Trip Report: Mt. Hood South Side (Many photos courtesy of Jason Wheeler.)

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1 Trip Report: Mt. Hood South Side (Many photos courtesy of Jason Wheeler.) On June 2 nd, 2011, I began what would be an amazing week in northwest Oregon including five days on Mt. Hood (11,240 ft.). After arriving, I would attempt to summit the mountain in a single push during the night of the 2 nd /morning of the 3rd, followed by a day of rest and then a three- day trip to the top with Rob Gnepper and Chris Smith, who would fly in from Toledo the evening of the 3rd. It was a fairly ambitious schedule, but climbing the mountain once before heading up with Rob and Chris would give me a chance to see the route before leading them up it. The physical strain of climbing the mountain twice in five days would be significant, but what worried me more was the weather. Could I possibility hit a weather window that would allow for two, safe summit attempts over the next five days? I had watched the weather religiously for the past four weeks, looking for any trends that might indicate what to expect. Mountain weather is nearly impossible to predict, which was evident in the varying forecasts I saw online. However, one thing was consistently predicted; at some point during my time on the mountain, a cold front would pass through, likely bringing some nasty weather, followed by high- pressure system that would stabilize things at the expense of some wind. I am not sure why I obsess about mountain weather prior to my trips there s nothing I can do about it. I can prepare mentally and physically so that I have control over every possible factor that could influence the success of the climb. However, the one thing that cannot be controlled is the weather, and bad weather can negate even the best of preparation. As usual, I spent the previous four months being completely obsessive about trip planning, including my seat selection on the plane (Seat 16A, Jon), which was chosen to give myself a view of the mountain as the plane approached Portland. That first glimpse of Mt. Hood was from 12,000 ft. and less than inspiring. The entire south side, which we would ascend twelve hours later, was enshrouded in clouds, and with more weather approaching from the west, it did not appear to be a promising start. The northeast face of Mt. Hood on approach to Portland. Twelve hours later we would be climbing the cloudy, opposite side could be messy.

2 I have to admit that as the flight approached Portland through clouds and rain, I was not encouraged. I would climb with Jason Wheeler, a guide from KAF Adventures, and Stephan, one of the KAF interns. I had met Jason in July of 2010 when we were each staging to climb Mt. Rainier up differing routes. Through frequent exchanges during the past six months, I could tell that he was very positive and I felt like I already knew him well. Our objective would be to climb Mt. Hood beginning at around midnight at the Timberline Lodge (5900 ft.) on June 2 nd, summit by 7:00 AM on the 3 rd, descend during mid- morning and hopefully be back to the trailhead by late morning, in time for lunch. The climb would entail over 5000 feet of vertical gain in one push, which is not crazy, but a significant expenditure considering I would be climbing it again two days later. After meeting Jason and Stefan at the airport, we made the 90- minute drive to Jason s house. Jason s house is a young bachelor mountaineers dream. He built it on his family s Christmas tree farm and it sits perched as a tree house above a forested gorge with a fantastic view. Jason s treehouse. Small? Yes, but when you live this close to mountain, why would you spend any time at home? Our plan was to spend a few hours going over gear and discussing the climb, followed by a few hours of rest, some food and then an hour s drive to the Timberline Lodge, from which we would begin the climb. While at Jason s house, we also discussed the mental approach to mountaineering. After climbing lots of mountains over the past twelve years, is has become clear to me that the mental aspect of mountaineering is far more important than the physical. People often ask me what it s like to be so high up there. While my experiences have not taken me to Everest- type altitudes, I have been high and in some crap conditions. I tell them that it is truly an exercise in how to cope. You cope with being excited and discouraged, tired and energized, hot and cold, hungry, thirsty, feeling ill, feeling scared, feeling lost and also feeling great. The true value of experience in the mountains is not in learning how to build anchors and tie knots behind your back, it s about learning how your body handles stress, and then being able to anticipate and

3 manage that stress. Jason and I appeared to have the exact same philosophy and approach, so I knew we would get along really well on this climb. Stefan (left) and Jason (right) sorting gear inside the tree house. Since Tuesday morning I had a total of about ten hours of sleep and it was now 6:00 PM Pacific time on Thursday, so some rest time was really appreciated. So after sorting gear, we would sleep until 10:00, and then eat before heading to the mountain to begin the climb at midnight. So, why begin at night? Summit attempts often begin with an alpine start, during which the team leaves for the summit well before the sun rises. This timing takes advantage of firm snow conditions (assuming it has frozen overnight), which makes travel much easier. Additionally, and most importantly, travel during the heat of the day puts the team at risk of ice and rockfall, as ice and rocks frozen in place on high cliffs can break loose under melting conditions. Since the majority of accidents occur during the descent, we additionally make every attempt to ensure that we are in safe areas of the route by the time the sun gets high and warming begins. Thus, we usually need to start at night or in the early morning hours. Needless to say, following a three hour nap, my internal clock was way off, and the last thing I wanted to do was wake up and consider climbing up a dark, cold slope, but the excitement of getting on with the climb for which I had spent the last four months planning was beginning to mask any fatigue I hoped that this would remain the case throughout the ascent. After breakfast at 10:00 PM, we left for the mountain and at midnight arrived to an empty, dark parking lot at the Timberline Lodge. Although it was cold, windy and mostly cloudy with temperatures in the 30s, we began seeing stars to the west, an impending sign that clear weather was on the way. We signed ourselves out at the registration area, and we were off. Hopefully seven hours later we would be on top, and eleven hours later, off the mountain in one piece.

4 We would skin up the first half of the route, which employs the use of skis outfitted with a thin fabric on the bottom surface that allows one to move uphill without sliding backward. Skinning saves a lot of energy, as you remain on top of the snow surface instead of postholing and sinking up to your knees as you trudge up the lower slopes of the mountain. Mt. Hood had received over 650 inches of snow throughout the previous winter and spring, so we would be on top of a lot of snow and ice throughout the entire climb. The plan was to stash the skis at about 8000 feet, continue to the summit and then pick up the skis on descent, remove the skins, and ski down to the parking lot. I knew that skinning up would not be an issue for me. However, I am not a skier, so I was a bit apprehensive about the idea of pointing the tips downhill in ten hours especially on a Cascade volcano and after exhausting myself climbing up and down. My apprehension increased after strapping on the ski boots. I have never worn a more uncomfortable pair of boots in my life, but the ease with which we slowly slid uphill during the first few hours of the climb seemed to offset the pain. Stefan and Von at midnight on the lower slopes of Mt. Hood (~6000 ft.). The climb up the lower slopes of Mt. Hood s south face is boring. For three hours, you endure a low- angle hike with little to occupy your mind, especially in the darkness of night. That is, with the exception of the Snowcats. The first 2000 vertical feet of the route follows the east side of the Timberline ski area, and the noise, exhaust and occasional headlight of the Snowcat groomers sweeping through the darkness breaks the monotony of the climb I haven t decided yet if that makes it better or worse. After about an hour, I was beginning to feel sluggish. This seemed normal, as my body was probably a little dehydrated, fighting a lack of sleep, and dealing with not only a tortured internal clock but the obvious work involved with climbing a mountain. I choked down a CLIF Bar and drank water, hoping that a brief surge of energy would follow.

5 Unfortunately, the sluggish feeling lingered for the next two hours and 2500 vertical feet. This was not altitude sickness, nor was it a lack of fitness. I had trained so hard during the past several months that my strength was as dialed- in as ever. I had eaten and drank, as disciplined as always, but I was really fighting it. The pain in my feet caused by the ski boots was probably causing me the most stress, not only because of the discomfort, but the realization that any damage done to my feet now would be an issue later in the day, when the true climbing on the steeper, upper slopes occurred. After about three hours of climbing and feeling pathetic, I decided to remove the skis and switch to my mountaineering boots. I also took the opportunity to eat and drink again, making any attempt possible to kick my overall crappy feeling. Since I had been carrying my mountaineering boots in my backpack, they were frozen solid, and at the same time the wind was picking up, creating a very cold situation. My thoughts were not positive. If my condition did not improve over the next half- hour, I was contemplating descending. Turning around is the very last option to consider, which indicated how sluggish I felt. Jason offered to carry my skis to the cache area about 200 yards away and encouraged me to give it a few more minutes to see if the mojo would show up. The first few minutes of climbing in my boots were frigid, but the pain caused by the ski boots was instantly alleviated. For the first time in over four hours, I began to feel a little better, more like I normally do in the mountains. Preparing to stash the skis near 9000 ft. The upper slopes of the mountain are in full view ahead. It was approaching 5:00 AM. The weather front had moved through and the sky was now completely clear. The light of dawn was breaking to our right over a massive rock ridge called the Steel Cliffs. To the west and about a quarter mile across the slope stood Illumination Rock, which rises about 200 feet above the ridge that separates the south and west faces of Mt. Hood. I took a quick picture of it with my phone and texted it to Rob. It was 8:00 AM back home and Rob would be up. I knew that he would know exactly what it was the moment he saw it. Illumination Rock had been a topic of our conversations leading up to this trip, as it was our planned campsite for when he and Chris would climb the mountain with me a few days later. There was symbolism in that photo, and sending it to him made me feel a little bit better, like I had made it to 9000 feet, only 2000 more to go. Sending that photo also put some needed pressure on me. If I was sending a

6 message that I was halfway to the top, then I had better have a successful report for them when I saw them later that night. I don t know if it was that pressure, the boots, the pending sunlight, the CLIF Bars or the reality that were only about 2000 feet from the top, but within the next fifteen minutes, I finally began feeling it like a jackrabbit. The mojo showed up, and not a moment too soon. Stefan and Von moving up at about 9200 ft. Rob, Chris and I would camp below Illumination Rock (background) during our climb two days later Making a few adjustments as the sun was beginning to rise (~5:00 AM).

7 From 9000 feet, the view back to the south as the sun rose was beautiful. We were above the low clouds with an impressive view of Mt. Jefferson, Middle Sister and Broken Top (right to left). So much time is spent looking forward that great views behind you are often missed. The grade of the slope slowly began to increase as we approached Crater Rock, above which the real climbing would begin. For the next hour, we would slowly make our way up a switchback path until we reached roughly 10,000 feet. The wind subsided significantly, as we were now on the leeward side of the Steel Cliffs. That hour passed quickly, and with a few more steps up some 35 o slopes, we were at the north side of Crater Rock on a ridge known as the Hogsback. Traversing the middle slopes of Mt. Hood with the Steel Cliffs in the background. We would move left to eventually get to Crater Rock and the Hogsback at 10,000 feet.

8 Although Mt. Hood is a volcano, the crater is not well defined, with the exception of the northernmost portion if the rim. The bulk of the south part is missing, except for Crater Rock and the Hogsback, a wind- blown ridge of snow that connects Crater Rock with the existing rim. Reaching the Hogsback is an important milestone on the climb to the summit, as it represents the 10,000 foot mark (only 1200 feet to go) and is the place for a final rest before the crux of the route is attempted. The final, steep steps before reaching the Hogsback. Our route would follow the Hogsback ridge, then to the left and eventually up the chute between the two, exposed rock faces. Here we ate and drank once again, strapped on crampons for the upcoming icy slopes and roped up. What lay ahead of us was roughly 1000 vertical feet of climbing through the steepest slopes on the route, at times reaching ~50 o. At this time of day, these slopes would be a mixture of ice and frozen snow, so our ice axes would be a critical piece of equipment. They would be used to provide a self- belay and an occasional overhead support in the steepest sections of the face. After a 15- minute break, we ascended the Hogsback for a few minutes and then dropped to climbers left and traversed below what is known as the Old Chute. The final hour of the climb would take us up the chute and onto some avalanche debris that looked fairly fresh. The angle of the lower chute slopes began at an easy 35 o, but quickly ramped up to 40 o, and then 45 o. Since it had snowed on and off over the preceding 48 hours, we had no boot path to follow. However, the snow conditions were perfect for kicking steps (unlike the conditions we would encounter a few days later), which made the steep climbing very enjoyable. Bulges of ice would present themselves every so often, which not only provided footing challenges, but also increased the slope angle to 50 o or more, adding another element of excitement to the chute.

9 On the lower reaches of the chute, the slope angle was moderate but increased significantly as we ascended. Crater Rock can be seen in the center of this photo, as well as the Hogsback ridge extending from Crater Rock, partially in the sun. A quick break on the chute before ascending the upper, steep section. Sulfurous steam can be seen escaping the vents near Crater Rock.

10 As we ascended, the once broad lower chute began to narrow. Large ice walls lined the chute as we approached the summit ridge, creating a closed- in feeling that I actually found comforting. Small pellets of ice would break loose periodically and rain down from above, forcing us to tuck our heads. For the first time, I could see a sunlit portion of the upper mountain and it was directly above me, on the summit ridge, about 200 feet away. The chute narrowed toward the top and was bordered by large rime ice features. The slope angle here was about o. Steep, but nothing like we would see over the ridge above. I had seen videos of the ridge traverse, and from those I knew that the first 100 feet was knife- edged a couple of feet wide. On either side of the ridge were extremely steep drop- offs, especially on the north side, where the slope dropped for a couple thousand feet. As I approached the ridge top, I could not help but think about how a misstep on the ridge could result in a big ride, and since we were roped together, a big ride for three people. Jason was in the lead, and as he topped out on the ridge I knew I had about 30 feet to go. I was feeling really strong, most likely the result of adrenaline. I planted my ice axe as securely as possible in the frozen slope, testing it each time before putting weight onto it. As I finally crested the ridge top, I expected to see the north slopes of the mountain present themselves as I peaked over the ridge. However, the angle of the north side was so steep that I could not see downward slope until I was standing almost on top of the ridge. No video could prepare one for that feeling 50 o slopes behind you and a virtual cliff falling away in front of you, separated by a two foot wide catwalk of snow. Moderate winds in full sun greeted us on the ridge and a turn to the right gave us our first view of the summit, which was approximately 200 yards away and 30 vertical feet above us.

11 The north slopes of Mt. Hood from the summit ridge. The summit is the highest point in the distance, following a five minute, very attention- grabbing traverse. The traverse along the summit ridge began with a climb of about ten feet, followed by a dicey traverse where the boot- ledge narrowed to about twelve inches for about 15 feet. As I traversed this section, I noticed snow sloughing away from the ledge with each step and wondered how the trip back across would go once the sun had worked on the snow for the next hour. After carefully stepping across the narrowest section, the ridge quickly broadened to the right and presented a clear path to the summit over frozen, undulating snow.

12 After hitting the summit ridge, hold your breath and turn right. It s a long, steep ride down the other side.

13 High ridge traverses are usually as beautiful as they are exciting Mt. Hood s is no exception (11, 200 ft.).

14 Jason in the lead as we approach the summit. The ridge broadens considerably here just stay to the right. A few minutes later, we were approaching the summit plateau of Mt. Hood. The sunlight was now intense but it was still very cold, probably in the 20s. Winds were blowing from the north strong enough to get your attention, but not enough to pose a problem. As our crampons crunched across the last few hundred feet to the summit, Jason slowed the pace, likely just so we could take it all in. As usual, a tear rolled down my face and quickly froze as I thought about Nanny. She would again be very proud of what had been accomplished, but at the same time wonder why in the Hell I would want do it in the first place. I m not sure how many big mountains I have summited, maybe 15 or 20, but the feeling of reaching the top never gets old, and never is predictable. I know I was thrilled to be there. After reaching the top, Jason had a big smile on his face as he coiled in the rope that connected us. I was glad to see that. Although he has summited Mt. Hood countless times, he still looked thrilled to be there. Whether getting there is your hobby or your job, there s something about that feeling that makes you smile. I coiled the rope as Stefan approached the summit he was thrilled too. He is young and hoping to have a career in the guide business. It is an enviable position and I hope he is thrilled every time like Jason and I were.

15 Stefan, Von and Jason on the Summit of Mt. Hood (11, 240 ft.). Jason, Stefan and I congratulated each other, exchanged big hugs and took a look around. To the north, and for the first time since getting on the mountain, Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams were visible. I had climbed Mt. Rainier a year earlier and it finally hit me how big that mountain was, as it was yet another 3000 feet higher than Mt. Hood and so much longer. We had the summit to ourselves that day, as no other groups were so high on the mountain. Since the weather forecast was favorable for the entire weekend ahead of us, it was likely that hundreds of people would be attempting to summit over the next few days, and from the number of climbers descending on the following Sunday as I ascended with Rob and Chris, it was clear that the mountain was indeed a very busy place. It was a rare treat to have the summit to ourselves and for the few minutes we spent up there, we felt pretty special. Summits of solitary mountains, like Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier and Mt. Shasta are generally boring places. With few exceptions, there is very little to see nearby because you are above everything around you. At the same time, all of the effort to get to the top, all of the planning and all of the anticipation is now behind you. Summiting is almost a bittersweet feeling. The biggest thrills, the real memories (and the coolest pictures) and are almost always experienced on the slopes below. Despite that, the feeling of accomplishment is truly special, especially when you are a middle- aged Midwesterner who only gets to pursue his passion once a year. I think it might mean a little more to me because of that.

16 Von on Mt. Hood summit. Although the summit might represent the culmination of months of planning and hard work, it is only the halfway point in the climb, as the most important objective of any mountaineering trip is to return safely. We spent about 20 minutes on top, reversed course and traversed the ridge. Traversing the summit ridge on descent. We would turn left and retrace our steps as we climbed down to the Hogsback

17 Crossing the thin section demanded attention, and I couldn t help but think about the hoards of people that would be there over the upcoming weekend and more importantly, how that section would look when I climbed with Rob and Chris I was certain that it wouldn t be in better shape. Once to the top of the chute, we turned south and carefully plunged our heels into the slope and descended the steep chute face. Now that the sun had about an hour to work on the face, the snow was becoming loose, and quite frankly, a little sketchy, as we slid into a sitting position several times in the initial minutes of the descent down the chute. We turned around to face the slope and downclimbed, slowly kicking steps into the loose snow when we couldn t use the steps that we kicked in on ascent. After about 20 minutes of downclimbing, the angle mellowed and we could again face outward and continue the descent at a much faster pace. Because of deteriorating snow conditions, we turned face- in to the slope and downclimbed the chute to return to the Hogsback (~11,000 feet).

18 Within 30 minutes, we returned to the Hogsback and to relative safety, clear of the steep chute and any rock/icefall hazard. We unroped and reveled in the perfect weather and excitement of the past few hours. The remaining descent would be through sloppy snow that would ball- up under our crampons, turning them into slippery skates, so off came the crampons to get stored away until the next trip up the mountain. Conveniently finding room in or on your pack for gear is sometimes difficult, especially when you are tired. It is the last thing you want to deal with. It was now about 8:30 on Friday morning and with over eight hours of climbing, and most of the objective hazards behind us, we took a little extra time to enjoy some food and drink before the tedious, two- hour slog to the Timberline parking lot. The return approach to the Hogsback followed the bootpath we had made a few hours earlier. After reaching the Hogsback (~10,400 feet), we would take a break, pack up the technical gear and then begin the long descent to the Timberline Lodge.

19 Removing crampons below the Hogsback to prepare for the remainder of the descent. For the most part, the exciting part of the climb was now over and the next hour would be spent descending the slopes to where the skis were cached yes, those skis. I made a deal with the devil and saved energy skinning up the lower slopes and now I would have to pay up by donning those horrible ski boots and attempting to carve turns. By the time we reached the skis, we had descended to below the lower extent of the Steel Cliffs, which meant that the wind shield provided by the cliffs on the upper slopes was gone, exposing us to considerable wind and blowing snow. Upon reaching the skis, I was excited to try skiing down, but was realistic this probably wouldn t go well. I locked on the boots, reacquainting myself with the considerable pain that almost brought the whole day to a halt ten hours earlier. We were still about 500 vertical feet above the ski area, so the slope was not groomed and was considerably steeper than the ski slopes below. Nevertheless, I shoved off with a graceful slip backwards, which forced my right ski to kick up and approach vertical while I tried to maintain my balance in the wind. Once back under control, I traversed the slope until I had to perform a turn, attempted by digging in the most severe

20 snowplow I think Mt. Hood has ever seen. Again, the right ski kicked up as my weight went backwards and I was soon on my ass. This pattern continued for a few more turns until one was finally successful my first ski- mountaineering turn! A big step for me, but at the same time a reality check. Since I would be needed with fully functioning knee joints in a couple of days to lead Rob and Chris up and down, I thought it best to hang up my ski mountaineering career at that point, on a high note, before something snapped loose and ruined the second trip up the mountain. I can look back on it and say that I gave it a good try, even if it wasn t the most successful part of the climb. After putting on skis at about 9000 ft., I repeatedly found myself in this position, until

21 a successfully executed turn! Weight forward, hands in front, a real thing of beauty, all with 30 pounds on my back. It s no wonder I like going up more than going down. A good skier could get to the parking lot in about 20 minutes. After switching back to mountaineering boots, it would take me over an hour, but in much less pain. Jason graciously skied slowly next to me so we could chat. At a certain point, the icy snow was making his slow progress tricky, so for the last few hundred feet he skied ahead. My alone time on the mountain was fine with me, as I could think about what we just accomplished and actually take in some of the sights of the lower slopes, which were passed in darkness and disgust on the ascent. Upon returning to the parking lot, I met up with Jason and Stefan and performed the most gratifying exercise of any mountaineering trip, the switch from boots to flip- flops feels so good. We signed ourselves out at the registration desk; three successful summits and a safe return. It was 10:30 AM on Friday, the sun was shining and the parking lot was nearly full of cars and people preparing for a day of skiing. Ten hours earlier, this place was dark, windy and desolate. I wonder what the skiers think of seeing three, beat- up climbers hitting the parking lot when they are just starting their day on the slopes. We were in no big hurry to leave the lot, so we hung out by the car and drank juice and ate apples we had stashed for our return. I, once again, was thankful for another beautiful mountain day, which on approach to Portland 24 hours earlier didn t seem probable. In my three mountaineering trips to the Northwest, I have spent a total of twelve days on mountains and have experienced great weather not always perfect, but in the mountains if the weather allows you passage, then you have to consider it pretty good.

22 I am getting spoiled, as I successfully find a way to summit all of the mountains I attempt to climb. At some point, I know that I will be turned away, either by the weather, slope conditions, or my own limitations I m not getting any younger. This trip could have easily ended at 4:00 AM, with a much different outcome. I thank Jason Wheeler for not only his willingness to teach, but also his ability to recognize that when I felt at my lowest, it was neither my fitness nor my will that was keeping me down, but instead something else. Jason could have easily suggested a return to the car, but offered encouragement as opposed to a way out. It worked, and I look forward to climbing with Jason in the future. As a final note, Jason is responsible for every picture of me in this report. It is difficult to get pictures of yourself in the mountains, so I appreciate him taking the time to snap some truly remarkable photos. Until we climb again, Von Sigler Date of Climb; June 2 nd - 3 rd, 2011 Route: South Side via Mazama Chute (Old Chute with upper variation to climber s right). Equipment: Standard glacier travel gear Two snow pickets (did not use) One ice screw (did not use) Two CLIF bars Two Gu Packs One turkey sandwich Two Zip- Fizz packets One Hershey bar with almonds Three liters of water