Outside

Climbing South Sister - May '13 by Jonathan House

This is an early-season trek that I had been hoping to do for a couple of years now. South Sister is one of my favorite August hikes, as it has a little of everything: a hemlock forest to start, an open plateau with a view of multiple mountains and Moraine Lake, and then finally the true uphill portion with a fantastic glacial lake at the bottom of Lewis Glacier and a ridge leading to the rim. During a typical fair-weather summer afternoon, you will be one of many hikers heading to the top of this 10,358-foot volcano.

South-Sister1 You will also be one of many, sliding and falling down it.

A May ascent is a bit of a different beast. Typically, South Sister remains the province of backcountry skiers this time of year, as the miles of road on Cascade Lakes Highway leading from Mount Bachelor Ski Resort to the trailhead aren't plowed until Memorial Day weekend. This year's extremely dry spring has been a different story. With the highway open early, our plan was to get in a May snowshoe while the going was good.

South-Sister2 Clouds rolling over the Three Sisters and Broken Top from Highway 97 the previous day. What could go wrong?

We knew from the forecast that our Saturday morning ascent wasn't going to be under bluebird conditions. Both Mountain Forecast and the National Weather Service had predicted a small amount snow with partly cloudy skies. Not a big deal, so we got some early sleep, woke at 4am and headed out to Devils Lake Trailhead.

Aside from some early slow-going in trying to figure out our route up through the forest, the day seemed to be promising. There were only a few cars parked along the highway, and we spied lots of open sky through the forest canopy, hinting at a great morning of solitude on the mountain.

South-Sister3 Fresh snow and no bootpack.

We emerged about an hour later onto the snowy plateau that sits above Moraine Lake. Clouds were rolling in, yet we were treated to our first view of South Sister.

South-Sister4 . . . aaaand it's gone.

Moving on a bit further, our first view of Broken Top appeared.

South-Sister5 Hi Broken Top!

The plateau, while affording good views (when it was clear), was a rather boring slog of a snowshoe.

South-Sister6 Shane with Mount Bachelor in the background.

South-Sister7 Now Kevin.

As we moved along, clouds started rolling in and the views went away.

South-Sister8 Bye bye snowy ridge.

As we left the plateau and started ascending again, we got to the true route-finding portion of the trip. This wasn't terribly difficult given my previous experience, even though the terrain was snow-covered this time. The real issue was how quickly the clouds were rolling in and the wind and snow picking up. After an hour I started feeling the dizzying effects of vertigo, with the snow blowing sideways as we moved forward. I moved backward in line and concentrated on the backs of Shane's snowshoes until I felt better.

South-Sister9 Looking back down a pitch. At this point, there wasn't much to see.

Three hours after our start, we hit the overlook of Lewis Glacier's lake. Mentally for me, this represents the final third of the climb where you spend your last mile ascending another 1200 feet up the scree field to the rim. Of course we couldn't see anything. Hard snow was pelting us pretty good as the winds did nothing but speed up.

South-Sister10 Kevin acting just a bit too excited while Shane checks to see if the forecast would improve at all. It didn't.

Now was time for The Talk.

The conversation that we both do and don't want to have. Should we call it quits? Should we keep going since we're so close? No drama here though, we were all in agreement that there was no point in continuing. The weather wasn't going to get any better, and there would be no views to behold. . . just more wind and snow. On top of that, there were growing concerns about getting down.

South-Sister11 Our summit for the day. The views were breathtaking. . . When can I have my turkey sandwich?

South-Sister12 Summit Selfie.

South-Sister13 Okay, no more photos. It's getting cold. Photo by Shane.

Most mountaineering accidents occur on the way down. Steep slopes are harder to descend than ascend. Navigation can be much more difficult as well, since rather than moving toward a single point (such as summit), you have the whole side of a mountain spread out in front of you. If you're not careful, you can end up forgetting were you came from, especially if there's a lack of unique visual landmarks to help you. Otherwise you'll start asking yourself, "which ridge did I come up?" or "which slope did I traverse across again?" Trust me, they can all look the same.

South-Sister14 Shane descending a frozen runout.

After a bit of delicate descent and navigation, we found some shelter from the storm for lunch. Best turkey sandwich ever.

South-Sister15 Comfy lunchtime eating.

The going stayed slow with the extremely low visibility. It was about as close to a whiteout that I've experienced, creating a most unsettling feeling as we moved. When everything is white, you have no horizon to judge distances or slope angles. You only know what's directly under your two feet. Thankfully we had it slightly better off and were able to make it back to the plateau with no hangups.

Interestingly, we ran into two groups of two, both on their way up as we descended. The first group was intent on summiting despite our warnings about the poor conditions. While I think they should have turned around, I'm a firm believer of never telling someone else what to do on the mountain. You don't know their skill level and experience or what, ultimately, they're trying to accomplish. If someone needs help or is clearly out of their element, that's one thing. But if I see a couple of strong folks moving up the mountain, I get out of the way.

The other group were two skiers who thanked us for creating tracks for them to follow. They were more realistic, choosing to run laps versus a trip to the rim.

South-Sister16 Where are we going again?

Back at the tree line, and the final slog to the car. South-Sister17 Umm, let's just go straight down.

On the drive to my new favorite spot, 10 Barrel Brewing in Bend. South-Sister18 Tuckered out.

Of course it was a disappointment to not summit that day, but we had fun and managed a couple nice views before the weather slopped. In fact, the crappy conditions provided me some new knowledge that nice weather never could.

I'll take it.

South-Sister19 Not every climb will be perfect, so let's fake it.

The In Ice Axe We Trust Podcast by Jonathan House

Mount Hood Climb I had the privilege last week to be the featured guest on the In Ice Axe We Trust mountaineer podcast, detailing my first ascent of Mount Hood last May. Chris and Matt are great hosts with a ton of knowledge on all-things mountaineering. We spent about an hour on the topic, but it could have easily gone on for another.

I'll certainly be tuning in for future shows, if for nothing else than to get excited for the next mountain adventure. You can listen to the show below, or check out their other podcasts.

Listen to internet radio with In Ice Axe We Trust on Blog Talk Radio

Climbing Mount Hood by Jonathan House

I had the opportunity to climb Mount Hood, my #1 personal goal this year, a few weeks ago with a couple of good friends. Considering the unknowns involved with this climb (the fact that none of us had ever done it; we were starting before sunrise with no moonlight for navigation; and we went unroped and therefore were unsure if this would prevent us from getting up the crux of the climb) I was surprisingly not nervous. This might in part have been due to the fact that my girlfriend had climbed it the previous day with co-workers in a guided ascent, and she proved invaluable with route beta. The climb started out extremely cold (below freezing) and windy (30+ mph headwinds) as we followed the snowcat tracks up the side of the Palmer Snowfield. This at least made navigation easier for us until sunlight started peaking up around 5am. As we got closer to Crater Rock, the winds died down considerably, and temperatures started to warm. After having a snack at the Hogsback, we donned helmets and ice axes to finish out on the Old Chute, the main route on the mountain.

From the Hogsback, you descend a little bit into a chute before turning back up onto a steeper slope. As we started climbing up again, the slope steepened considerably, making good footwork and axe-handling essential. The last 100 feet of the pitch steepened even more, reducing me to a near-crawl as I slowly switched off between using the French technique and front pointing. The top of the Old Chute was a welcome relief, and we moved the final couple hundred of yards to the true summit for our celebration. The descent was slow and uneventful, other than me catching a crampon spike on my opposite gaiter strap, causing me to trip head-first in front of a mountaineering class. . .

My final thought on this climb is in regards to the debate in forums such as the ones on Cascade Climbers about whether the Old Chute route requires roped travel. Climbing veterans on the forum will say no for the most part, and in one sense, this is true. If you have experience and confidence with your footwork and handling of an ice axe, a Spring/early Summer climb up Mount Hood is certainly doable and straightforward. If not, then short-roping with a guide or experienced climber is probably necessary to bail you out in case of a fall.

A sliver of a moon in the early morning hours on Mount Hood.

Kevin summiting, with Shane nearly there.

My first Hood summit!

Looking back down the Old Chute.

Group shot with Mount Hood's crown behind us.

Oneonta Gorge GigaPan by Jonathan House

This was more or less a test shot for an upcoming project that I'm starting. I shot it with a GigaPan machine, which allows you to create enormous panoramic photos with your SLR. I hiked up past Ponytail Falls and found a spot where I could get some good vertical depth, looking down on Oneonta Creek. For this test I was curious about a couple of things: how well the stitched panorama would look with a scene involving some variable lighting, and also how difficult it would be to hike with all of the equipment required.

To the first question I think that overall, there's good consistency with the lighting, even though there was some shift in the sun for the 30 minutes that this took to complete. I dealt with the sun as best as I could think of on the spot, preferring to just blow out the upper left-hand trees and maintain the consistency of light, versus severely underexposing that area and then trying to make it fit in with the rest of the photo.

To the second, it was much better than I thought; my pack ended up close to 30 pounds with only the barest of non-camera stuff in there, but at least not the 40 or so that I had originally assumed. . . still, I might have to find a lighter tripod.