Episode 02: Oh, Chute
My Second Ski Tour on Mount Rainier
Sleeping at Paradise Inn was an amazing luxury, both in terms of a shorter day and acclimatization
Mission:
Due to a very lucky cancellation, this time we stayed the night at the iconic Paradise Inn and met the rest of our ski crew first thing in the morning at the lower lot. Our plan for the day is to tour up to the Nisqually Chute, and then ski a more classic line down this side of the mountain. Given it will be a shorter day, we should have plenty of time to grab food, and hopefully not get stuck in traffic on the drive back to Seattle.
Route: Paradise parking lot (5,400 ft) → Skyline Trail corridor → Glacier Vista (6,300 ft) → traverse west below Panorama Point → ski the chute (entrance ~8,300 ft, exit ~6,500 ft) → traverse back across glacier valley → climb out to Skyline Trail → Paradise parking lot
Distance & Gain: ≈ 3.35 mi to chute entrance, 2,917 ft elevation gain on ascent. Return: 3.35 mi with 331 ft of additional gain (climbing out of the Nisqually drainage)
This was our view of the Nisqually Chute from the saddle between Glacier Vista and Panorama Point
Ascent:
On June 18, 2025, my dad and I were running around the house frantically packing for Mount Rainier. Once we collected all our gear, we immediately got stuck in Seattle's afternoon traffic. Our ETA went from two hours to three and a half. After two hours of crawling along I-5, we stopped in Auburn for some classic Pizza Hut (and wings).
When we got back on the road, we learned that Tristan and Jesse (our ski friends from the Camp Muir adventure) were arriving later than expected. So when we reached Paradise, we checked into our room at the lodge and made two trips hauling supplies back to the car once we were organized for the morning. After discovering Tristan wouldn't arrive until too late to hang out, Dad and I called it a night. It was a terrible rest at 5,400 feet—I kept waking up from the altitude.
The next morning, I woke at 6:00 am and got ready for the tour. After a delicious breakfast of yogurt (from the small cafe in Paradise Inn), I met up with Tristan, and we headed out. This time I came prepared with my own gear: fresh Hagan 82s with ATK bindings, and my very own pair of touring boots Jesse helped us track down–which we upgraded with a new power strap.
We started our ascent through the familiar evergreen trees, following the same Skyline Trail corridor from our Camp Muir tour. But this time, instead of grinding straight up Panorama Point's face, we took the bootpack traverse around the back—a long, exposed trek above cliffs that required careful foot placement. At the top, we stopped to plan our route toward the Nisqually Chute.
While continuing toward the Muir Snowfield, we first heard (felt? the whole mountain seemed to rumble), then witnessed an avalanche thunder down from the upper Nisqually Glacier—a reminder that this mountain is very much alive. Past the rock bands above Panorama Point, we entered the snowfield and had to navigate steep, deep sun cups that made every step a quad burner. After hours of this peculiar torture, we reached a large group of rocks above the infamous Nisqually Chute. After some well-earned lunch, we clicked into our skis and traversed over to the entrance.
Descent:
I stood at the top of a rollover, staring down at 40 degrees of rock-studded, sun-cupped madness. This was it—the Nisqually Chute.
Tristan and I dropped in. It was the steepest run either of us had ever attempted. We worked our way down the extreme terrain, making careful turns between rocks. The Nisqually Chute is so steep that a fall would send you tumbling into the boulder field below—not an option.
Fortunately, Tristan and I made it down with growing confidence and, luckily, no need for a helicopter rescue. Unfortunately, my dad caught an edge and slid on his butt for about ten feet before self-arresting. Unscathed, he continued his descent toward the glacier–but didn’t manage to take as many pictures as our easy cruise down the Muir snowfield.
Halfway down the 2,000-vertical-foot couloir, I noticed a gaping crevasse on the side of the run—a terrifying reminder that we were skiing near actual glacier ice. After completing the chute, we took a break by practicing self-arrests with our ice axes until our dads advised that we had better get moving again before also learning about hypothermia as a result of our wet clothes.
Because we'd descended into the Nisqually Glacier basin, we had to climb back out—a humbling hike with tired legs. When we returned to Panorama Point, we messed around a bit more with the ice axes until clouds started rolling in (never a good thing on Rainier). We quickly transitioned to skis and descended through crowds of people, a crack formed by a collapsing cornice, and back over the creepy running water of a thinly buried creek. We finished the adventure with a short drop and small jump right onto the edge of the parking lot.
Back at the cars, I pulled off my boots and—as tradition demands it—Tristan and I built another parking lot jump, our second on Mount Rainier.
Final Thoughts:
The Nisqually Chute has been my favorite adventure so far—combining a burly ascent, terrifying descent, and, of course, a beautiful slice of RMI pizza afterward. The step up in difficulty from the standard Camp Muir route felt like real progression.
My next adventure will be on the Inter Glacier, where we'll actually camp on the ice high on the mountain. Time to say goodbye to Mount Rainier's south side and hello to the North!
