For this blog, I asked my good friend and climbing partner, Eric Alexander, to write his perspective on our recent climb of Mt. Baker. I’ve been putting my life in Eric’s hands for more than 20 years now, so in the following article, I think you’ll see why. – Erik Weihenmayer
“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” Friedrich Nietzsche is credited with having said this, and, while this is often true, I have to wonder – does it make us smarter? I have witnessed my share of suffering from family and friends: car crashes and cancer to complete strangers fighting hunger and disease. The people who endure all the world can dish out are no doubt stronger than I, have greater faith than I, show a deeper trust than I am capable of grasping.
By living in this world we are all forced to endure, cope, struggle and make a choice to grow, to serve, to keep on keeping on – with grace in the midst of challenging circumstances.
Climbing mountains with my good friend Erik Weihenmayer over the last twenty years has shown me these truths. While I don’t equate suffering on a mountain to be anything like the deep suffering of this world (it is suffering by choice), I do believe it can teach us patience, toughness, resiliency and equip us for greater struggles.
Typically when setting out on a climb, it’s a given that there will be moments of pain, hunger, fatigue, sleeplessness, gas, or worse – a tent-mates gas. We have become accustomed to soreness, sunburns, drowsiness, nosebleeds and nagging injuries. There are inherent dangers that blindside us; they just can’t be seen. Erik and I have had our share of “epics” which have given cause for our wives to nickname us the “Epic E’s”. It sounds kinda cool, but I’d prefer to lose the title. I must admit there is some truth there: a 19-hour tour to the top of the world, a near fatal fall on Ama Dablam, High Altitude Pulmonary Edema on Alpamayo, a 30-million cubic meter landslide on the Piz Badile which wiped out the recently travelled trail below – just to name a few. There is relief when looking back, a joy that comes from pulling it out. However the greatest joy comes from executing a well made plan with a strong team on a challenging objective.
Last month Erik Weihenmayer, Charley Mace, Joseph Hobby and I set out for Mt. Baker in Washington on a moment’s notice as a weather window had opened up and conditions appeared to be optimal. Our objective was the North Ridge, with some steep grade-3+ ice pitches, and considered one of the AAI’s “50 classic climbs.” Ten years ago, Erik and I had made an attempt on the ridge, but turned back due to a total white-out. As I said to Erik as we retreated, “I’m sorry but one of us needs to see here.”
So for attempt number two, arrangements were made, gear collected quickly, and with the team’s fitness on track, we were off.
It was as simple as a quick stop at the grocery store, a walk through the wildflowers, and an alarm set for 1:00 a.m. in our tents on the edge of the glacier. Eager to get climbing, we hurried down some coffee and oatmeal and headed out into the darkness up the glacier. Thankfully Joseph had been here before and with just a little extra bobbing and weaving we were through the maze of crevasses and climbing the steep upper slopes. Moving as a team of four on this kind of terrain isn’t recommended with steep vertical ice pitches in the way, but as is usually the case with Erik, we got innovative and made it work.
At the crux of the climb we tied in to a v formation of the rope, which put three strands of rope in front of my friend swinging his sharp tools blindly above. My job was to climb beside him and try to keep those ropes out of the way and damage free. As the sun rose so did our spirits. This place was exceptionally beautiful with the deep lush valleys below, and rugged snowcapped peaks all around. There was the rhythm of movement swing, kick, swing kick, step up, pull, swing kick… and so it went until we crested the pitch our rhythm changed by the sing song yells of Charley’s voice welcoming us to the upper slopes.
It was all smiles and laughter as we made the last few swings of the axe and kicks of the crampons over the final serac, straddling crevasses, to then see the summit cone come into view. A simple stroll led us to the summit where we celebrated with Charley’s tie-dyed chicken foot flag and another team who had arrived the same moment we did from the other side of the mountain.
Eat, hydrate, reapply sunscreen, descend. A quick rappel, a hurry through the debris of a collapsed serac, a trudge over the remaining ice, and then we were welcomed back to camp by the lone goat on the north ridge. No epics here. It is not always suffering, there can be joy in the journey and joy at reaching the destination. This joy is more likely when the team is prepared, fit, climbs with confidence – not fear, and is aided by perfect conditions. Once in a while we get a gift greater than the pizza and beer that follows. It is the gift of camaraderie, the gift of an experienced team moving well through the mountains, the gift of arriving back down in the valley stronger and smarter (though the last part is always up for debate).
Mt Baker was to serve as a training climb for the larger Himalayan objective of Ama Dablam (22,349’) this October/November. I nearly lost my life on Ama Dablam with Erik nineteen years ago. It was a simple mistake, but I am older and I pray, wiser. I will be stronger, I will climb by faith, and with a strong team who has shown preparedness and appreciates the joy that comes from the journey, I’d like to think that we will measure our success by our ability to suffer with a smile and return with friendships and fingers in tact. No epic needed, just a little grace.
