The Andy Aupperlee Explosion 5000

I woke up in the dirt and cold at 6 AM on Saturday morning. Despite the fact that I’m not following around Phish, sleeping in parking lots is starting to become a familiar trend. We had every intention of pitching a tent, but when we arrived at the trailhead on Friday night neither Ryan nor I had the urge to monkey around with it. We’d only left a bar in nearby Leavenworth 30 minutes earlier and were ready to just get some sleep. Thinking we’d be just as well off under the stars, we laid out our bags in the parking lot while Doug and Greta pitched a tent. Overlooking the fact that our sleeping bags were covered in a layer of morning frost, the night passed without incident. I stayed squarely on my closed cell foam pad and Thermarest; and my decade old 15 degree Mountain Hardware bag kept me toasty. Climbing out of the bag in 30 degree temps to start hiking 18 miles wasn’t exactly easy, but I suited up anyway. Several minutes later a Subaru full of Gus, Lauren, Justin, Carolyn, Dave and Becky rolled in to join Ryan, Greta Doug and me. The crew was all here now; the only thing left to do was hike from Stuart/Colchuck Lake trailhead to the Snow Lake trailhead. Only 18 miles, Aasgard Pass and 5000′ feet of climbing, a dozen or so lakes and 7500′ of descent separated the two.

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Gus parked his Subaru in the tiny parking lot about a mile east of the Paradise Inn and Visitor Center at Mount Rainier. It was a familiar routine for the both of us: unloading gear and strapping skis to our backpacks. It’s just a little funny doing it when it is September and the temperature is in the 70s. (continue reading…)

We left pavement and cell phone reception behind long ago. Bombing through winding dirt roads in the backwoods of Mount Adams, Ryan and I chased Tristan’s Subaru Outback with my Volkswagen under the night sky. Unlike Gus’s approach to mountain driving, Tristan seemed to prefer a style closer to Colin McRae. With every dip and compression in the road, a scraping noise resonated through my cabin. “Has to be the mud flaps… those things only have a few inches of clearance,” I told myself. Several dozen miles later the Subaru pulled off to the side of the road with the hazard lights blinking. I pulled up next to Tristan, rolled down the window and called over to see why they stopped.

“Car doesn’t sound good. Something is making a lot of noise.”

After a quick investigation, we determined that a major section of the exhaust had become detached. While none of us are exactly mechanics, having two car loads full of mountaineering gear isn’t exactly the worst situation to be in when faced with designing an ad-hoc automotive repair in the middle of nowhere. Using parts from a BCA shovel, duck tape, rope, a stick and nylon webbing; Tristan and Bobby were able to craft a solution that allowed the Subaru to continue soldiering on.

Despite the unplanned vehicle repair, we arrived at the Cold Springs Trailhead near midnight. I found a place to stash the VW, unrolled my sleeping bag and caught a few hours of sleep under the stars and trees at 5600′. Unfortunately, 4 AM came sooner than I would have preferred. After a few minutes of resisting the inevitable, I was dressed in climbing gear with my skis and ski boots strapped to my back. Saturday, August 13, 2011 would be the day I summit and ski down the second highest peak in Washington. With well over 6000′ feet to reach the 12,310′ summit of Mount Adams, there wasn’t any time to waste.

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It is 5:30 AM on Saturday, July 16th, 2011. Richard and Aaron, who arrived about 30 minutes earlier, are sitting in the living room while Ryan is scrambling to pack some last minute gear. I’m seated at the dining room table, talking to Aaron and Richard, enjoying a glass of juice. A specific kind of anticipation permeates the room at this early hour; the kind of excitement that arises on the brink of an ambitious adventure like the one we are about to undertake. Richard’s phone rings. “Oh, hi Gus.” On the phone is Gus Radcliffe, the fifth member of our climbing team. He’s on the other side of Seattle with Katy, the sixth member, preparing to rendezvous with us for the ride to Mount Rainier.

“Hold on, Gus. I’m going to put you on speaker phone.” Richard addresses the room, “Gus wants to talk go/no-go right now.”
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I was not sure where I was heading, I just knew I needed to cross the Puget Sound and head west. After catching a boat to Bremerton, I headed north on 3, caught the 104 to the 101 and eventually cruised along the Strait of Juan de Fuca on the 112. Five hours later the Explorer pulled into a campsite in Ozette, WA. For the next few days this secluded plot would serve as our base camp as Caitlin, Sharat, Emily and I explored the very western edge of the United States. Above is Emily jump standing on the coast of the Pacific at the Dungeness Spit.
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“Buddies!” Twenty seconds ago Alex was taking a nap in the rear seat of my Explorer. Now he’s perched between the two front seats with his arms around Josh and my shoulders. He cackles a little, looks around and once again exclaims, “BUDDIES!” The three of us had been driving northbound towards Seattle for several hours. It was the third day of a mini road trip that took us down the Oregon Coast and over to Portland. We dined on yak burgers in “Come as You Are” Aberdeen and ordered breakfast from a cracked-out, coffee spilling waitress at the Pig ‘n Pancake in Astoria. Having last seen each other at the World Series of Beer Pong in Las Vegas, there was plenty to catch up on. More importantly, the six months that had passed gave Alex plenty of time to develop a fresh lexicon of nonsense. The latest burst of comradery repeating from the back seat is as sincere at is sarcastic—in other words, it’s vintage Alex.

The photo above is from the Astoria Column in Astoria, OR. I used a Nikon 18-200mm VR lens with a polarizer and cranked the saturation up in the NIkon D300′s vivid mode. I further adjusted contrast using curves in Photoshop.

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