Mount Hood
Have you ever wanted something really, really bad? A something that no person could just purchase, replicate or.. steal?
That’s how it felt for me back in July, 2017 as I stood atop the 4,997’ Tom Dick & Harry Mountain, breathing the warm Oregon air with my jaw wide open, falling deeply in love with the majestic sight of Mount Hood, a massive cone streaked in glistening white glaciers up to its 11,239ft summit.
I ascended taller peaks than Hood while on that 3-month trek, but something about that mountain remained like a smudge stick smoldering deep within; a fire that lay dormant, unextinguishable. I dreamt of ascending that mountain for years, day after day the thought reoccurring and unable to be silenced. The mountain beckoned me, it called me to return.
Back at home I continued to make ascents of peaks in the White Mountains. I dubbed my morning runs “training” for the day I might get a chance to return to my Hood. I learned the skill and practiced the art of walking in crampons, of self-arrest with an ice axe, of breathing deep and methodically, of fueling my body for long days and short bursts - whatever it would take to climb that peak, I practiced over and over, just in case.
“Who invites me over to watch The Alpinist?” I pondered alone but very much aloud as my Subaru puttered the few snowy miles back to the school bus that I had turned into my tiny home reprieve.
What began as a few simple local hikes quickly grew into a relationship that I knew only happened in dreams. I had never met someone with such similar interests and could joke together as if we were cut from the same cloth.
Alanna would often ask which mountains I was researching as I sat mesmerized by those west coast white cinder cones. “Mt Hood, again”, was typically my answer as I drooled over snow and avalanche reports, high altitude weather, and hiking reports from those who had already summited in 2021.
Returning from her bedroom she dropped a postcard at my side; a most beautifully illuminated sunrise illustration of Mt Hood adorned the card on the frontside while the back read: "Erik, Dream Big!”. It was at that very instance that I knew, nobody but myself could give me permission to go climb my mountains.
Timberline Lodge Lot, pre-ascent; 5,870’
Thanks to the bizarre circumstances that lingered in the air during early 2022, I found an abundance of time on my hands; all the cards began falling into place, this lofty dream was slowly becoming a real possibility!
All reports I had been reading during the past months had indicated that the end of the winter climbing season really came as early April crept in, after that point the snow began to remain melted and the biggest hazard of all came when glaciers (several of which on my planned route) would begin to crevasse open and were completely unpredictable as to where and when a crack of unknown size or depth would split open the frozen mountainside.
As the days of March ticked by, I saw a weather window opening up: cold creeping in toward the beginning of the week would hopefully work to solidify the snow base from the recent storms and then cold nights, clear days toward the end of the week - couldn’t really get any more perfect in my opinion.
The race to pack was on. I couldn’t believe that it was actually happening but I had allotted four days to drive myself and all the necessary gear out to Oregon. What a completely crazy idea! I had to release the fear of a flat tire or that my decade old Subaru could actually make it there and back. One decision at a time, one day at a time was all I could rely on.
I departed New Hampshire alone at 2am on Monday, March 21st, 2022. With a quick pitstop to see my father in Albany, New York, I drove and drove and drove some more. Roughly 800-miles each day with a night in Fayette, Ohio; Kearney, Nebraska; Burley, ID; and finally culminating with a most scenic night of sleep at the Timberline Lodge in Oregon.
In hindsight, the sleeping arrangements would have been a bit stealthier had my windows been tinted; I got yelled at by some drunk passersby at odd times of the morning more than once but overall the back seat of my Subaru proved rather cozy with only a sleeping bag - it was like being a kid in my sofa cushion fort once again!
The final several miles along the Warm Spring Highway were familiar and immediately I knew all those tanks of gas were worth it - just for this scenic drive alone! The towering pines and red rocks on either side of Rt 26 is one of the finest sights that I can recall, while not in the mountains, of course.
I managed to remain in communication with Alanna throughout the days and each night when our schedules allowed during my four day, 3000-mile cross country drive. Luckily, our 3-hour time zone difference aligned in my favor and when I got into the hikers’ lot was able to FaceTime. Oh, how nice it was to see a familiar face after so many days of putting miles behind me!
After, a dinner of my typical pre-hike fare was on the menu - including: apples & oats, peanuts & almonds, dates & goji berries, all real food that packed a shit-ton of energy for the coming climb, I would be needing it!
Coffee was brewed ahead of time using the ol’ trusty MSR stove alongside my car. To my delight, nobody passing by seemed to be terribly shocked by the sight of a guy cooking beside his car!
Ascending Pearly Gates: 5:59AM; ~11,000’
The rest of the gear became packed and ready: boots, crampons, helmet, one technical ice axe and one ice tool (for which I made leashes that night out of spare cordage because REI prices in Bend were absurd!), base layer, wool mid-layer, GoreTex shell, GoreTex gloves, beanies, several pairs of wool socks, GPS watch was charged, and a Wilderness Permit was signed for.
Suddenly, there was nothing more I could do. So I breathed. Inhaling deep breaths as I sat calmly watching the days sunrays drifting down the shoulder of Mt Hood turning from pink to purple to blue to black.
- 1am; Timberline Lodge, Mount Hood -
Other cars had drifted into the hikers’ parking lot over the night hours so moments of sleep were sporadic to non-existent, I woke to shut off my alarm exactly one minute before it was scheduled to go off. I could see stars though my foggy windows.
Damn, it was cold outside of that sleeping bag.
The only way to do it was to get moving and do it, but before I did I decided to sit patiently, cocooned in my sleeping bag to sip cold coffee.
The previous day while filling out and signing for my Wilderness Permit, I grabbed several of the Hiker Blue Bags, which were to be kept in our packs incase we needed to shit in the woods - or rather in the Mt Hood fashion - once above tree line, shit on a glacier and utilize the glove bag to scrape it all off the glacier, deposit into second bag, to be disposed of once back at the Lodge.
Well, to spare you any details I can just say all of the bathrooms were in fact locked and while I could find no other respectable option, I can now report that I am an expert in using these Hiker Blue Bags, pre-hike. What a way to become initiated with Mount Hood!
Several other climbers were actually awake and readying their gear as well, luckily they had all hit the trail just in time to avoid being witness to my pre-hike fiasco!
I could see their four headlamps creeping up the mountainside as I locked the Subaru, stashed the keys and trekked in fresh La Sportiva boots over to the hikers path.
Looking back at the summit from Palmer Glacier; 6,900’
- 2:15AM; Palmer Glacier Route -
While able to ascend easily over frozen snow to the top of the chair lift around 6,930’, I had climbed as high as I could safely in bare boots. In an effort to be quick and efficient I had strapped my crampons to the outside of my Gregory 28L pack. They slipped right onto the mountaineering boots and I was back on trail; climbing one step at a time, breathing one breath at a time - all methodical and with intention.
All around, as I climbed, I could hear fragile shards of ice breaking and tumbling down the hill, all in complete darkness. The lights of Timberline Lodge Resort grew faint as I ascended. To the left I could still see remnants of the old ski lift, using the evenly spaced poles to judge my progress. Still, the other hikers’ headlamps flickered up above as they glanced around the glacier, ensuring their footwork were solid steps as well.
At 8,500’ the first wave of cloud floated by; I was level with the mist as it danced in the darkness like a thin cotton candy ribbon, I could see the lights of downtown Portland far below so I had a feeling the cloud was nothing of a threat.
All forward progress of the four hikers had ceased as I trekked by, they were skinning up on skis hoping to make summit and ski down for sunrise. Every time I glanced back their lights grew further and further away, I now knew that I was alone up on this gigantic peak.
10,400’ marked the first time I had ever been stung in the nostrils from a sulfur vent; if that doesn’t drive home the fact that the climber is ascending a living, breathing volcano, I don’t know what would. What funk was emanating out of those cracks in the snow! Even with my headlamp on and peering side to side, I could not locate the source of the toxic scent.
On high-alert I tiptoed up toward the Hogsback spine which was clearly visible up ahead. I had boot prints to follow, which was a bit of safety in the darkness - something to follow should I need to abort mission.
Hogsback was easy going, there were knee-deep postholes to place my boots into while traversing the spine. Not much was visible to either side but I could hear ice particulate raining down on my left which did not ever appear to collide with a bottom - certainly not a place I wanted to test out my self-arrest skills!
Reaching the top of the Hogsback the kicked steps and ice axe holes appeared to go to the right via the Coalman Glacier, it’s safe to say this is where my travel grew steep.
I knew the Pearly Gates were coming up next which was the final climb before reaching the upper area to the summit, but what I encountered coming down as I tried to go up was a chute of falling ice and snow debris. Literally raining out of Pearly Gates in a 2-foot wide chute of sand-size mixed with golf ball and softball size chunks of ice just freefalling down the ~40° slope.
Illumination Rock; 9,543’
Have you ever seen rime ice high up on a bare mountain top? It appears somewhat feather-like, as a delicate sculpture straight from the heavens. Now imagine that same feathery rime ice but a gigantic bulbous cloud towering 30’ above your head. Now, you have the idea of the Pearly Gates, they are absolutely mind-numbingly massive, and with one rime ice structure on either side as you ascend one ice axe throw and one crampon kick at a time - straight up the middle of these jagged beasts.
Sure, it was steep and intimidating, but I believe that climbing this in complete darkness really helped me focus on the immediate - what was directly in front at any given time - when a climb is broken down into more palatable chunks of “I’ve-done-that-before” material, it’s not nearly as overwhelming as a climb of that magnitude should have been.
After taking a few baseball size chunks of ice to my helmet on the ascent through the Pearly Gates chute, it was like stepping onto a calm, frozen alpine garden - the summit just several paces up ahead.
Gaining a good sitting location on the top of the mountain, I ducked and hunkered down for a brief meditation session to quiet the mind at the edge of the cornice - my headlamp went over the rim and disappeared into dark nothingness below. The sun was hardly a sliver on the horizon but with 35mph winds at 11,239’, I knew when my visit to the summit was up.
Tracking my spike prints in the snow I followed my path back to the descent through Pearly Gates. Conditions had not improved, if anything the continuing winds up top had begun knocking bigger ice blocks which rained down over my helmet and cascaded between my legs.
Back on the Coalman Glacier I had to pass from one side of the debris chute to the other, with the increase in flow up higher, this chute was now a full on river of snow and ice chunks vacating the higher elevations. I documented this sight in my hiking journal as, “quite alarming”, being very truthful about the encounter!
Climbers along the Hogsback spine; ~10,500’
As a result of passing through this ice torrent, my helmet had quite a large dent, my right leg grew a new softball-sized bruise and I got to test out my self-rescue practice while I got pummeled and lost all traction to the glacier for perhaps a 10ft freefall. Quite alarming indeed!
The sun began to illuminate my surroundings as I inched my way back to the more polite and gradual grade to descend the Hogsback; headlamps grew larger as a party of two ascended and we met on the spine. We all talked for a couple few minutes, exchanged phones for a few photographs of and wished each other a great climb. I would later run into these same fellows back in the parking lot - funny how different we all look while not decked out in gear at 10,000ft!
I met many incredible souls as I finished out my day on Mount Hood!
While stopped briefly to chat with another who waited for his climbing partner to catch up I remarked about a bottomless crevasse which tore the glacier not far from where we stood; about 8ft wide and perhaps 3ft open at its widest, I was fairly certain this gash did not exist several hours prior as I passed the first time.
On the descent I proved to myself that I could in fact trail run in La Sportiva mountaineering boots; I was running on pure ecstatic adrenaline at that point - I had done it. Mount Hood, I climbed it.
Not only did I climb my mountain, I sat in complete peace atop its summit, alone. These are the moments no one can ever take from me, locked safely in my memory bank, I can go back to my spot at 11,239ft anytime I shut my eyes.
Do you have a Mt Hood of your own? While everyone loves the thought of chasing their dreams, we often times wait for “the right time”. Will there truly ever be a right time? Maybe after you build up the skills and prepare, but sometimes you just have to dive right in and swim after it.
Go climb your Mt Hood.
Overall stats for the day:
8 miles
6hr 33min
6,191’ elevation gain
Mount Hood - 11,239’
