Order of Visit: High Point # 46
Date Summited: June 24, 2023
Route Taken: Disappointment Cleaver – 16 miles round-trip
Type of Terrain: Mt. Rainier is a giant volcano covered by snowy glaciers year-round. Approximately 7,600 climbers attempt to summit it each year, but only 51% are successful.
Elevation: 14,410 feet
Ancestral Lands: Puyallup, Nisqually, Cowlitz, Coast Salish, Yakima
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Prior to the arrival of Europeans, the Puyallup people of the Pacific Northwest called this mountain by the name Tahoma, which means “mother of waters” in reference to the mountain’s glaciated peak that feeds the valleys below. Other indigenous variations and names for the mountain include Tacoma, Tacobeh, Talol, Pooskaus, and Ti’Swaq’ (meaning “it touches the sky”).
On May 8, 1792, a British naval expedition led by Captain George Vancouver spotted the volcano while surveying the Puget Sound, and they gave it a new name. (Coincidentally, this was the same North American expedition that also re-named Oregon’s highest mountain Mt. Hood during their later survey of the Columbia River in October of that same year).
Upon seeing the impressive snow-covered peak to the east, Captain Vancouver decided to re-name it after his friend and fellow naval officer, Peter Rainier (1741-1808). Rainier was not part of this expedition and never even saw his namesake. In fact, his most significant interaction with the U.S. was fighting against the colonies the American Revolutionary War, where he was severely wounded while capturing an American privateer.
Settlers from the Hudson Bay Company moved into the area in the decades after the mountain’s re-naming. And soon thereafter, the small town of Commencement Bay, located on the southern end of the Puget Sound, chose to re-name their city Tacoma – a variant of mountain’s indigenous name of Tahoma.
Later in 1899, the residents of Tacoma fiercely lobbied the federal government against naming the newly established national park surrounding the mountain as “Mt. Rainier National Park.” They preferred a uniquely Pacific Northwest name instead of continuing to honor an Englishman with ties to the Evergreen State.
Nonetheless, the Department of the Interior decided to name the park after the peak it surrounded, and this bureaucratic decision sparked a 40-year battle over the mountain’s name. The residents of nearby Tacoma supported returning the mountain’s name to the indigenous variant Tacoma. Meanwhile, the city of Seattle pushed back because it didn’t want its neighboring city to the south to have bigger name recognition.
Supporters of this re-naming effort took their cause to the State Legislature in Olympia, and even urged the U.S. Congress to act, but all these efforts were fruitless. The mountain (and national park) continued to be named in Admiral Rainier’s honor.
However, once the federal government finally recognized Denali as the official name of Alaska’s highest peak in 2015, the Puyallup Tribe and many local Washingtonians renewed their efforts to return Mt. Rainier to its original name too. Only time will tell if the U.S. Board on Geographic Names agrees.
TRIP SUMMARY
At over 14,400 feet elevation, Mt. Rainier is the tallest volcano in the Cascade Mountain range, and the fifth tallest mountain in the entire contiguous 48 states. Simply put, Mt. Rainier is just a very ambitious peak to ascend.
The most common route to the summit (Disappointment Clever) involves over 9,000 feet of vertical elevation gain over a mere 8 miles. That’s an average grade of 20%, and would challenge even the most fit individual. And because climbing Mt. Rainier would require navigating across glaciers and around crevasses, it would also the third state high point where I hired a guide to assist me (the other two mountains were Idaho’s Borah Peak and Oregon’s Mt. Hood).
I did my Mt. Rainier trip with RMI Expeditions, a local outfitter in Ashford, WA, and one of only three commericial climbing companies authorized by Mt. Rainier National Park. The itinerary for this 4-day trip consisted of:
- Day 1 – Pre-Trip Orientation – a 3-hour introduction in Ashford, WA, and and gear check for all participating climbers.
- Day 2 – Mountaineering Day School – 6 hours of training on the lower slopes Mt. Rainier to go over climbing skills, roped travel, and ice axe self-arrest practice.
- Day 3 – Climb to Camp Muir – 4-mile group climb from Paradise (5,400′) to Camp Muir (10,060′) with several hours of rest at Muir Hut before our summit bid.
- Day 4 – Climb to Summit – 4-mile group climb from Camp Muir (10,060′) to Mt. Rainier’s Summit (14,410′) and then 9-mile return back down to Paradise.
Attempt #1
I reserved my trip to climb Mt. Rainier in October 2021 — a full 8 months prior to my intended climb in June 2022. But locking in dates for a climbing trip that far in advance worried me quite a bit. It left a very large window for potentially bad things to happen in the interim (like breaking a leg, or a new pandemic, or a zombie apocalypse). Yet, with Rainier’s insane popularity with prospective climbers, I had to organize my travel early or else risk not getting a slot at all.
I knew trying to summit too early meant I might have to contend with late spring snowstorms. In 2021, none of the climbers successfully reached the peak’s summit until late May. So I figured booking my own climb for a few weeks into June 2022 seemed like a nice, safe bet.
As the date of the trip neared, I honestly believed I’d have a good weather window too. Sure, it had been an insanely wet spring in the Pacific Northwest thanks to La Niña. But I’d just successfully climbed Mt. Hood a few weeks earlier, and it was June now! The weather forecast showed clear skies, dry conditions, and temperatures in the 60s and 70s in Ashford all week long.
My orientation on Day 1 was quick and easy. Our group of 18 climbers was broken down into two smaller 9-person teams, with three guides per team (or a 3:1 climber-to-guide ratio). Then the remainder of our orientation time was spent going over our intended route, before we inventoried our packing list, item by item, to make sure everyone had all their gear. So far, so good.
Day 2 was our “snow skills day.” We all met at the RMI office at 8 am to ride the shuttle bus up to the Paradise Visitor Center in Mt. Rainier National Park. During the 45-minute drive, the views of Mt. Rainier and the jagged peaks surrounding us captured everyone’s attention. The sky was clear and blue, and we had ideal weather for learning some basic mountaineering skills on Mt. Rainier’s lower slopes. After a few good hours on the mountain, it was time to head back to Ashford and pack up for our adventure. Tomorrow we would begin climbing!
The morning of Day 3 started out a bit ominously. Our guides’ routine meeting just before our arrival ran 20 minutes longer than expected. Afterward, we learned they were discussing how the group just ahead of us hadn’t been able to summit that morning.
There’d been a brief storm that rolled in overnight, and although it only dropped 30 minutes of light rain in Ashford, the weather was much more severe up high. The group on the mountain experienced heavy winds that didn’t allow them to ascend any higher than the Cowlitz Glacier (or around 10,500 feet elevation).
Our guides would later share that only three teams had been able to summit the mountain over the past month thanks to a lot of unpredictable weather! This meant RMI had more climbers successfully summit Denali this season than Mt. Rainier! Talk about wild circumstances.
Of course, this somber news about the other team’s misfortune rolled off my back. It was definitely bad news for the group that was still on the mountain. But our team would have better luck, right? The weather window still looked good. Dry, clear skies were in our future as we boarded the shuttle bus and got ready to climb Mt. Rainier.
The climb up from Paradise (5,400′) to Camp Muir (10,080′) was an exercise in slow and steady repetition. We rest-stepped our way up the steep slopes, stopping to take a quick snack break about once every hour. Behind us to the south, we were treated to views of Mt. Adams peeking over the fluffy clouds against a cornflower blue sky.
After 4.5 hours, we finally arrived at Camp Muir, and I was feeling great. My legs were barely tired. I wasn’t having any trouble breathing. I felt no nausea or headache. Nor any other signs of altitude sickness. Coming from the low altitude environment of Eugene, Oregon (430′ above sea level), AMS was one of my biggest concerns. But, I felt nothing but excitement for the next day’s climb to the summit.
Our accommodations up at Camp Muir were pretty sparse. The sleeping hut was just a long rectangular wooden box about the size of a shipping container. Inside, one of the walls of the hut was lined with three levels of wooden platforms, that would serve our “bunks.” The top level also had a platform that stretched the entire length of the shelter with ladders leading up to the loft’s bunk spaces up there too. At least there were a few windows so it didn’t feel quite so much like a claustrophobic coffin.
We weren’t going to be here long. Probably only 12 hours or less. But it was noticeably colder at this elevation, and I wanted to get all my gear laid out so I could get a few hours of sleep.
Just beyond the ridge where our shelter sat, we could see the Cowlitz Glacier with a worn path through the snow. And at the glacier’s far end, the Cathedral Rocks jutted up into the air. That’s as far as the prior team made it before descending.
At 5 pm, our guides brought us some hot water (which they boiled from nearby snow and glacier water) and it was time to eat dinner and a few hours rest before for our middle of the night wake up call.
Before leaving us for the evening, our guides gave us an overview of tomorrow’s plan. They explained how we were in a bit of interesting situation up here right now. The heavy winds grabbed up a bunch of snow from the Cowlitz Glacier and deposited it over on the far side of Cathedral Rocks.
As a result, our guides didn’t want to get too early of a start tomorrow. Once we got to the Ingraham Flats (on the far side of Cathedral Rocks), they needed to do some digging in the daylight to test for avalanche danger to ensure we weren’t climbing into a potential disaster. Thus, their best estimate for when we’d be departing was about an hour before sunrise (or around 4 am).
As I tried my best to fall asleep in early evening hours, I hoped the next potential storm would hold off long enough for us to reach the summit and return safely. The weather forecast indicated that rain would be inbound around 2 pm tomorrow. Would that be enough time for us to get up the mountain? Or would our late start mean we’d be getting soaked in icy rain?
I dropped into a light slumber sometime between 9 and 10 pm, but my sleep didn’t last for long. The exterior door was repeatedly opening and slamming shut as people departed to use the nearby outhouse. Plus, the person beside me was snoring like a chainsaw – and his face was barely 4-6 inches from my head the entire time. I repeatedly nudged him and the snoring would momentarily cease, only to return to its obnoxious volume minutes later.
In all the years I’ve had to share tight sleeping quarters (both in the military and since), I’ve never encountered anyone with such ridiculously loud snoring in close proximity to me. And I had nowhere to go. We were packed into the hut like sardines, and every last spot was taken. I even considered sleeping down to the plywood floor of the hut, but it was soaking wet from all the feet tracking snow across it.
All told, I probably only got about 20-25 minutes of sleep the entire night thanks to the snoring, and I was up for good from about 2:30 am onward.
I kept checking my watch and waiting for the guides to come in and wake us, but nothing happened. First 3 am came and went. Then 3:30 am. Then 4 am. Weren’t we supposed to be climbing by now?
I could hear the wind roaring outside for the past 4-5 hours, and I knew in my gut this wasn’t a good sign. But maybe the wind would die down as the sun rose, I told myself.
At a little past 5 am, the guides finally showed up to break the bad news that the storm around us wasn’t abating. The wind at Camp Muir was a constant 40-45 mph with gusts up to 60 mph. Moreover, there was a lot of freezing precipitation in the air. The snowy ground at this elevation was now covered with a sheet of ice (as all the people who’d ventured outside to the bathroom could attest). And higher up on the mountain, there were unsafe whiteout conditions.
The guides told us to go ahead and eat our breakfast. We’d linger here in the shelter until 6:30 am. Maybe the wind would die down enough for some roped climbers to head out onto the Cowlitz Glacier just for fun. But that’s as far as we’d possibly get today. A summit bid was 100% out of the question in this lousy weather.
The group took the bad news in stride, but you could tell all the climbers were disappointed. One of the guys in our hut was named Barry and this was his fifth unsuccessful climb on Mt. Rainier. Someone immediately turned to him and joked, “Thanks a lot, Bad Luck Barry.” Then we all laughed, because what else could we do? Getting upset wasn’t going to change the weather. Day 4 of our climb was a bust!
As it turns out, the storm was only getting stronger as we ate breakfast. It was part of an unusual, late season atmospheric river that stetched across the entire Pacific Northwest from southern Oregon almost up to the Canadian border. Moreover, it was expected to bring heavy, icy rain instead of light fluffy snow.
We wouldn’t even get to try navigating the glacier. It was just too dangerous. The clouds were descending on us and visibility was abjectly horrible. Our only goal now was to get off the mountain safely, especially since the snowfields we’d walked up yesterday were coated with a layer of slick ice.
On the positive side, we did get the opportunity to utilize our crampons as we descended the slick, ice-covered snowfield that we’d climbed yesterday. Plus, I’m pretty sure we used all their gear on our packing list, from snow goggles (to keep the icy rain out of our eyes) to our gortex rain pants and jackets. So any money spent renting these items from an outfitter was definitely worth it.
As we hurriedly worked our way down toward Paradise, my bad fortune took one more turn for the worse. About about an hour into our descent, one of my trekking poles snapped completely in two, and I propelled forward, nearly falling on my face. Somehow, I’d broken my pole just above the snow basket! What luck! I was now down to just a single pole for balance as we plunge stepped our way down the mountain.
It may have taken us 4.5 hours to ascent up to Camp Muir yesterday, but the guides had us moving as fast as possible down the mountain, and we reached the parking area in just under two hours!
Our adventure was officially over without seeing Mt. Rainier summit. Of course, I was disappointed by this result, but the guides had done their job. They’d taken us as far as safely possible during our allotted time. I guess summiting Washington’s highest point would just have to wait for a second attempt.
ATTEMPT #2
After getting a few successful high points under my belt since Mt. Rainier – including Washington D.C.’s Fort Reno, Wyoming’s Gannett Peak and Hawaii’s Maunakea – I booked another trip to attempt Washington’s high point. I’d learned my lesson by booking too early in the season, and pushed my 4-day trip with RMI to 21-24 June 2023 instead. This was full two weeks later than last year’s trip and I hoped that would make a difference.
My itinerary for my second attempt was just the same as last time. Day 1 was our pre-orientation and gear check. Day 2 was our snow skills day inside Mt. Rainier National Park. On day 3, we’d climb up to Muir Camp, with the intent of hopefully summiting and returning back to RMI’s headquarters on Day 4.
The weather window for this trip in late June seemed to be a bit better, but there was still a 50% chance of precipitation on the evening we climbed up to Camp Muir. Shortly after we settled into the RMI hut, the bad weather appeared and it started snowing. I sighed and wondered to myself if I was in for a repeat of last year. Would I get weathered off Mt. Rainier two years in a row?
One positive change in the experience over last year though was the size of our climbing group. It was slightly smaller, and thus better in my opinion. Rather than 18 climbers, we only had 15. One team had 8 people, while the other team I was placed on only had 7 climbers.
Unfortunately, we lost one of our team members even before the climb even started! Rachel pinched a nerve in her neck and hoped the pain in her shoulder and back would go away in the days before the climb, but it didn’t. There was no way she could carry a heavy pack up Mt. Rainier. This meant the smaller team was further whittled down to 6 climbers. Of the remaining six people on my team, there was:
- A father-son duo from Missouri named Phil and Nick. Phil had some mountaineering experience and successfully climbed Mt. Baker a few years earlier. Meanwhile, Nick was the youngest of our group just 17 years old.
- A pair lifelong friends, named John and Nate, who were currently in their early 40s. Nate lived in Seattle and tried to climb Mt. Rainier a few years prior, but like me, he had been weathered off the mountain during his attempt.
- Rachel’s father-in-law, John, who’d planned to climb Mt. Rainier with Rachel, but was now going ahead solo due to her recent injury. Big John (as we called him to differentiate him from the other John in the group) was, by far, the oldest member of our group at 72 years old.
- And the only state highpointer amongst the group: me.
Suffice it to say, when our guides broke us down even further into our rope teams for summit day, it wasn’t a huge surprise that I was paired up with Big John. We were the only singletons in our group. But that was fine with me. He was a jovial fellow and was in very good shape despite his advanced age. I knew better that to underestimate anyone on a mountain – altitude can break down the fittest of climbers, and some remarkably average people fare quite well.
Once midnight rolled around, our guides came to wake us for the big ascent. The snow was over now and we had a good climbing window. I’d only gotten 2 hours of sleep, but it was time to go. So we quickly packed our many layers of clothing, donned our climbing harnesses and helmets, and got to work lacing our crampons to our boots to begin the climb at 1 am.
The first phase of our climb was across the Cowlitz Glacier in rope teams. We set out in the dark on the snowy path trod by many climbers before us and made our way toward a gap in the rocks formation called Cathedral Rocks. Our guide Nick went first, then Big John, then me – all roped together at 15-foot intervals to protect us in case one of us took a fall.
Once we got to Catherdral Rocks, we were heading uphill on glacial silt and rocks, which seems like it would be an easier, but it was more like scrambling while wearing crampons. It wasn’t fun. Especially since we were on a short rope (maybe two feet apart) now so our line didn’t get caught up on the rocks that we were continuously moving through. I nearly took a crampon to the head – more than once – as Big John made his way up the rocks just ahead of me, but we slow made our way through this rocky gauntlet.
After an hour’s time, we reached Ingram Flats – our first rest stop of the trip. We were at roughly 11,000 and just above the Ingraham Glacier, which lay on the far side of Cathedral Rocks. During our short break we bundle up in our parkas and ate snacks for energy. Then our guides reminded us the upcoming section coming up was going to be very difficult. We were heading up the Disappointment Cleaver, which involved a lot more rocks and we would need to push uphill through this testing terrain for probably 1.75 hours before our next break because of all the rockfall danger in that stretch.
Anyone who wasn’t feeling 90% should do an honest self-assessment now and turn back here. Not only was trying to turn around in the middle of the Disappointment Cleaver logistically difficult, but you’d be needlessly exhausting yourself to get through the rocky terrain, only to have to turn around and immediately do it all over again on the way back down. Fatigue and/or AMS (altitude sickness) would only make that return journey more dangerous.
At that point, Nate and John made the difficult decision to return to Camp Muir. One of them wasn’t feeling well, and the other didn’t want to go up and leave his partner behind. They’d intended this trip to be a team adventure. It wasn’t a solo pursuit where the summit was the goal. Mt. Rainier was about their shared experience.
And so we continued on with just two rope teams in our small group remaining – Phil and Nick (plus their guide Taylor) and Big and me (plus our guide Nick). I hoped we’d all get to the top safely and successfully.
About two-thirds of the way through the Disappointment Cleaver our guide, Nick, stopped us on a ledge. He wanted to talked to Big John. It was time to reassess whether it was safe for him to continue. Big John was slowing down and breathing hard. One of the other rope teams for the larger group was right behind us and they were turning around. Given the circumstances and Big John’s waning stamina, it was safer for him to join them on their descent. Nick was exceptionally tactful and Big John eventually agreed. Safety was paramount.
I sat there on the rocks looking east as the sun started to the sky orange while Nick took Big John down to the rope team heading back to Muir Camp. Was I going to meet the moment that I would have to turn back too? I felt great now. But would that last all the way to the summit, still several thousand difficult feet higher up?
When our guide, Nick, returned it was just the two of us and we picked our way uphill through the remainder of the cleaver and caught up to the remaining rope team (father-son duo Phil and Nick) at our next rest stop. Then it was back onto steep glacier and stepping over small crevasses for the next hour as we made our way up to the final break at about 13,700′.
As the sun started to peek over the clouds, Nick called back to me to put on my glacier glasses. I’d put my warm snow mittens over top my lighter gloves during our last break above Disappointment Cleaver to block the fridge wind from freezing my hands. But now I had to take one mitten off to pull open the zipper on my shoulder pouch to retrieve my sunglasses.
That’s when I dropped my mitten and watched it fall onto the slope we were standing on it immediately slide downhill out of sight. Then my bad luck turned worse. I pulled my glacier glasses out and one of the arms had snapped clean off in the past 14 hours since I last wore them! These were brand new sunglasses too! Ugh!!! It was a clean break, so I probably could have taped them up with some of the duct tape I always keep wrapped around my trekking poles, but Nick told me not to bother. He had an extra pair of glasses (what a great guy!).
I was still feeling great all the way up to our high break spot, just 700 vertical feet below the summit. This was when I finally allowed myself to accept that I might do this thing. I could actually summit Mt. Rainier. I was only maybe three-quarters of a mile from cresting the rim of this massive volcano!
And when I stood up from our short break, that’s when the altitude finally hit me. Waves of nausea rolled over me and I wanted to vomit as soon as I took my first step. It was awful! Dammit. I thought I might actually get to the top of this state high point without feeling any effects of AMS.
I wasn’t short of breath, but I was definitely moving slower and feeling fatigued and the nausea just continued to plague me. Nick immediately noticed the change, but he worked with me and slowed his pace so I could keep up, and eventually we crested the rim and dropped down into the volcanic bowl atop Mt. Rainer.
Before long the bigger group’s remaining rope team’s joined us, then we all high-fived and celebrated our success. Most climbers might consider this spot the top of Mt. Rainier, but the highest elevation was still up on the edge of the rim another 20 minutes away.
So while half of the group stayed with our packs, a small contingent of us hiked that last stretch to sign our names in the summit register and visit the highest natural point in the entire state of Washington!
It took use 5.5 hours to get to Mt. Rainier’s crater, plus another half hour the top of Rainier and I was pooped. But the day was not over. We still needed to get down.
It would take us approximately 4 more hours to return to Muir Camp, as we slowly and carefully descended glaciers, the rocks of Disappointment Cleaver, more glaciers, the rocky gap in Cathedral Rocks, and one final glacier. Instead of feeling increasingly better, my energy level seemed to wane with every 1000 feet of elevation we lost, and I honestly felt like a marathon runner who hit the wall. Yet I knew my safety depending on staying focused.
Finally, we got back to Muir Camp, where we were reunited with the five members of our group who had to turn back early. They were such good sports, and they clapped each of the returning rope teams back into camp like we were crossing an imaginary finish line.
I was more than ready to remove my crampons for the first time in 10.5 hours, and tend to my blistered feet. But we still had the finally 4 miles and (4000 feet of vertical descent) through the snow field left to go. If I could have just laid down, I might have slept for 10 hours straight. But that wasn’t an option. The group behind us was already on their way up. We had to keep moving.
Another two hours later, we rolled into the parking lot at the Paradise Trailhead. The rental boots nearly brought me to tears as they tore raw blisters onto the tops of my toes during our final descent. My face and neck were badly sunburned, despite so many repeated applications of sunscreen that day. And I was so tired and nauseated that I felt really to physcially collapse.
But I was now one mountain closer to my ultimate goal. I’d just successfully completed my 47th state high point!
DETAILS
When to Visit: This volcano is technically open year-round, with hikers and ice climbers taking different routes based on the season and their skills. The most popular time to hike to the summit is June to August when the weather is the driest and most predictable.
Getting There: Mt. Rainier is located approximately 60 miles southeast of Seattle, Washington. The most common route to the summit begins at the Paradise Ranger Station on the south side of the volcano.
Fees/Permits: Mt. Rainier is located within Mt. Rainier National Park, which has an entrance fee of $30 per passenger vehicle. The fee is valid for unlimited entries for seven consecutive days. In addition, all persons climbing above 10,000′ elevation must also pay an Annual Climbing Fee (currently $53) and obtain a Climbing Permit (in-person). If you are summiting Mt. Rainier with a professional guide company, these fees/permits are usually included in their climbing packages.
Guides: Climbers with limited mountaineering skills and/or experience navigating on snowfields and glaciers should seriously consider hiring a professional guide for this summit. Approximately 7,600 climbers try to summit the mountain each year, but only 51% of these attempts are successful. Hiring an experienced guide will increase the chances of summiting safely and successfully. The National Park Service has authorized only commericial guiding companies for Mt. Rainier: RMI Expeditions, Alpine Ascents Intl, and International Mountain Guides.
High Altitude: Mt. Rainier is the 5th tallest mountain in the contiguous U.S. at 14,411′ above sea level. The most popular (and least-technical) route to Mt. Rainier’s summit is the Disappointment Cleaver or “DC” Route which begins at Paradise (5,400′). From there, climbers will need to ascend 9,000 feet in elevation in just 9 miles. This rapid, high-altitude ascent can result in Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) and other dangerous physical conditions (HAPE/HACE).
Parking: There are two parking lots on the Paradise side of Mt. Rainier. One is located near the Jackson Visitor Center and the other is near the Nisqually Vista Trailhead. Parking is included with your park entrance fee. If you utilize one of the three authorized concessionaire guide companies, they will shuttle you into the park.
Accessibility: Summiting Washington’s high point is challenging even for the most fit hikers and climbers. Because the mountain is covered by a glaciers year-round, participants will need specialized mountaineering equipment to summit. Most guides will also offer a full-day mountaineering school prior to your climb to practice skills such as rope travel, cramponing, and ice axe self-arrests.
Bonus: The 93-mile Wonderland Trail encircles Mt. Rainier and provides a premier hiking experience for those who want to see the mountain from every vantage point possible. Day hiking on the trail is included in the park’s entrance fee, but overnight camping on/near the trail requires a Wilderness Permit. These permits can be obtained in advance through an annual lottery (usually held in March) or on a walk-up basis. For more information, click HERE.
Resources:
- Mt. Rainier National Park (National Park Service)
- RMI Expeditions (Local guide company I used in 2022)
- Alpine Ascents Intl and Intl Mountain Guides (the other two authorized guide companies)
- Disappointment Cleaver Route (National Park Service)
- An Overview of Mt. Rainier (Summit Post)