But that's getting somewhat ahead of that night back in '87 at 11,000 feet when Brent and I threw fingers for the turnaround rope. "Odds!" I called. Down went the fingers into our headlight glow. I counted and immediately conceded that I would take the rope down. Brent gave me such an odd look then that I got pissed at that competitive streak in him and lashed out that he could "at least be a little grateful!" "Thanks, Dave," he said with a smirk. I turned my back on him then and started tending to my downclimbers.

Within minutes, the summit gang was out of there and I was fully into working with my people. As you might expect, when folks don't make it up Mount Rainier, they can be a little hard on themselves. I consider it one of the greatest challenges to a guide's skills to work well with such climbers. I wasn't going to let these people down just because I was bringing them down. I've been on that other side of physical accomplishment too many times in my own life to overlook its capacity to bring pain and disappointment.

I prided myself on my patience and my energy for my climbers as I brought them back toward Cathedral Gap that morning. The very first rays of daylight were striking our world and I looked to the horizon and saw with a shock Mount Stuart in all its glory, where I'd been just 24 short hours' back. And, the way I do when it's good, I marveled at life a little then. And I pointed out to my climbers the incredible beauty of the first light sparkling on the ice crystals around us. And I pointed back for them at the humongous and stupendous glaciated bulk of Mount Rainier with our summit team stitching an elegant little seam of headlights up the half-lit spine of Disappointment Cleaver...