Hardwear Sessions

When we arrived, a low front bringing cold winter conditions was pushing over the state and fresh snow was piling up on the mountain. Flying into Seattle, Rainier was shrouded in heavy clouds and hidden from sight. Our first day on the mountain was a short hike up to 7,500ft or so for several hours of training for safe travel on the glaciers.

The next morning we set out early in steady winds, low temperatures, and snow; all slowly building in intensity. It was very intense; walking hard at altitude, weather deteriorating, visibility falling from a few hundred meters to less than 50. We climbed steadily up that magnificent mountain, working hard -- harder than almost every other trip up to Camp Muir at just over 10,000ft. And not just this year, in just about any year that RMI guides had taken trips up Rainier, according to Peter Whitaker.

I remember plunging through ever deepening snow, ever growing winds, dropping temperatures. I remember stopping only 3 times over the 6 hours and only once for more than a drink of water. I recall the moment we crossed the point where we had gone too far and couldn't turn back. I remember the feeling of trust and faith in our guides; but not only in our guides, but in myself and in my companions that we would make it through the storm. I remember the exhilaration and thrill running through me as I challenged myself physically and mentally and the intense feelings of joy of being so very present and so very alive.

I think everyone knew that there was no way we were going to make a summit attempt in these conditions with so much snow, so much wind it just wasn't worth the risk to climb further up Rainier. That was confirmed in our morning meeting with the guides who have an intimate knowledge of Mount Rainier. We spent a day at Muir Camp in better but not ideal conditions.

The 2nd morning we started down in conditions that proved to be even worse than when we climbed up. Visibility was almost zero for the first 1.5 hours. The snow was very deep; plunge steps in snow above my knees -- one person took a short fall into a crevasse, I had to swim out of a snow drift I had fallen into and one guide was repeatedly sent out to crawl on hands and knees searching for holes and crevasse openings. The wind blew ice crystals and snow like sand blasting across us searching for open bare skin to abrade, nip and freeze.

The hike down took 3.5 hours with only one meaningful rest about halfway down in a quiet little shelter between rock outcroppings. As we climbed lower on the mountain the snow fall became wet, heavy and eventually turned to rain. When we made it back to the national park service building we were all safe, warm, and for the most part dry -- we had worked up a lot of moisture on the inside as well as outside of our clothes with the work of getting down.

It was easy to stand there and point at our gear (the majority of it Mountain Hardwear, but not all) as giving us the protection from the elements in order to co-exist in the extreme environment. The improvements, the innovations in fabrics and garment construction, the selection and the thoughtfulness in combining materials in garments and layers; face fabrics, laminates, linings, base layers, gloves, socks, shoes, all add up to provide a system that eliminates the need to distract your attention and focus on the work it takes to get up and down the mountain in those conditions we faced.

So, we didn't actually make it to the top; we did share an intense, meaningful experience with each other -- a very intense and meaningful experience. And we spent hours with a group of dedicated serious, focused mountain guides; professionals that work all year and include people like Ed Viesturs. Their input is valuable, the experience we had on that climb only reinforces their comments.

And I have to tell you that the weather was exactly what we wanted, just perfect; near an extreme that would cancel the trip with just enough of a window opening we could slip through. The weather and the difficulty in the climb gave us a period of calculated risk. If we would have gone to the top we would have lost; with the knowledge of the guides we played hard and safe, experienced the mountain to the fullest.

Innovation, I believe, is a lot like this.

To innovate you have to have a vision, a goal, that is reasonable and attainable with a clear path and weigh points so you know you are still on the path to your goal. Sometimes the path leading to that vision is pleasant, sunny, and enjoyable with rewards that are quickly in hand; kind of like that sweet payoff at that slot machine on the way to the elevator.

More often it is an arduous journey, one that will test your endurance and your patience. One that needs the support of all of your team, a faith in the leaders and guides that they have a deep understanding of the risks and potential rewards and where the boundaries lie and how far you can cross those lines. Success will also require the dedication and long term interests in outside parties: suppliers, vendors, contractors, retailers and consumers.

Innovation cannot be a passing fancy. To reach the ultimate goal, to work through all of the steps, learn from the mistakes and move forward, to make lasting change; you have to be dedicated to the long haul or you are going to be turned around and guided back to the beginning; back to the past.

Innovation is full of emotion, learning and pitfalls. It is a strategy built on trust and faith, give and take; a realm full of rewards. For me, more importantly, in the manifestation of a vision into a reality that becomes shared by so many people. That can only become real by the dedication and shared experience – a meaningful shared experience -- of many people who all come together to work and make things happen; the instigator, the weaver, the chemist, the sewer, the staff in the shop; the sales reps, the fabric suppliers, the designers, the curious and the adventurous.