Episode 01: Into the Wild
My First Ski Tour on Mount Rainier
Our first view of Mount Rainier on the drive up to Paradise Visitor Center
Mission:
We left the house at 4:15am to meet the rest of our ski crew (Tristan +Jesse) at the Paradise Parking lot by 7am. We intended to tour up to Camp Muir, and Ski back by early afternoon–then return home the same day.
Route: Paradise parking lot (5,400 ft) → Skyline Trail corridor → Glacier Vista (6,300 ft) → Panorama Point (~6,800 ft; short bootpack/side-hill skin) → Pebble Creek (7,200 ft, end of summer trail) → Muir Snowfield → Camp Muir (10,080 ft).
Distance & Gain: ≈ 4.5 mi / 7.2 km one-way, ~4,700 ft / 1,430 m vert.
Ascent:
My experience on the Camp Muir ski tour was an exciting but exhausting endeavor. It consisted of steep walls and long, unavoidable knolls that created a seemingly endless route. The mountain air was crisp, fresh, and clean, but unfortunately had less oxygen than I enjoy breathing at home in Seattle. That said, it started with putting on my rental boots, rental touring skis, and rental skins for the first time (whoops). Fortunately, the approach hike was only a few feet across the parking lot from our cars to the famous Paradise Stairs (hidden by several feet of snow and ice). The real journey started in the evergreen trees that were hiding pollen-covered and sun-cupped snow, as well as the scary sound of an occasional hidden running water. I spent the first half hour of our approach up the Skyline trail learning how to kick turn (the zigzag technique for climbing steep slopes) on skis, which I would need to nearly master if I had any hope of making it up Panorama point, which loomed ominously in the distance.
Panorama Point is the steep crux of the route. While only 500ft long (150m), there is a consistent pitch of 30–35°, with a top convex roll that can hit ~40°. This takes roughly 30 minutes of tight kick-turns with ski crampons in firm conditions, or a short boot pack near the top in soft snow. On this occasion, we decided to tour up the steep face and hope for the best. Unfortunately, on this trip, I was using rental gear that didn’t fit well and would often get stuck in the snow while attempting to complete my kick turns. Because of this key factor, I had a few little slips and slides on the first 2/3s of Panorama Point. Once we hit the deep glissading chutes, I decided to boot pack the last stretch to the top rather than risk tumbling back down.
At the top of Panorama Point, we took a short food break and then continued up onto Muir Snowfield. Little did Tristan and I know at the time, but the next few hours were going to be a slow and painful quad burner. In hindsight, I think our dads knew what was ahead because they were nearly force-feeding us snacks, candy, and energy gels (that looked like hand sanitizer but tasted marginally better). The energy gels worked like magic–almost like a full night's sleep and fresh start after just a few minutes of digestion. To pass the time, we played a ‘guess the mountain’ game using clues from our shared favorite book: ‘The Man Behind the Maps’.
After six hours of marching uphill, nobody had the energy left to speak, so it was a silent pain trek for the last twenty minutes. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we reached Camp Muir at 10,080ft. While my dad cooked some hot food, Jesse taught Tristan and me to use our ice axes to self-arrest by jumping off a steep spine near camp.
Descent:
After a delicious hot meal, we clicked back into our skis for the descent. The first two pitches were soft spring corn—pure heaven as we cruised down mellow slopes with a panoramic view of Adams, St. Helens, and Hood on the horizon. But spring skiing is fickle. Soon, the mix of slush and deep boot marks from climbers made turning nearly impossible. My quads screamed as I fought for control through the mashed potato snow.
At the top of Panorama Point, the conditions turned serious. The afternoon sun had destabilized the snow, and small sluffs were running down the face. Rather than risk triggering something bigger, I pointed my skis straight and 'bombed' through the slush and debris until I'd—as my dad put it—'removed myself from the situation.'
The tree skiing below wasn't much better. The sun-cupped snow full of sticky pollen forced us to walk uphill in places, even while descending overall. By the time we saw the cars, we were completely spent. Luckily, exhaustion didn’t ruin our creativity, because Tristan and I took turns on a ski jump we built near the parking lot while wearing our sneakers, and we caught up on hydration by eating snow.
Despite being quite behind schedule, we ended the night eating some delicious R.M.I. pizza in Ashford (Tristan claims it was too spicy–but he ate lettuce without dressing, so…).
Final Thoughts:
This ski tour taught me that the sport isn't just about physical endurance—there's serious mental strength involved. I had to push through and turn my brain off in moments where every muscle hurt, and that little voice in my head wanted to give up.
But here's the thing: Overall, I had a blast skiing with my friend Tristan. The suffering somehow made the accomplishment sweeter. We earned those turns, every single one of them. I will very likely do another adventure like this soon, though maybe with my own gear next time.
