Mt. Hood - June 30, 2011

Mt. Hood is Oregon's defining landmark and the place I first took an interest in climbing. After living in Portland for seven years, I still can't go outside on a clear day without pausing when I see it. In May 2008, I joined three friends and a guide for an ascent on the standard south route up the Hogsback. And every year since I've been back - twice up the southern route, once up Leuthold's Couloir and, on Thursday, June 30, 2011, up the Wy'east route - each time with my friend Jared and guide Geoff from Timberline Mountain Guides.

The key to climbing Hood is getting an early start - early like when the bars close. I picked up Jared in Portland on June 29th at 10:30 p.m. and we cruised up to the mountain through Gresham and Sandy without traffic. When we arrived at the parking lot at Timberline Lodge, conditions were terrible - spurts of rain were coming down and the wind was blowing. According to the weather app on my iPhone, the only green blob on the Doppler radar found anywhere in the Portland area was lingering on Hood. We took a quick nap (maybe 20 minutes) in the car before meeting Geoff at 1:15 a.m.

Our snowcat departed at 2:00 a.m. and drove us to the top of the skiing area. Normally the glowing lights of Oregon City, Madras and other familiar places are seen out the windows of the tracked vehicle. But this time, blackness ominously prevailed. We exited the snowcat into brutal conditions - the wind howled and gusted, pelting us with a stinging rain. Fortunately Geoff had us put on our waterproof Gortex gear before leaving the lodge. My climbing experience is relatively limited, but it's safe to say the climbing conditions were the worst I'd ever seen. Typically I try to hold out for clear weather - or turn back. Within minutes, ice started to coat our backpacks, helmets and jackets.

We immediately clicked on our headlamps, put on crampons and armed ourselves with an ice axe in one hand, trekking pole in the other. The Wy'east route took us to the northeast of the skiing area on a steady incline. Geoff soon had us rope together as we crossed a crevasse field. The crevasses on Hood are smaller and less numerous than on Rainier, Baker and some of the other volcanoes in the Cascades. But the danger is still one to take seriously. More than forty or fifty feet of rope separated each of us. Geoff led with Jared in the middle and me in the rear. As we climbed, I could barely make out Jared's headlamp - and I couldn't see Geoff at all. Only when he paused and cut back towards me to find a safe route through the crevasse field could I make out the dim light of his helmet.

The wind continued to hit us hard, occasionally knocking me around. I took care with each step to ensure my axe and pole were securely placed to provide stability from the wind. In several places I could see the edge of what looked to be a significant drop, but a blanket of darkness left me in blissful ignorance of the exposure. Geoff directed us to carefully follow in his footsteps to reduce the danger of falling. I definitely felt outside of my comfort zone a few times, and I think Jared did as well. But that's why it's important to climb with a guide, especially one as good as Geoff. Having a guide is partly for the additional safety, but also for the push - you'll never grow as a climber (or, for that matter, as a person) if you stay within your safety zone.

Above the crevasse area, we continued moving upward diagonally and eventually crossed over to the east side of the mountain. The sun had yet to rise, but a hint of the forthcoming light started to appear on the horizon. The snow turned from an icy crust to what I'll call hard wind-blown icy, making it difficult to gain purchase with my crampons as the steepness of the slope increased. We pushed onward without stopping until we reached the first rocky patch of the climb. Ice continued to coat our bodies and our gear with a frozen shell. I had to break the ice off my straps just to remove the clasps on my backpack. Above this point, the slope lessened and Geoff took us off the rope as we continued our diagonal upward progress on Hood's eastern flank. Soon the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon, magnificently illuminating the snow, and we finally emerged from the cloudbank that had enveloped us since the parking lot. I paused a hundred feet back from Jared and Geoff to capture pictures of the scene. I didn't want my mind's eye to be my only means of remembrance - there's nothing quite like sunrise on a mountain after you've been climbing through the night.

By the time I caught up with them, we had a serious talk about whether or not to continue forward. The wind continued to blow and push us around. During a rest break, Geoff's open pack was knocked over and he had to dive on it to ensure critical pieces of equipment didn't slide down the mountain out of reach. We all had our doubts about continuing - especially because of the path ahead. The upper reaches of the Wy'east route include climbing along a windy, exposed ridgeline. But Geoff remained optimistic based on the forecast that the wind would lessen, and we unanimously decided to continue. Here's a clip from our rest stop:

Geoff had us rope up again - this time much closer together - and we started climbing up a slightly steeper slope. The pitch continued to increase and I felt glad we were tethered to each other. I also started feeling the impact of altitude and lack of sleep. But despite the cold and the wind, I couldn't think of a place at that moment I'd rather be. Below us, the high peaks of the Oregon Cascades poked up above a thick layer of clouds - a few alpine islands surrounded by a foggy white sea. I could also see the curved meander of the Columbia River at the Dalles.

Eventually we reached the top of a ridgeline and caught a glimpse to the west into the crater and climbers ascending the Old Chute - the route I had climbed twice before and the path our descent would take us later in the morning on the way down from the summit. We followed the ridgeline upward for awhile and halted at a more difficult stretch that required us to climb several pitches on belay to continue. At this point we were near the summit, but still had to complete the most difficult climbing of the entire route. Jared and I both learned basic belay technique several years prior as part of a one-day training taught by Geoff. But we had never belayed in action. Here's footage looking into the crater:

Geoff instructed us to stay put and he climbed up one full rope length and set an ice anchor to support the belay. He then sent his two ice tools down the rope so we'd each have the benefit of dual axes. Jared stepped up the slope first with me close behind on the rope, only a few feet separating his crampons from my face. We took things slow, using both ice tools and front-pointing our crampons. I'm not going to lie - I was nervous as hell. But a step at a time, and with encouragement from Geoff - we made it up the first pitch. With the sun fully up, fatigue increasing by the minute and the whole of north-central Oregon to our backs, the word surreal came to mind more than once. Here's a clip of us preparing to go on belay:

Here's footage of Geoff climbing up the route before setting the first ice anchor:

Geoff left us securely fastened to the rope and the ice anchor and climbed up the second pitch. This one seemed easier than the first, but in some ways proved more difficult. Geoff opted not to send the two additional ice tools down the rope this time. Once he had climbed up the second pitch, Geoff yelled down to us to proceed. Following Geoff's instructions, Jared pulled out the first anchor and handed it to me to clip to my harness. Swinging our axes like hammers and stepping with the front-points of our crampons, we cautiously advanced upward on belay. Jared and I both hit places where we felt extremely uncomfortable. Speaking for myself, I shattered my previous comfort zone to pieces. But on the positive side, the wind that had hounded us since Timberline gave us a much-needed respite. With calves screaming from the physical strain of front-pointing, we both finally caught up to Geoff and the second anchor point. Here's footage of Geoff climbing up the second pitch:

Here's Jared and I preparing to go on the second belay:

This clip shows the struggle:

And then things got dicier. Geoff climbed up ahead with about 3/4 of a length of rope - not quite a full pitch. Although the slope was steep - perhaps 50-55 degrees - Geoff created a boot path for us to follow on belay and once again sent his ice tools down the rope. But by now the sun was warming the snow and melting the icy crust. A helmet-shaped chunk of ice fell from Jared's head and hit me in the face. As we went up, I struggled and struggled to make progress. I inadvertently made a five foot long platform by stepping back in forth in vain trying to make upward progress. With advice from Jared and Geoff on how to put pressure on my ice tools rather than my feet, I was able to lift myself up enough to break through the crappy snow. First Jared, then myself, we reached the top of the ridgeline and the end of the belays.

Here's video from this stretch - the helmet camera fogged up a bit:

And more footage of Jared and I finishing the last belay and reaching the ridgeline below the summit:

While on belay, we had started to heat up from the sun's rays and absence of wind. But once we reached Geoff on the top ridgeline, we were buffeted by the cold wind. Poor Geoff had waited in the cold - unable to move to stay warm - as he belayed our agonizingly slow progress up the slope. I greatly appreciated his patience because it took us a long time to finish the belays.

Above this point was the home stretch. After a quick jaunt up the ridgeline, we reached the summit around 10:30 a.m. For Jared and I, it was our fourth time standing on Hood's most hallowed ground. For Geoff, it was his 170th+ Hood summit. The wind was still blowing hard, but seeing the best of Cascadia - including Adams and Rainier to the north - took the edge off. We also had the place entirely to ourselves - something I hadn't experienced before. The climbers going up the south route had already summited and turned for home. Being able to spend alone time on a clear day on the second most-climbed mountain in the world after Mt. Fuji is a rare treat.

Here's a clip of us taking the final steps towards the summit:

We found a spot sheltered from the wind to rest, eat and take pictures. I brought out my Portland Timbers soccer scarf and indulged my excessive fandom. As we rested and refueled, Geoff shared some molasses cookies from Trader Joe's. In climbing, I've learned the importance of the right food at the right time - it can be a tube of Pringles after hiking all day to high camp, a well-timed Cliff bar for energy or a bag of salmon jerky when nothing else sounds good. On this climb, Geoff's cookie fit the bill. For whatever reason, it tasted a hundred times better than my other snackables and gave me the boost I needed before heading home.

Eventually the cold from being stationary became unbearable and we packed up to begin our descent. At the top of the Old Chute, Geoff had us rope up and put us on belay for one pitch. The snow was still firm enough for climbing down safely, but one misstep could easily result in an out-of-control fall down the icy chute. I led the way with Jared close behind. Our initial pace was cautiously slow to avoid slipping and falling. But our speed increased as the grade of the slope lessened. Small pieces of ice - melted by the sun - fell from above and rolled to the bottom of the crater. Most of them were harmless, but Geoff pushed us downward before resting to get out of the shooting gallery in case something more dangerous decided to make an appearance.

We soon reached the bottom of the crater, unclipped from the rope and hiked over to the base of the Hogsback for a rest break. It was nice to take off our climbing harness and layer down - the temperature was starting to heat up. I found it odd to be sitting in the crater with no other climbers. On my previous climbs, at least a dozen or more others were present. Two years prior we had nearly witnessed a heinous fall that resulted in a climber getting a ride in a Blackhawk helicopter to receive medical attention. We saw the aftermath just minutes after the accident had occurred. But on this day, it was just the three of us. I stared for awhile at the bergschrund - a crevasse formed when glacier ice separates from the ice above at the upper end of a glacier - at the top of the Hogsback. It seemed much larger than I remembered it from previous seasons, possibly a result of the year's above-average snowpack.

Layered-down, sun-screened and ready for beer, we proceeded without delay for Timberline Lodge. The firm ice of the Wy'east route seemed a distant memory as we post-holed our way down from the crater. The sun had warmed the snow enough to weaken the integrity of the icy crust, resulting in a textbook "slog" down the mountain. Many - perhaps all - of George Carlin's seven words were thought or uttered aloud on the descent. I had a miserable time staying on the surface and avoiding a twisted ankle. To make matters worse, the snow was just icy enough to prevent glissading. We managed to get in one solid glissade that saved 15-20 minutes of downclimbing, but that was it.

Here's footage of the slog:

But like all things, we got through it. The promise of a hot meal, cold beer and deep sleep propelled us forward. We reached the edge of the ski area where the snowcat dropped us off the night before, and hiked as quickly as we could to the lodge. Before reaching the parking lot, the sun disappeared as we entered the thick cloud layer that still clung to the landscape. And then we were back at the car. After taking off our gear and making a few phone calls to family and friends, we drove to Government Camp and enjoyed a celebratory meal at Charlie's Mountain View and an Ice Axe IPA from Mt. Hood Brewing.

Overall it was another solid Pentaquest 2011 expedition. We climbed safely and successfully and finished our third mountain in ten days. And we completed a new route for us on Hood. Here are a few takeaways:

1. Sleep. You can't get enough of it prior to a climb. I need to plan better to ensure I'm adequately rested in the future - other than a few hours napping on the couch prior to leaving for Hood, I was up for almost 36 hours straight by the time I made it home.
2. Remember to bring enough layers. I had the right gear and was never too cold on Hood, but I've made the mistake before on other climbs. Had a chosen poorly while packing, I would have been in a bad place on this one.
3. Make time for pictures. I did on Hood, but I wish I had taken even more. On a few other climbs, I let fatigue and the cold prevent me from documenting the awesomeness of the journey. It's worth annoying your climbing partners a bit to snap images that will last a lifetime.

Next up for Pentaquest 2011 is Mt. Adams on July 15 and 16, weather permitting.

Mt. Hood - May 16

After several months of training, Jared and I kicked off the first official climb of Pentaquest 2010 by attempting Mt. Hood on Sunday (5/16). At 11,249 feet, Hood is the tallest mountain in Oregon and fourth tallest in the Cascades behind Rainier, Shasta and Adams.

This marked the third time climbing Hood for both of us. In 2008 and 2009 we successfully ascended the South Side route via the Hogsback. This year our friend and guide Geoff with Timberline Mountain Guides encouraged us take things "to the next level" and attempt a more challenging route to help us grow as mountaineers. Geoff suggested we ascend the Leuthold Coulior to the west of Illumination Saddle. Leuthold is a bit steeper and longer than going up from the south and offers a different perspective on the mountain.

At 10pm on Saturday (after being awake since 8am), I picked up Jared and we headed out from Portland to Timberline Lodge to catch a 2am snowcat ride from the lodge up to the top of the ski area. In theory, we arrived early enough to take a nap before heading out. But I wasn't able to sleep for more than a few minutes. Around 1am we met up with Geoff and began checking our gear to make sure everything was in order. I've learned the two most important items to check are boots and crampons.

Before too long, we headed up the mountain in the snowcat. We had the unexpected honor of sharing the snowcat with Stacy Allison - the first American woman to summit Mt. Everest. Stacy is currently a motivational speaker living in the Portland area. Unfortunately I wasn't able to talk to her more than receiving a brief introduction from Geoff. But I thought it boded well for our team to be in the presence of a climber as accomplished as Stacy.

After hopping off the snowcat, we put on our crampons, turned on our headlamps and set off west towards Illumination Saddle. In the past, we've gone straight up the Palmer Glacier from the ski area. But to reach Leuthold, we first had to hike over the top of the Saddle and down several hundred feet to reach the base of the coulior. This stretch was rough because we traversed the glacier diagonally for 45 minutes, causing our boots to repetitively pound our ankles in the same spot. Looking up and seeing a clear night sky with the Big Dipper and other constellations helped take the edge off.

After reaching the top of the Saddle, we rested a few minutes and hooked on to a rope line. The wind was howling as we scarfed down some energy bars and electrolyte beverages. In order to reach Leuthold, we had to climb down and across the Reid Glacier with several crevasses. Although Geoff didn't seem too concerned anything would open up under us, the rope provided an extra measure of safety.

As we climbed down from the Saddle, the lights from Oregon City, Gresham and the eastern edge of Portland were clearly visible. Upon reaching the base of the coulior, Geoff shortened the rope length separating each of us and I took out my second ice tool to arm myself in each hand for the steep ascent up Leuthold.

Here's a video in the early morning light from part way up the coulior.

Although steep, at first I thought the climbing was easier than hiking sideways across the glacier to reach the top of the Saddle. We got into a rhythm and quickly increased our elevation. However, the challenges of the route soon became apparent as small chunks of ice came down from higher up the coulior and our feet at times sunk a foot or more into the snow. In a few places I relied entirely on my two ice axes to help pull me up to the next step. For the first time on the climb, I started becoming fatigued from the elevation (and a lack of sleep from the night before). Geoff pushed us to keep going because of the icefall hazard and didn't let us rest until we reached a safe location. As we continued up Leuthold, the sun came up and made visible a stunningly beautiful alpine landscape.

We passed through a stretch called the Hourglass because of its narrow shape that acts like a funnel for pieces of ice that ricochet off of its steep walls. This video is from midway up the Hourglass.

After ascending through the Hourglass, we pushed on to the top of Leuthold and rested. We could see St. Helens and Adams off to the north intermittently as clouds quickly came and went. Bull Run and Lost Lake were clear to the northwest. I was hoping we didn't have much more to go, but Geoff informed us we still had to climb more than 500 feet to reach the top of the summit ridge before hiking across to the true summit. This was my moment of "man-ing up." I was exhausted and feeling off from the elevation, but dug deep to keep going. I know Jared was feeling the same way.

We continued onwards and upwards, finally reaching the top of the summit ridge after what seemed like an eternity (I'm told it actually wasn't more than 30-45 minutes). This part of the climb is completely visible from Portland - it's what you see immediately below the highest point. For the final push, we walked along the ridge towards the true summit. In a few places, it can best be described as a knife's edge - not much more than two feet separates the north and south sides of the mountain. As we traversed the ridge, we hiked past the point where our previous climbs up the South Route headed towards the summit.

And finally, at 8:15 a.m., we made it. Unfortunately, unlike our previous climbs, the summit was obscured in clouds. But that did nothing to diminish the feeling of accomplishment: the first of the Pentaquest 2010 peaks was summited, and we both had three-peated Hood. Despite the conditions, I could have spent all day up there. But Geoff's spidey-sense started tingling in response to ominous looking thunderheads forming in the distance. I've learned to trust and respect when an experienced guide has a hunch about something.

Before heading down, I took out a banner in support of our good friend and former colleague Maria Rubio, who is running for Multnomah County Commissioner. Jared and I each grabbed an end as Geoff snapped several pictures. Maria can now claim she was the only candidate with any visibility on the summit of Hood. I wish I could have left a lawn sign, but I'm fairly certain the wind would have blown it away.

We then packed up our gear and quickly started going down the South Route towards the Hogsback. Due to its steepness and falling ice, Leuthold can be difficult (and hazardous) in the afternoon as things begin to thaw. I appreciated covering familiar territory from previous climbs during the descent. After dropping several hundred feet, we emerged from the summit clouds to a sunny sky and a clear view down to the lodge.

As we approached the Hogsback, the stench of sulphur wafting from Devil's Kitchen filled the air. In this video you can see steam rising from the Kitchen.

The speed of our descent was in stark contrast to our long slog up the mountain. Here's a video shot by Geoff showing us coming down from the summit.

By the time we reached the Hogsback, we were all ready to be done. Our desire for a hot meal and to get off the mountain before the rains and possible lightning helped drive us back to the lodge. And for the first time since Illumination Saddle, Geoff unhooked us from the rope line. It was nice to be untethered, but I also felt the loss of the security provided by the rope. I made sure from that point forward to fight through the fatigue and think carefully before taking each step. Two years previously I tripped on my crampons and fell face first near the end of the climb - I only banged up my knees, but it was a reminder of what can happen when you get tired and careless.

The three of us - now moving independently - quickly descended. After less than 30 minutes, we were more than a thousand feet lower. I eagerly awaited the moment when Geoff would give us the green light to glissade (slide down the mountain on your butt). Interestingly, the letters in glissade can be rearranged to spell assglide - I don't think it's a coincidence. Glissading is a blast and makes the descent go much faster. But one must use caution when going down a steep slope and be alert for sharp pieces of ice and chunks of rock.

Once we were low enough, Jared and I glissaded as far as we could go down into the upper parts of the ski area. Geoff refrained from joining us, but was still nearly able to keep pace since the glissading slowed down significantly whenever the descent angle dropped.

I looked back several times to see how much distance we had covered. The sky around the mountain except for the clouds shrouding the summit ridge was clear. We continued slogging through the snow and eventually reached the parking lot at the lodge around noon. We were all excited to be back, but even more ecstatic about getting a hot meal in Government Camp.

Jared and I headed off to the Ice Axe Grill with Geoff following ten minutes later. I'm a huge fan of the Ice Axe since it is the home of the Mt. Hood Brewing Company. But since I hadn't slept since 8am on Saturday, I figured it was best to stick with their microbrew root beer (in all seriousness, it's some of the best anywhere) to avoid falling asleep on the drive home.

And with a good meal, the first of the Pentaquest 2010 climbs came to a close. Jared and I parted ways with Geoff and headed back to Portland. Now on to Mt. St. Helens on June 5th.

Hood is on for tonight

Jared and I just got the official word from our friend Geoff at Timberline Mountain Guides that we have a green light for tonight's attempt on Mt. Hood. Assuming conditions hold on the mountain, we'll go up the Leuthold Coulior route.

We'll head out from Portland around 10pm tonight and start climbing around 2am. If cell reception works, I'll post a status update from Timberline Lodge before we hop on the snowcat.

Mt. Hood climb delayed

I had to make a tough decision this morning to delay tonight's Mt. Hood climb. After receiving a call from Geoff - our guide - I learned the Northwest Weather and Avalanche Center (NWAC) was urging caution at higher elevations due to the large amount of late season snow.

Timberline received 24" of snow over the past few days with the possibility even larger accumulations occurred up towards the summit. Geoff thought the ascent might be okay, but we could run into trouble on the way down. By waiting two weeks, we'll be able to take another stab at it with an increased likelihood of success (and safety).

This is disappointing - but it's the right call. There's no reason to take the risk. And if we went and had to turn back, we'd be out our guiding fees. By waiting, we can make another attempt at no additional charge.

As of right now, we're tentatively scheduled to go up the weekend of May 15 - stay tuned for more details...

Mt. Hood climb this weekend

Jared and I are heading up to Timberline Lodge this Saturday afternoon to attempt an early Sunday morning ascent of Mt. Hood from one of the western routes. This climb is the first of the five official Pentaquest 2010 peaks.

We've climbed Hood each of the past two years going up the Hogsback on the standard southern route. This western route will up the degree of difficulty a few notches and require using two ice tools. I can barely sleep I'm so pumped about getting up there.

The weather forecast for Saturday night looks good right now - if conditions turn poorly, rest assured our guide won't let us go.

If you're in Portland and awake around 7 or 8am Sunday morning, look for us (hopefully) standing on the summit.

I'll upload the postgame report upon our return. Expect at least one or two video shorts - I'm counting on Jared to come up with some profound words of wisdom to share with the world on this one.