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 Mt. Hood, the second of the two mountains. At 11,240 feet, this is the tallest peak in Oregon. Unlike South Sister, Mt. Hood is a night climb that most climbers begin ascending between midnight and 2 AM. We chose to start off with the early groups at 11:30 that night. The most common route up Hood is to start from the Timberline Lodge (~5800 feet) and walk up the edge of the ski-slope.
Most of the account below was written by Bob P.
When you are eating your breakfast at 9 at night it can only mean one thing. You are going to be having a really really long day. At least that is what I thought when we were getting ready to climb Mt. Hood. Uncle Gary, Cousin Chris, Bob G. and myself, Bob P., were the intrepid crew getting ready to climb a mountain. Gary and Chris were the madmen that thought this trip up. Bob G. and myself were just the guys who thought it would be pretty neat to go. A bit over a week earlier we all flew out to Portland, Oregon. Immediately when you get to the city the most obvious thing to see is Mt. Hood towering over the city. And we were going to conquer it baby!
We had been trying to sleep, nap, and in general take it easy for the past few hours. But there is only so much sleep you can get in the middle of the day, and we were all antsy to get going. So after a hearty meal of freeze dried delicacies, we loaded the gear we would need into our ascent packs and made last minute checks of everything. You see, climbing a mountain requires just the right set of tools. I suppose everything does, but for mountaineering they are slightly more exotic. The most obvious piece of gear to the uninitiated is the ice ax. This hunk of metal is probably most associated with mountaineering, and with good reason. It is your best friend up there. The ax will be the third leg to take some weight off your feet, that little extra reach for your arm to drag yourself up, and perhaps most importantly a brake to stop you from plunging to your death. Yeah, you could say I became pretty attached to my ax.
After loading the car up with all the gear, including the beloved ice ax, we took our rent-a-van up to the slope to the Timberline Lodge. The lodge itself is this really posh resort where there is some of the best skiing to be found, as well as a fancy restaurant and hotel. It is also where all the climbers have to sign in before starting the trip. All climbers have to sign in so if they do not show up the next day, then the groundskeepers know to get the frozen bodies off the slope before they interfere with a skiers experience. At the sign-in we met many more groups hanging around, waiting to go up the mountain also. We could tell it was going to be a busy day of climbing with a lot of people going for the ascent. And since none of us were in top physical condition, we thought we might as well get a move on so we could have a slight head start before everybody else caught up. So around 11 p.m. that night we began the actual ascent of Mt. Hood.
Personally, I was more then a little bit intimidated by this climb. Earlier in the trip we had done one other climb that was going to be the training climb. On the training climb, I barely made it. Everybody else didn't do much better, but personally I felt near dead the day after. Of course the starvation, dehydration, and exposure probably did not help my mood. I was pretty much healed from that experience physically...lets not think about my mental health at the time. Anyway, I was pretty good for the climb except for one thing. I still had some nasty blisters on the backs of my heels. A momento left behind from South Sister. But a pretty big problem since it meant I would not be able to walk without severe discomfort with each step. So you may imagine what that will do to ones confidence in getting to the top of another mountain that is supposedly harder then South Sister. I decided to try not to think about it that much and headed up with everybody else.
As we began walking up the base of the mountain it was pitch black outside and we all had to resort to using our headlamps. Looking up all you could really see was this black silhouette against the stars with a few lights from the ski grooming machines making things particularly eerie. What I remember most about that first bit was just how quiet it was. It was dark and all I really saw was the 3 foot circle of light in front of my feet. I sort of tuned the rest of the world out and went into a mindless trudge. There is really no way to have any conception of time with something like this. All I thought about was putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the pain that was throbbing in the back of my boot. We stopped a few times on that first walk up for short breaks and to get our bearings. Of course on one of the breaks one of my water bottles fell out of my backpack and skittered down the side of the mountain. I was not too happy with over a third of my water supply skittering away like that. But unfortunately there is nothing to do about it.
Eventually we reached this ledge cut out in the snow for the ski lift. In my mind this was the first major part of the climb. After this point it got serious. The blisters on the back of my feet were being especially painful, and a few times up the slope I stumbled and nearly took a spill. They were not feeling better like I hoped they would after a few hours of walking. So this was the point where I had to really decide if I wanted to get to the top of the mountain or turn back and wait for the crew. My foot really was hurting, and I seriously considered turning back for a few minutes. But my stubbornness won through, and I decided that I could at LEAST make it up to the Hogsback. So after getting some more food in our stomachs and drinking a bit of water we began the next part of the mountain. --Bob P.
Aside from the wind picking up from 7000 feet upward, I remember the board-creaking sound of snow, and metal clink of crampons. Looking back, there was a long trail of headlamps winding down toward the lodge. We were only four of 250+ climbers that night. In my mind, I was now trying to psych myself up for the next chunk of the route. Just got to get to the Hogsback, just got to get to the Hogsback. I can at least make it that far! From there I can just walk back to camp, but I need to at least make it there. These were the kinds of things I was telling myself as we resumed the ascent. From here on the mountain was just going to be getting steeper, and we still had a long way to the top. Until we got to the Hogsback, it was still pretty much a walk. A very steep walk admittedly, but still just a walk. After I managed to convince myself and my feet of this, I was ready. I think this may have been the hardest part of the climb for me. Before I was just sort of in a daze going up the mountain. But at this point it became very real what I was doing, and I noticed every step. At some point I had to start walking diagonal up the mountain because it was just getting too steep for my ankles to bend straight up, and the slight reduction in the mountains angle helped my fatigue some to. It was starting to get light out and I could see the top of this bastard of a mountain. I couldn't help but wonder how we could walk so far, but still be so far away? Do not get me wrong, the lodge was a little speck in the distance and we had come quite a distance. But my goal was in sight, we were nearly to the Hogsback.
Well, I had made it. So had a score of other climbers. There was plenty of light by now, and the headlamps were put away. Now we had the last part of the climb to go. The Hogsback. The Hogsback is a large snow bridge that has developed because of the wind following some sort of strange pattern and depositing it in this skinny little arch leading to the peak. It actually starts out going a little downhill, but soon enough it starts going up. Then, it really gets going up until it is real steep. I am not sure how steep, but you had to climb in steps cut in the ice to have a chance. Now I had to psyche myself up for this one last part. This was surprisingly easy though. I had made it this far after all, so I might as well go on to climb the rest of the way. Now, looking back I have to question the sense in this, but our little group did not rope up. Everybody else was. And to either side of the Hogsback is a very steep drop off that would get you sliding deep down into this painful looking ice field. Our group had just wasted a lot of time fooling with the rope a few minutes earlier though and had just gotten it put away, and none of us really wanted to deal with it. So after a brief rest we headed for the top.
Climbing above the Hogsback was probably the most exhausting part of the climb. This thing was incredibly steep, and we could not go the pace that we wanted to go. There were people ahead of us, because by now there was a fairly large group of people making the final ascent. So we had to get in line and slowly trudge up this thing. Even at the slow pace though, I felt like I had to pause for a few breaths after every step or two. I was exhausted from the other thousands of feet I just walked up, and the altitude was getting to me a bit. Nothing was stopping me though, I was going to get to the top of this bad boy. I finally got that resolve I was looking for all trip, and I finally knew for sure that no matter what, I was going to get to the top of Mt. Hood. --Bob G.
It was very exhilarating to finally be at this point, just a hundred meters below the summit! As I looked up I noticed the sun had begun to produce a silvery glow over the summit ridge above. Our party of four moved slowly up the icy field until we were between the Pearly Gates, two ice covered spires of rock to either side of us. The anticipation of nearing the summit and the clear morning air made their icy shelves take on a magical quality for me. Ice on the juttings of rock had grown over the winter to build petals a couple of feet wide and two or three inches thick. The result was the nearby exposed edges of rock looked like a pine tree carved from ice. It took on a silvery-white quality from the filtering light. I wanted to stop and get the camera out for a picture close up, but there was a large que of climbers at my heels providing a constant pressure to keep moving. I also didn't feel comfortable removing my grip on my ax in that spot. I filed away a thought about devising some way to keep my camera at the ready but sheltered inside my parka. I'll figure out something before next year's climbs.
Somehow these things are never quite as great as you imagine them to be. At least that is how I felt at first when I finally reached the top of Mt. Hood. My first impression was a bunch of people standing around freezing their asses off on top of a windswept ice heap. But I was also probably a bit cynical from the protesting my feet gave me on top of the exhaustion. After a few minutes though, it started to come to me. The feeling of accomplishment that I had made it up was starting to seep in, and I was also starting to notice the scenery. There is nothing like the view from on top of a mountain. You can see forever! We saw the peaks of the Three Sisters, including our first climb, South Sister. And the general mood shared by all the climbers up there was just so good, you couldn't help but smile. We got our picture taken by a friendly climber and in return we snapped a few pictures for his group. But we were starting to get cold and it was time to head down the mountain. --Gary
Four more climbers join the highest (and coldest) festive cocktail party in the world. In the background is Mt. Jefferson and off to the left, the three Sisters and Broken Top. --Bob G.
"Other than being too crowded, IT IS FANTASTIC UP HERE!! Climbing Hood had been a dream of mine for many years. I've rediscovered the feeling that climbing brings to me and I want to keep it a yearly endeavor for as long as these old bones can handle it!" --Gary
"The wind is bitter cold up here."
I think that people often underestimate it, but climbing down a mountain is a surprising amount of work. Oh sure, I bet you are thinking that it is all down hill! What is the problem? Well, all of that down hill is still frozen ice. If you take a spill not only are you going to crack something on the hard surface, you are going to continue sliding until you manage to get your ice ax underneath you. And even then it isn't a sure bet. I actually saw a few people careening out of control down the mountain, and they could not quite get their axs to bite. So the whole way down, I was taking VERY ginger steps. I would be down eventually. And when you walk down this thing in the daytime, you see how far you really did go. All the stuff that we had hiked through at night seemed to take absolutely forever to hike through in the day! It just would not end. Of course my cousin and uncle are cheerfully flying down this thing. But me and the other Bob are going at our own pace content with keeping it slow. --Bob G.
Many hours later Bob and I make it down off the mountain. We are tired. I am really thirsty...I never did see my water bottle on the hike down. But I had done what I came to do. After weeks of planning, oodles of money spent on gear, and months on the stair master I had climbed Mt. Hood successfully. Of course no sooner do I collapse into the van grateful that I will be off my feet for several days do my cousin and uncle start to plan the next trip to climb Mt. Rainier. Oh dear. Well, I still do not know if I am going to be up for this one, but if I am I'll be sure to tell everybody about that one too. --Bob P.
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