Mission aborted

So, last Wednesday I decided it was time to stress my body in preparation for my trek next month in the Chinese Pamirs.  No more lollygagging around the fells of Cumbria, calling it "climbing.".  No more daily four-mile walks at sea level, and calling that a "work-out."

It had been four years since I climbed to Camp Muir on Mount Rainier.  A climb from Paradise at 5,400 feet to Camp Muir at 10,000 feet.  Could I still do it?  I was certain I could.

Generally, in June, you would hardly consider hiking from Paradise.  Often, at this time of year, you'd find ten feet of snow.  This is the year of global warming, however -- at least in the Northwest Corner.  Paradise is clear, dry, beautiful, and blooming with wild flowers.  Marmots are frolicking.  California tourists are rooting about.  Summer is here.

I packed my daypack, and grabbed (after waterproofing) some light leather boots that I hadn't worn for several years but that appeared in good shape.  I drove the three-hour drive from Seattle, arriving at Paradise at an embarrassingly late 10:30 a.m.  I should have started a couple of hours earlier.  But we were near the solstice, and I would have light until well past 9 p.m.  I wasn't worried.

To reach Camp Muir, one follows the Skyline Trail from Paradise, connecting near Panorama Point (6,800 feet) with the Pebble Creek Trail.  Once one reaches Pebble Creek, the trails cease.  You are on the Muir snowfields, which climb ever upward to Camp Muir.

I began cheerfully climbing in the bright June sunshine.  After about 45 minutes -- still hiking on the gravel Skyline Trail -- my foot caught slightly.  I looked down and noticed that the toe of my right boot was loose.  Uh oh.  I walked on carefully for a few more minutes.  Could I actually hike in snow with a flapping toe on my boot?  Then the lugged sole simply dropped off the boot.  After another couple of hundred yards, the sole on the left boot also fell off.

I was now walking on a light under-sole -- essentially hiking in ballet slippers.  And -- as I discovered as soon as I hit the first snow on the trail -- hiking in water absorbent ballet slippers.  More and more of the trail was becoming covered with snow, and my feet were quickly cold and wet.  Moreover, the trail was becoming steeper, and I was trying to negotiate it with no lugs on my soles to provide traction.

This wasn't going to work.  I made it to Panorama Point, enjoyed the scenery, and returned.  Prudence prevailed.

I've got other boots.  Ones I'm certain won't disintegrate.  I'm returning to Rainier this week.  I'd be willing to accept my endeavor's failure as the result of my own muscular weakness or injury, or because of my inability to handle high elevation. 

But not simply because of "equipment failure."