By Griffin
My name is Griffin, and I’m from New Canaan, Connecticut. Throughout this past fall, I completed an outdoor education program in the Pacific Northwest with the nonprofit, NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School). I spent 80 days in the rugged wilderness of Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia–learning how to stay warm, dry, and well-fed–while building valuable relationships and personal attributes. In this blog post, I will write about my experiences during the first section of the semester: mountaineering.
I began my semester on the NOLS Pacific Northwest campus in Mount Vernon, Washington. On campus, I met my groupmates, a collection of seven other young men from various parts of the United States, as well as my two instructors for the mountaineering section, Sam and Dilip. We participated in various “icebreaker” activities, as well as a group discussion on how to cultivate a Positive Learning Environment, or PLE, in the backcountry. This is one aspect of NOLS that I was especially grateful for, as these conversations about fostering a supportive, inclusive community were integral to group success in the field, and can be just as usefully applied to civilized life at home.
After packing our rations and our backpacks, we were ready to set off for the field. We began our journey at Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Sleeping in a tent with three other young men proved challenging for me at first. I was forced to remain relatively still during my sleep, something that I was not accustomed to from sleeping in my bed at home. Waking up to go to the bathroom at night also proved difficult, as I would cautiously unzip the noisy tent zippers to prevent my tent mates from waking up. Over time, my mind and body became acclimated to the sleeping environment, unveiling the great power of human beings to adapt to change.
On the first hiking day of the mountaineering section, our group of ten began a daunting hike up to Crag View, a base camping location that sits a few thousand feet below the peak of Mount Baker. Burdened by my 60-pound pack, I began to feel a numbing sensation in my shoulders and aching pains throughout my calves, glutes, and back. Luckily, the beautiful scenery surrounding us provided much-needed inspiration to continue pushing–as we passed through lush forests, serene streams, and rocky terrain. After arriving at base camp, both tent groups set up tents and kitchens, while two assigned cooks got started on meals.
The next few days on Crag View were filled with technical lessons on mountaineering skills, classes on how to build effective leadership, and nights sprawled under the stars, as my fellow group members and I played cards and cracked jokes until the lull of sleep called us back to our tents. After four or five days at the base camp, our instructors decided that we were ready for true mountaineering, and they led us on a walk to the foot of the nearby glacier. All of us strapped on our crampons, buckled up our gaiters, and donned our glacial sunglasses. Walking on the glacier was different than any surface that I had walked on before. There were sections of hard, crusted ice, as well as sunnier areas with mushier, softer snow. There were even streams of glacial water that flowed at our feet in some areas of the hike. After returning back to base camp from our hike, my group mates and I were tired yet excited for what lay ahead in the trip. We had all been wondering when the day would come that we might summit Mount Baker, but when students had asked in days prior, our instructors remained secretive, assuring us that the day would come if weather conditions were right. It surprised all of us, therefore, when Dilip, our experienced mountain guide, mentioned to all of us that we would be summiting tomorrow. Summiting tomorrow?! All of us were taken aback. After only one day of glacier travel, we were now preparing to summit.
On summit day, we woke up at 12:30 am, in order to beat the rush of other expedition groups. Our first hour of travel, in which we walked from base camp to the foot of the glacier, remained silent. No one spoke, as our instructors advised us to be mindful and intentional about our foot placement to avoid any possible injuries. After arriving at the foot of the glacier, we put on our crampons and gaiters, then began traveling. Traveling in the dark is serene, and the only light around us seeped from our shining headlamps as we trotted along above the steep glacial terrain. There were a few crevasses, or cracks in the glacier, throughout our trek, but my group members pointed them out, making the traveling process easier and smoother. At around 4 am, our group of ten stopped. Dilip, the instructor who had been navigating which route to take up the mountain, was having trouble finding a safe route up a particularly steep section of terrain due to the lack of sunlight that was present. Upon his request, all of us sat and waited until sunrise in the harsh cold and wind. The night sky was filled with stars above us, and offered a tranquil oasis to which my mind could escape while my body sat shivering in the blustery conditions. When the sun peered over the mountain, we re-initiated our ascent, with a newfound spark of energy due to the prolonged wait. At many times throughout the trek, my mind trailed off to the future, wondering when we would make it to the top or what the peak would look like. However, once I noticed that my mind was distracted, I would bring it back to the task at hand. And, after what felt like an eternity, we made it to the peak. Beautiful views of the surrounding North Cascade Mountain Range were present in a 360 degree panorama. The break at the top offered a short relief from the physical exertion that we had gone through, but, naturally, we also had to hike down. So, mustering the strength we had left, we put one foot in front of the other and journeyed our way back to base camp. All in all, the summit hike took us 13 hours.
As I reflect on my time spent in the mountaineering section–as well as in sea kayaking, coastal backpacking, and rock climbing–I am left with many lessons that I have taken with me to the “frontcountry.” I have learned the value of minimalism and the liberating power of only owning things that are truly valuable to you. I have developed my respect and empathy for others, two traits that are vital for living in a community. And I have felt immense gratitude for the daily comforts and people of my everyday life. Whether it’s steep mountains or turbulent seas, a rainy coast or a jagged cliff face, nature oozes with lessons of wisdom. I am grateful for my experiences this fall, and can’t wait to see where my adventurous spirit will take me next.
