Injured hikers airlifted from Camp Muir with help of Army Reserve team

Here is the NPS press release about the recent incident on the Muir Snowfield. We'll attempt to put more information online when we can.
Injured hikers airlifted from Camp Muir with help of Army Reserve team

Two hikers suffering from hypothermia and frostbite were airlifted from Camp Muir on Mount Rainier at 6:15 this morning, with the help of a Chinook helicopter operated by members of the Army Reserve’s 159th Aviation Regiment at Fort Lewis. They were taken to Madigan Hospital and from there by ground transportation to Harborview Medical Center in Seattle.
The injured hikers were Mrs.Mariana Burceag and Mr. Daniel Vlad of Bellevue, Washington. A third hiker, Mr. Eduard Burceag, the husband of Mrs. Burceag, died of injuries sustained in the incident. His body is being removed off the mountain this afternoon.
The three individuals are experienced mountaineers who had visited Camp Muir in the past and have enjoyed hiking and climbing on Mount Rainier for many years. Two had previously reached the summit. On Monday afternoon, they became trapped on the Muir Snowfield by a sudden blizzard while descending from a day hike to Camp Muir. Early Tuesday morning a 911 emergency call came through to park rangers advising them of overdue hikers on the Muir snowfield. Due to heavy, drifting snow, seventy miles per hour winds, and near zero visibility, a rescue team was unable to safely initiate a search at that time. At about 7:15am, one member of the party found his way to Camp Muir and was able to direct a search team, made up of climbing guides and park rangers stationed at Camp Muir, to the party’s location near Anvil Rock. All three of the stranded hikers were under shelter by 8:30am. Three doctors, who were at Camp Muir as clients of one of the park’s guide services, provided immediate medical care. Mr. Burceag was unconscious and unresponsive upon arrival. Rescuers were unable to revive him.
The shelter at Camp Muir is warm, dry, and well-stocked with food and water. A carry-out rescue could have been initiated following the rescue, however, rangers and doctors determined it would be in the best interest of the patients to spend the night and wait for a break in the weather to safely fly the next day. This morning dawned clear above Camp Muir, with heavy clouds below. The Chinook helicopter arrived at 6am and, in approximately 15 minutes, lifted Mrs. Burceag and Mr. Vlad, along with one of the park’s climbing rangers, into the helicopter by hoist and cable. Those on scene report that the cloud ceiling had risen somewhat by the time the helicopter arrived, and that the rescue occurred amid swirling clouds that threatened to engulf the mountain in fog.
The Chinook helicopter was operated by members of the U.S. Army Reserve, “A” Company, 5th Battalion, 159th Aviation Regiment at Fort Lewis, Washington. [Note: Yesterday’s press release attributing the helicopter to the 101st Airborne Division was incorrect.] This reserve unit has worked with park officials at Mount Rainier on numerous rescues over the years, and has been invaluable as a backup resource when private vendors are unavailable or lack the capabilities required by the mission. In this case, for instance, the Chinook was able to fly out of Fort Lewis by instruments, despite the low clouds and poor visibility that grounded commercial helicopters. Over the years, the Reserve unit’s helicopter has been modified in several ways to accommodate the needs of Mount Rainier’s climbers: with a fixed line inside the aircraft for climbers to clip into; with removable plywood flooring to accommodate climbers’ crampons; with a special hoist for lifting individuals into the helicopter; and with flight helmets for use by park rangers, outfitted with avionics for communicating with the helicopter team.
Every year, roughly 9,000 people climb Mount Rainier and only about half of them reach the summit. Thousands more take day hikes or overnight camping trips to Camp Muir (48 were registered there on Tuesday night). These individuals are attracted by the majesty of the mountain, the wilderness experience, and the breathtaking beauty of mornings like this one, high above the clouds on the side of the volcano. Like many things in life, there are inherent risks in the wilderness. Sudden storms like Monday’s blizzard can catch even the most experienced and prepared hikers off guard. Visitors should check in with park rangers for the latest information about conditions on the mountain, and should always be prepared for an emergency.
~ NPS

My Happy Place

The top two photos are the views from the deck of the tiny house I'm renting this weekend at my beloved Fripp Island, SC. After the super busy fall I've had, I needed a getaway before Christmas gets here. I'm having a good time reading, planning, watching videos, walking on the beach, and anything else that catches my fancy.
The same day I left, our youngest son graduated from college. We're so proud of him and all he has accomplished. The flames are from a Japanese restaurant hibachi where we went to celebrate after graduation.
The musician is none other than the famous, Dr. Michael Braz. All five of our children have been under his tutelage in the community youth choir. I thought it was fitting that he send Dylan out into the world with his lovely music.

Trails Under Water

Yesterday, I took a ride from XW shop, to Manawa, Trail Center, and return. Besides riding my bike, wanted to see how bad the trails are.
As you can see - sections of the trails are under water. When I got back to the Shop, I learned that the race had been postponed to a later weekend. The river was also way up and lots of garbage floating on the river.
Rode the new trail bike - since I had to pick it up at the shop (adjustment). Weather good, light wind, feeling good (but not the energy I had Wednesday!).

Information Overload

I'm reading this wonderfully informative book called Margin by Richard A. Swenson, M.D. He not only tells us how busy our century is, he tells us why and how to fix it. It's been a real eye-opener for me.
Here's a section from the chapter called The Pain of Overload: Ninety-nine percent of American homes have television, with the average set turned on fifty-five hours a week. Televised news is 24/7. We buy more books per capita than ever before and can choose from 63,000 new titles every year. How does one read a three-and-one-half-inch thick Sunday paper?
A single edition of the New York Times contains more information than a seventeenth-century Britisher would encounter in a lifetime. If I read two health articles every day, next year I would be eight centuries behind in my reading. We are buried by data on a daily basis.
Astonishing, isn't it? Instead of feeling frustrated, I actually feel freer, because there's no way anyone could read every new book that's printed each year. I've actually felt panicky before because I wanted to and knew I couldn't.
So I'm just going to read at my own pace, enjoy what I'm reading or put it down, relax, and enjoy life. The part about how much a seventeenth-century Britisher read in a lifetime kind of puts it in perspective, doesn't it? There will definitely be more quotes from this book.

First Light, Foggy Morning - Pigeon River Valley

The fog this morning was incredible. Unfortunately I did not make it out to take any pictures of the fog at sunrise. So, it made me go back to some photos from a foggy morning in July that I never posted. This photo was made after a night of photographing the northern lights along the Arrowhead Trail in northeast Minnesota. As I drove home via the backroads I noticed that there was quite a bit of fog in the Pigeon River valley below me. I pulled over at the Pigeon River Helipad Overlook along Otter Lake Road and waited for the sun to come up. I knew that once the sunlight started to hit the fog it would be an incredible view. Sure enough, as the fog started to glow from the light of the rising sun I was awestruck by the beauty and depth of the scene laid out before me.

Ancient Giants

Northern California is home to one of the most amazing natural sights that I have ever seen: the Redwood Forest. It is truly awe-inspiring to stand in the shadows of these gigantic trees. This photo was made in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park just outside of Crescent City, California.

Six Nations cultural mix

Today is Scotland's first game in the annual Six Nations rugby tournament. The Nations are the 'home' nations - Scotland, Wales, Ireland and England, plus France and Italy. Today we play Wales here in Edinburgh. Souvenir shops do brisk and welcome business as a result during the otherwise slow winter months. The window of this shop just off the Royal Mile has everything for the rugby tourist:

• at the left of the picture, a Welsh kilt outfit. We'll make an honorary Scot of any nationality, and the red Welsh dragon looks particularly fine with the kilt. On the white hooded top 'Cymru' means 'Wales'.
• in the middle is the green top of the Irish rugby team. Clutching a Scottish rugby ball.
  
• the Scottish top is the navy blue one on the right. Not shown, the English top, which is an impractical white with red (but that's just the mother in me talking).

• then, some essential souvenirs: the silver bowl at bottom left is a quaich, the traditional 'cup of friendship'. This is a huge one, presumably for holding a large quantity of beer.
• next to the quaich, assorted boxes of shortbread, either for sudden hunger (although chips are the more usual fuel), or for placating any female connections who have stayed at home. If more serious placating is needed, there's a selection of celtic-themed pendant necklaces next to the shortbread.
• for smaller members of the family, there are snow globes featuring Edinburgh Castle, and a fine doll in full ceremonial kilt regalia.
  
• also some boxes of tartan hankies. Why not?

Reflected above all that jumble are the austere lines of the Tron Kirk, which has looked down over various frivolities since 1647.

Long Rides are Like a Nice Stretch

Yesterday I finally had the chance to get out for an extended period of time on my road bike. I didn't leave the house until 11 am and had no where to be afterwards and no where to go in between.
Such luxury! Like a nice looong comfy stretch. I rode a nice happy 50 mile loopty out to Danville Peets. Hung out at Peets with all the other cyclists for a while and back I went.
So now I guess I've started my base training. Which means I guess I need to decide what to do between now and next cross season. Which mtb races to do and maybe actually train? Train? Should I train?
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. New Years resolutions and such. But I'm not good at training.

I've tried to train with a heart rate monitor. I've tried to train with a power tap. I've tried to follow a training schedule. I hired a coach once for a road racing season. It all made me so cranky. I felt like my life was so heavily schedulized already; between working and having kids who play soccer and ballet and band and drama and homework and making dinners and oh yeah, morgan's training schedule.
I got irritable trying to stay on it; writing all my numbers down, days riding, time spent, miles logged, power produced, heart rate acheived, feelings felt.
So I train like I balance our checkbook. I know in general what's in there. What we've deposited so far, what I can take out, what bills to pay. Sometimes we have a little excess, sometimes we're a little short but I have a good feeling for where we are. But we could do a lot better if I kept better track, if I were more attentive, if I really worked hard at it. Just like if I trained.

I made it

Saturday I climbed off the sick bed to set a fastest time ever on the 920 metre climb to O'Reillys in the Hinterland. I am still trying to figure out just where that sort of form came from, or if it can ever be repeated. The plan had been to meet up with some friends to hike around the Tooloona Circuit of Lamington National Park. I had allowed plenty of time for the ride up the mountain, but a flat tyre 7km from Canungra effectively took care of the extra time I had allowed. Now I had some serious work to do.

I had thought about trying to the 14km gentle climb at the start in "the dog", but decided I wouldn't sustain that for 14km and bailed on that idea. Instead I went for cadence, and DID manage to sustain that. Even then, when I first entered the rainforest on the plateau I was still running late. I pulled out the 5 flat km across the plateau quickly, and commenced the final 7km climb actually thinking I could make it on time (not that being five minutes late would be an issue, but this was a matter of pride). Here I just went for consistency, and gained even more time. Now I just had to finish of the short 16% pinch known locally as "Big Bertha". The time I'd made up earlier meant that the pressure was unexpectedly off, and I spun over it in a granny gear. I ultimately made the summit with five minutes to spare.

As for the hike itself, the best description I heard all day was "a walk in paradise". I was still on a high after the ride to the start, and led the group to the top of the ridge for the return through the rainforest gorge and the waterfalls. The rainforest itself is full of all sorts of secrets, and the rain earlier in the week had filled the watefalls to capacity.





Of course, this volume of water usually means plenty of leeches, and that was the case again today. The good news about that is I'll probably never have to worry about blood clotting or poor circulation in the future. The other thing it meant was treacherous creek crossings, and that I was the only one brave enough to climb the rocks to reach Elebana Falls. That was, however, probably the best picture of the day.






Yet another memorable day. The rainforest in the Hinterland seems to become more vigorous during the wet season. Hopefully I'll get more time to explore it in the coming months, before the dry hits.

Why do we love climbing?

This was a question someone asked over on bikejournal yesterday as a few of us (and yes, I was guilty) were setting climbing challenges for 2006. On the surface it seems quite a valid point -- after all, I live in a rather flat city. There really is no need, nor any reason for me to willingly or otherwise inflict pain upon myself by riding against gravity. There is certainly no reason for me to travel to the opposite end of the country to ride up hill (as in the origins of the above picture). So why do I do it?
For me I climb first and foremost for the scenery. Riding through the mountains offers wonders that just don't exist in open, flat areas. It's not only the views accessible from the mountains, but there are other things. Often it's the chance to watch clouds forming or breaking up from close quarters, perhaps riding through the remnants of a storm (I've done that a few times). It's also the business end of a lot of water systems, and there's nothing that quite matches the sound of rushing water when you're pushing your way toward the summit of the climb -- Curtis falls on Mt Tamborine comes to mind here.
Let's also not forget the physical release that comes from cycling up hill. There really is nothing quite like it. Pedalling up a long, steep climb is such an all-consuming activity that anything on your mind causing stress at a particular time is bound to be shoved aside, at least temporarily. I know that this has allowed me to perceive many situations differently in the past, and solve many other problems that I would not have solved otherwise. It's also a feeling of satisfaction about taking on a mountain and winning, although that's a minor benefit.
In the end, pain is only temporary (and not really all that bad to begin with), but the things I see as a result of cycling up hill often stay with me for much longer, forever in some cases.