South Sister - July 31

The Pentaquest 2010 finale occurred on Saturday, July 31 with Jared and I climbing South Sister in the Cascade Range of central Oregon. At 10,363 feet, South Sister is the third highest peak in Oregon and the tallest of the Three Sisters. The climbing route up the south side of the mountain is about 12 miles round trip with 5,000 feet of elevation gain.

We started our journey on Friday afternoon by driving from Portland to Sandy. After provisioning-up at Fred Meyer, we headed to Bend on Highway 26. Along the way we passed by Mt. Hood - site of the season's first major climb. When we reached the Warm Springs Reservation on the east side of the Cascades, the hazy blue sky was interrupted by several rising thunderheads. Last year while driving to South Sister, I witnessed a spectacular thunderstorm with several hundred lightning strikes. This year, although the sky looked ominous, we weren't treated to any natural fireworks.

After carbing up in Bend and receiving some intel on mountain conditions from the waitress at Pastini (her brother apparently had climbed South Sister two weeks prior), we took the Cascade Lakes Highway west out of Bend to the trailhead at Devils Lake. I need to mention our arrival was delayed because I took a wrong turn and stubbornly refused to listen to Jared's concerns until we traveled almost 10 miles down the wrong road. To add insult to injury, while digging my GPS out of my backpack to confirm the navigational snafu, I discovered my overfilled Camelbak had burst open and flooded some of my gear with several liters of water.

After backtracking into Bend, we found the right highway and tried again to reach Devils Lake. With the windows rolled all the way down, we blasted the Black Keys into the Deschutes National Forest as the sun set and the first stars populated the sky. Fortunately for the sleeping wildlife of central Oregon, the stereo in my beloved 1994 Buick Century doesn't have an earth-shaking subwoofer.

We finally arrived at the Devils Lake trailhead around 9:30 p.m. The original plan was to hit the trail around 5:00 a.m. with me sleeping in my bivy sack and Jared crashing in the car. But while we both sat on the trunk enjoying a Guinness, inspiration struck - what if we climbed through the night and arrived on the summit to watch the sunrise? Something I've learned time and time again is that some of life's best ideas and greatest adventures have resulted from drinking a beer with Jared. Without much deliberation, we decided to go with the night climb.

We prepped our gear and tried to catch a few z's before departing. I was too excited about the climb to do anything but rest my eyes for a few moments. At 11:10 p.m. we donned our headlamps and hit the trail. Looking around the parking lot, it was apparent we would be the only climbers on the mountain. Within 100 yards of the start, the gleaming eyes of a deer greeted us before taking off into the night. The first one and a half miles took us through dense woods leading up to a large flat area at the base of the mountain. Other than the deer and several frogs, the beginning of the hike was uneventful. But being alone in the middle of a wilderness area at midnight led to a discussion about how to respond if Sasquatch made a sudden appearance.

When we emerged from the forest, the moon illuminated South Sister in front of us and Broken Top to the east both standing guard over a vast plain covered by sand and small clusters of trees. A blanket of stars covered the sky with all the major constellations clearly visible. Halfway across the plain, we took a long break and absorbed the magnificence of the surroundings. On this night, the mountain was ours - no other climbers clogged the usually busy trail. A few clouds rapidly passed us overhead, giving the illusion the stars were moving. For a few minutes a drizzle forced us to put on our rain shells, but it soon dissipated and left us alone for the remainder of the climb.

We pushed onward and began gaining elevation as the trail rose through the timberline up the southern flank of the mountain. We frequently had to stop to make sure we were staying on the path. The trail in a few places is difficult to see during the day on the scree-covered slope. This problem is compounded times ten in the dark. Thankfully we didn't have to backtrack much.

Looking above us, meteors frequently passed through the sky above the summit - several were colorful fireballs. I don't think one of summer's scheduled meteor showers was underway (like the Perseids or Leonids). But I could have been fooled by the impressive display. Adding to the scene were occasional flashes of lightning off to the east. We paused after each flash to ensure its distance from us was increasing. Getting caught on a mountainside during a thunderstorm is something I wanted to avoid. 17 climbers were struck by lightning two weeks ago on Grand Teton with one killed.

After several hours, we reached the base of Lewis Glacier and the start of the final approach to the summit. Just below glacier, we ran into a spot of trouble when the trail became lost in the scree. After climbing fifty feet up what we thought was the path, the slope steepened and we had to carefully traverse unstable scree to return to the correct route. We both almost lost our footing, but proceeded slowly and made it back without incident.

Before ascending the final 1,000 feet to the summit, we refueled and spent a few moments enjoying the landscape. Mt. Bachelor, Broken Top and over a dozen Cascade lakes were visible to the south; the lights of Bend and Redmond glowed to the east. We pushed on and tried to get to the summit before sunrise. With several hundred feet to go, the first sign of dawn appeared to the east. Both of us were getting tired - cold, elevation and the trail's unrelenting scree were taking a toll. But we continued upwards one step at a time and successfully reached the summit snowfield before the sun's rays. Our arrival was greeted by a strip of orange stretching along the edge of the horizon.

We then walked the final quarter mile around the snowfield to reach the point marking the true summit. The snow was ice-hard and surprisingly slippery, even with the use of trekking poles. I intentionally walked away from the edge to avoid a misstep resulting in a spill down the Lewis Glacier. Along the way we passed by a massive cairn built up over time by previous climbers as a wind shelter. I think the structure had room for at least three or four tents.

And then, sometime around 5:00 a.m. after climbing through the night, we reached the top! I've stood on countless vistas and taken in amazing sights over the past few years of climbing. But I'm not sure I've ever seen anything as beautiful as looking north from the summit of South Sister. From the top, the giants of the Oregon Cascades were laid out in a line awaiting the start of the day - Middle Sister, North Sister, Three-Fingered Jack, Mt. Jefferson, Black Butte, Mt. Hood and even the tip of Mt. Adams in Washington. I've never regretted leaving my Nikon digital SLR camera at home more than at the first moment taking in that view.

Here is a short video from the summit:

Around this time I became painfully aware of the wind and the cold. I'm used to the chilly reception I normally receive on summits - even in the summer. But I couldn't seem to get myself warm enough with the gear I brought. Jared saw my shaking and kindly lent me his balaclava (an extra one I had given to him several months ago). The balaclava I usually climbed with was back in the car soaking wet from my Camelbak accident. Despite the cold, seeing the sun rise a brilliant red was still worth the price of admission.

We took our fill of pictures and headed back to the massive cairn along the snowfield a few hundred feet away from the true summit to eat and finish watching the sunrise. As we sat watching the surreal landscape change colors in the morning light, Jared played Sarah Brightman singing "Nessun Dorma" through his iPhone speakers followed by Vangelis performing the theme from "Chariots of Fire." Everyone has memories in life they will never forget - that will be one of mine. I was so tired it literally took me a half hour to eat a bagel, one small bite at a time. Without those carbs, some peach-flavored gummy rings and the life-sustaining abilities of lemon Powerade, I probably would have fallen asleep right there. I contributed to the alpine soundtrack by playing U2's "One" on my iPhone. I should look into getting sponsorship from Apple next year.

Here are Jared's words of wisdom after watching the sunrise and listening to "Nessun Dorma":

We ended up spending over an hour and a half at the summit - an unheard of amount of alone time on a mountain as popular as South Sister. It was freezing cold, but conditions were too beautiful to pull us away sooner. Just as we were preparing to descend, a group of climbers reached the summit snowfield and ended the solitude.

Here is a final view of the summit area before we began our descent:

I could have spent all day hanging out at the summit, but we were both tired and felt the inescapable draw of warm food and hot coffee waiting for us in Bend. The first downward steps revealed a landscape dramatically different than the one cloaked by darkness only 90 minutes before. The shadow of the mountain moved across the landscape like a giant pyramid, with a more rounded top than the jagged tips on Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson. To the south, the numerous lava fields surrounding the mountain - invisible in the night - showed off the explosive geologic history of the area.

We descended slowly to avoid slipping in the scree and causing an injury. Despite the caution, I slipped and bent my left knee hard about five minutes into the descent. Initially I was concerned I had torn or strained something. But my leg held up for the remainder of the trip down (and as of this writing, it's still load-bearing; we'll see how it feels after I go running tomorrow). The trail took us through a patch of icy snow we had somehow missed in the darkness on the way up. Although bootsteps were frozen into the path, one slip could result in an abrupt journey down the mountain on a natural luge track. We traversed this section slowly, relying on our trekking poles for stability before taking each step.

Before too long we were back at the base of Lewis Glacier and a pristine glacial lake we had been unable to see on our ascent. Without delay, we kept moving off the mountain. Groups of other climbers started trickling past us as we continued downward. Many of the encounters resulted in one of us sharing info on the conditions at the summit. Something I've found over time is that most (but not all) of the people climbing in the mountains are friendly and generally interesting to talk to. I'm still not sure what it is, but there seems to be a common element linking climbers together.

After another hour, we reached the welcome flatness of the plain at the base of the mountain. Moraine Lake glistened in the sun with Mt. Bachelor in the background. By now, each step forward caused the dogs at our feet to bark even more. I had lost a tread off one of my hiking shoes and Jared's boots weren't fitting well for some reason because of the laceless design. But we still had almost three miles to go before reaching the car. Nearly half the climb - but only a quarter of the elevation gain - occurs over this stretch. It makes the first part of the ascent easier, but prolongs the road home.

Before the trail snaked back into the woods and down to Devils Lake, we looked back one last time at the full prominence of South Sister. An hour later, we triumphantly strolled into the parking lot at the trailhead. An hour after that, we were sitting in the Typhoon thai restaurant in Bend eating a victory meal and pounding coffee from a French press. Other than a stop in Madras for a cherry limeade at Sonic, the journey back to Portland was uneventful (Question: why is there a Sonic in Madras? There isn't one in Portland's city limits.). I dropped Jared off and went home having been awake for more than 36 hours straight.

Pentaquest 2010 is now complete! Although several more hikes will likely occur before the winter snows, the major peaks are done. Despite only climbing one different mountain from last year - Mt. Shasta - all of the peaks this year felt different. We climbed a more difficult route up Mt. Hood, traversed significantly more snow on Mt. St. Helens, ascended Mt. Adams in a single day (instead of two) and went up South Sister at night. I pushed outside of my comfort zone from last year, particularly on the Mt. Shasta climb.

My intent is to keep things going into next year. Jared and I are planning to meet soon to begin brainstorming for Pentaquest 2011. There's talk about putting together a Pentaquest-lite focused on hikes in the Columbia Gorge for friends interested in kicking things up a notch without using an ice axe.

I'll keep posting on this blog about hikes and climbing news in the months ahead...