By By JOHN EBY / Niles Daily Star
Southwestern Michigan College President Dr. David Mathews and communication instructor Jack Crouse safely survived the freak June blizzard on Washington's Mount Rainier Wednesday which claimed the life of hiker Eduard Burceag, 31.
Burceag's wife, Mariana, also 31, and a friend, David Vlad, had to be rescued by an Army helicopter from Camp Muir, a staging area for climbers about 10,000 feet up the 14,410-foot volcano.
Both were suffering from frostbite and hypothermia and taken by air to hospitals from the national park.
"June 10 was one of the most miserable days I ever spent in my lifetime," said Crouse, 64, of Cassopolis, "happy to be back in the land of the living."
He spoke to Leader Publications by cell phone from the Seattle airport while waiting for his flight home to his anxious wife, Eileen.
"I don't like snow all that much anyway," said Crouse, making his first mountain climb, which had been on his "bucket list of things" to accomplish in his lifetime. "I'm glad I had the experience, but I'm not doing this again. You can count on that. A mountaineer I'm not. I inspired a new term, 'reverse mountaineering.' The closer to the bottom I get, the happier I am."
"Jack said, 'I've never been so happy to see dirt again,' " chuckled Mathews, who caught an earlier flight.
"I've never seen such a winter storm. Our tents were completely covered with snow and the wind knocked you off your feet," Mathews, Dowagiac's 1978 valedictorian and a former Army Green Beret said. "It's permanently glaciated (on the expedition part of the mountain their guided tour went, as opposed to the day hike "tourist path" where the fatality occurred). Snow is always possible, but not in that amount. No one expected it to get that bad."
With snow collapsing their shelter, "David said it was like being in a submarine filling with water," said his father, SMC Board of Trustees Chairman Dr. Fred L. Mathews. "It turned out to be a real adventure and a great survival challenge."
David Mathews said the adventure started innocently enough Sunday morning with an "aggressive hike" from the parking lot to the first site, where they camped amidst snow, breathtaking scenery and beautiful weather.
Monday was sunny, which made trudging all day with 50-pound packs through soft snow like hiking up a "mashed potato mountain," Mathews said of his hardest physical ordeal since his Army days.
Reaching "Camp Curtis," he said it amounted to an identifiable rock formation. As soon as they crossed the ridge, they were "hammered" by winds that "knocked us off our feet. You're roped together over crevasses hundreds of yards long and 50 feet wide. We got up to Camp Schurman, which at least had a ranger hut the size of a one-car garage. He does weather reporting and coordinates rescues."
"The winds were ungodly," Mathews recalled. "The storm kept intensifying. The plan was to leave our heavy gear there and go up to the summit, but two feet of snow submerged our tents. Our guides said they had never been so close to losing shelter. We ended up hunkered down there for 36 hours."
By Wednesday, winds were still gusting, but the team could begin picking its way gingerly across the steep surfaces, mindful of avalanche threats.
There were eight clients and four guides, Mathews said, and the latter reminded him of mountain goats with their ability to combine stamina with agility.
The two-to-one ratio "I thought was overkill," Mathews admitted. "There were four roped teams of three people each, but in hindsight, it really was the right amount. We were walked through a gear check on Saturday and we were properly outfitted for such an expedition."
Read more about Mathews and Crouse and their adventure in Saturday's Niles Daily Star.
Camp Schurman, where they were snowed in, is at an altitude of 9,460 feet. Their goal was 14,410 feet and would have taken a third day.
The original plan was for Crouse to drive to Washington in his pickup truck with the gear, but as gas prices climbed, it became clear he could fly for half the cost. That's why the two friends ended up on separate flights, with Mathews winging from Seattle before noon to Detroit and Kalamazoo, while Crouse flew mid-afternoon through Minneapolis to arrive in South Bend, Ind., late last night.
While "cooling it" in the airport, he was surprised to glean from newspapers that it had become a captivating national human interest story.
"It was confining and a little intimidating with that amount of snow coming down in unbelievable amounts in close quarters in a two-man tent. I probably learned a few things," Crouse mused. "I'm not a mountain climber. We were kept from attempting to summit by the blizzard and the conquest turned into a survival experience. A couple of things really stick in my mind. Probably the biggest experience for me was finding my position in imminent danger, with crevasses waiting while they assessed for avalanche. Unlike in the 'civilized world,' there is no one to call, no 'backward option. You've just got to go through with it. I was impressed by the strength, endurance and good nature of our mountain guides. They take your well-being very seriously. One was bound for Denali (Alaska), another for the high Himalayas. One coached an Olympic volleyball team to two gold medals and was himself an athlete at Pepperdine University. They were strong as oxen and agile, four of the most unique men I've ever met, so from that perspective a good and lasting experience. It was a trip of both excitement and enjoyment and moments of just flat being scared" set to distracting scenery.
Crouse said he and Mathews began gym training last October. They put on packs and hiked in a variety of places, from the state park in Grand Mere to Swiss Valley and the Dr. T.K. Lawless mountain bike trail.
"We did it every Saturday, sunshine or snow," Crouse said. "I thought at the time I was really fit, but I was not ready for what altitude does to endurance. I struggled with that 50-pound pack until we got below 6,000 feet. I lost 35 pounds training. I went from a situation where my doctor was talking about cholesterol medicine to a negative risk factor. That's my biggest gain, my renewed appreciation for 'life and wife.' Spending 36 hours in a cramped tent in a blizzard was only the truly miserable part, but I'll look back on it as the highest adventure I ever had with the tent caving in, the roaring wind tearing at the fabric and those three other men.
"David invited several friends to accompany him to Mount Rainier, but I was the only fish who bit. After snuggling up with (Mathews) in sardine fashion, I'm happy for the solitude" of waiting in the airport.
"I've got his snores memorized," Crouse laughed.
"Even I vacillated, but then I got caught up in the training. Eileen was very supportive – especially when my waist size went back to 32 – but she was frantic when it was on the national news."
"When they strap on that avalanche beacon and say, 'Here's how we find you under the snow,' you really get a strong sense of the danger you're in," Crouse said. "At that point, no turning back. No calling for help. Just do it, and hope for the best."
Crouse said the three hikers were Romanian immigrants who had summited Rainier, with Eduard saving his wife's life by covering her body with his own.
"This blizzard came out of nowhere," he said. "I was blown off my feet wice. It roared in and stayed for a good day and half with sustained winds of 55 mph, but gusts got up into the 80s. They were equipped for a day hike. They did the best they could. If I learned anything, it's that there's a reason no one lives on mountaintops. You can find yourself in trouble really fast. I don't know why anyone would attempt it without a guide. They keep you out of trouble an average person would stroll right into."
They saw evidence of avalanche activity in trees a foot and a half in diameter that had been "shredded" by an onrushing wall of snow.
Crouse served in Vietnam, but in intelligence, not the infantry, so his time on Mount Rainier might go down as his most exciting moment.
"This may be the peak," he said.
No pun intended.