Intro by Lou, story in captions by Caleb:
Some mountains are like a comfy pair of worn-in shoes. They seem to slip around you in a warm hug, almost as if the very fabric of the peak has been molded for your body the way a good pair of insoles molds to your feet.
In past years, Mount Hood has been one such comfy place for me. I’ve hit the rime caked volcano a number of times in consistently good weather, and made sure to ensconce myself in the Timberline Lodge after and even before each ascent our tour. Indeed, my wife and I even spent our honeymoon there. We skied corn in t-shirts, hung out at the swimming pool like Greek shipping magnates on the Med, and scourged the Cascade Dining Room desert cart like barbarians sacking Rome.
Lou didn't think it was all that bad.
For the WildSnow road crew, such coddling was not to be. We headed up from Shasta with our eyes glued to our computer screens, watching a huge cyclonic rotate in off the Pacific. It appeared we could get a window in the morning, before the first arm of the storm slapped Hood like a major league batter swatting practice shots. Yep, the window opened for a moment, then slammed shut. Good Denali practice? You bet. Fun? Yes. A summit? Dang.
The views of Mt. Jefferson from the Timberline Lodge made us wonder if we should have headed there instead.
Hmm..Empty lot, guess the locals know better. Let's hope we're not doing something stupid -- proceed with caution.
The Palmer lift is supposed to open at 8am, but poor weather and visibility delayed things. Luckily a patroller let us sneak on at 9:30am since we were just climbing. Yeah, we were cheating by riding the lifts, but our time is limited due to a little thing coming up called the Alcan Highway.
The weather at the top of the lift was, well, terrible. Total white out. This was a teaching moment. Louie, you navigate.
Louie lead us on a steady course, old school style, map and compass. Mountaineering 101: Don't climb into deteriorating weather. So we figured a bit of practice with compass and GPS would be ok, but we'd absolutely not push the route. Sure, it's not that far to the summit of Hood if the weather is good and you're fit, but it's amazing how much longer a route can feel when you're navigating by compass inside the 'egg,' thinking you could go off route into a volcanic hole or perhaps a crevasse.
Jordan thought there was going to be a party up top.
One of the few breaks between storm pulses offered phenomenal views.
Me, hard at work.
Louie looking toward the sky hoping that it would hold for just another hour.
Unfortunately, it didn't hold for more than a couple of minutes. Soon we found ourselves in the eerie light of a Pacific storm.
So we dug a snow wall just below the Hogsback and waited, and waited, and waited for just a small break in the clouds.
Finally we capitulated and ripped skins before visibility was too poor to see our ski tips.
Louie did great with the compass, but how about with the GPS?
Okay, he did great with the GPS as well, but what about if we up the intensity of the storm? Say 40mph winds, a dash of side ways falling ice and snow, a generous dose of riming -- and how about an occasional vertigo moment.
You pass Louie! We made it down without a hitch, except being soaked from head to toe.
The gear down was a polar opposite of the gear up from a conditions standpoint.
The reward.
Apparently, this storm did a little damage at lower elevations as well. This tree blocked traffic and shut down power in Welches, OR for most of the night.
WildSnow guest blogger Caleb Wray is a photographer and outdoor adventurer who lives in Colorado and travels worldwide. He enjoys everything from backcountry skiing to surfing.
