were taken during the memorable winter zone. Imagine that? As I scan a page of the courier lifestyle, it is 9:03am on an overcast day in January and snow is forecasted for the evening. Weather had been a real fascination of mine, especially since I had spent many years in the lightening zapped, monsoon skies of the Southwest. I soon adapted morning sessions with the weather radio predicting whether Dave would get seriously cold, frostbitten, drenched, hit by lightening, blown off the road by raging winds, or wilt in 100+ degree heat. Mother Nature...will you be my friend today? Further down the notes, I read that it is 1:30pm and the snow had unleashed, and my day had become way more interesting, and slippery, but I am so very glad to be out pushing the pedals and being removed from 4 walls, lousy lighting and emails messages screaming my name.

The jumbled notes and my memory bank would reveal a time in life that was new, unique and exciting. What a cool job? Dang that was awesome, but there were some really tough, weary and drag down demanding days.
The toughest days were the days that I was sick or feeling the dome of sickness crowding my little world. Rugged times for a sick and weak courier on 2 wheels. Especially when your work day on the bike would cover 25-50 miles. Much of the mileage was delivering "Rush" deliveries.
Point A to Point B as fast as I could pedal with there often being a pick-up and delivery to Points C,D,E,F already lined up. The other grinding days were when the blood sugars were difficult, or impossible. Glancing through my notes I had described an unusual day with strange weather. My next line referenced that my blood sugar was on a parallel line with the weather. Ugly, non-sympathetic and out of season. The challenges of diabetes.

I would see all of the glory of Boise’s four seasons as my days as a bicycle messenger ended one year after I had arrived on the scene for a job that would challenge me and reward a person with diabetes who wanted adventure, found it, got paid for it, and brought diabetes along for the ride.

1 Stage, 3005 miles and a pillow waiting for me back in Sitka

1 Stage, 3005 Miles, and a Pillow waiting for me back in Sitka

The Race Across America (RAAM) is considered by many to be the most difficult bicycle race on the planet(If you are seeking adventure and tremendous suffering this may be the event for you). When the cyclists roll out of Oceanside, California the stopwatch will not stop until they cross the line in Annapolis, Maryland. Pedaling east, the 3,005 mile stage will include over 100,000 feet of climbing, temperatures that can range from freezing to 105+ degrees, physical exhaustion, illusions, wicked weather and yes, a major overdose of insomnia.

This past summer was my third RAAM as a crew member. It is a very novel way to spend a vacation. So much for a normal holiday time on the beach. Our RAAM train will zip through 14 states, take lots of cool pictures, assist heroes on bikes, make new friends, promote a cause and stash some wonderful memories en route. The crews are a vital link for the riders survival. We take care of the details so that they can crank the pedals 24 hours a day.

Team Type 2 consisted of eight riders with Type 2 diabetes. Eight dedicated, determined men cycling with a mission & a purpose. There would also be a Team Type 1 with cyclists who had Type 1 diabetes. I am hard wired to the cause of both teams as I have Type 1 diabetes and run events through my diabetes adventure group – No Limits.

This year was the largest field ever. 30 solo riders and 210 racers on 39 teams. 19 countries were represented. Solo riders found some of the worst weather in RAAM history as storms seemed to follow them across the country. On the other hand, teams, which left 2 days after the solos, were blessed with excellent weather.

For the solo crusaders, if you choose to sleep then you are losing time to the competition. Grinding the pedals for 22 hours a day is not unusual for the soloists. The teams are able to alternate riders and snatch a little bit of zzzzzz’s, but as the RAAM t shirt so aptly states, “This Ain’t No Tour”. 24/7 for the crew and the cyclists who a putting their sweat and heart on the pavement of backroads America while dealing with a rather challenging disease.
Our crew, assembled from all parts of the country, gathered in Oceanside, CA for a crash course in RAAM 101. Not stated, but soon to be evident, it would not be unlikely to piece together only about 20 hours of sleep during the week that we are bouncing down the roads. It is a challenging task, but it is an opportunity that I cherish and I will catch up on some sleep………later.

19 crew members, all volunteering their time, seems like a small army but we are all on the game board as the pieces move along the route. We all have important tasks to do that need to happen. In the 5 vehicle procession there are drivers, navigators, a massage therapist, 3 nutritionists, a crew chief and many assorted, vital tasks to be done by all to make the race as doable for the troopers of Team Type 2.
Team Type 1 would win the 8 man category for the fourth time in 5 years with a time of 5 days 10 hours and 48 minutes. Team Type 2 would span the country in 7 days 14 hours and 53 minutes. Just behind the time posted in 2009, but just ahead of the dog chase that was created by the 8 man team Friar’s Club who were nipping at our heels and tires. 3005 miles and it was decided by 2 minutes. This definitely ain’t no tour. Not a chance.

Hey, I Don't Have to Swim if I am the Race Director

Hey, I Don't Have to Swim if I am the Race Director

(Lake Tahoe)

Last November I stood on the banks of beautiful Lake Tahoe.  I was taken by the setting and was thankful for this quick escape from the business world and meetings that were awaiting me back in Reno.  Some deep breaths, a few snaps of the camera, site seeing, some monstrous pine cones thrown in my bag and we scrambled back on the bus to roll back to Reno.  I was unsettled.  My own scrambled mind filled with goals, dreams and plans of Dan Baier and myself to run around the Lake Tahoe the previous August.  

This dream settled atop my dream bank a few years ago and this past summer, reality and some suffering were due to take us 165 miles around the lake in 8 days.  The run was to have started in King's Beach, California, where I had stood just a few minutes ago and the view of a dream that had dissolved.

As the Tahoe Run loomed, an injury to my left knee had called my name.  Loud and Clear.  I can be a stubborn, determined person who has learned that diabetes can be demanding.  To achieve some of my goals I have to possess a mind-set that goes well beyond demanding.

As the injury screamed at me and began to curse at me, I developed an agonizing limp and I realized that that strong determination was not going to sail me through 25 mile, rugged and difficult days in the Sierra's.  The white surrender flag went up and the dream was shelved.

A trot around Lake Tahoe for diabetes, has been re-assigned to my "bucket list" but for the time being that bucket appears to have a hole in it.  My story will transcend from the trails in the Sierra's to the 54 degree water in Sitka Sound via an ultra swimmer by the name of Claudia Rose.  I would learn about Claudia and her proposed swim across Sitka Sound from John Dunlap, who would provide boat support, Ralph, would follow her in kayak support, Al would be her moral support, Claudia would provide 4.5 hours of swim strokes and I would provide some pictures and an open canvas to continue to etch new experiences.

 (Claudia Rose on her swim across Sitka Sound) 

Those 5 months of knee assault, averaging 2 miles of running a month, were probably the most difficult time in my life.  I would move on (with a limp) and unbeknownst to me, this swim across Sitka Sound would open some doors and present some opportunities that were very different for this adventure seeker.  Whether I was able to run or not.  Living outside the box and outside the brain.

Ok, watching someone swim for 4.5 hours is not super exciting.  Inside Dave's mind though I am thinking "this is amazing!".   Endurance-based, 54 degree water, numerous jelly fish stings, no wet suit, 8.5 miles of  cold conditions, shifting current .  How awesome and impressive is this!  I am forever an endurance junkie but for those who might ask, "Hey, I don't have to swim if I am the race director".  And I could not.  I don't swim.  Period.  

This swim lane has opened up and I am excited to offer a new event for the world swim community.  This is a new experience for me.  I seek crazy, unique, ridiculously long, challenging, out-there events to get involved with.  This swim covers all the bases and is for a great cause, diabetes.  No Limits will put the swim on while the American Diabetes Association will host the race and be the beneficiary.

Claudia has helped immensely with details and I have hooked up with the only other open water swim in Alaska (that I am aware of), the Pennock Island Challenge in Ketchikan.  Race Director, Willie Schulz has been very helpful in assisting this new race director.

The Sitka Sound Adventure Swim is 6.2 miles and will be held on August 8, 2010.  I am thinking now of actually acting outside the box, outside the brain and donning a pair of goggles.  Information on the swim are at www.sitkaadventureracing.org.

Can You Pick Me Up Some Climbing Boots?

Can You Pick Me Up Some Climbing Boots?

From Camp Schurman, Mt. Rainier

It is another amazing weekend in Sitka, Alaska.  I am a world away and a pile of years removed from this story.  I have a major swim race to organize but the guilt demons are rattling my cage and many years later I think it is finally time to jot this story into print. My final reminder was the picture above, which I posted yesterday as my FaceBook profile pic.  My story sits at 14,440 feet, an icon of the Seattle horizon.  I spent half of my growing up with the glorious image of Mt. Rainier out our front window. I would step out the door,  glare at the peak, think cool, someday....and make a mad sprint to catch the bus. 

Not the highest lump of rock and ice on the globe,  nor the most technical,  scaling Mt. Rainier is still a worthy goal and the mountain is an excellent site for climbers who have Himalayan Peaks on their agenda.  Rainier is the largest single-peak glacier system in the lower 48 states.  Over 35 square miles of ice and 26 officially named glaciers.  It is also the highest peak in the 48 conterminous states. 

Lacking notes from my 4 trips on Rainier and a memory that actually retains little, I am promising a short blog entry.   

Timing can be everything in life and my first attempt at Rainier would be a glaring example of lousy timing.  My high school cross country team, headed by Archie Blakely would decide to

take on the challenge of Rainier.  I thought I might approach my folks, get a kind denial and I would go on to the next adventure.  Didn't quite happen that way as I stated my case, the fact that none of my friends had died climbing Mt. Rainier and that if I could find my teen bucket list, I was sure it was on there, somewhere.  3 days before the climb I would get the green light.  Yes, 3 days to train, I don't think so.  3 days to pack, scout down gear and come up with a game plan with my doctor on dealing with the climb and diabetes.  This last measure was done with a lot of ???? and one more ?.  It was new territory, climbing with diabetes.   Bigger issue at the moment was gear.  I had kmart gear.  Yes, I had issues.  Surprised the climbing group  didn't "show" me the first crevasse we came across.  Also lacking were climbing boots.  Never fear, I gave someone some money to rent a pair of boots from REI (I was unable to escape school for this).  Who climbs a major mountain in a pair of rented, untried boots?  Hey, in this case, I do.  Remember a life of adventure!  It was my only option and lady luck was on my side (on my feet) as the boots fit perfectly. 

We would troop up the Ingraham - Disappointment Cleaver route.  It is the most popular route.  The route takes one to Camp Muir, which makes a great spot to kick off the rented boots and hide your kmart ish gear, crash before your alarm clock would rudely jolt you awake at about 1am to start the seriously long day before you.  Being on a dangerous mountain, jumping crevasses, walking across glaciers and being in the exercise mode gear all morning and day I was very cautious about the amount of insulin I had in the system and having low blood sugars.  My extra caution would kick me in the behind as I would strive through some high blood sugars.  Attempts to get the sugars down were not great and I struggled  finding gears in the engine.  Namely put, I called it a day at Disappointment Cleaver at about 11,000 feet.  I would be back.  

Camp Schurman at 9,440 Feet

Some life gears began to shift as the first Mt. Rainier climb came to a close.  Disappointment, but my life would spin in a direction toward my passion of adventure and challenges.  I was not going to let the diabetes put me in neutral or reverse gear.  I would kick into a new chassis when I would later take my first bungee jump.  Live outside the box.  There is so much more from a different perspective.

Another shift would be the relationship I had with my mom and dad.  They were now realizing that their son was cut out of a different fabric.  New adventures, challenges and more dreams to go beyond and to achieve, even with the diabetes card I was dealt.  

The next year would allow more time to train, plan, make changes in the diabetes regimen and pick up gear that would make me feel like a part-time mountaineer.  Hey, I am still in high school.  This year the group would be a different cast of characters and the man with the lead ice axe would be Dick Deal.  Our route would be the Emmons Glacier route.  It was an extra 1/2 day route starting from the White River Campground and would take about 21/2 days.  The Muir route is a 2 day excursion.  On this route we would spend the night at Camp Schurman.  I enjoyed this climb much more than the previous year and this route did not have "Disappointment" anywhere on the features listed on the climbing map.  About 2am or so we had crampons affixed and ice axe in hand.  It was almost a full moon that evening.  Words fall into a deep crevasse in trying to describe the beaming white glow from the heavens splashed across the icy white, rough and rugged and outstanding landscape set before us.  One of the beauties of Camp Schurman (at about 9500 feet) is being able to watch the climbers trod along the broken path high above you.  The headlights would bob slowly upward into the morning until they turned a corner at about 11,000 feet on the mountain.  It was like a scene from a movie but the lack of sleep, excitement, danger of mountain climbing and the constant monitoring of the diabetes was real.  

This climb would be successful.  I had learned a thing or two about climbing mountains and the insulin issue. 

My third journey on the mountain would be the next year.  This time I did the climb right.  I climbed with my doctor.  That usually doesn't happen, but when your doctor is Graham Reedy it is possible.  Graham is an experienced mountain climber and was the trainer for the Oakland Raiders (I think that was when they actually had a team).  Improvement had been made in the realm of diabetes and climbing and I was gaining good climbing experience and adding stock to the amazing life I had been leading.  

One climber had professed that he had been "weathered" out on Rainier 12 or 13 times in a row.  Rainier can create it's own weather and is often hampered by horrific weather.  I was on my third year where I suffered from being overdressed and sunburned.  I was baked.  It was a blessing to lead the group on part of the route.  That was a position I never envisioned. 

We reached the summit and I came home with pictures that did not come out.  The camera had overcompensated the brightness.  We would make the long trudge back and roll into Enumclaw, not far from Mt. Rainier, where Graham hung his ice axe,  sit in the hot tube and look out at such a dominant feature out his back door.  It had also become a dominate feature in my life.

My fourth trek onto Rainier's flank would not be a summit affair but would still have significant etchings in my life.  This trip would only be to Camp Muir, about 1/2 way up the mountain.  This would have meaning as it was with my father.  He did well and we were both surprised that it was not as difficult as we thought it would be.  I value that time that we spent on the mountain that had special meaning to me.  

 

Murray Lawson 

I had the pleasure to meet Murray Lawson and share with him my Rainier climbs.  Murray also lives in Sitka, Alaska and has diabetes.  In August 2009 he was standing on top of Mt. Rainier.  Way to go Murray.  On to Everest?