Post Rainier Update

Hello Family and Friends!

Many of you know about our annual snow camping trip (the boys that is) at Paradise on Mt. Rainier. Well, we just got back from the 2009 version and yes, everyone survived!

We hiked from paradise up to Deadhorse basin below the trail to Camp Muir. The daytime temp was 45+ and sunny -- it was glorious. Taylor, Tanner, and James went this year but Dallin was home with the flu so he missed out. Despite the idyllic conditions for hiking and viewing all there is to see from that vantage point . . . the snow conditions for digging caves were the worst I've ever seen. A January rain up to about 7,000 ft. resulted in ice layers about 3-4 ft. deep, approx. 3 ft below the surface -- exactly where we needed to dig our shelters.

For me (James) the resolution was easy . . . I pitched a tent. Everyone else dug caves or built an igloo and spent a minimum of 8 hours doing it. The ice was really tough to work through and in the end, I had to dig 2 caves for the scouts because they couldn't do it alone.

I took a quick hike under the stars down to the car to get extra supplies and food for what experience has taught me is inevitable; unprepared scouts whimpering like babies through the night. My extras supplies would be needed.

When I returned to the camp I was told all the boys were safely in bed and the camp was prepared for the night. Now I trust other people, but I always like to check for myself. What I found was amazing given our experience last year. In 2008 our scout master awoke eye to eye with a fox holding his (the Scoutmaster's) new Goretex gloves in its mouth. That's another story entirely, but suffice to say he chased the fox all night and never got his gloves back. Having recounted that story many times since last year, I was surprised to find on this night socks, food supplies, granola bars, MRE's, Chocolate bars and yes, gloves strewn about the camp. I picked them up and threw them in the caves for safe keeping. Much to the chagrin of the 2 foxes who by that point were already roaming our camp.

Taylor was still awake as he had been digging all day and was taking a late dinner. I sat down for some quality time and just as we were looking at the stars and getting into some quality father/son bonding, we heard a horrible sound. Across the camp and from under a tarp burst a young man spewing vomit on the otherwise white snow. It was his beef stew dinner -- apparently "didn't agree with his stomach". I went to attend to his needs and make sure he was OK, which he was, and then hung out with Taylor a bit before going to bed.

I heard some rustling and voices during the night but didn't think much of it. Then I awoke about 4 am in a panic. You see, one hazard of snow caves is that they sometimes shrink while you're in them. The effect of breathing warm air into cold snow walls has the effect of the walls and ceiling coming in on you during the night -- usually no big deal. I thought Tanner's cave was deep enough (I dug a lot of it) but then realized in the night that with 3 kids in one cave I should go check on them. To my horror, Tanner and his mates were not in the cave! I frantically began searching around and found all 3 of them in their sleeping bags, wrapped in a tarp, in a pit that had been dug the day before. They were fine, they were warm (enough to survive), and they were safe . . . so I went back to bed. Our Scoutmaster had learned a thing or 2 since last year and in checking on the boys moved them during the night (the aforementioned raucous) AND he slept in a tent this year.

We all woke up the next morning, no frostbite or obvious signs of hypothermia and only modest losses to the scavenging foxes -- we lost 1 MRE and 1 sleeping bag stuff sack (what does a fox do with a stuff sack?!).

Of course the normal issues we had trained for and discussed occurred -- water was frozen, boots were frozen solid, socks and gloves that were left out over night were useless. All of these things are avoidable. But until the boys actually go on one of these outings and experience it, they don't realize the reality of it or the reality of the consequences. So I pulled out the extra gloves and socks I had retrieved the night before from the car and shared them with those in need. You would've thought I was St. Nick himself!

We got down the Mountain much quicker than we had gotten up. I left 2nd to last form camp and was among the first to arrive at the bottom (these guys moved very slowly). Along the way though I collected all kinds of great stuff - one boy lost his military shovel and Taylor left a trail of pringles all the way down the mountain. When the foxes have an obesity problem this spring I know right where to point out the suspect. I arrived at the bottom just in time to see a really sweet Suburban with a Rooftop carrier that looks just like mine pulling up to the trail head. Thing is, this looked a lot like our car and the teenager driving it looked a lot like my kid . . . except he doesn't have a license so it couldn't be him. But it was. The temptation was too great. Taylor had to demonstrate his supreme coolness by driving the Suburban -- I promptly took his keys indefinitely and told him the rangers "carry real guns and write real tickets".

It was a really great trip and a lot of fun things happened along the way. But it wouldn't be a scout trip in our car if someone didn't barf in the car on the way home. You guessed it, same kid that lost his beef stew the night before. But this time we brought a bowl so no mess in the car. I love being prepared!