Island Peak - 144 Days to Departure - Mt. Hood

The highest peak in Oregon, Mt. Hood was on our list for about a year. We missed the opportunity to climb it last season, and were keeping a close eye on how this year is unraveling, so when the reports suggested good climbing conditions and weather looked awesome for the whole weekend and beyond, it was a GO.

The long drive to Timberline Lodge was highlighted by a brief lunch stop in Portland during which we also visited the famous Powell’s bookstore, and strolled through a small food market in a hope to catch the Czech stand but they were not there.

The forecast did not lie; the sky was clear blue and temperature in high 70’s. With the Jeeps’ top off we cruised through small communities of Rhododendron and Government Camp, from where we turned to the winding road up to the trailhead.

After registering for the climb and a brief visit of the lodge, we still had time on our hands, so off we were back to Government Camp for an early dinner and several hours of rest at local Best Western.

 The stars were out and moon shined bright when we once again stood at the trailhead at a wee morning hour – just little bit past midnight. The first part of the route was a non technical slog taking us to the top of the ski lift. The terrain was uneven, crossed by multiple sets of frozen footsteps and CAT tracks here, making progress slower than anticipated.

From the top of the Palmer's lift, the route got steeper but still led on a non technical terrain. Here, little above 9000 feet, my body started reacting to the altitude. I felt sluggish, not short of breath, just little nauseated and not quite motivated to make another step.

The avalanche forecast was not good for today. We knew our chances of summiting more or less laid in Mother Nature's hands, and not feeling my best, I set a goal for myself to make it to the Hogsbacks, from avalanche perspective the safe part of the route, and I was quite happy to call it a day there. Yet then the sun started to rise... and we found ourselves surrounded by tall walls covered in white frosty coating reflecting the colors of the rising day, several camp sites tucked in the few wind sheltered areas along the route, and finally the famous Hogsback itself. The scenery was truly spectacular, feeding my eyes and mind with much needed fuel, and after a brief stop to snack and assess the conditions (the route turned out to be in a great shape), I found myself having plenty of energy to continue further so we geared up and off we were for the push to the summit via the Old Chute Route.

The sound of ice crystals constantly shifting down the slope accompanied our steps, at one point their flow was strong enough to cover the route, swallowing our feet in the appr. 5 inches of ice shatters. Then the last uphill came, luckily the group ahead of us kicked decent steps in the steep slope, and we took this staircase directly to the heavenly views of the summit ridge. From there it was just a matter of few minutes to cross to the very top of the mountain where, just as expected, gust slapped our faces, chasing us down after only few minutes and several quick photos.

Date: 5/13/2012
RT: 7 miles
El: Gain: 5200 ft

Mt. St. Helens Winter Ascend

When I first came to Washington State from Czech Republic, a small country in the heart of Europe, the concept of living in such proximity of volcanoes was new to me. I was instantly dazzled by the beauty of their snow blanketed ridges, their perfect shape towering above their territory like sentinels of the time witnessing centuries of changes.

Curiously I searched the internet and found myself immersed in articles about the first known ascend of Mt. Rainier by Hazard Stevens and P.B. Van Trump in 1852, the Native American tale suggesting that Mt. Hood (Wy'east) and Mt. Adams (Pahto) were sons of the Great Spirit competing for love of beautiful La-wa-la-clough (Mt. St. Helens), and many others fascinating stories.

Mt. St. Helens later became the first of the volcanoes I came in closer encounter with. It was back in 2003 when the drive up to Johnson Ridge observatory left me in awe of the power this mountain demonstrated during its eruption in 1980 that still was profoundly evident some 23 years later. Later when I stood on the terrace of the Johnston Ridge Observatory, surveying the barren area leading towards the jagged ridge line of the crater, I overheard somebody saying: “And can you imagine the crazy people who climb to the top?” I instantly knew I wanted to be one of them.

So I put a group together and we planned, and trained, and finally set our feet on the mountain on August 26, 2007. We summited in high winds, freezing, and having the volcanic ashes blasted in our eyes. The visibility dropped to about 2 feet so we only snapped a quick summit shot and retreated to lower, more pleasant elevation. But despite the gnarly conditions it was a unique experience to climb this living mountain and we knew we will return, which we did a year later on much nicer day, and from there it was just a matter of time before I started contemplating a winter ascend.

* * *

On Monday November 28 the forecast suggested it might be a sunny weekend so with fingers crossed I waited for the week to flow by, thinking about how cool it would be to finally pay Mt. St. Helens a visit during winter time, and then when the sun still shined from the NOAA web site, and avalanche conditions were favorable, I decided to give it a go and started planning. Looked for recent trail report, put a group together, called Lone Fir Resort....

Initially I considered climbing part of the route on Saturday, camping somewhere below the timber line, and then attempting the summit on Sunday, but not having any previous snow camping experience, in the end I opted to spend the night in a comfort of a warm cabin.



Then Friday came, and after what seemed a never-ending day at work, we set up on our journey. The drive to Cougar was, except for fighting Seattle's Friday night traffic, rather uneventful, and we arrived at Lone Fir around 9:30 p.m.

The only recent report written in the log book at the climber's register was from earlier that day and suggested that that particular group of 2 had to abandon the climb after they were unable to reach Marble Mount Snow Park due to large amount of snow on the road approximately 2 miles from the snow park.

Not too encouraging but hoping the road got plowed later in the day or will be plowed before the morning, we lay down to get some rest before out climb.

* * *

The road from Cougar was in a good shape as we sliced through the darkness of the frosty Saturday morning witnessing the awakening of the new day. Mist skimmed the surface of Swift Reservoir, silhouettes of hills stood against the pre-dawn blue, then soft colors of sunrise stroke across the sky.

We arrived to Marble Mount shortly after 7:00 a.m. The road was not plowed but there was hardly any snow on it. The group from yesterday must have accidentally turned on a wrong road (perhaps the one to Climber's Bivouac).



Quick gear up and we were on our way. We started on snow right from the trailhead but with several groups ahead of us, the trail was packed and had good traction.

The first part of the winter route leading on gentle ski trails was a nice warm up. Once we broke from the tree, that’s where the work started. Luckily there were good steps kicked in making the steepest part much easier.

Admiring the beauty of the snow capped mountain, we proceeded up in a steady moderate pace with occasional breaks for photo ops and hydration.

Most of the route was in a great condition with no traction needed to about 6200 ft. That's where the slope got wind blasted and at spots covered with a sheet of ice on which the rays of sunshine reflected and sparkled.

The ice became more serious as we climbed higher, and majority of the upper 800 feet was covered by it. The summit could safely and easily gained with crampons and ice axe, the sound of the ice layer crushing under our feel was a sweet music to our ears.



Needless to say it was scary to see people tiptoeing their way up in Yak Trax supporting themselves by ski poles.

As usually the summit was windy, and man, when the wind picked up, it was strong but despite the wind it was by far the best conditions I ever experienced on this mountain. Unlike the other times I was up here, this time the wind would take an occasional break, and even when wheezing by, it did not blast the typical sandy ash grains into our faces which was very nice and gave us an opportunity to stay at the summit for decent amount of time.

The snow was much softer on our way down. We chose not to glissade considering the icy sections, and when we got lower, we postholed our way the last mile or so of the ridge back to the ski trails. From there it was a long, but easy stretch back to the snow park.

GPS stats: 10.4 miles, 5746 ft el. gain

Some Dreams Do Come True

It was February 10, 2007 – beautiful sunny Saturday, simply the type of winter day you know you have to spend outside.

Never-ending snow blanketed meadows akin to Sahara desert, just all in white, contrasted with clear blue sky. It was warm for this time of a year. One of the warmest days I ever remember in the mountains in February actually. We were headed up to Artist Point just in our shirts – no puffy jackets, no gloves, no hat… and the touch of the warm breeze kissing our cheeks and gently lifting our hair felt so darn good.



It was the type of winter day when you can actually enjoy lunch break without gust penetrating through every single layer of your clothes and without having your fingers going numb. And needless to say there was much to be enjoyed here in the middle of this winter wonderland, surrounded by peaks of mesmerizing beauty.

Then I saw The Mountain. Despite the fact it is second most active volcano in Washington State, it stood there so unbelievably peaceful. I could not take my eyes off it. I spend most of my life hiking in the mountains but never experienced a moment that would even come close to what I felt when I first saw Baker. The beauty of the mountain left me completely breathless. There was an instant attraction, an instant desire to climb it.



July 18, 2009

It’s another sunny day in the mountains. There’s this indescribable little shiver flowing though my body. Partially, I think, my body screams under the weight of 40 lb pack full of gear I’m carrying up the slope, partially my ecstatic mind is trying to find a way of how to deal with the enormous amount of excitement I’m experiencing. In less than 24 hours we’re going to climb Mt. Baker.



The summer had started in the lower part of the mountains. The trail is surrounded by wildflowers as it leads us gently uphill through the forest. Bees buzz around. Creek bubbles nearby. The atmosphere remains unchanged when we enter open meadows higher up. Blueberry bushes line the trail here. They’re loaded with tiny green berries. It’ll be worth it to return in couple months when they’re ripe.



Lastly the route approaches the volcano through Railroad Grade. The scenery has completely different feel here. The landscape is harsher, mostly consisting of bare rock. Winter still prevails in this area. We’re crossing first snow patch. Solid snow coverage comes shortly afterwards.



The more elevation we gain today, the less we have left for tomorrow. With that in mind we continued past several other teams already camped on exposed rock sites. Our perfect site waits for us at 6200 ft.
It’s been a while since I actually spend a night in the mountains. With the same anticipation I have for tomorrow’s climb, I’m looking forward to the golden glow of sunset touching the peaks and also the magical moment when the sun rises from behind horizon in the wee morning hour just as I remember it from the days of my childhood when I used to spend many summer nights outdoors.



And the mountains don’t disappoint today. The sunset is magical. It fills the valleys below with placid orange hues and the summit area of Mt. Baker above us briefly brightens under the rays of the fading sun. I can’t remember last time I felt more relaxed and in peace.



I’m calling it a night about an hour later. The wind blasts down the mountain now, hitting our tent. It does not bother me though. On the contrary its steady sound helps me to drift into the sweet world of dreams.


July 19, 2009

The alarm clock rings at 2:00 a.m. The wind is gone. It’s rather calm. Milky Way stretches across the sky sprinkled with thousands of stars. It’s so much more different to witness night sky here in the mountains, not spoiled with artificial light of street lamps. I’m enjoying my freeze dried granola breakfast while searching for the Big Dipper and other constellations. Life is good.

City of Bellingham is fast asleep in the valley below us. It’s quite a different story up here. Soft breeze carries quiet voices of other rope teams getting ready for the summit push. Headlamps appear and disappear in the darkness. The day had started for us climbers.


Geared up and ready to stretch our legs on the slope by 3:00 a.m. We’re crossing snow field by our camp site and connecting to route on Easton Glacier. This is my very first glacier climb. Surprisingly I’m not nervous. Not even after we come across a first crevasse we have to step over. For few seconds I’m thinking “What if there are huge scary ones higher up?” But the serenity of the morning quickly dissolves such thoughts and lets me enjoy the journey.



At first the grade is shallow. Our pace is good, despite frequent short breaks we take as we zigzag along the route accompanied by several other teams. Silhouettes of surrounding peaks reveal more details as darkness slowly lifts chased away by the powerful beauty of the sunrise. The morning light is soft, soothing for the soul.



The crater comes in a view. Steam rising out of it is noticeable against the sun lit rock. Strong smell of sulfur fills the air giving it a stench of rotting eggs. We’re leaving the route for a 10-minute break at the crater rim. It’s a neat experience to witness volcano, alive and rumbling, from such a close distance.

The most dreaded part of the route is just ahead of us. The Roman Wall - relentlessly steep, leg burning, pace killer slope…. Are we ready for the challenge? It turns out not to be nearly as hard or frightening as we expected. Under today’s good conditions and with steps firmly kicked in, we slowly, yet rather easily gain the slope.



A paradise opens ahead of us. White plateau to roam around, overlooking what seems to be the whole entire world. The only thing we have left to do is to cross the field and climb the last few feet to the summit. There’s nothing between us and the sky. It really feels like we’re on the top of the world. It feels nearly surreal to be here.

So I’m standing here; looking down to Artist Point where couple of years ago this dream began, feeling stronger than ever. It was not an easy journey for me. I had to overcome quite a few obstacles from total absence of climbing skills, to my husband who believes that everybody who climbs glaciated mountains certainly has a dead wish and thought I was absolutely out of my mind when I first mentioned the idea.



A smile crosses my face. Once again I feel this indescribable little shiver flowing though my body as I’m thinking of all the other goals I have set for myself for near future. Climbing this mountain is not the end, it’s merely a beginning. Nothing is impossible. Where there is a will, there is a way!