Mount Rainier National Park | Who carries the load?

Summary

A short written summary of the episode — not the full transcript. Press play above for the whole thing.

A man at a restaurant in Ashford, Washington refilled our water glasses, then set down a plate of steaming momos. Prayer flags crossed the ceiling. Ice axes and old boots hung on the walls. He said nothing about himself.

His name is Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa. He has stood on the summit of Everest fifteen times. On May 26, 2003, he went from base camp to the summit in 10 hours, 56 minutes, and 46 seconds, faster than any person had done it before. He figures he has been up Rainier about a hundred times. He does not keep count. He started out as a porter, the one at the back of the line carrying the tents and the food so that somebody else could reach the top. Then he walked away from all of it and opened a small restaurant by the park gate so he could be home while his children went to school.

We called him over a bad Starlink connection the night before our longest hike. Erika asked what he would tell a kid about to try something hard. He gave three rules. Be prepared. Go slow, eat, drink, rest. You are always allowed to turn around.

The mountain is the homeland of the Cowlitz, Muckleshoot, Nisqually, Puyallup, Squaxin Island and Yakama nations, and it has at least twenty names across seven of their languages. There is no one name to give you.

The next morning we walked the Skyline Trail out of Paradise, six miles and better than a thousand feet of climbing, because Little had decided that was the hike. Cy had filled the water bottles and packed the snacks before anyone thought to ask for them. Nobody takes a summit photo of the person who remembered the peanut butter sandwich.

Because we were going slow we saw a hoary marmot the size of an overfed house cat, sitting on the highest boulder, whistling a warning down to his family in the rocks. Little’s legs gave out below the ridge and she rode on Erika’s back for a while. Big invented a game of I Spy to get her thinking about something other than her legs.

At Panorama Point the flowers stopped and it was gravel and wind, and the climbers were strung out on the snowfield above us like a line of dots. Rainier goes up another 7,500 feet from there. Going down is the other half of the job.

And all day, to every hiker coming down the other way, Little called out the same thing.

You’re doing great. You’re almost there.