New Year’s Eve 2020

As this weird, often awful, sometimes wonderful year comes to a close, I had a few thoughts. The first is that I haven’t missed live events too often, but today found myself missing the roar of the crowd, the anticipation of a live show, the collective swell and rise to our feet when a playoff goal happens in hockey. A walk-off homerun. Singalongs at concerts. High fives with strangers.

We’ll get back to these things, of course. Maybe not ALL the way back in 2021, but slowly and surely. It’s human nature to want to connect with others, to share visceral experiences. There will likely be more caution and perhaps a decent amount of hesitation, especially in the short term. The vaccines will help, but not everyone will line up and the roll-out will be slow. I expect the American summer to be similar to last year’s, with more people venturing out, more collective toes dipping into the waters. This is presuming that things don’t get worse, which they very well could. However, I’m not sure why, but I expect attitudes to improve, with perhaps a slight uptick in appreciation for science and medicine and reason. This may be naively optimistic, but I don’t believe it to be unrealistic either.

It probably doesn’t do much good to dwell on what went wrong in 2020. They’ve all been well documented, anyway. So instead, let’s focus on the positives and what is still to come. First and foremost, my nephew, Luke, has kicked cancer to the curb. The kid, who is only 7, has gone through and beaten leukemia.

To a large extent, I’ve been removed from all of this. I live four hours away, so I haven’t been exposed to the day-to-day. I haven’t dealt with what my sister-in-law, Jenny, has had to on the hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly basis. I can’t imagine how exhausting that must have been for her; the toll it’s taken. 3+ years of hospital visits and lengthy stays, the multitude of doctors, the poking and prodding and ports. Moreover, there has been more than one move, uplifting the family from Falls Church to Staunton, VA, to be closer to her family. So my hat goes off to Jenny, and to my brother, Adam, and to my other nephew, Tommy, who has had to live in the shadow of his older brother’s illness. Somehow, they’ve all gotten through it and in the process, they added another member to the family! Janie, my only niece, was born on 8/14/20, the same day as my parents’ 49th wedding anniversary.

She is the first McIlwain girl born since my grandfather Ed’s sister, Janet, and if my math is correct, not only the first female McIlwain of her generation, but the first in NINE generations. I am so proud of all of them and send so much love to Adam and Jenny and Luke and Tommy and Janie and I can’t wait to see them and spend time with them in the new year.

In Adam’s words, “In total, this was one of the best years for me personally.  Janie, Luke’s end of treatment, major upgrade in my home and my budget, and the worst President* of my life died.  Well, lost anyway.  Plus I still have a great job for a great employer.”

My brother Josh continued to impress, as well. Winter, spring, summer and fall, he climbed 13ers and 14ers in Colorado, traveled to Devil’s Tower and Utah and visited parts of the American west, filled with glorious splendor. Regarding the mountain climbing, Josh writes, “10 new/unique 14ers this year, some requiring multiple attempts. 13ers are harder to track because they don’t all have peak names and sometimes, like when summiting Huron, a 14er, you can do three 13ers on the way. They also make rules about what qualifies as a “peak” because the prominence has to be like 450’ higher from the saddle than the nearest peak. So it gets a little lame in my opinion when the spirit of the hike is to push oneself and one’s limitations, inside and out, and becomes less about keeping score on the 13ers. Plus the 14ers are just easier to remember. Ballpark guess on 13ers this year, 5-7.” No matter how you slice it, one truth remains: Josh’s accomplishments are remarkable. Professionally, he worked as hard as he always does, he battled and beat COVID-19, he found new ways to connect with his father while being a great role model to his son, Matthew.

And oh yeah, he fought the Cameron Peak Forest Fire:

In a year FILLED with trials and tribulations and lots of difficulties and death, why not throw the largest forest fire in Colorado state history on to the pile? In the efforts to protect our family’s home in Masonville, Josh rose to the challenge. Of course, he could only do so much and luck had to play a role. It turns out, the house and its surrounding land was a good spot to be a staging area for the heroic firefighters, so they dug in their collective heels and protected what they could. In the more forested foothills above my parents’ home, everything was lost and homes were destroyed. In the more grassy areas below them and closer to Masonville and civilization, most properties were spared. Their house was squarely on the line between destruction and salvation and their home survived.

Thanks to Josh, the home will be better prepared for future fires and our family will be better equipped to keep the home around for future generations.

My parents had to deal with all of these things, worrying about their own health and safety, while driving across the country to and from Colorado. They left Masonville before the fires got close to the house, so they were in relative safety back in Pennsylvania when Cameron Peak was at its worst and closest to the home. In a trying year for everyone, I think the pandemic took its toll on them the most; not necessarily in a physical way, but certainly from a mental health aspect and an emotional perspective. Our summer vacation plans (with Tom, Betsy, Josh, Matthew, Ben, Andrea and me) in Glacier National Park had to be scrapped. Time with friends and family had to be suspended. Visits to Big Bear had to be severely limited and were mostly only from Josh and Matthew. On the plus side, Ben and Andrea and I were able to have my parents over to our house for Thanksgiving, eating outside on our front patio, and during this Christmas break, we’ve been able to see them twice, exchanging presents and keeping our socially distanced and masked visits brief but enjoyable. We’re all glad to see 2020 come to an end, but I think my parents are the most relieved.

With relief comes optimism. I asked my mom to share her thoughts on 2020 and this is what she wrote: “When your father and I were married almost 50 years ago, the song that we danced to at our wedding reception was ‘As Time Goes By’ from Casablanca. A line from that song goes, ‘the fundamental things apply as time goes by.’ That is true. Fundamental things like love for family, closeness of friends, work that gives you joy, fine music, and art, and literature are all fundamentals. They have more application today is this time of confusion, this time of uncertainty. Remembering what is really important helps me stay centered.”

Life lessons from Rick, Ilsa, Sam, Louis and even Victor Laszlo.

So what will the future bring? If this year is any indication, Andrea’s business will continue to grow and prosper. To leave any job is a risk. To leave a job to become a full-time and independent artist? You gotta have balls. Courage alone only gets you so far. Mix in talent and drive and creativity and passion and sheer ability and a steady hand and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find success. She is her own CEO, CFO, marketing team, social media team, mail room, boss, employee and intern (although Mabel sometimes helps). And even if you’re a REALLY good artist, you still have to find ways to get your product in front of the right eyes and on top of that, you have to do it in a pandemic which has crunched the economy and taken its toll on our collective psyches. And yet, somehow, she continues to BE an artist, to surprise me, to be creative, and to use her talents to produce incredible art and yes, sell that art to the masses. I’m so impressed by her and so proud of her. I’m lucky to be in love with someone like that who loves me back. How could you not love this?!

Andrea and I missed out on traveling together this year, but are hopefully we can find ways to hit the road in 2021. When it’s safe and we feel ok to do so, we’ll get back on a plane, but if that doesn’t happen, the road trip itself is always an option. In 2020, I took my first long road trip in an RV since 1991 (long live the Minnie Winnie) as Ben and I set out for Maine and Acadia National Park. Though we missed having Andrea as our companion, the trip was an unqualified success. We rented the perfect size RV, drove from PA up through New Jersey and New York, through Connecticut (BOO!) and on to Massachusetts, where we visited with my friend, Chris Edwards and his wonderful family. From there, we headed north through New Hampshire and into Maine and up to Acadia, which is my 23rd National Park. There are 62, including the Gateway Arch, and before I die, I’d like to make it to all of them.

Ben has always been a great travel partner, never complaining, always willing to try something new, or go some place different. He makes it all incredibly easy. And this father-son road trip couldn’t have gone much more smoothly. He even tolerated our side trip to go see Buxton (lotta hayfields up in Buxton). I thoroughly enjoyed being in the RV with him and LOVED getting back to Maine and letting him experience it for the first time. Throughout Maine and New Hampshire, people were respectful and kind and courteous and visiting the National Park only whetted my appetite to explore Maine and get to more parks.

The kid is good at hiking, too!

There’s more, of course, but I’ve already prattled on too much. There were other short trips here and there, and some good times camping with Ben and Andrea and just Andrea and me, too. I look forward to more hiking, more time outdoors, more exploring in 2021. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get back out west, but even if we don’t, there’s plenty to see and do within driving distance!

I hope that despite all the difficulties, 2020 was ok for you. I was lucky. I kept working, my family and friends were all safe and relatively healthy, and I’m grateful to have made it through this year unscathed. I know it’s been so hard for so many, and if you’re reading this and it was a tough year for you, please know that I genuinely hope 2021 is a VAST improvement. I continue to be hopeful and be optimistic.

To borrow a line from my favorite movie (and the reason to go to Buxton, Maine), “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.”

Nick interviews Pete Souza

Pete Souza, the photojournalist, served as the White House Photographer for President Barack Obama and earlier in his career, was the official White House photographer for President Ronald Reagan. He was also the official photographer for the funeral services of Ronald Reagan in 2004.

Nick had the opportunity to chat with Pete about this year’s election, his time with both Presidents Reagan and Obama, and what music continues to inspire him!

Follow Pete on Instagram and here is Pete’s #JoyToThePolls playlist so you have some of his favorite music to listen to as you wait in line to vote:

Check out the trailer to Pete’s new documentary “The Way I See It”:

September 6, 2016 – Rainier back to Seattle back to Philly

Once again, I’m writing from 30,000 feet. As I type this, it’s kind of hard to believe it. In the span of just a few short days, I’ve been 6,000 miles, back and forth across the country, up and down 30,000 feet on two flights, and up and down from sea level to 11,200 feet, 3000 short of my intended goal of the summit of Mt. Rainier.

I’m disappointed, of course. I REALLY wanted to make it to the summit. On Sunday morning, we left Ashford, WA and took the shuttle back up to Paradise Valley, inside Mt. Rainier National Park. For the first time all week, we had perfect weather and were finally able to see the mountain, all the way to the top.

A view of the mountain from Paradise

A view of the mountain from Paradise

It was a beautiful morning, with clear skies, and I was grateful and happy to be in such an amazing place. The goal on Sunday was to hike from the parking lot of Paradise Valley, which is at about 5,000 feet, up to Camp Muir, which is at about 10,000 feet. Except for our boots, we had all of our gear in our backpacks: layers of clothing, including a parka, two fleeces, a rain jacket, long underwear, snow pants, two hats, two pairs of gloves and alpine mittens. In addition, we were carrying a sleeping bag, our crampons, a mountain harness, an ice ax, hiking poles, ski goggles, an avalanche transceiver, all of our food, a full CamelBak of water, a Nalgene liter of water, a camera, a small lamp, a head lamp, a flashlight, a helmet, spare batteries and probably one or two other things I can’t remember. We carried all of this for a 2-day trip.

My backpack, filled to the max!

My backpack, filled to the max!

At about 9:30, we started walking up. Like I said, it was a beautiful morning and for the first time, we had to deal with the sun. The clear weather gave us beautiful views during the hike up, and to our southeast, we could see Mt. St. Helens and to the south, Mt. Adams.

Beyond the clouds, a view of Mt. St. Helens and its volcanic activity.

Beyond the clouds, a view of Mt. St. Helens and its volcanic activity.

The views were spectacular and I was relieved it wasn’t raining or cloudy. Seeing the peak of Mt. Rainier was inspiring and it let us know how daunting the challenge was. However, the sun made me sweat more than I expected and even by our first break, one hour up, I was feeling warmer and more tired than I thought I would be.

The only real comparison I have is to the climb Carl and I did up Kilimanjaro 4 years ago and in retrospect, there are two remarkable, important and noticeable differences. First, the pace was much faster. The Rainier climb crammed a LOT more into two days than we ever did on Kili. From 9:30am Sunday morning to 4pm Monday afternoon, the goal for Rainier was 9,000 feet up AND down, with minimal rest. We did Kilimanjaro over 6 days, with 4 up and 2 down, and didn’t carry most of our gear. One of the major benefits of the Kili climb was that the porters were responsible for carrying most of our gear and food. Secondly, the incline was much steeper on Rainier. The easiest way to describe the climb up Kilimanjaro, which is over 19,000 feet, is that it is a long, slow walk up a very big hill. Summit day on Kili was very difficult; you start above 15,000 feet and are at the steepest incline of the whole climb. Before summit day, though, it was challenging but not incredibly difficult. Rainier was faster, steeper and we were carrying 50 pounds of gear and food and water on our backs.

On the way from Paradise to Camp Muir

On the way from Paradise to Camp Muir

The climb from Paradise Valley to Camp Muir was 5,000 feet and for the first hour and a half, we were on rocks and trails. As we got above the tree line, we transitioned to snow climbing and traversed several mountain snowfields, with the Nisqually Glacier off to our left. Every so often, you could hear ice falls from the glacier, an eerie echoing sound of gravity and heat taking their toll on the ice. The ice falls were often followed by rock falls, evidence of the dynamic nature of the mountain.

On the hike up, we could see Nisqually Glacier off to the left.

On the hike up, we could see Nisqually Glacier off to the left.

The 5,000-foot ascent was broken up into five segments, with four breaks during which we were to drink our water and eat a snack or two. I brought beef and turkey jerky, different kinds of Kind Bars and Clif Bars, and a few varieties of trail mix. After the first two breaks, about three hours into the ascent, I was already feeling tired. I felt refreshed after each break, but 10 minutes into climbing again, I started counting down the minutes until the next rest. By the third break, I could no longer eat anything and was feeling nauseous. Moreover, I was afraid I might throw up or have to poop on the side of the mountain. Fun, right? At the fourth break, I could see Muir and knew we were only 45 minutes or so from level ground and the civility of a toilet. At about 3:30pm, Carl, Tim and I and the rest of our group hiked up into camp, dropped our gear in the bunkhouse, and started preparing for the summit attempt. I found time to use the bathroom, which as you can imagine is, at 10,000 feet, not exactly luxurious. Think of it as an outhouse without the charming crescent moon carved into the door.

We unpacked most of our gear, considerably lightening the load in our backpacks. For the summit, we were instructed to bring along two liters of water, 6 to 8 snacks, our parkas, ski pants, and a few other items to try to keep us as warm as possible. There isn’t much to the Camp Muir bunkhouse. 20 to 25 spots to store a sleeping bag and whatever gear you didn’t intend to bring with you up to the summit. There were 18 people in our group, which was divided into two smaller groups. The head guide for our group was named Christina; there were two assistant guides, Avery and Caleb. Our climbers were: me, Carl and Tim; two friends named Jess and Chrissy; a solo climber named Bonnie; and two sisters originally from Thailand named Ue and Poong. Unfortunately, Lauren Harris never made it to Camp Muir. Due to anxiety and a few other outstanding problems, including issues with her ankles, she turned around earlier in the day at about 7,000 feet.

After getting settled in at Muir, our guides told us we would be roped together in groups of 3 and the climb up the summit would begin around midnight. Carl and Tim and I were to be roped in with Caleb as our guide. We were then instructed to grab a bite to eat, drink plenty of water, and to try to get some rest in the bunkhouse. In the middle of the night, the guides would wake us up to begin the 4,000-foot climb from Muir to the summit.

I was already incredibly nervous. The climb from Paradise to Muir had been much more difficult than I had expected; I was sore and tired and unsure of myself. I was feeling sick to my stomach and had started to get a headache. Perhaps it was altitude sickness and fatigue and maybe a combination of several other variables. Perhaps I hadn’t trained hard enough. Perhaps I hadn’t eaten the right foods. Whatever the reasons, I felt something on Rainier that I never once felt on Kilimanjaro: I might not make it to the top.

As a result, I didn’t really sleep from lights out, at 6pm, until around 12:30, when the guides came in to the bunkhouse to tell us it was time to go.

I “woke up” a tiny bit refreshed and with more energy than I expected. I actually felt good. When I walked outside and looked up, I was exhilarated. I can’t remember the last time I saw a night sky like that; too many stars to count and the Milky Way directly above our heads. It wasn’t even THAT cold. I could see much of the mountain in the starlight and even though I was still nervous, I had a renewed sense that I would make it to the summit.

It took us about an hour to get organized. We assembled our gear and put our boots and crampons on, and I was further energized by two factors: our packs were MUCH lighter and we wouldn’t have the sun beating down on us on the way up. Climbing at night is a bit scary, but it has its advantages, too.

I admitted I was probably the slowest of the three of us, so Caleb told me I would be right behind him, with Carl behind me and Tim behind him. In mountaineering school the day before, we learned how to rope ourselves in, using a carabineer and the harness. And so at about 1:30 in the morning, with our packs on our backs, our helmets and headlamps on our heads, and our ice axes in gloved hands, the four of us started out of camp and across the snow covered Cowlitz Glacier.

The summit climb is divided into four parts: Cowlitz Glacier to Cathedral Rock and up to Ingraham Flats; the Flats up to Disappointment Cleaver; the Cleaver to High Break; and then to Columbia Crest and the summit itself. There were scheduled breaks in between each segment of the climb and again, these were the times when you were supposed to drink and eat. The breaks were not to last longer than 10 or 15 minutes.

The route from Camp Muir to the Summit

The route from Camp Muir to the Summit

Crossing Cowlitz Glacier was not particularly difficult, but as soon as we began the ascent up Cathedral Rock, I could tell I was in trouble. The higher up we went, the colder it became, but despite the plunging temperature and increasing wind, I began sweating profusely. I had several layers on and I sweat through all of them. My heart was pounding, I began to feel sick to my stomach again and my headache got worse and worse.

To get to the top of Cathedral Rock, you have to “short rope it”, meaning the space in between you and the person in front of you and behind you goes from five or six yards to a few feet. This is a safety precaution. At this point, the path up is now a mixture of rock and snow and is only a few inches wide. You’re climbing at night with limited visibility, and there are crevasses and other hazards, including precipitous falls, on either side of the path.

After we made it to the top of Cathedral Rock, we went back to regular rope lengths and hiked up across the snow on Ingraham Glacier. This part of the climb lasted another 15 or 20 minutes until our first break at Ingraham Flats, which is at about 11,200 feet. The Flats are to the east of a large space in the rocks called “Cadaver Gap”. I wish I were kidding.

A topographical view of the top of Rainier

A topographical view of the top of Rainier

I was exhausted. I felt like shit. Caleb, who had been periodically checking on me and Carl and Tim, asked the other guys how they were and they said they were ok. He asked me and I said, “I’m not so great.” We dropped our packs, put on some layers to protect us from the cold, and sat down to eat a snack and drink some water, although I couldn’t eat anything.

After resting for five minutes, I could feel some strength returning to my legs, but I was still sweating and knew I had a serious decision to make. Over and over, throughout training and during all the time we spent with our guides at RMI, it had been repeated to us that we needed to make sure we had enough energy and strength to make it to the top of the mountain, but perhaps even more importantly, to make it back DOWN the mountain. Climbing up a mountain is incredibly hard, but climbing down is almost as hard, especially on your legs. Your knees and ankles and thighs and feet and toes all take a serious pounding.

I knew that I could probably dig down and make it up to the top of Disappointment Cleaver, but I didn’t know if I would have the energy to get past there and even if I did, I was terrified of what it would take to get back down to Camp Muir after that. I also knew that the next three segments of the climb were reportedly the most difficult treks on the way to the top. Therefore, I knew it was time to consider abandoning the summit attempt. Caleb came back over to ask me how I was and when I told him I was having doubts, he noted how much I was sweating and asked if I had a headache. When I told him yes, he asked Christina to come over to where I was sitting. Sometime around 2:30 in the morning, the three of us had a very frank, open and honest conversation and concluded that the conservative and safe decision would be for me to head back to Camp Muir.

I hated it. I was upset and disappointed in myself and felt like I was letting Carl and Tim down. I felt like I was letting myself down. I had made it to the top of Kilimanjaro, but I couldn’t make it to 12,000 feet on Rainier? And those are all true. The flip side to that coin is that I was doing the smart and safe thing and I was allowing Tim and Carl to climb on successfully, without me. Undoubtedly, I would have slowed them down and would have made their ascent much less safe.

Two other climbers were also having difficulty: Bonnie from our group and Dave from the other group. They both decided they would turn around, too. A guide from the other group, Hannah, roped us in and in a matter of a few moments, I went from trying to make it to the summit of Mt. Rainier to turning around and heading back down. I was embarrassed and frustrated and more than a little sad. I REALLY wanted to get to the top. But as we all know, we don’t always get what we want.

The descent to Camp Muir was not easy. On Cathedral Rock, I tripped on a rock and fell down into Bonnie. Fortunately, she was ok. As we worked our way down and crossed back over Cowlitz Glacier, my heartbeat slowed, but my headache was still bad and I still felt sick to my stomach. At about 4:30am, Hannah led me and Bonnie and Dave back into Muir.

I dropped my pack and took off some of my gear and stayed outside for a few extra minutes. I then found a nice rocky outcropping where I proceeded to vomit. I never once experienced altitude sickness on Kilimanjaro, but I’m fairly certain this contributed to my inability to summit Rainier.

I drank some water, re-organized all of my gear, went back inside the bunkhouse, and climbed into my sleeping bag, where I slept until 6:30 or so.

At that point in the morning, Chrissy and Ue also returned to Muir, having to abandon their summit attempt after making it to Disappointment Cleaver. Of the 18 climbers in our two groups, 12 made it to the summit.

Later in the morning, I put on some clothes and went back outside, where it was beautiful and sunny. I met up with Caleb, who had brought Chrissy and Ue down in the middle of the night, and Hannah, who brought me and Dave and Bonnie down, and the two guides informed me that the rest of the crew had made it to the top. I was simultaneously incredibly proud of Carl and Tim (and the rest of our group), but also sad that I couldn’t have been there with them.

I was able to walk around Camp Muir for a few hours and enjoy the views. At 10,000 feet, we were above the clouds. You could easily see Mt. Adams and Mt. St. Helens and much further south, you could see Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson, both in Oregon. I took some great photos and videos of Mt. Rainier and could see the ascent up Cathedral Rock. To its left, I could see Disappointment Cleaver and to the left and behind that, the summit. I could look to the south and see all the way down to Paradise. I was (and am) still a bit depressed about what I was unable to accomplish, but the views and the weather and the small amount of sleep certainly made me feel better.

A view of Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens

A view of Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens

At around noon, the groups that made it to the summit all worked their way back into Camp Muir and I was so happy to see them. Tim and Carl looked exhausted but joyful. The guides gave them all an hour to rest, gather up their gear and as a group, we worked our way back down from Muir to Paradise.

I’ll conclude with this sentiment: I AM quite proud of my efforts and the fact that I made it as far as I did is no small feat. Moreover, I’m incredibly proud of Carl and Tim and am so glad they made it to the summit. Most importantly, we raised a lot of awareness and a lot of money for Team Sanfilippo and to that end, this expedition was a success.

September 4, 2016 – we prepare for the summit

I’m sorry I was unable to post anything yesterday; it was a fun day and a filled day. I’ll add more details later about what mountaineering school was like, but we’re running a little short on time. Right now, Tim and Carl and Lauren and I are making final preparations with our big packs: clothing layers, gear, ice ax, crampons, boots, rain gear, sleeping bags, the list goes on. Basically, our packs are filled to the gills and we’ll be carrying about 50 pounds from Paradise Valley, at around 5,000 feet, up to Camp Muir, which is above 10,000 feet. That climb is supposed to take about 6 hours. We rest at Muir for the afternoon and are supposed to go to “sleep” around 6pm so that we can get some rest for the summit. Sometime around midnight (good song), the guides come in to wake us from whatever amount of sleep we’ve been able to achieve and we leave Muir to head to the summit.

From the RMI blog, here’s what happened to yesterday’s team and their summit attempt:
September 3, 2016
Expedition Dispatches
Mount Rainier Elevation: 11,400′
The Mt. Rainier Summit Climb, led Pete Van Deventer and Mike King, is back at Camp Muir after turning on the upper mountain due to route and avalanche conditions. They encountered snow up to waist deep, providing poor footing on exposed slopes. The weather reported from Camp Muir is clear, calm, and cold.  The teams will depart for Paradise soon.

So please, Mother Nature, no avalanches, no rain, no bad weather, no sleet, no rain (good song), no white-out conditions. Wish us luck!


PS Cool piece from King 5 in Seattle about the Rally on Rainier:

September 2, 2016 – a rainy morning in Seattle

We’re making final preparations and getting ourselves ready to head south to Mt. Rainier later this morning. After a nice dinner, Tim and Carl and I got a good night’s sleep at the Kimpton Hotel in downtown Seattle and met up with Lauren this morning.

Tim and Nick and Carl at dinner at the Kimpton

Tim and Nick and Carl at dinner at the Kimpton

Nick and Lauren looking clean for the last time.

Nick and Lauren looking clean for the last time.

In a few hours, we’ll leave the comforts of the hotel and Seattle and head down to Mt. Rainier National Park. Once we begin the hike, you SHOULD be able to track our actual progress using THIS GPS locator. Carl tested it at home, so you’ll get a good view of what it looks like when he traveled a few feet. Hopefully, the next post will be a little more dramatic. More info about how to track us (and how to donate) are available on

Two bits of interesting news from the RMI Blog page:
The Four Day Summit Climb led by RMI Guides Brent Okita and Nick Hunt were forced to turn at the top of Disappointment Cleaver today. The team faced stormy weather with strong winds with knee deep snow is some places. They are on the descent and will return to Rainier Basecamp early this afternoon.
The Four Day Summit Climb led by RMI Guides JJ Justman and Solveig Waterfall reached the summit of Mt. Rainier today.  The team was decked out in Gore-Tex and down parkas as they climbed into a cap with cool temperatures and windy conditions. They have started their descent and are en route back to Camp Muir.

Because of weather, today’s group did NOT make the summit, but yesterday’s did. It shows you how important and how impactful the weather is. Basically, clear skies will determine our fate over the next few days, so hopefully, it will clear up soon!

September 1, 2016 – Philly to Seattle

I’m writing this post from 30,000 feet, or about twice the summit of Mt. Rainier, which checks in at 14,411 ft. Carl Kapes (seat 25C) and I (seat 26C) are on American Airlines flight 729 from Philadelphia to Seattle, Washington. We’re supposed to land around 7:15, Pacific time, and we’ll be staying in Seattle tonight.


We hope to grab a late dinner with Tim (according to his email signature, he is: Timothy J. Miller, Ph.D President & CEO, Abeona Therapeutics Entrepreneur, Adventurer, SuperDad). I think if I memorize all of that, he might buy dinner.

Why are we flying to Seattle? It’s the #RallyOnRainier and Carl, Lauren Harris, Tim and I plan to climb to the summit of Mt. Rainier this weekend. All of the pertinent info you need is available on I hope you’ll read some of that and check out some of the videos. This adventure is first and foremost an effort to help some sick children. Carl is the father of two sons who have Sanfilippo Syndrome, a terrible and quite rare disease that is fatal in kids. This climb was organized to benefit Team Sanfilippo and if you’re interested in donating directly to that wonderful organization, please check out their page.

You can also follow us on our various social media accounts:
Carl Kapes on Twitter and on Instagram.
Lauren Harris on Twitter and on Instagram.
Tim Miller (and Abeona) on Twitter.

Here, Carl and I wait patiently for our flight to start boarding in Philly:

Tomorrow, we get up and get organized, meet up with Lauren, get our gear together and head from Seattle to the mountain. I’m excited for a number of reasons, but of course, I’m also nervous. I feel prepared and THINK that I have all of the gear that I need, except for what I’ll be renting, which includes alpine boots, crampons and an ice ax. It actually might be kinda cool to OWN an ice ax, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need one on a daily basis.

Anyway, the climb itself is a bit daunting. It’s a long slow way up from about 5,000 feet to more than 14,000. We are supposed to start the climb in earnest Saturday morning and work our way up to Camp Muir, which is at about 10,000 feet. We’ll spend Saturday night there, then get up VERY early Sunday morning and attempt the summit. We then return to Camp Muir for a second night, before descending the rest of the way on Monday.

Four years ago, Carl and I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa and that peak is 19,341 feet. Our BASE CAMP was at about 15,000 feet, higher than Rainier’s peak. That climb took six days: four up and two down. On the surface, one might think that a climb up Rainier might be a little easier than Kilimanjaro, but that’s not quite the case for a two main reasons:
First, we’re climbing a month later in the year and at a much higher latitude. Kilimanjaro is at 3 degrees south and is quite close to the Equator. Rainier, on the other hand, is at 46 degrees north and we’re approaching the end of summer and hence, the end of climbing season. Therefore, weather can be, and often is, a factor.
Second, there are a lot more technical aspects to the climb and when it comes to those, I’m a total novice. Save for a few mountain glaciers over the years, I’ve never really hiked in snow and ice. I’ve never attempted to cross a crevasse on a ladder:

A photo from

A photo from

I’ve never used crampons. In fact, the word “crampons” still makes me giggle. I’m fairly immature.

Regardless, we are hiking with the experienced guides from RMI Expeditions (Rainier Mountaineering, Inc.) and they’ll teach us how to use ropes, the ice ax, and yes, even the crampons. Giggle.

Any anxious feelings I’m experiencing are definitely tempered by my excitement. I LOVE our National Parks and feel quite lucky that I get to go back to Mt. Rainier National Park. I visited with my dad and brothers back in 1993 and then again as a camp counselor in the summer of 1997. The park is beautiful and serene and I can’t wait to see it again.

I’ve spoken with a few people over the last few days who have climbed Mt. Rainier and they’ve all given me two pieces of advice to which I expect to adhere: take your time and enjoy the views.

I will try to post photos and videos when I can and I hope you enjoy what I have to write. Thanks!