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I was recently traveling for a month - a week in India, 3 in Nepal.  But this post isn't about my travels in these countries; they're about home.

That time in Nepal included a 16-day trip to the Himalayas.  We hiked every day.  "Rest days" actually meant climbing up a nearby hill, though not with our (heavy) overnight packs.  "Hills" meant, for example, hiking from 15,500' to 18, 500'.

It was a trek through one of the most amazing mountain regions in the world:  we got to see several 8000 meter peaks (Everest, Cho Oyu, Makalu) as well as the stunning Ama Dablam.  We had fun trying to capture our experience with photos and videos.  Some clear evenings I had the pleasure of taking pictures of stars and doing time-lapse photography of them, too.  The weather was consistently perfect every morning; we joked about nearly everything; the trip went just as planned.

Despite all this, about halfway through this trek I started thinking about home.  I started thinking about what it would mean to not have frost on the inside of a bedroom window in the morning.  What it would be like to be able to wash my hands after a dirty, dusty day of hiking.   About washing my hair.  About how badly I smelled.  Even my Patagonia nano-puff jacket reeked of sweat.

I thought about how great it would be if I could sleep through the night without getting a headache from dehydration.  And not needing to struggle with an aging water filter to purify 4 liters of water every day.   And not have to carry toilet paper with me at all times.  (Public toilets never include toilet paper in Nepal).  I daydreamed of the flush toilets that I knew existed in Namche Bazaar, where we'd spend a night on our way back to Kathmandu.  Being able to sit down to take care of that business sounded like a luxury.

And I daydreamed about oxygen.

Many of our days we reached altitudes over 18,000', where the density of air is only half of what it is at sea level.  This means that each breath only contains half the oxygen that we sea-level-residents are used to.  Not only does this mean that every uphill step is significantly harder; it also means that hikers are susceptible to maladies like acute mountain sickness (AMS).  For me, this only meant the occasional headaches.  But on top of the headaches that I was getting from dehydration and other minor issues, it meant that I had headaches much of the time.

I daydreamed of home, which had all these things, plus a very sweet boyfriend I hadn't seen in a month.  Perhaps, I reasoned, it would be possible to move my flight a day earlier; that way I would have an extra day to recover before flying to California for my next work trip.   Or perhaps, as it became apparent that we'd wrap up our trek a day earlier than planned, I could fly home two days early.  That would mean a full day and a half to just be home.

A day and a half to lie in bed.  Maybe watch a movie.  Or maybe turn of the electricity and just read.  And lie in bed.  It sounded amazing.

The interesting thing to me was were the many things that I didn't miss.

In general, I didn't miss any particular food.  Or email or the internet.  (We had some opportunities to pay for wireless internet that I passed up.)  Or movies or cars.  I didn't particularly miss my responsibilities back in Seattle: paid work and unpaid work that I do.  Does this mean that none of these things are important to me?  No.  But perhaps there are some clues here about what I should focus on if happiness is the metric I'm trying to optimize?  Or perhaps one should not base life decisions on experiences during vacation.  I really don't know.

But anyway, back those thoughts of being home.... Upon our return to the world of internet, I started investigating what it would take to return home two days earlier than planned.  The cost wasn't prohibitive, so I made the call to make the change.

And so it was that on Saturday November 8 I returned home, a mere 32 hours after I left my hotel in Kathmandu.  Charlie and I slept. We talked.  We slept more. We talked.  (We had lots to catch up on!)  We slept.  We walked to our favorite bagel shop.  We talked.  We fixed up some things at home.  We treated ourselves to the expensive grocery store in our neighborhood.  We made dinner.  We talked (we hadn't been so excited to see each other in ages!).  We slept.  We talked.  We slept.  Monday arrived and after more talking, eventually made it into work.

Rainier via Kautz Route (June 7-8, 2014)

I hadn't done in a trip with Gerhard in a while, and knowing that his usual climbing partner was out of commission with a broken hand, I asked him if he'd like to get out and do something; Rainier was one of the options I threw out.

He responded that he might be interested in Rainier; he suggested Liberty Ridge as a possibility.  I didn't know the specifics of the Liberty Ridge route, but when news broke the next day that six AAI climbers were missing from the Liberty Ridge route, I suggested that maybe we consider other options.

The Kautz Glacier ended up being our route of choice for the weekend, and the weather forecast held... and so it was that we found ourselves getting permits at the Climbing Information Center around 11 a.m. on Saturday June 7.  When we asked the ranger if anyone else was heading up the Kautz Glacier who had registered, he replied that there was a party heading for the Kautz Headwall, but no one for the Kautz Glacier.  When I expressed surprise at how few people were planning on heading that direction, he double-checked and realized that indeed, there was a party of 6 heading for the Kautz Glacier the next morning.  (We later saw 9 on the route.)

Fortunately, a recent trip to The Sisters had reminded me how heavy an overnight pack can feel and how much of a challenge altitude can add.  So when our pace up the Turtle can be was turtle-like, I wasn't too surprised.

Neve Penitentes by a bivy spot on the ridge.

There were at least 4 tents already in place by the time we arrived at 7 p.m., but we found a decent spot half-covered with ice; we added snow to level out the spot, started making water, and were in bed at 10 p.m.  Winds were light to non-existent; the temperatures dropped only a bit below freezing (evidenced by freezing in my hydration tube in the morning, which had been stored in my pack).

View from our tent site.

We planned to wake up at 4 a.m. and start moving at 5, but since our neighbors had left later than they planned (around 4:30 - 4:45), I didn't mind getting a slower start (we actually left at 5:20 a.m.) so that we could let them get through the gully near camp (which has a fixed line) before we got there.

Gerhard checking out the fixed line near camp to get to the glacier Saturday evening.

After rappelling the gully and then roping up we started up the ice steps.  The ice sections were OK, but I wish I would  have sharpened my Grivel air-tech axe.  (Or perhaps that that wouldn't have helped?)  Certainly the Petzl Quark was much more effective.  Gerhard led the way, placing a single screw (on the 2nd pitch, which we agreed was more challenging). Gerhard also threaded the rope through the neve penitentes so that the rope would catch if he did fall.

After we got through the ice sections, it was about 7:45 a.m..  This brought us to 12,000'.  (800' of progress in 2.5 hours.)

The ice steps, as viewed from near camp  Some of the snow is just a thin layer over ice.

The route was much more straightforward from here, and in the next 2.5 hours worked our way up another 2000'.  Despite having skis and skins with us, conditions dictated that we'd have to carry them... and so we huffed and puffed our way up to the top.  Like the guides say:  "Pole, pole".

Perhaps the most surprising sight of the day was a fox that Gerhard spotting heading toward the crater rim (away from us). I had no idea they went that high on the mountain!

The wind was quite strong at the crater rim, and even stronger at the true summit.  (I'd guess 30+ mph.)  Just 20' below we found a much friendlier spot, relatively wind-free.  We ate and stowed the rope, sat down, and watched other groups reach the summit.  It felt really very nice to be able to just sit and relax there.  We weren't in any particular hurry, since we were hoping that the snow would soften up a bit before we headed down.

At the top, trying not to be blown away.

After close to an hour we left our perch.  We chatted with a group of our neighbors and decided to take a slightly different route down; this route was the route that's actually shown in the Gauthier guidebook; the route that we had taken up had seemed like the obvious way to go, but is on the other side of the Wapowety Cleaver.

The "standard" route has the advantage of being southeast facing, and given how icy our route was on the way up, we weren't certain that it would have corned up in 90 minutes for the on the trip down and liked our chances better on the "standard" route. Given how icy the snow was when we flipped over the ridge at 13,000', I'm glad we made that choice.

Our route: Red is up, Blue is down.  (Accidentally turned off GPS around 11,700' on the way down)

The snow off the top was actually what could be described as "packed powder".  Down lower there was some snow transitioning to corn.  Unfortunately when things were in ideal corn shape, we were futzing our way down the ice chute.  Things were quite sloppy down low (below ~8000').

We opted to belay the downclimb of the last 20-30 meters of the 2nd (upper pitch of ice), rather than rappel, using a V-thread.  (Backed up with 2 screws for the first down-climber).  The lower pitch was bypassable on climber's left.  That is, on that side we could use the neve penitentes as steps / handholds in many places.  It was my first time downclimbing ice like that before!

We knew that one of the obstacles to getting back to camp would be the gully that we rappeled down on the way up in the morning.  We had the option of bypassing this and skirting the icefall above us, but instead we opted to prusik up the fixed line.  I finally got to put that prusiking practice to good use!

Things were faster than I expected getting back to the car from camp.  Only 90 minutes back, including the climb up to Glacier Vista!  At 6:30 p.m. we were back at the car, satisfied with a challenging but fun third trip up Rainier.

Many thanks to Gerhard for a great trip.

Timeline
Saturday -
7:45 a.m. - Leave Seattle
10:45 a.m. - arrive Paradise
11:45 a.m. - start from Paradise lower lot
4:40 p.m. - base of Turtle
7 p.m.  - Arrive at camp at 11,200'

Sunday -
4 a.m. - Awake
5:20 a.m. - Leave Camp
7:45 a.m. - Done with Ice steps
10:20 a.m. - top of Kautz Glacier (near Point Success, 14,000')
11:00 a.m. - Arrive Summit
11:50 p.m. - Depart summit
2:30 p.m. - Done with descent of first pitch
4:30 p.m. - back at camp
5 p.m. - Leave camp
6:30 - back at Paradise lower lot

Equipment:
* 60m 8mil rope
* Petzl Quark ice tool
* Grivel Air Tech Evo ice axe
* 6 screws total (used max of 2 at once)
* Skis, boots, poles
* Beacon, shovel, probe
* Lightweight 3-season tent

Weather: 

Some clouds (mostly below us, except on Saturday)

Summit: around 20 degrees, 30-40 mph winds (less just south of summit)

Link to more pictures on flickr!

Play day on the Sulphide

Ever since I'd heard of skiing the Sulphide several years ago, the idea sounded intriguing.  Back in 2007 I summited Shuksan via the Fischer Chimneys route (I didn't even own any skis at the time; we were on foot).  And I'd been curious about what the rest of the Sulphide Glacier looked like (from the Fischer Chimneys route, one only gets a glimpse of the upper part).  And unlike many skiers, I really enjoy flat, mellow runs that I can straightline while I watch the scenery go by.  Glaciers can be really good for that.

So after three days of good weather (Saturday - Monday) entered the forecast last week and Carla suggested the idea of doing three days of skiing, I didn't mind taking a vacation day.  June is a great month for skiing in the Pacific Northwest: long days and snow starting at 4000' or lower.  The only tricky part is finding good weather windows; our dry summers don't really start until July 4.

So after an easy, short day from Heather Meadows (around Table Mountain) and a moderate day on Mt. Ruth, we drove to Shuksan from Bellingham, departing at 5:15 a.m. and arriving at the trailhead at 7.  (We stopped for gas, coffee, and bathroom en route.)  I had never driven to that trailhead (Shannon Ridge) before, and had never been that far down Baker Lake Road.  What a fun drive!  Until the pot-holed, dirt section began.  The potholes in that section threatened to swallow the Saturn whole.

There were two other cars at the trailhead, but by about 6000' we'd seen both parties descending (on foot).  We had the entire mountain to ourselves!  We didn't see anyone after that until we were nearly back at the cars.

By 7:15 we were on our way.  The trailhead is at 2600' and patches of snow started around 3000'; by 4000' it was consistent.  We put on skis and skins when we got to the start of the ridge at 4600'.

The snow was a bit firm and steep just below the col at 5400', but fine without ski crampons.  The view of the steepish slope that we needed to traverse after leaving the col gave me pause.  It looked really steep!  I threw on ski crampons, though they really weren't necessary, and a pre-existing skin track made things easier.  The soft snow was well-enough behaved for our traverse.

We continued onward and upward, doing some heavy snacking at 6400' before continuing up to the base of the summit pyramid.  The views of Jagged Ridge and Mt. Baker did not disappoint.  The views of the summit and the sea of white below lured us on.  The summit itself looked steep enough to be impossible to climb.

Around 12:30 we made it to the base of the summit pyramid: 8400'.  I have to admit that getting there was a bit anitclimactic.  Clouds had started to roll in; enough to obscure views.  And we hadn't brought equipment (ice axe, rope, etc.) to go to the summit, since we figured we wouldn't have the time or energy to do so.  But it was still a wonderful day in a beautiful place.

As clouds near us started to get taller and closer, they helped motivate us to start moving from our lunching high-point.  Around 1:15 we started down; at about 2:30 we were taking our skis off at 4000'.  At 3:30 we were back at the car, trying to figure out what to do with ourselves and the rest of the day.  Enjoying the other awesome thing about June - the lack of mosquitoes - we lingered for about an hour at the trailhead, drinking our beer and ginger ale, doing some reading, even making a cell phone call.  (Yes, there was cell reception at the trailhead!)

What a fun day!

Jury Duty in King County, Washington

A few weeks ago I went to King County Superior Court to fulfill my jury duty.  There was a lot of information that wasn't communicated to me that I would have liked to know in advance of jury duty about how it works, so I'm writing it down here in the hope that it helps someone else.  Note that I never served on an actual trial, but I was selected to be in jury pools for 2 different trials.

"The length of one trial" - My summons for jury duty did not explicitly say that jury duty was at least 2 days.  It said "2 days or the length of a trial".  I had no idea how long trials lasted, but assumed they were usually pretty short and that 2 days was the maximum, but it's actually the minimum.  When we arrived at the courthouse, however, a judge told us that trials in her courtroom were usually at least a week and a half long. Apparently there's large variances in the length of a trial; a DUI case might last just one day, but some complex lawsuits can last 4 weeks or more.  Jurors are expected to schedule their jury duty for a time when they can be available for 2-4 weeks for a trial.  That is, when they don't have any vacations / trips scheduled, etc.  It would have been great to know how long trials can last, both in terms of scheduling and setting expectations for coworkers, etc.

The lower your number, the more likely you are to actually serve on a jury.   In one of the trials I was part of the jury pool for, 50 jury candidates were selected.  I was juror #31.  The judge wanted 13 jurors. 18 jurors in front of me (of jurors #1-30) would have needed to be dismissed for reasons of hardship, peremptory challenge, or other challenge in order for me to make it into "the box".  As it was, only 5 or so jurors were dismissed, and I got nowhere near the jury box.  Superior court cases require 12 jurors + 1 or more alternates.  District court cases require 6 jurors + 1 or more alternates.  When I showed up for jury duty, I was surprised to see how many people had been summoned: there were about 200 of us in the jury assembly room.

Juries don't meet on Fridays.  That's right -- if you're selected for a jury for a trial that lasts 2 weeks, you'll only need to be at court Monday - Thursday.  I don't know why the court works that way, but it does.

You will be paid $10 per day for your service, but don't expect to be paid that day.  They don't hand out ten-dollar bills that you'll be able to use to pay for lunch.  You'll be paid in the mail in a month or so.  If you aren't convinced to donate your compensation to the courthouse daycare facility (which I was).  Also, I find the $10/day payment comical.  If we paid jurors a reasonable amount for their time (minimum wage, at least), perhaps the legal system would use jurors' time more efficiently.

There is wifi at the courthouse.  There was some glitch with the portal setup, so the Chrome browser will refuse to connect to the portal (where you agree to terms of wifi use), but once you use Safari, Firefox, or some other browser to "sign in", you can use Chrome just fine.  You can use your laptop, smartphone, etc. in the jury assembly room, but not in the courtroom.  While waiting to be selected for a jury pool, there is plenty of free time.  I can't recall the speed of the connection, but I don't recall it being too bad.

You will have about 1.5 hours for lunch each day.  Lunch breaks are quite generous.  I found that this was plenty of time to walk to Pike Place Market and stroll around.

There is a jury orientation on your first day.  This involves watching a video and listening to a judge speak.  I found this pretty informative, since this was my first time going to jury duty.

You don't need to be at the courtroom at 8 a.m. every day, just the first day.  My second day I didn't need to be at the courtroom until 8:45 a.m.

Goodbye, Coach Collins

This morning I got the news, a bit late, that Coach Collins passed away last Thursday.  (http://www.eagletribune.com/local/x1196448741/End-of-an-era) The news wasn’t completely shocking; at the age of 82 he wasn’t a spring chicken any more, and his health wasn’t perfect, either.

What was more surprising than his passing was how powerful the news was to me and how deeply saddened I’ve been since hearing the news, despite the fact that I haven't seen him in over a decade.

I spent about an hour this morning reading his memoirs “The Word Quit Does Not Exist”.  My perspective since it was published, when I was 19 (I’m now 36) has changed significantly.   Growing up in Andover, Coach Collins’ dedication was not nearly as astounding to me as it appears from the perspective of a software engineer, where people change teams, projects, or companies every few years.

Coach Collins taught and coached football and track and field at Andover High for 37 years.  In the summers, he taught at Phillips Academy.  Did he ever have a free minute for himself in all those years?  I can’t imagine that he possibly could have.  I, on the other hand, grumble about volunteering just a fraction of my free time to teach climbing and backcountry skiing.  And yet he gave so much that in return he received much joy in the form of love that his students and athletes gave to him.

I remember wondering why Coach Collins wrote his memoirs back in the day, shortly after he retired.  It seemed like somewhat aimless storytelling.  Where, exactly, was the plot?  Now I see his book as a gift to all of us, the community of Andover, sharing our successes and reminding us of the good that is in all of us; he spoke ill of no one.  And in it, we again receive the gift of his wit, wisdom, and values; we learn about his own heroes.

In a time when I find it hard to find people whom I genuinely look up to, Coach Collins stands out as someone I truly respect and admire.  I will never be someone of his stature, but if I had 1% of his skills as a speaker, leader, and coach; 1% of his generosity… for just one day, I would be truly happy.

It’s funny, the random things that I remember about him, too.  “Never curse a ballpoint pen,” he said when he tried to write something on a piece of paper posted on his door but failed as gravity fought against him.  There was some story about him receiving a scholarship from a ballpoint pen company.  I think about that every time I can’t get a ballpoint pen to work.

Sometimes when I close a presentation I’m giving, I find myself asking, “Any questions, comments, or words of wisdom?”  That’s how he closed every class, and it still works today.

I loved his system of coaching track & field that rewarded everyone for hard work, in a sport where talent is more often praised.  When I tell my current friends of our track team that had over 150 members, they’re astounded.  It was the fairness of system that drew people to it.  More people working hard meant more success.  And more success drew more people.

I learned of Coach Collin’s passing this morning when I picked up my phone after returning home from my early morning run.  If it hadn’t been for his fairness, his reputation, and success as a coach, I may never have considered quitting the softball team to join the track team.  If it hadn’t been for Coach Collins, I might not have started running and enjoyed running in college; might not have made so many friends through running; might not have explored many places around the world through running; might not have maintained a high level of fitness by running.  The gift of running was one of his great gifts to me.

His smile from those many years ago shines through brightly as I think of him.  He seemed so genuinely happy to work with us and see us. He clearly cared about us - his students, his athletes, his colleagues, his community. I wish I could see his smile and shake his hand again.

Thank you, Coach Collins.  I miss you so much.