Winter Cloak

Day 90: The Mountain's presence is always felt by those of us at its base, regardless of whether it is hidden from sight by cloud or no. Still, when its magnificent figure appears again on the horizon, cloaked in a fresh garment of white, one cannot help but be awed. At 14,411', the Mountain rises well above the surrounding foothills, although the closer you get, you lose sight of the broad lower half. From Seattle or other vantage points where an unobstructed view is possible, its massive dominance is even more apparent. On days like today, I look out my window and think how privileged I have been to stand on the summit six times. To look at me now, you would never guess that I had been a climber. But although some in my acquaintance went on to the challenge of Himalayan peaks, they held little or no lure for me. For me, climbing Mount Rainier was a pilgrimage, or a moment of intimacy with one of the most significant figures in my life. The Mountain was not something to be conquered, but a personage I respected, and to whom I entrusted my life each time I set foot on the upper slopes. I still have my wood-handled ice axe and crampons, and although I cannot envision ever using either again, I cannot bear to throw them away. The summit calls to me, even if I can no longer answer.