Mt Hood, South Side

October 19, 2002

I took Jeff Manor up Mt Hood. Jeff had a nice vomit session next to the fumaroles. He stopped at the bergschrund because of horrendous rockfall, especially since he had no helmet. I climbed the Pearly Gates to the summit in stupid icy conditions. It was pretty cool climbing waterfall-style ice on Hood.

Heifer in a hole

Pearly Gates with ice shining more like diamonds.

Jeff climbs down the Hogsback.

Dirty glacier style, baby.

Leuthold Couloir Ski Descent

March 29, 2003

Story and Photos By Jason Hummel

Leuthold Couloir

Weather up north wasn't forecasted to be very good and terrible weather during our last few excursions (and many following) demanded that nice weather be a prerequisite. The plan was to leave Friday night, get to the parking lot, and to climb either Leuthold Couloir or the Sandy Headwall. The final decision on the route was left to weather and conditions to determine.

Sometime around 3:30 am, Sky and I started down the parking lot and I guess I was spending more time gawking at the stars than paying attention to my footing. Sky slipped first but he kept it in control. I wasn't so lucky. I saw the toes of my ski boots before I felt my head crash into the icy cement. Yea, I'm awake now!

Climbing the ski area was a curious affair. Snow cats lit up like space ships cruised up and down the powder-filled slopes. My thumb was feeling the itch more than once each time they passed. By the time we reached the top of the lift area the mountain was beginning to light up. The surrounding blue made hope surge. We can't fail now, I kept saying to myself. This always happens, the point where success must be guaranteed and nothing can stop you. At Illumination saddle the wind was ferocious. Sky wasn't sure he wanted to go further because of his still tender frostbitten fingers. I told him I wanted to take a look. At the ridge, I continued and Sky followed and the wind wasn't as much of a concern. The couloir was above and the Sandy Headwall was further around the mountain. We stuck with Leuthold because the snow was too deep to continue traversing. Anyhow, we concluded the couloir looked like the best place to be.

Rivers of debris pelted us and little bits of feathers floated down the entire time. I spent much of the climb trying to discover the frozen bird's hidden grave, but I never did see it. Higher, ice-shrouded cliffs surrounded us. "This is cool," I remember saying.

A few hours later we stood on top of the couloir. Deep snow throughout had worn us out. The summit ridge was to our right, the Sandy headwall was in front of us, and one heck of a view could be appreciated in every direction. We decided to leave our packs and carry our skis up the not-so-ski-friendly ridge. Jeff was waiting for us on the summit. He had gone up the standard route. I had him snap a pic of Sky and me before we hightailed our butts back to the couloir. Hovering fog had swirled up from below us and threatened to inundate us. We waited for an opening before heading down.

The snow in the couloir was far more stable than we expected. What's this? Powder, steeps, and sun. Heck yea!

At the bottom, I am sure we both wanted to be transported back to the top. We traversed to Illumination Saddle and climbed a few hundred feet up. We were presented with a different world. A group of people were lounging at the saddle, the temperature felt 20 degrees warmer, and hundreds of people speckled the lower slopes. Yikes!

We both pointed the skis to Timberline. I went far left, trying to find snow that wouldn't stick. Instead I found snow that stuck worse and headered hard. I came up with a bloody face. Wrecks on flats seemed to be taking their toll on me. A few weeks earlier I tore some cartilage in my ribs on the best powder day of the year and three days to enjoy it. Did I mention it was on the third run? At least this misery was a thousand feet from the bottom.

Timberline lodge beckoned. Up in the lounge we hung out and enjoyed the next few hours. On the drive home, I saw that it was 72 degrees in Portland. Nice weather indeed! A good trip at a great place.

Wy'East

June 1, 2003

I pulled into the Timberline parking lot in the Subaru Justy at 4:45 (the dark side). It took me a few circles to locate Corey, but sure enough, he was there. Waking Corey seems familiar after taking a crack at it each of the last three weekends. He had some other friends there, and they would not wake so easily. We decided to lounge in the back of the Jeep and see how much smoke it could hold. Fine Cuban cigars taste even better at altitude. It's always good to get the lungs accustomed to oxygen deprivation prior to alpine activity.

Sunrise was beautiful; I spent lots of time playing with my camera. Corey used his stove to make a breakfast of yakisoba and tofu that further stifled my early start aspirations. I began to get antsy when I saw that skiers were getting ready to hit the lifts. Corey gave his companions the shout, and it didn't take them too long to get ready. We were finally ready to start hiking around seven.

I thought it would be good to start crossing White River Canyon right away. There was a bit of a boot pack. It was fairly easy to make a rising traverse the whole way. We skied to get onto the glacier proper. From there, the other three skinned. I didn't take skins, so I stuck with boots the whole way. The slopes on the far side of the glacier were beautifully open and steep. It seemed like a nice thousand vertical feet of forty degree cruising terrain. Above that, it was just a little more rising traverse around the Steel Cliff to reach the Wy'east face. The views from this area are spectacular. The Steel Cliff and Wy'east face tower above, while the monumental moraines of White River Canyon unfold below. Corey and I stopped to wait for the others.

The other two were happy with what they had done. Corey and I were feeling high, but looking to get higher, so we said our goodbyes and continued. We had seen a couple of people above us on the route. When we got there, we discovered a boot pack that provided us with a veritable stairway to heaven. It was a good thing for us, too, since we were late enough that post-holing would have been torture in the amply softened snow.

Perched atop the Steel Cliff, I enjoyed a new perspective on a familiar mountain. Illumination Rock and Crater Rock took on new character. Crater Rock looked really flat from this angle. We could see a huge crowd sitting on the Hogback. The summit was just up the ridge. We left our skis and continued.

The traverse was quite exposed in a few spots. One spot provided thin ice over rocks, above a steep slope leading to cliffs. Somebody had left a sling, so I tested it, and then grabbed it while shuffling around the difficulty. Besides that, there were only two short, steep slopes to the true summit. Above the second steep slope I found the party that left the sling descending.

"Was that your sling?"
"Yes, is it still there?" Why wouldn't it still be there?

We talked, and they waited for Corey to climb the slope before beginning their descent. He arrived shortly. It felt good to have finally climbed Mt Hood without crampons, having read about it being climbed in high heels. Maybe high heels would be like a monopoint crampon? Anyway, we continued to the summit. We found it to be cold, windy, and lacking views due to clouds. We quickly returned whence we came.

The rope team was still descending the first steep slope. We stopped to don our crampons for the downclimb to our skis, since they would definitely come in handy on the icy, rocky area. I waited for the rope team to clear my fall zone before beginning my descent. I quickly caught them on the traverse. One of them kindly offered to leave the sling in place for us, with the rope through it, so we could be secure over the crux. I wasn't concerned about it with my crampons, so I told him to do whatever was most convenient. They took the sling and continued.

The descent on the next steep slope was taking some time for the rope team. I climbed down the first two steps just to get out of the winds on the ridge. To my surprise, there was difficulty removing one of their pickets. Well, maybe the rope was justified; initially my thoughts were that the rotten snow would never hold a fall without some massive bollard or deeply entrenched deadman. Actually, I still think that was probably true. Regardless, I'm glad that there were no harsh words between us. They used a rope, and we didn't. To each his own.

Back at the skis, we were excited for a promising descent. We sat next to a fumarole and did an imitation. The snow was a little sloppy, but still excellent. The upper part of the face was mostly about forty degrees, with a narrow spot between rocks a little steeper. Turning south toward Timberline on the lower part of the face, the snow became really enjoyable. It was all past corn, but the mashed potatoes were butta'.

The forty degree slope down the side of the canyon to the glacier was awesome. It tricked us both. I was putting away my camera after taking some photos, and when I looked Corey was decked. Then it was my turn. I started cranking hard, making really tight turns without checking my speed at all. There was a lump in the mashed potatoes somewhere, and I did a header. It's all part of a good day's fun.

The traverse back to the parking lot was uneventful. Alaskan Amber Ales awaited. After our first three weekends skiing together, I'm beginning to think that Corey is a good luck charm. Back in Portland, I hit the jacuzzi at my cousin Kevin's house. He was celebrating a great day at the plate for his baseball team, four for seven with a home run. I don't have any stats, but I like going out of the park on Mt Hood. Twin tips are optional. Maybe next time we'll do the south side and build a kicker over the 'schrund.