| Peak: | Mt. Hood - 11,240 feet | |
| Posted By: | Kiefer | |
| Post Date: | 07/28/2009 | |
| Date Climbed: | 07/22/2009 | |
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| Surprises on Mt. Hood |
Marc Barella & Carl Dowdy upon the exit from the Pearly Gates It would seem any trip to the Pacific Northwest, a lush and dense land that might be labeled as a pre-cursor to Alaska and British Columbia would be initiated by a visit to Mt. Rainier, business in Seattle or a tromp through the pre-Triassic jungles of the Olympic Peninsula to satisfy the occasional raging flares of camping. But since we’re more of the ‘rock & talus’ type personality around here, Rainier was our opium on what boiled down to a trip that ranks as one of the best of 2009. Our passage across Mt. Hood, completely spontaneous in nature wasn’t fully realized without due and warranted discourse from a guide at a local climbing store in Portland and from some advice & tidbits from Shawn (sdkeil). Reason being: the season is late, snow is heavily sun-cupped with penitenties in attendance like disciples of the sun and rock fall was an ever present danger being as real as anything else that contains the words Pyramid or El Diente. Kneeling before the alter of doubt & uncertainty that we humbled ourselves onto, it was decided upon to visit the Timberline Lodge in the afternoon to witness the upper flanks of the mountain ourselves, to give credence to the numerous stanzas of Psalms that had been sung in the name of advice & safety for our benefit. First-hand knowledge after all, was up until this point, forfeit. Upon arrival, my thoughts became as singular and straight as an arrow shot into the sun when I gazed upon the building. The familiarity was immediately recognizable yet just out of reach like a good cam placement. 
Shadow of Mt. Hood 
Climbing a steeper pitch 
Summit Rim A stout walk around the building then brought images of Jack Nicholson wielding an axe. Of course! This was the building, well, at least the exterior of where “The Shining” was filmed as the Overlook Hotel. We retired to our tents in a campground close to the hotel after a good dinner at the Ice Axe Brewery with the agreed upon start time of no later then 1:00am. The unseasonably warm temperatures and flight times from Seattle later that afternoon lent importance to our immediate dispatch. And so it was. Four hours later, we woke under a new moon and launched ourselves blithely into the pitch, half-walking, half-sliding up the icy corduroy of the ski run towards the sulfur tinged either of Mt. Hood. Of course, under the smothering absence of perception that night brings, we were not able to discern even the smallest tower or crag save for what the snow illuminated by starlight; a jagged ridge bearing witness to its’ parapets of time and a half-eaten crater. Sean, Carl and myself looked to the east at strangely enough, the same time as Marc let out a huge yell. A falling star that must have been the size of a boxcar fell from the heavens in a blinding white streak that lasted 3-4 seconds and ended with it breaking apart in three fragments of green. Our mouths fell, eyes wide open, wishes were made and a small chorus of yells was shouted to back up Marc’s were promptly issued. This event alone was worth the previous three hours worth of sleep and the reward of wishing on something so dramatic and fantastic, that God himself must have threw down a diamond to four lone souls in the dark. With daylight of course, things change and the mind isn’t allowed to wander as much. Indeed, the whole landscape was hard and brilliant, colors that spoke in hues of lifeless browns and reds that morphed into something more sinister and silent, covered by a quilt of white to ensure a long sleep. It was a landscape, in other words that was testament to the dynamics of an ever-changing world. Juxtaposed to the greenery, insects and timber some 3,000-v-ft below, the mountain itself wore an aura of another place and time…on the verge of being fantastic and unbelievable and waltzing, on occasion, into the mythic. 
Looking up at Hood, Hogsback & the 'schrund 
Carl on the summit Carl’s words of Mt. Hood being the easiest 5,400-v-ft he’d ever climbed oddly enough, spoke truth. The climb was straightforward and remarkably easy even with over worked quad and calf muscles. Though after having just come off Mt. Rainier two days prior, I have a suspicion our previous acclimation served us well on this 22nd of July in the year of our Lord, 2009. Marc was on another level. He took off up the slope past the maintained runs and into the sun-cupped neve like a puppy after a stick. The guy was a walking Red Bull commercial! I had to stop early to don my points because my boots were much softer then the others’. I had almost no traction on the iced corduroy. We caught up to Marc on an island of pumice and dirt. We left the crampons on since this was a moment’s respite. Marc & Carl moved faster then I but since we were headed towards the berschrund, I was comfortable that they weren’t going anywhere. Sean unfortunately had to stop at 9,300ft and turn around. His legs simply weren’t having any of it and after feeling my calf’s pull like taffy on the descent, I understood. 
Looking down the Hogsback onto the crater. The bergschrund that guards the Pearly Gates route is not to be messed with. It’s large, tilted slightly at a negative angle and roughly 50ft deep. We contoured around to the left and continued climbing up beyond it. I did notice Marc’s attitude change at this point. His joviality disappeared and was replaced with a sense of urgency and purpose. Considering the consequences in the advent of a fall, I believe it goes without say. We reached the couloir itself and due to the moat being rather deep with some seriously jagged ice and too wide to jump safely, we also had to contour around this on the right and traverse into the Pearly Gates. Marc climbed up another ten feet and switched to boots. Carl and myself found a pair of adequate but small ledges to un-strap at the entrance. The Pearly Gates Couloir is NOT something I would recommend climbing under dry conditions, as we did. Imagine if you will, a rock climb in a 15’-18’ wide couloir that resembles something similar to what’s above the ‘Hourglass’ of Little Bear and mesh that with the approach gully on Coxcomb Peak. 
As exhilarating of a climb as it was, and I did enjoy it very much, I still think it wasn’t the best idea. Though it was because of this extra risk that I liked Hood more then I liked Rainier which, resembled nothing more then a long snow slog. Though I’m sure a climb of Liberty Ridge could change that. 
We climbed out of the gully and onto a small acute triangle ridge, looked a bit like an anorexic Doritos Chip, took a few pictures and made our way to the rim. We crossed through a small patch of penitenties and finally reached the summit. It was indeed a good summit with some remarkable views and ardently, none of the mountains in presence were climbed by us (except Rainier), had known our feet and miles of forest lay between these beacons of white and where we stood. This was an oddly refreshing feeling. We followed the ‘Old Chute’ South Side slopes down and scaled ourselves back from this minor court of the Mountain Gods; descending an old, forgotten outpost of Hades whipped into decay and degradation by the age-old force that not even his brothers Zeus or Poseidon can tame, gravity. 
Myself on the summit, apparently lost in thought. And so our fortitude, while taking it’s dénouement bow, we offered up a last gesture of respect of nodding and approval, a slight dip and tilt of the head to that broken piranha ridge of the difficulties required to attain that cold, ash-stamped realm. We descended back into civilization, falling into it like a daydream or a fever, passing quickly down the throes of frozen corduroy and ghastly color combinations that only skiers and snowboarders can manage and like a drunken shooting star, somehow found our way back to Seattle and to the familiar visages we all know. Home. 
Carl & Marc on the summit rim More pictures from Carl & Marc via Shutterfly Thumbnails for uploaded photos: 
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