Mt. St. Helens - June 16, 2012

Pentaquest 2012 officially began on Saturday, June 16th with a climb up the winter route on Mt. St. Helens. Located only 50 miles from Portland, St. Helens has been a constant throughout the four years of the Pentaquest, showing up on the calendar at least once a season. It's not considered a challenge by the hardcore mountaineering crowd - you don't need a rope, harness or crampons. But what it lacks in technical difficulty it makes up for by rising a grueling 5,800 feet over five miles from trailhead to crater rim at 8,365 feet.

St. Helens will crush the ill-conditioned. And punish the well-prepared for choosing happy hour at the local brewpub instead of hitting the gym a few extra times with a 40-pound pack. But even if you don't reach the summit, to choose to climb St. Helens is to play for the win. It's an experience that should be on every ambulatory Cascadian's bucket list. The journey is well worth the discomfort and buildup of lactic acid in the muscles. For its accessibility to a wide range of skills sets and bang for the buck (only $23), it has no alpine equal.

Me, Kevin, Dave, Liesl, Steena, Matt and John (left to right)

On June 16th, a team of seven from Portland (Dave, Kevin, Sara, Liesl and Matt) and Seattle (John and Steena) joined me on St. Helens. Liesl and Matt had climbed it with me before, but it was the first experience climbing in snow for the remaining five. We all met in the woodland hamlet of Cougar, Washington at 8:00 a.m. and picked up our permits from the rustic Lone Fir Resort. I previously booked eight permits in February when they were first released, not knowing what the weather would be like. It's always a gamble, especially since Oregon and Washington are prone to a meteorological condition known as "June-uary." But the permits for choice weekend dates are usually gone within a day or two of their initial release. Only 100 are available for any given day to limit crowding and preserve the environment from overuse.

Fortunately the weather on the 16th largely cooperated with us. As we drove east of Cougar to the trailhead at Marble Mountain Sno Park, sun broke through the clouds and we caught occasional glimpses of the mountain. By 9:00 a.m. we departed from the lot at the sno park and took our first steps on the trail. The first two miles rose gradually along a well-maintained path through a wooded area. It's a great warm-up before the relentless elevation gain kicks in. We took our time, taking pictures and enjoying the rays of sunshine that illuminated the upper slopes of the mountain. Patches of snow began to appear on the trail close to the timberline.

Before too long we cleared most of the trees and crossed over Swift Creek above Chocolate Falls. A steady stream of snowmelt spilled down forty feet from the falls into a gully, but the creek wasn't running high and was easy to cross. As we continued on the trail, our work for the day came into view - all but the upper reaches of the stratovolcano were in front of us. It seemed both daunting and awesome to know how much work remained.

The trail started to ascend a boulder-covered spine paralleled by snow fields. At this point the group started to split, with Matt, Liesl, Sara and Kevin climbing faster than the rest of us. Around this time I decided to shift from the boulders to the snow and made my way off the spine and down to frozen terrain. Dave and Steena joined me, but John continued on up in the rocks.

Everyone on the team seemed to enter a place of intense mental focus and pushed forward one step at a time. A few hundred yards separated the front of the group from the back. Although mid-June, the snow was still firm and gave great purchase with each step. I caught frequent glimpses of Mt. Adams to the east as I used my trekking poles to get into a smooth climbing rhythm with Dave and Steena nearby.

After several hours of slogging, John, Steena, Dave and I rendezvoused at a solar-powered U.S. Geological Survey station and paused to enjoy the view. Liesl, Matt, Kevin and Sara continued their progress forward. I think the station  is one of the best spots in the Cascades to enjoy a Clif Bar. The sky was still blue, but a thick cloud layer obscured the upper reaches of Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams as if someone had spraypainted a grey line in the air. We were all fatigued, but still determined to reach the summit. With determination, we departed one at a time with John in the lead and dug in for the remaining few thousand feet.

USGS station on Mt. St. Helens

We soon reached one of the steeper stretches of the climb, almost to the point of requiring crampons and an ice axe. But we carefully followed the icy steps left in the snow by previous climbers and advanced through the danger. The wind started to pick up and blow clouds over us and then clear them away just as fast. It was as though our path was crossing into and out of the jet stream.  By now the upper four members of the team were approaching the crater rim, but the rest of us still had a bit to go. A few snowboarders passed by on their way down the mountain at a decent clip.

As we climbed higher, the character of the snow changed and appeared icier. A passing ranger checked our permits and offered hope that we were getting closer to the end. With about 800 feet to go - and as the wind continued to whip around us - we had a classic "shit or get off the pot" or "moment of truth" discussion. After assessing the situation and briefly considerig pulling the plug, we decided all roads home first had to pass by the crater rim. And so we did.

Digging deep to reach the finish

Nearing the top, we saw the rest of our team - Matt, Liesl, Kevin and Sara - as they started to descend. We agreed to a rally point (the USGS station) and received words of encouragement for our final push. Intermittent clouds, wind, ice and fatigue all conspired against us. But we countered by singing cheesey 80s tunes to lift our spirits.

At long last the slope leveled off and we reached the lip of the crater.

When Mt. St. Helens erupted in 1980, Mother Nature cleaved off 1,000 feet from the mountain with the precision of a battlefield amputation. The jagged lip that remains is covered by a snow cornice that hides the true danger that lies beneath. Earlier in the day I reminded everyone to stay away from the edge - even if the snow appeared safe. The cornices extend out much further than you would think and have dropped experienced climbers to their deaths in the crater. As we took our victory photos and explored the rim, we could actually see a line in the snow where terra firma ended and peril began.

Although the sky had been blue for much of the day, the summit was not. Occasionally we could see other parts of the rim across the crater, but sadly Mt. Rainier, Spirit Lake and all points north were blocked. But this did nothing to damped our excitement at reaching our goal and consuming a few victorious drops of Irish Whiskey. The importance of trail whiskey cannot be emphasized enough for these moments.

Victory moment at the summit

After taking a grip of pictures and video and soaking in the fact we were standing on top of an active volcano, we donned garbage bags and launched into a glissade down the mountain. There is almost nothing better a glissade after many, many hours of climbing, fortified by a swig of Bushmills. Down we went, dropping hundreds of feet every ten minutes. At one point I looked down in horror to see one of my hands dripping a steady amount of blood into the snow. I had neglected to wear gloves and lost a few chunks of flesh in the ice during the glissade.  But it wouldn't be an authentic Pentaquest experience without learning a lesson by dropping, scraping or forgetting something. Last year on St. Helens I didn't use enough sunscreen and burned the shit out of my face.

Epic glissade!

So down we went, hooting and hollering as we descended a distance in 15 minutes that had taken us hours to climb. The beauty of the mountains and lakes of the surrounding area was simply awesome. Far to the west, the outline of the Columbia River near Longview caught late afternoon light from the sun. During the glissade we got slightly off track because of the cloud cover, but traversed across the slope and regained the right path. We eventually linked back up at the rally point with the rest of the team and continued glissading for as long as the snow would allow. I think we ended up covering about 4,000 feet of the descent on our asses.

Back on the dirt path, the cloud cover thickened and drops of rain started to fall. A few of us paused to adjust gear while the rest of the group bolted through the woods to the parking lot. When I finally reached the end, Kevin was waiting and shoved an ice cold Kona Longboard Lager into my hand - definitely a winning moment. As we changed out of our dank alpine clothing and shed our gear, the sky opened up and hit us with a downpour. The weather gods had been kind to wait for our arrival at Marble Mountain Sno Park before opening the floodgates.  We then said our goodbyes and headed home.

Finally done!

In conclusion, the day was a huge success. We made it back safely, all eight of us reached the summit and the weather was pretty decent. This was by far the largest group that had gone on a Pentaquest climb. It was great to spend the time with friends from a range of different backgrounds, and doubly special to me that John and Steena made the journey down from Seattle.

As always, each climb yields a few lessons learned. Here's what I took away from St. Helens this year:

1. Always wear gloves or liners when glissading. My bare-handed stupidity in the ice was unfortunate, but could have been much worse.
2. Keep a cooler with ice-cold beer in the car. I've long been a proponent of trail whiskey, but not trailhead beer.
3. Stay away from the cornice! I already knew this one, but it bears repeating.

That's all I got. Up next is a trip report from climbing South Sister on June 21st.