|
 South Sister is a volcano in central Oregon's High Cascade Range with a summit elevation of 10,358 feet. It is situated near three other volcanic peaks - Broken Top, Middle Sister, and North Sister. Its activity includes flows of obsidian as recently as 300 years ago.
Most of this account was written by Chris.
"Man, that was steeper than I thought it was gonna be," exclaimed an exhausted climber, collapsed on the ground next to his car at the trailhead, shaking chunks of ice from his crampons. In retrospect, I might have paid more attention to the rest of the climber's reflection, but at the time, I was much too preoccupied with my own enthusiasm about finally being at the foot of our first mountain, worried more about how to tie my crampons to the top of my pack than about the other climbers' conversation. --Chris
Since we had come from nearly sea level, we wanted to be able to spend some time at somewhat higher elevations acclimatizing. We thought hiking up to 5,400 feet on the south side of the mountain to spend a night at a base camp would be helpful for acclimatization. Then we would push on to the summit the next day. --Gary
Our plan was to carry full packs to Moraine Lake and set up camp. That would give us the remainder of the day to practice some basic mountaineering skills -- self-arrest, roping up, and crampon technique. The next day, we would summit and hike out. Fitting quite nicely into the long and colorful tradition of plans made by the inexperienced, our plan was much better in theory than in reality. --Chris
Two days after leaving our 200 feet above sea-level origins, we began the ascent to base camp on the southeastern approach. Civilization was left at 4,000 feet, and for the next 1,400 we would be plunging through snow up to our knees. --Gary
From our first steps, things didn't quite go as anticipated. We knew we were close to the trailhead, but we had no idea where the trail was. Buried under several feet of snow, the climber's trail that we had intended to take through a pass between two monstrous ridges utterly evaded our attempts to find it. We searched along the edge of the road for the footprints of the climbers that had just departed, but we saw nothing. Finally, after a few minutes of walking along the road, we saw some tracks leading into the woods, and we followed them in. They disappeared after about ten feet.
We gradually wound our way through the trees in roughly the right direction, taking turns dropping through the crust of the snow several feet to our knees or hips. The progress was very slow and tedious. Eventually, we lost our sighting points in the clouds, so we could not aim directly for the pass any longer. We still maintained a roughly correct course by consulting the compass frequently, but, unknown to us at the time, we were heading toward a point distinctly west of the pass.
When we came across a stream, I gained a little more confidence in our navigation. We needed to cross a stream on our trek up to Moraine Lake. We continued to walk along the stream until we found a good log on which we could cross. Careful not to slip off into the stream, we crossed one at a time without any mishaps.
After the stream, we continued on our slightly skewed course, and the hike grew noticeably steeper. "Do you remember the hike being this tough?" asked Cousin Bob. "Not really," I replied, wracking my brain for memories of the hike to Moraine Lake from my previous trip to South Sister years earlier.
The route continued to steepen until it was essentially a climb with full packs. We began to take short breaks, and finally a longer break to snack on some granola bars.
When we finally crested the ridge, we were hoping to be able to spot Moraine Lake, but all we saw was snow. We spread out and searched several valleys, but there was no sign of a lake. We finally settled on the valley that I thought looked like Moraine Lake, picked a small grove of trees as a windbreak, and began to set up camp.
As we set up the tents, more clouds rolled in just above us. It began to grow cold and snow intermittently. We cooked some ramen noodles, melted some snow, and went to bed, abandoning our plans to practice mountaineering skills due to our fatigue from the ridge climb, the diminishing light, and the increasing cold. --Chris
We made camp in the green and white solitude of the snow-covered conifers, and bedded down to prepare for tomorrow's adventure. --Gary
Today is the day we are going to attempt the summit on South Sister. We were up around 5:30 am and saw that South Sister was clear enough to attempt. The snow had iced up over night so we had to use crampons. We got out of bed and ready to go as fast as possible so we could get to the top before the ice melted, making the going up much harder. Base camp was 6,450 feet and the summit was 10,300 feet so around 4,000 feet of climbing was ahead of us. -- Bob P.
I awoke to the sound of a zipper and the crinkle of nylon from Dad's and Cousin Bob's tent below. "You guys up yet?" came my Dad's voice. "The weather's perfect!" I looked at my watch. 5:34 a.m. Ugh! Bob Grantsynn began to pull his warm clothes on before proceeding to crawl out of the tent. At that point, I decided it was finally time to get up. I slipped on a down jacket and my snow pants, pulled my boots out of my sleeping bag, and emerged from the tent, the last to abandon the warm cocoon of synthetic fabrics. --Chris
The view was spectacular. The clouds no longer hid the upper mountain from sight, and the bright white snow sparkled in magnificent contrast to the jet black rock that jutted from the ice toward the sky. The sight fueled my excitement, and I stupidly suggested that we skip breakfast, just snack on a granola bar or two, and get started. Unfortunately, everyone agreed.
After wolfing down a couple of dry but calorie-laden granola bars, we practiced self-arrest technique for a few minutes. Cousin Bob, drawing on his backpacking and rock climbing experience stressed the importance of drinking enough water during the day. I put my one remaining quart in my summit pack, and expressed a little concern about the small amount of water I had to Bob Grantsynn. He generously offered to split his second bottle with me.
With that, we were off! The first pitch was just a steep tree-covered slope, but it was a good chance to test out the crampons and see how sore I was from the previous day's efforts. I kept glancing down at my crampons during this first pitch, but they were staying on my boots and functioning well. When I got to the top, though, due to the previous day's exertions and the steepness of the first slope, I was already feeling the slight burn of lactic acid in my thighs. Looking up at the vast distance we still had to cover, I realized that this wasn't going to be an easy day.
Trekking up the lower reaches of the south side. Bob Pollok comments about his Ice Ax: "What I originally considered a $75 waste of metal has now become my best friend." All in the group are quick to agree. --Bob G.
We continued climbing, step by step, taking breaks periodically until we reached our first decision point. The closer we got to one pitch of the route we had picked, the more it looked as if it had an overhanging cornice of snow at the top. Dad spotted the dangerous snow conditions, and suggested that we head up a steep ridge and continue climbing inside the ridge beside Lewis glacier. Not happy about having to start on a route that we couldn't actually see but recognizing the impossibility of our original route, I reluctantly agreed.
Both Bobs were a short distance down the slope at that point, and Dad elected to wait for them to catch up. I was feeling pretty good at that point, so I suggested that I continue up the new ridge to get a look over the top at our new route before everyone else continued on a route that we might have to abandon. Dad agreed, so I began to climb.
When I crested a small vertical cornice, I took a break and pulled the water bottle from my pack. While I sparingly drank from my precious quart of water, I spotted a skier with two dogs lower on the mountain following our route up -- the first other person we had seen on the mountain.
When my Dad reached my resting place, I continued ahead. Finally cresting the ridge, I turned back and signaled that the route looked good. I sat down and waited for the others to reach me.
By the time everyone met me at the top of the ridge, the skier had caught up with and joined our group. "I'm Ray," he introduced himself, puffing remarkably little for just having climbed a very steep pitch.
As we proceeded along Lewis glacier at a good clip, Ray told me about his previous mountain adventures and races while I simply nodded, unable to speak and trying not to gasp for air too loudly. Finally, when we reached the bergschrund of Lewis glacier, we stopped.
I drank more water as my Dad reached us. I told him that I was running low on water, but that Bob had offered to share half of his second bottle with me. He then suggested that I suck on some icicles from the edge of the crevasse. I broke one off and examined it. It had some grains of pumice in it, but thirst won out over caution, and I stuck it in my mouth.
I collected several more and added them to my water bottle, hoping that the remaining water and the intense sunlight at our high altitude would help them melt, so that I would have water on the descent. Shortly after Cousin Bob reached the crevasse, Dad and Ray continued their ascent. I was a little worried about Bob Grantsynn, who was still well below the crevasse, slowly working his way up, so I descended to meet him.
When I got to him, he mentioned to me that he was really running out of energy. I had three packets of GU and a granola bar for my lunch, and I knew that GU was great for quick energy, so I offered one to Bob. He squished it into his mouth, then kept plugging on toward the summit. I put my food sack back into my pack and continued my own ascent, the summit in sight.
I was tired but still feeling pretty good, so I ascended ahead of Bob, passing Cousin Bob, and eventually meeting my Dad low on the final pitch. We took a quick rest, but impatient, with summit fever overcoming my fatigue, I rose to my feet and began the last couple hundred vertical feet. The climbing was very steep, and I decided to abandon French technique (keeping my feet flat on the slope), substituting side-stepping and kicking steps for the remainder of the pitch. I was moving slowly but steadily, concentrating on each motion. Step, breathe, step, breathe, ax, breathe...
Finally, a few feet short of the summit, I abandoned my disciplined trudge and took a few quick big steps to the top. Ray, who had reached the summit perhaps fifteen minutes earlier, offered his congratulations, to which I responded with a merely a nod, still huffing and puffing loudly from the effort of the last slope. I glanced at my watch. 12:42. Not exactly the 11:00 time we had been shooting for.
After sipping some water from my water bottle, munching on some snow, congratulating my Dad when he reached the top a few minutes later, and eating my last granola bar, I pulled some warm clothes out of my pack and began to defend myself against the icy wind that had quickly cooled me after my summit effort. Then I began to wait for both Bobs to reach the top. --Chris
For most of the climb Chris and Gary outpaced Bob and myself. Probably because Bob and myself had never done this before, and we seriously underestimated it. But after much huffing and puffing and many little breaks we all made it to the top. We made the top around 1:00 pm. --Bob P.
Finally, 1:30 and were all at the summit. Time to sit down and squeeze the last drops from our waterbottles. As we found out later, we wished we'd brought our SPF 50 sunblock with us. --Bob G.
After resting awhile and talking with Ray, the ski guy we met, we started back down. Coming down was depressingly fast. What took us 6 hours to ascend took an hour and a half to get down. Coming down was fun though. We got to glissade down some parts which is just sliding down the mountain on your butt. When we got to the base though, the hard challenge was about to begin... --Bob P.
|
