Looking up from near the lodge, on the nicely groomed snow.
The snow wasn’t as deep, at least at the lodge, as I’d expected. I got started around 7:00, and headed up to the right of the chair lifts. It was deep enough further up, though, enough that you probably have stood on the snow and reached up and touched the cables of the upper chairlift.
It was quite windy, and cold, and the snow was challenging to walk on; it was pretty dry and powdery, but the wind seemed to compress it pretty well, so I’d walk ten steps on very firm footing, then punch through for a few steps. You could see the spots where the snow was firmer. The route basically heads up the south side of the mountain, then cuts around to the right, beneath the Steele Cliffs, over the White River Glacier, and you ascend the back side of the Steele Cliffs. The primary route-finding involves deciding the best spot to descend and cross the glacier. The catch was that it seemed like the edge was corniced most of the way. It was looking like I might have to get all the way up under the south face of the Steele Cliffs to where I could cross safely. It made me nervous, since there was evidence of rockfall on the snow below the cliffs. I didn’t get quite all the way up, but further than I thought I would.
Up the other side of the White River Glacier, the wind doubled. I was really impressed at how hard and steady it blew. And cold! There are no objective dangers up here, except for slipping and falling on exposed ice, or stumbling on a rock. It’s a pretty regular 30 degrees up here. It’s pretty cool to be up on this side of Hood, to be up at 10,000 feet in alpine snow and ice, and to be able to look over into the deserts of central Oregon.
I saw very few people this day, climbing (plenty of skiiers and snowboarders on the groomed slopes, though. Hundreds of them.) Below me I saw two people coming up, with skiis on, and thought it’d be fun to have company to the summit, but they stopped and skiid down.
There is one dangerous spot on this climb, a quite steep step, maybe twenty feet high. As I approached it, I thought, my God, I can’t do that unroped, and looked around for another way up, but that was it.
As I approached, trying to figure out what to do, a guy appeared above me, and descended the step. He was in skiis, and he got most of the way down the step before getting out of the skiis. I wish, I wish I had taken a picture of this, it was just amazing to watch him, like a high wire act. And, when he got down to me, it turned out that he was pretty old, around 70. We talked a minute, and it turned out he hadn’t done this route before either, but came up to ski it, and took off on his skiis.
So, I headed up. If he can descend it with skiis, I can climb it with an ice axe, I thought. And, I did. Above the step is a steepish slope, which was completely unconsolidated powder snow. I sank to my hips, and thought, well, here’s where I get avalanched off this beast. I looked down once, to see the runout, but it was waaaay below me, rock and ice. Not very pretty.
So I swam up the slope, and there was no avalanching, and I made it to the summit. No one up there but a few footprints. Followed the hogsback down, watching the dense sulphurous breath of Crater Rock, and down, down, down, to the parking lot.
The other great thing about Hood, is when you’re at the summit, you’re two hours from the parking lot. Try that on Rainier!
The rime ice was amazing; it was the first time I'd seen it up close. Those pictures you see, like on the cover of "Addicted to Danger" that look faked, that's what it looks like. I took photo after photo of it, up close and at a distance. It's beautiful, and I wish I understood the physics of it better.
Another long, tedious drive home. We need some faster freeways around here.