It seems disingenuous to include all sorts trip reports on this site with my best days in the mountains without including the worst. The reality was that after about ten years of backcountry skiing I really hadn't encountered tragedy. Prior to this day there had been a number of close calls, including some that still haunt me. I had to carry a friend out at one point, but that was just a broken leg. A number of scary or stessful situations had me second guessing my choice to keep skiing steeps... but nothing like this.
I had met Matthew Bunker through skimo racing. I don't know if I have ever met anyone with this much enthusiasm for ski mountaineering. The guy was just brimming with stoke and it was contagious. To top it off he was an incredible photographer and super fit. Listening to his stories was brought me back to my early days of steep skiing full of type II fun misadventure. I wanted to get out with him sometime and ride the wave of his enthusiasm.
Not long after the COVOD lockdowns lifted there had been some good precipitation followed by a weather window. I had been hoping to get back to the north side of Mount Rainier. Living in Seattle Liberty Ridge just stares you in the face, in the right light it practically jumps off the mountain. Even as I had been winding down my steep skiing goals LR loomed large as one of the remaining boxes to be checked.
Matt and I had originally been planning to ski Central Mowich Face on Mount Rainier, another line that beckons from town, but I had a friend B and his ski partner A (initials used in case they don't want to be associated with this incident) who were interested in going after Liberty Ridge. I invited myself along with them and checked with Matt to see if he was still interested. He was a bit worried, but CMF is just as full-on as LR and we reasoned that if he was up for that he should be up for LR. It was also the case that a bail would be much easier with LR. Once on Liberty Cap a simple traverse will put you on the Emmons Glacier route and relatively easy access back to the car. Matt's plan was to climb the route then decide at the LC if he was feeling it, if he wasn't he was comfortable getting himself over to and down the Emmons.
I had met Matthew Bunker through skimo racing. I don't know if I have ever met anyone with this much enthusiasm for ski mountaineering. The guy was just brimming with stoke and it was contagious. To top it off he was an incredible photographer and super fit. Listening to his stories was brought me back to my early days of steep skiing full of type II fun misadventure. I wanted to get out with him sometime and ride the wave of his enthusiasm.
Not long after the COVOD lockdowns lifted there had been some good precipitation followed by a weather window. I had been hoping to get back to the north side of Mount Rainier. Living in Seattle Liberty Ridge just stares you in the face, in the right light it practically jumps off the mountain. Even as I had been winding down my steep skiing goals LR loomed large as one of the remaining boxes to be checked.
Matt and I had originally been planning to ski Central Mowich Face on Mount Rainier, another line that beckons from town, but I had a friend B and his ski partner A (initials used in case they don't want to be associated with this incident) who were interested in going after Liberty Ridge. I invited myself along with them and checked with Matt to see if he was still interested. He was a bit worried, but CMF is just as full-on as LR and we reasoned that if he was up for that he should be up for LR. It was also the case that a bail would be much easier with LR. Once on Liberty Cap a simple traverse will put you on the Emmons Glacier route and relatively easy access back to the car. Matt's plan was to climb the route then decide at the LC if he was feeling it, if he wasn't he was comfortable getting himself over to and down the Emmons.
We all met at the White River CG and got rolling around 12:30AM making fast time to St. Elmo's pass and the massive traverse over to the base of the ridge. Things were off to a good start and conditions were looking good. The glacier on the upper section of the ridge, sometimes blue ice, appeared to be all snow. The passage through the upper seracs also looked well filled in.
As we worked our way through the crevasses on the Carbon we made it to the base of the ridge. There was quite a bit of active rockfall which gave us plenty to think about. We were able to spot a direct line to the ridge that would minimize exposure and we went for it. When we made the ridge we found snow ramps on the East (lookers left) side. The ramps were dirty with rockfall, mostly small, but the cliffs were a maximum of about 20' tall so we reasoned that the rocks wouldn't have a lot of energy. The snow was also relatively soft, giving us a slight margin for error, hard snow in this section would have been very scary.
We had been following a booter and caught up to the mountaineering party just above Thumb Rock. We kept breaking trail, the snow was a little softer than we hoped between thumb rock and the black pyramid, but became more firm above that point. From the black pyramid on up the snow was incredible, supportable, but soft and edgable. It's also not super steep up there, probably 40 degrees. It's scary thinking about what's down below, but the terrain itself isn't super intimidating.
I was really starting to feel it around the elevation of the black pyramid. I pride myself on my fitness and ability to function well at elevation. COVID had thrown a wrench in that. The National Forests were closed and we weren't supposed to ski at all, something I painfully respected. I had been riding my bike and running a lot during the lockdown, but it's no substitute for climbing mountains. I was feeling so bad that B offered to take my rope, a very kind gesture.
As we approached Liberty Cap B and A expressed interest in heading over to the main summit. Matt and I were feeling crappy and decided that wasn't in the cards for us. We tucked in below LC and made some water. There was plenty of time to consider the route. Matt's main concern was a short section of harder snow in the upper seracs. It seemed reasonable to sidestep it with an axe out so he decided he wanted to ski the route. I was trying my best to be a good partner, letting him know that there was noting wrong with a bail, but also not saying anything that might shake his confidence. Steep skiing is as much about confidence as it is about skill. Don't get me wrong, skill is very, very, important. Without confidence you are sunk though.
We weren't worried at all about B and A, they are extremely competent. It seemed like it would be nice to drop a little ahead of them, take our time on the upper snowfield, then they would surely catch up somewhere along the ridge. We geared up and dropped in. The snow was excellent, just what you want to ski steeps. The upper portion was still cold snow, but it was really glued on and sluffing very little. Matt skied cautiously but well keeping an axe out.
The upper snowfield was the steep skiing dreams are made of. The snow was excellent and the position is absolutely WILD! Seracs all around and the snowfield rolls off into oblivion, this is exactly what it's all about. The mellowing of the pitch makes is a very type 1 fun section.
We reached the Black Pyramid, B and A were right behind us and we regrouped. The snow was getting softer and we had to do some more careful management/skiing at this point. It looks like in years past it has been possible to go skiers left under the black pyramid onto the gigantic snow slope on the west side of the ridge. Thanks to the conditions (and the influence of climate change) that was not possible. We needed to stick to the ridge for a ways further. We skied one at a time, the first person breaking loose wet sluffs that were entraining quite a bit of snow, the others following in their track. Watching the wet slides roll off the ridge was quite a sight and made quite a noise. This was stressful skiing, the snow you break loose often gently tries to take you with it, if it does you are screwed.
At Thumb Rock there is a snowy gap that connects to the west side of the ridge. B an A waned to go that way for a quicker exit. Our ascent route would require two transitions. On the other hand they would need to ski through a zone of very active rockfall, at least they wouldn't be spending much time there. I wanted to give Matt a say in where we were going, he said he would be more comfortable retracing our ascent route even with the transitions. I was ok with that as I remembered it being relatively mellow snow. I let B and A know we would meet them down on the glacier and they took off.
We started down the system of snow ramps on the East side of the ridge, dropping a little too low at first and having to sidestep up a few feet. I wanted some space between us so near the top of the sidestep I checked in with Matt and asked if he was ok if I dropped, he was and I took off. I wanted to get it over with quickly to escape the rockfall danger. I skied (mostly traversed) and made it to where we had originally crossed the ridge. I popped my skis off and waited. For my whole ski career, every time someone was taking a little too long, things were always ok in the end, just wait a little longer and they will show up. Not today, after maybe 5 minutes of waiting I was getting worried, after 10 very worried, after 15 my adrenal glands were dumping and I was fucking scared for Matt.
I tried to wave to B and A but I don't think they really knew what I was trying to say, they were easily 1k' down. I then cramponed up and decided I needed to retrace our route to the last seen point. This was very scary, things were even warmer than when we had first ascended and I worried about rockfall the whole time. I made it to thumb rock and couldn't see any sign of Matt. Maybe he bailed on our route and followed B and A's route down? I retraced our east ledges route back down and looked really hard for gear, slide marks, or any sign of Matt. I didn't see any, though there were slide marks everywhere from rocks so that didn't help anything. He was simply gone. I made it back over the ridge then got to do some crappy down-climbing and skiing in a rockfall zone. Skiing up to B and A my mind convinced me that one of them was Matt and the B or A must have continued on ahead.
We finally communicated and realized that Matt was definitely missing. The reality of the situation stuck us like a bolt of lightning. We knew we had to initiate a rescue, but knowing where he had fallen there was a definite air of futility and hopelessness to it. Matt had fallen off a cliff(s) ranging from 50' to 200', under which there was a massive bergschrund. Even if he was by some miracle both alive and on the glacier he would be in one of the most active rockfall zones on the mountain. Probably one of the worst places in the state to need a rescue honestly.
We activated my inreach SOS and started trying to get information out to SAR and loved ones. It's tough with text messages, but much better than nothing. NPS had a helicopter to us shockingly fast. Apparently they were already flying a training mission and had diverted. They scoped out the ridge, buzzed us and took a look at the base of the ridge before departing. There was a weather system coming in and the clock was ticking. We tried to navigate the upper carbon to get a look at the area where he would have fallen but were stopped by crevasses. We also made the assumption that if Matt had been visible on the glacier the Helicopter would have likely tried to get him. If he was in the bergschrund nobody was going to get him, ever. There is just so much rockfall coming off LR in that spot that no rescue team would ever be expected to go in there.
What felt like the longest deproach of my life ensued and we had no shortage of time to think about what had happened on the way out. The pain just got worse as we passed through things like needing to figure out what to do with his car, explain what happened to loved ones, and provide what little assistance we could to the NPS Rescue Team. When you are trying to explain steep skiing to a family member from the flatlands do you realize what an out-there pursuit it is. Until that point I had found it easy to surround myself with people who did dangerous things for fun, it normalizes it. When something goes wrong and you have to start explaining yourself then you realize how fringe what you are doing really is.
The pain has never subsided, of course the pain I feel pails in comparison to what Matt's family feels. They lost a son, a brother. Friends who had known him for much longer now had holes in their hearts too. In a world filled with ugliness Matt was a beautiful shining light, a light now extinguished.
Think about this the next time you are deciding if you should keep pushing or bail, no route is worth a life.
I tried to wave to B and A but I don't think they really knew what I was trying to say, they were easily 1k' down. I then cramponed up and decided I needed to retrace our route to the last seen point. This was very scary, things were even warmer than when we had first ascended and I worried about rockfall the whole time. I made it to thumb rock and couldn't see any sign of Matt. Maybe he bailed on our route and followed B and A's route down? I retraced our east ledges route back down and looked really hard for gear, slide marks, or any sign of Matt. I didn't see any, though there were slide marks everywhere from rocks so that didn't help anything. He was simply gone. I made it back over the ridge then got to do some crappy down-climbing and skiing in a rockfall zone. Skiing up to B and A my mind convinced me that one of them was Matt and the B or A must have continued on ahead.
We finally communicated and realized that Matt was definitely missing. The reality of the situation stuck us like a bolt of lightning. We knew we had to initiate a rescue, but knowing where he had fallen there was a definite air of futility and hopelessness to it. Matt had fallen off a cliff(s) ranging from 50' to 200', under which there was a massive bergschrund. Even if he was by some miracle both alive and on the glacier he would be in one of the most active rockfall zones on the mountain. Probably one of the worst places in the state to need a rescue honestly.
We activated my inreach SOS and started trying to get information out to SAR and loved ones. It's tough with text messages, but much better than nothing. NPS had a helicopter to us shockingly fast. Apparently they were already flying a training mission and had diverted. They scoped out the ridge, buzzed us and took a look at the base of the ridge before departing. There was a weather system coming in and the clock was ticking. We tried to navigate the upper carbon to get a look at the area where he would have fallen but were stopped by crevasses. We also made the assumption that if Matt had been visible on the glacier the Helicopter would have likely tried to get him. If he was in the bergschrund nobody was going to get him, ever. There is just so much rockfall coming off LR in that spot that no rescue team would ever be expected to go in there.
What felt like the longest deproach of my life ensued and we had no shortage of time to think about what had happened on the way out. The pain just got worse as we passed through things like needing to figure out what to do with his car, explain what happened to loved ones, and provide what little assistance we could to the NPS Rescue Team. When you are trying to explain steep skiing to a family member from the flatlands do you realize what an out-there pursuit it is. Until that point I had found it easy to surround myself with people who did dangerous things for fun, it normalizes it. When something goes wrong and you have to start explaining yourself then you realize how fringe what you are doing really is.
The pain has never subsided, of course the pain I feel pails in comparison to what Matt's family feels. They lost a son, a brother. Friends who had known him for much longer now had holes in their hearts too. In a world filled with ugliness Matt was a beautiful shining light, a light now extinguished.
Think about this the next time you are deciding if you should keep pushing or bail, no route is worth a life.