We're back in Poland, finalizing the car registration and we're heading off to Italy and the Dolomites again tomorrow!
While we were in France, a horrible accident occured back home in the Cascades near Seattle/Bellingham. It was a Mountaineers led event that was on a generally basic level climb, based in an incredibly beautiful setting of Cascade pass, dominated by Sahale, Boston and especially Forbidden and Torment peaks-home of one of the 50 Classic climbs of America.
I knew two of the climbers in the Sharkfin Tower climbing accident, Mark Harrison and John Augenstein. Mark was first a student, a customer and then a climbing partner and friend of mine. Mark was an awesome, super safe climber. He's an ex-Marine with a great sense of wit, a very well-balanced head and kept focused on the right things in the short and long term, no matter how crazy life was around him. He leaves behind a wonderful wife, Lori. They had made their home in Bellevue for the past few years-allowing Mark an umpteen mile bike commute to work along Seattle's waterfront as a GIS computer geek in the World Trade building-the one he quipped as being labeled on the map as 'Bomb Me!'
John I knew less, but knew him well enough through The North Face and the Mounties and ran into him several times on training hikes and climbs throughout the Cascades. He was a fun, sometimes goofy guy, and he and Mark went through the Mountie's climbing courses together at the same pace-and did I don't know how many climbs together. It's really no wonder that they were together on this climb---bosome buddies to the end.
I still don't know the details but it sounds like a 10' wide rock came down on them during an attempt to rappel the incorrect gully they had climbed to get up to Sharkfin Tower.
It seems it was just a freakish thing-it's rare that rocks that large come undone-but I still don't know if it was human triggered, equipment failure or what. But it's an area I'm very familiar with and nearly every climbing friend I know has climbed at least one of these incredible peaks-it's that popular and that accessible.
I'm really going to miss Mark. We had been in touch the whole time I've been here in Poland. We talked about him and Lori coming over to visit-likely off season to avoid the crowds and the costs. In fact, the day Jill and I heard the news about the accident was our birthdays (July 13). We had been watching le Tour de France in person-witnessing Lance Armstrong take back the yellow jersey (maillot jaune) and seeing the most physically and mentally fit people on the earth whiz by us at incredible speeds-even uphill! The racers had gone by and we slowly moved with all the traffic south towards Briancon, France. On the drive we were talking about how much we'd like to come back next year and ride parts of the Tour with friends-and the first that came up were Mark and Lori. We talked about how we had figured we could do it cheaper than a lot of paid tours and still have a great, time with great company. I wondered aloud what he'd been up to, knowing that he gets in at least 2 decent climbs per summer month-and the solstice had just passed-so climbing was in full swing around the globe.
We got on the internet for the first time in a week or so and we were devastated. This is the 4th climbing friend to have passed, 3 to (natural?) rock fall.
How safe can you be?
I had felt unsettled and anxious the previous days and didn't know why. Was this the reason? We had been out of touch with the world for several days, only hearing about le Tour and weather forecasts from people.
Mark was a strong supporter of mine when I climbed Denali, and when I told him Jill and I were going for this crazy move to Poland. We had only climbed two peaks, but they were classics-Mount Hood and Mount Rainier.
On Hood, it was us two and Tonya. Tonya felt sick from the altitude and turned around early (we were doing the easy/safe south side route in the winter for a conditioner). We plodded on in a tired haze and summitted with a few other Oregonians. The mountain was very icy and took crampons well. We had done it in one push from the parking lot and were tired from lack of sleep and the long drive from Seattle. We made it safely back down the steep and exposed 'Hog's back' and were passing Crater Rock, a tower that looks like R2-D2 and reaching easier/safer terrain. As one of my funniest memories of Mark was about to occur-it could've been a tragic one way back then. I made the suggestion that this descent would be a lot faster if we glissaded (sledded) down on our shovel blades. I was half joking, knowing that the conditions were too icy but before I could tell him that, thin-air impinged Mark blurted out, that's a great idea! and jumped on his shovel and rocketed down the incredibly slick slope-bouncing, bounding with cramponed feet flying this way and that. I ran down after him screaming and laughing at the same time-what a sight!
Fortunately the snow softened enough that he could eventually stop without snapping his ankles. After his 1000' lightning fast descent he got up and said, 'Well that was stupid!'
It was, and as far as I know, it was the only stupid mistake he made in the mountains. Altitude makes you dumb or dumber sometimes.
He made it through that trip and another time we climbed the super popular route on my favorite mountain, Rainier-the Disappointment Cleaver route, via Paradise and Camp Muir.
We were a foursome-me, Mark, John Methot, (my old climbing partner until we both found women to replace each other) and Sean Ardussi-all Mountaineers and we ran it as an express climb (I was leader) since we had a great forecast and someone needed the credit (maybe all 3 did?) for their climbing courses.
We went fastish and lightish-bivying and using two short glacier ropes but climbing close to each other if the other team needed help with crevasse rescue. We battled with the RMI guided groups and the other private parties up the glacier and loose volcanic choss pile of the 'cleaver'.
The highlights of the trip were a pine martin hanging out at our high camp, getting it's little nose ridiculously close to our stove and checking out our packs and trying to find our food. The other memory I have from the fuzzy ascent (altitude makes your brain fuzzy when climbing fast, too!) was reaching the top of the Cleaver and Mark taking a long, much needed, puking break! He leaned over the north side of the cleaver, kind of into the wind, actually, and let it all go for awhile as we stood or crouched there shivering in the early alpenglow of sunrise, wondering if Mark will feel good enough to go on.
Well, like any time we're sick, he felt much better after getting rid of dinner and we carried on to the crater rim and the true summit. It was a spectacular day on Rainier with good friends and it was my 3rd summit and 6th attempt and first time on the 'dog route'.
Mark and I had talked a lot about us climbing together in the near and far future. Rarely would my (rare) weekends line up with his since I worked retail-and usually we were busy with our own activities with wife/girlfriend/Mounties/etc. But, we had still planned on going to either Denali or St. Elias together in the next 4 years or so. It was fairly open, but it was also fairly realistic and not just a pipe dream. It's now a dream that will never occur and I'm so sad for this great loss. Mark was a great human with a twisted sense of humor, a hearty appetite for food, beer, adventure and life, an athlete and a friend that I will miss for a long, long time. My thoughts are out there for you and Lori, Mark. I'm sorry I missed the memorial service at the clubhouse last week. I'm sorry for missing your funeral service.
Keep climbing and enjoying your new life out there. See you sometime.
jr
