One of the charms of alpine climbing is that conditions can be so different from day to day and year to year. One day a route can be a walk up and a week later it can be harrowing. Reid Headwall decided to throw us a few surprises on this Sunday. Brent McGregor, Markian Hawrykan and I left Timberline at 3:40 am for a typical alpine slog up the Palmer. About two-thirds of the way up Palmer we encountered a small freezing rain storm. Though it lasted for only 20 minutes, it successfully froze zippers, poles, and various electronics for the rest of the trip. When we got to the top of Palmer, Markian decided that he had no energy that day and he would be wise to turn around. Only later did he remember that gave blood on Friday, and that “anti-blood doping” was not a performance enhancing procedure.
Brent and I arrived at Illumination Saddle by 7:10 am, where we took a break to shake off the ice, drink and eat, put on harnesses, take out ice axes, and try to collapse frozen poles (mine were stuck). We dropped down to the top of Reid Glacier and made our way over to the start of the headwall. The great thing about Mt. Hood is that if you get off the South Side, you have the whole route to yourself. Brent had read the Cascades Climbers report of “Chad”, who had climbed the headwall solo the day before and we clearly saw his footprints. Throughout the climb we often commented on how impressed we were with Chad. Though Brent and I only roped up for 12 feet of a +2000 foot headwall, the psychological reassurance of having one other person with you was huge. As soon as we turned up the headwall, Brent and I only had the company of Chad’s footprints, until we reached the summit. From our point of view, we had the whole mountain to ourselves.
We quickly found a fragile bridge across the bergschrund and started up the 45 degree slopes above it. We both were using an ice axe and an ice tool. The combination provides more safety and speed than a single ice axe on slopes of more than 45 degrees. From the lower face, Illumination Rock shimmered in the pinks and bright whites of the early morning, while Yocum Ridge, in the shadows, continued to be outlined in dark blues. Mt. Hood reveals itself at its most rugged and dramatic on this side of the mountain.
As we approached the First Gully, the slopes steepened to 50 degrees and over. From a distance, the First Gully seemed to have a meaningful impediment at the end of it that was not in the guide book. It began to dawn on us that this route, today, was going to be more than shooting up 50 degree snow slopes. Given that Brent is a better climber than I, and more experienced in ice climbing, we decided that Brent should lead.
When we got well into the first gully we found that it had been thoroughly scoured by avalanches. What Oregon High had described as a comfortable 45-50 degree walk up, turned into a very narrow 55 degree hallway closed off at the end with a highly exposed 12 foot, 70 degree step of thin ice over rotten rock (WI2). If you fell, there was no way to stop yourself for 1000 feet. We had no place to put in meaningful protection, and neither of us liked the idea of down climbing what we had just come up. Brent went first, struggling to get over the obstacle with some grunting, but no cussing. This meant that he was serious! When he got to a more or less safe stance he said that I would want a belay. I pointed out that I had the rope, thus creating a problem for that plan. Ever inventive, Brent tied some slings together and lowered his ice axe down to me. I carefully took off my pack, knowing I could not lose my balance, and to drop the pack would be disaster. I clipped one end of the rope to Brent’s ice axe and tied into the other. Brent had placed a bomber ice screw, but had wisely kept himself out of the belay system. His best stance was precarious enough that there was no way he could have held a fall, so there was no point to have him in the system. With some of my own grunting, and no cussing, I too struggled up the cliff. Those of you who have climbed with me before would have been shocked to have not heard one single cuss word – I was really serious!
Above the gully we found the Snow Ridge that was in the route description. We followed up the 45-50 degree slopes to the cliff sections above and went a little way up Variation 14a. We decided that we were on the wrong route and it looked at least as hairy as what we just got through. We carefully down climbed 30 feet to a steep traverse.
Again, avalanches had reshaped the terrain, creating a steep and exposed traverse that included a couple of awkward and exposed ice bulges. Brent again led this section, his climbing even more impressive given his incessant photo shoots. A couple of times I reminded him not to fall while he was shooting, especially when I was in his fall line. The snow on the traverse was marginal, as many of Brent’s seemingly bomber steps collapsed as soon as I touched them, forcing me to re-kick them. You definitely wanted to keep on truckin’ here. The traverse ended in another unprotectable, exposed and off-balance move on rime ice. From here we entered the second gully.
The second gully was much more manageable and less memorable. Though it too had been scoured out, the step was very doable. After getting through some more rough country above the second gully, we needed to stop for a food and drink break. By this point neither of us had eaten anything for four hours and we were beginning to bonk, potentially leading to carelessness. We found a relatively flat spot of 40 degrees and tied into our ice axes. Slushy Gatorade and a frozen Cliff Bar never tasted so good.
A few hundred feet of open slopes, between 40-50 degrees, and we were on the summit ridge by 1:00 p.m. We found a stunning 10ft. x10ft. flat spot on the ridge overlooking West Crater Rim route and with a good view of the Hogsback. We thought that we had found a little piece of heaven, so we took a long break. I mainly warmed my toes in the sun, as I had discovered that they were quite cold. Brent, on the other hand, did everything in his powers to get frostbite on his fingers as he took dozens of photos and tried out his video camera. After refueling, we headed out, reminding ourselves not to muff the easy parts after all the hard climbing we had already done.
We walked the narrow and airy ridge over to the summit and headed down the South Side. After a typical three hour slog down, we got to the Timberline parking lot at 4:20 p.m., 12 hours and 40 minutes after we started. Markian made himself a hero by being at the car when we got there. Brent and I were spent, but satisfied that the mountain had given us a great adventure with great company.
