Mtguide

This country needs to do what Japan has done to recognize and honor those who have become masters of their particular art or craft,and have made groundbreaking contributions, which is to name them National Living Treasures, and to provide a lifelong stipend of support.In the climbing world, Layton Kor would surely be one of these.

Back in the early 70's, some Seattle friends of mine were heading back home after several weeks climbing in Yosemite. On the way out of the Park entrance, who should they see standing by the side of the road but Warren Harding, thumbing his way to the Bay area. They picked him up and had a great time as Harding, in rare form, regaled them with legends of the Valley. Eventually they came to I-5 and had to drop him off as they turned north for Seattle. Saying goodbye and shaking hands all around, Harding stepped out of the car, shut the door, and just as they were about to pull away, leaned his head back in the window with a wild eye and huge grin and said "And DON'T- be good!", turned away with a wave and trudged off laughing.

There's an excellent description of the the Mountaineers route on Whitney in "High Sierra Climbing", author Chris McNamara, pub. by Supertopo,2004.

I'd second that idea on being competent with all methods; and in my own experience, there are times when knowledge of the map, combined with compass and altimeter, have actually given a better working sense of where you are than just a GPS reading. I'm probably somewhat predjudiced on the side of map,compass and altimeter simply because I learned that method as a kid in the Boy Scouts, and began climbing many years before GPS ever came along. However, GPS has now been cleared by the military to a much higher degree of accuracy than was originally allowed. It used to only be good to within around 200 or 300 yds for civilian use, a pretty significant margin of error, not really acceptable in a serious blizzard whiteout on dangerous terrain. At that time, I wasn't too impressed. Now it's about 5 to 10 feet,or even closer, much more workable. In any event, it can be vital to have that "sense of where you are" in three dimensions, not just as waypoints along a course of travel, and that's where your altimeter, your ability with the compass,and your own understanding of the topography, can save you a lot of grief in a grim situation. Little techniques like knowing how to navigate around an obstacle by departing from your compass bearing at a right angle to your course of travel, and then return to the original bearing,are quite a bit simpler and faster with a compass.

Dear old George; if he hadn't come along, we would've had to invent him. His quote reminds me of the famous phrase from the Vietnam war: "We had to destroy the village in order to save it...". Unfortunately in this case, it's the national economy.

He's referring to Mirror Lake. From the snopark on Hwy 26 it's about a mile and a half up to the lake. From the lake to the top of TD&H is about another 1.5 mi. If you stay out from under the peaks and away from the runout slide paths you should be OK. Check the USGS Government Camp 7.5 min quad which shows the summer hiking trail. It's just about completely free of avy hazard, easy grade, smashing view of Hood to the north and Jefferson to the south. A shorter jaunt is to go up to Ghost Ridge,which is on the trail that takes off from the Barlow Pass snopark going south to Twin Lakes and the Frog lake snopark, or you can also do the Buzzard Point/ Beaver Marsh trails as a loop if you have a limited amount of time and still want some nice views. Also, pick up a copy of an excellent map titled "Mount Hood Ski and Snowshoe Trails", published by Mark H. Wigg, 2007.Cartography and graphics by GeoDataScape are beautiful, all the trails are there. A big improvement to the earlier "Mount Hood Ski Trails" map published in the early 90's. You can get them at The Mountain Shop, Oregon Mt. Community, etc. It's also a good idea to always take the USGS quad for the area you're going to. Mt. Hood North and Mt. Hood South in the 7.5 min. size (1:24,000)will pretty much cover it, sometimes some of the adjacent quads if you're going outside of the area covered by those two.

Seconds and thirds on "take an avy course", PLUS, once you've gotten your training for Level I, you want to progress on to level II and III if you intend to spend much time in the backcountry. It's not cheap, but then what is your life and the lives of your friends worth? Good avy training is a bargain at the price. Actually, this very kind of snow season we're having, is an excellent opportunity for learning and advancing your understanding of a wide variety of avalanche-prone conditions. The snowpack out there is a textbook example of everything under the sun and then some. And, PLUS PLUS, you want to practice,practice,practice. Any good avy course,even a Level I, should include enough hands-on with the various kinds of pits, snow crystal analysis, beacon practice,etc., to enable you to conduct your own practice, with the backcountry partners you'll be going with. Everybody needs to be fully equipped with beacon, probe, shovel, analysis kit, and all need to know how to use them with expertise. If someone gets buried, you have only minutes to locate them and dig them out. The most important thing is always, to take responsibility for your own safety, don't just leave it up to the group "expert". Even genuine experts can get caught, as demonstrated a couple years ago, sadly, during a trip guided by the famed Swiss guide Rudi Beglinger of Selkirk Mountain Experience near Revelstoke, B.C., on the Durrand glacier.This is one of the premier guide services and heli ski outfits in the NW. They lost several people on what was considered a normally very safe slope. Nor was it a very large slide. It's a common misunderstanding that the only dangerous slopes are the big ones. A little hill 8 or 10 feet high above a swale may not look like much, but it can certainly hold enough snow to completely bury and suffocate you. Another misconception is that you're safe if you're not actually on the slope, or if you're well out of the runout path. Well, surprise,surprise: Famed climber Alex Lowe was killed by a giant avalanche that traveled almost 5000 feet of elevation over several miles; they saw it break above them, and by the time they realized they were in it's path, they couldn't get out of the way in time. In the late 80's a massive slide at Utah's Alta ski area "escaped" the out-of-bounds area, jumped a huge ridge like water slopping out of a bathtub, and came smashing down onto a long-established ski run, snuffing out the lives of two snowboarders. Later that same year in Upper Logan Canyon,Utah, an immense slide traveled fully 12(yes,twelve) miles before finally jumping and burying the Logan Canyon highway 40 feet deep and fetching up against the opposite wall of the canyon. We went up to see the debris pile once the road was cleared. It was full of deer carcasses which looked as if they'd been through a meat grinder, chunks of trees about 3 or 4 feet long, many almost 2 or 3 feet in diameter, with all the bark stripped off and all the branches snapped off short, and boulders the size of cars and small houses. Very,very impressive. If you think I'm trying to scare you, may I hasten to assure you that I am. Get all the knowledge and training you can, and when the NWAC says the avalanche danger is high to extreme, stay the hell out of the backcountry. Even moderate avy danger is plenty of reason to modify trip plans to less risky areas. An avalanche is an avalanche is an avalanche, no matter what the conditions were rated, and you're still just as dead or seriously injured under a moderate forecast as you would be under an extreme.

Late March might not be the most stable weather, with springtime approaching. It can be a particularly deceptive and dangerous season on Rainier and the other Pac NW volcanoes. My vote would generally be for earlier, actually starting right about now on your weather watch of the NOAA forecasts. The major caveat is that we are in an extreme avalanche situation at the moment. So you'll also need to check the NWAC (Northwest Avalanche Center) forecasts for updates. It doesn't happen as regularly as it used to, but we still tend to have a one week to even two week break in the progression of winter storms anytime from about Jan 10 or so, till mid-Feb. For many years, this has been the period that winter climbers watch for in the forecasts. The weather will enter a very stable, and very cold pattern on the peaks, and it's often relatively calm. In these conditions, deep and relatively stable snowpacks have buried the crevasses, making the glaciers and icefalls far less complicated. In early Feb. of 1967, we were able to take advantage of just such a mid-winter break to do the first winter ascent of the Nisqually Icefall. It was a very fast and pretty straightforward ascent, with only a few technical pitches on the upper headwalls of several of the largest crevasses. The weather was absolutely clear, very cold, about 5 above, and calm for the climb and descent, but under clear skies, the wind picked up to about 50-60 mph once we were back at the base of the icefall(we descended the ascent route) and continued to increase. We arrived back at Camp Muir to find our brand new REI McKinley tent virtually exploded and torn to shreds. We grabbed what gear we could find and beat a hasty retreat down the Muir icefield. With a mountain like Rainier, you can't let your work or school schedule dictate when you'll make your attempt, unless you enjoy flirting with disaster. You have to watch for the weather window in the forecasts, and begin your climb as the weather begins improving, to give yourself the largest possible opening to make your climb. Once the forecast indicates improvement, go then, even as the stormy weather is diminishing but still present. I'm not advocating ignoring avalanche conditons, however; you may have to wait until fresh snowpack settles and consolidates, but you can at least get up to the mountain, and make it up to Camp Muir, and get yourself in postion to go. Above all, do not try to race or beat the weather if the forecasts indicate a deteriorating pattern. Things very often move in off the ocean many hours or even days sooner than predicted; you want to have huge respect for that mountain. Rainier is not to be trifled with, nor is any peak for that matter. You may have heard of the Mt.Hood tragedy of 2006, when three climbers died, basically because they underestimated the mountain and the weather. Previous experience on Denali, and the fact that the North face of Hood is just a day climb, may have given them a false sense of confidence regarding what it would take to get up and back down safely within a very short weather window. And while Hood is only half the height, and many, many times less the incredible mass of Denali, it is nonetheless the equal of any mountain on the planet in the violence and ferocity of its' weather when conditions are right. So you want to give Rainier, at three times the mass, and another 3000' of elev., the utmost respect, and plan and prepare for every eventuality. Take an ultralight weather radio, know how to navigate in a blizzard whiteout, and be in top shape. Finally, don't ever be afraid to turn back if the weather starts to break down. The mountain will always be there another day, and you need to be alive to climb it.

I have a Jewish friend (born and raised in the US) who had been living for about 18 months in a Kibbutz in Israel when the "October War" started with Egypt. My friend, in his 20's at the time, became increasingly fed up with the constant propagandizing from the Israeli government and from those who ran the kibbutz. He decided to leave the kibbutz, disguised himself as an Arab by dying his skin brown with walnut juice, and somehow managed to go to Egypt to see for himself what was going on. He literally risked his life to do this. He came away convinced that the Israelis were completely at fault. He never returned to the kibbutz, booked passage home to the US, and while not renouncing his religion and upbringing, has been very active over the years promoting initiatives for a Palestinian homeland and in various pro-peace groups within Israel. One of my own favorite incidents occurred during the Israeli invasion of Lebanon back in the late 80's. At the UN, the Israeli ambassador stood up and during his presentation, made a direct reference to the people and state of Israel as "the Chosen People of God". In response, the Saudi oil minister, Yamani Zaki, said. "If indeed this is true, that the Jews are the Chosen People of God, then this is discrimination on the part of God!" The entire UN chamber collapsed in laughter, and the Israeli ambassador quickly sat down, red-faced and fuming. The simple fact is that there is more than enough guilt to go around, on all sides (including the US and European nations), so much blood spilled that it really no longer matters who was, is, or shall yet be, to blame. The history is by now so twisted and convoluted as to make it impossible to unravel. The most essential thing is to find a way to stop the bloodshed as quickly as possible, and to base all further actions in the region on basic, essential principles of practical humanity and the international rule of law. A moratorium/cease-fire has to be imposed, with violations punishable by immediate incarceration regardless of military rank or civil status. Unfortunately, there is no longer any practical way to implement this--it's the job the UN was designed for, but the member nations, including the US, have all decided they don't want to follow anyone's rules but their own. Funding and international will isn't there. I always liked the solution proposed by an old rancher who was neighbor of mine in Wyoming some years ago. He said that what should be done is to take everyone who wants to fight, and ship them all to someplace like the middle of the Sahara desert or outer Mongolia's Gobi desert, where they couldn't hurt anything, fence the whole place off permanently, lock them in there, give them whatever personal weapons they desired, and just let 'em go at it to their heart's content.In the meantime the rest of us could get on about the business of daily life without some bunch of arrogant assholes telling us who we had to go kill and why. Admittedly far-fetched and overly simplistic-- but I'd still like to try it.Sometimes simple works pretty well. After all, it was Ted Kennedy who said in the late 60's that "the way to bring the soldiers home from Vietnam, is in ships! In planes!...".

It's only about 5 or 6 years ago that a Seattle man and his son were killed in that very area by an avalanche in early march. AV danger at the time was rated "moderate". With the right snow conditions, avalanches originating from the base of the Tooth and Chair Peak can sometimes travel well out into the basin. Watch yer topknot.

That's it! The one and only... "We survived for days on nothing but food and water... -W.C.Fields-

Hey,you just might have something there; condoms with glow-in-the-dark images of the Virgin(!) Mary, the crucifix, Jesus, or, for the real he-man, the special Twelve Disciples condom, featuring one disciple per inch; how many disciples can YOU go, Big Boy? Other models could be the Samson, David and Bathsheba, the Prodigal Son, the Sodom and Gomorrah Fireball, etc. And, just in time for Christmas, the Roll-in-the-Hay-Manger..."O Come, all ye faithful..."

Kind of like driving in Portland when it snows--it's not the snow and ice that's dangerous, it's the idiots on the road who have no business being out there.

In the early 80's I was living near Pinedale, Wyoming, at the base of the foothills of the Wind River Range. One fall a cougar known as Old Three Toes (missing a toe on the left front paw) came down from the Bridger Wilderness, hunting the ranches along the valley on Pole Creek road. In ten years, I had seen his tracks numerous times on the pack trails, from one end of the range to the other, and that's a big area, over 110 miles. In the first couple of nights it was around, it caused some havoc among the calves on one outfit, and made an attempt at a new colt on another, but had no luck, being fought off by the mother cows and the mares. Over the next three weeks or so, no more calves or colts were bothered, but almost every house and barn cat in the area disappeared, including one of mine. Finally the cougar was shot and killed one evening, in the shop at a neighbor's ranch, trying to pull down an antelope carcass the owner had hanging after a successful hunt. Old Three Toes, who had been a legend in the Wind River Range for almost 20 years, was almost toothless, severely emaciated and mangy, and had obviously had his lower jaw broken, probably by being kicked in the confrontation with the cows or the mares. The left front leg, with the famous three-toed paw, was crooked, with a large hard knot on the foreleg where it had apparently been broken and healed at an early age. He also had a large, jagged, indented scar about 4 inches long on the left side of his head, leading from just above the eye to the ear, which was about half gone, and another large crooked scar almost 7 inches long on the opposite shoulder. There were numerous smaller marks on the head and neck, like bite wounds. These all appeared to be pretty old, possibly from an encounter with a bear. For any wild animal, and especially a predator, an injury of that kind is pretty much a certain death sentence, but somehow this old cat had managed to make it through to carry on a long and storied career. In the last few weeks of his life, he was still living by his wits, beyond the ability of his failing strength, doing whatever he could to keep going. Even in death, there seemed to be a fire deep down in that dark blue eye, now clouded over. He had lived a very long time for a cougar, well beyond the average known life span. We stood around, looking at him, talking about what to do with the carcass. The meat, what little of it there was, wouldn't be much good, tough and stringy. Some wanted to skin him and display the hide with the famed three toes at Faler's General Store in town. Others thought he ought to be mounted by the taxidermist and put in the historical case at the Courthouse. Finally, Murl Morss, the foreman at the Fayette ranch where Three Toes had paid his first visit three weeks earlier, spoke up, his eyes glinting from the shadow under his hat brim. "Fellas", he said, "I think we oughta take him home." Early the next morning, we helped Murly throw his pack string together and ready Old Three Toes for his last journey home to the mountains. And help is what it took, too; Simon the Mule wanted no part of whatever that was wrapped up in a plastic game bag and two layers of canvas. Simon had probably packed over a hundred elk out of the mountains, but he seemed to know that whatever was inside that canvas, was not only dead and wild, but had also been damned fierce. He was snorting and blowing and rolling his eyes like a outlaw bronc. It was quite a rodeo until we blindfolded him with a jacket and took up a hind leg. Once we had the bundle lashed tight and yarded the cinches down, we handed the lead rope to Murly, pulled the leg rope and blindfold, and stepped back to watch the show. Old Three Toes would have been highly honored indeed; Simon put on a real old time skywalking, sunfishing, suck-back-and-spin, chin the sun, and paw-down-the-moon classic sashay, but he could not shed that pack, and as the sun broke over the mountains, he threw up his head, sides heaving, and trotted off behind Murl as we all laughed and hollered and threw our hats in the air. Four days later Murl was back; snow had come to the high country, and he'd made it out just in time. He never would tell us exactly where he took Old Three Toes, except to say that it was somewhere in the high country up under the continental divide, between Timico Lakes Basin and Angel Pass on the north, well east of the Highline trail, down to the Dream Lake/Rainbow Lake country to the south, going northeast over the divide to Wolverine Peak, and back up to the Golden Lakes and Angel Pass. "He's somewhere in that circle," he said, 'cause that's the area where I first started seeing his tracks. I left him in a tree, not under the ground. He musta had a heart like a mountain, so that's what I gave him for a headstone, and that's all I got to say." Then he added, " I was real glad to see that snow fly; no one'll ever find him."

Those are some nice pics--where was the bottom one taken?

Well, yeah, unfortunately, Kerouac's later life and end was pretty much as you say, but that certainly wasn't the comparison I intended; I just saw in your style and flow of writing some of that same wonderful energy from the likes of On the Road, Dharma Bums, etc., which is (especially Road) some brilliant stuff. But that youthful fire was partly fueled, and later dimmed and finally extinguished by the alchohol. Kerouac actually did climb a little, worked a couple seasons at the Desolation peak fire lookout in the N. Cascades, early 50's, and much of Dharma Bums is about a climb of the Sierra's Matterhorn Peak done in the fall of '56 with Zen/Beat poet Gary Snyder ( Snyder made it to the top; Kerouac, perhaps prophetically, felt too tired and scared to go the last pitch or so.) Kerouac never really had the discipline or self-restraint necessary to really bear down on his writing, was probably already an alchoholic very early on, and had a more "anything goes, nothing matters" idea of Buddhism and Zen, not what its' really all about. While strictly speaking, there's no such thing as a "failed Buddhist" (they say you should never give up on anybody) it's sure as hell necessary to put in your time on the meditation cushion if you're gonna see anything. After all, we do have to accomplish something; Suzuki Roshi in his little book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, says that while not everyone may experience a great awakening, even in years of practice, "at least we must have SOME enlightenment experience." Thoreau said once, "Did you ever know of anyone who simply persisted in what he was doing, who did not achieve at least some measure of success?" A lot of climbing, Buddhism, and life in general is just that simple. There's an old Zen koan (meditation problem) called "Go straight up the forty-nine switchback trail! What does this mean?". And the answer is to get up in front of your teacher and march rapidly, with great energy, back and forth, forty-nine times, as if you were going up a mountain trail. It means that often, when we're going up the switchbacks, it can seem as if we're going further out of our way than we need to, and we may be tempted to go off the trail and impatiently charge straight up. Doing so, we might make it, but we might burn out, too. But if we just stay on the trail and keep going, we will,eventually, most certainly reach the summit. Of course, maybe the old Zen masters couldn't have foreseen the development of modern climbing--but I'm not so sure of that, either, considering how deep and powerful a meditation climbing is. And the implied meaning of that koan is, as you've shown us in your TR, that it's all about the journey, not just the summit. Anyway, you can really fuckin' write, man, you have a great eye and sardonic wit, you're raising a family and managing to get some time in on the rock and ice ( and it's important to not just meditate, too--Zen Master Hakuin says "the warrior's saddle is his seat of meditation"- meaning that the path is right where you are, doing what you're doing) and making people laugh, making a lttle magic.... We can't all be Lionel Terray or Gaston Rebuffat, or Kerouac, but as I'm sure you know, what's more important is to just be who you are. On that basis, I'd tell your mom not to worry. And keep on writing.

Nicely written TR, Ivan-the new Kerouac has appeared. It was indeed foretold that his reincarnation would be revealed in the mountains of the Pac. NW, freely dispensing stream-of counsciousness Crazy Wisdom, Hanshan-like, swinging a mean ice tool (the 21st century Vajra-scepter), showing the youngsters how to laugh at the rain and cold, breaking the slavish bonds of attachment to comfort and warmth, shattering misguided delusions of achievement and success, further deepening North America's own tradition of rollicking, waked-up alpinist-lamas and mountain adepts who have transcended good and bad weather, sleep, and all-the-best-new-gear, to find highest perfect enlightenment on the end of a sodden rappel rope, and then kicked it in the ass and let THAT go sailing off into the void too. Kinda like the old Northern Plains contraries, the Heyokas or "backwards warriors"; "Shivering in the white heat of summer Sweating in the cold rides his horse backwards says yes but means no when arriving, leaves having departed, arrives; Having failed, succeeds.

[you people are wasting a lot of money that could have been spent on climbing gear] Good beer and wine IS climbing gear.

You're correct; and the Chinook word for "rough water" or "troubled waters" is 'Skookum'.

I think if anyone-the Federal govt, the US Army, Marines, etc.,-- had tried to strip the Idaho and Montana Nat'l. Guard of their weapons, we would already have heard of it by now, because it would have started a civil war. I don't think you'd want to lightly go mess with those homegrown country boys, no sir.

What about the Falkland Islands War with Argentina back in the 80's?

I also remember the opening of the movie, filmed from a chopper flying over the coast range forests, while Charley Pride sang "The Family of Man". And the book is really one of my favorites Kesey ever wrote. Newman was great in the movie, and was of course the star, but Henry Fonda as Pa Stamper was terrific, damn near stole the show. The Stamper family motto, "Never give an inch," was perfectly characterized by Fonda, also this line, when someone was moving too slow to his liking," God damn it, man, we got timber to fall, orders to fill, things to do, an' cats to kill!!". I think the old house where the movie was filmed is still there on the banks of the Siletz River, about 2 miles upstream from the mouth opens into Siletz Bay at Kernville, south of Lincoln City.

Go hunt up Chumstick Snag if you want a classic climb on Swauk sandstone. It's described in the original Guide to Leavenworth Climbing Areas by Fred Beckey and Eric Bjornstad, as " a spectacular little sandstone pinnacle...". Fred says, "it is difficult to spot, even from the highway". Here are the directions: " drive north from Leavenworth 4 miles on the Plain road, and exit left on a short dirt road called Spromberg Canyon to a farm at its end.Taking care both of bulls (yep, they were there, alright ) and charged fence wire, follow the meadow paths to the wooded spur that divides the valley. Climb to the ridgetop and continue on about 1/2 mile until just above the snag. It is easiest to follow the ridge until the Snag is below and to the left, and then make a very short descent to the upper saddle." The south face or standard route is rated 5.7,1 hour, (by 1950 standards), and the SW face at 5.6, 2 hours,done in '63. The rock is good quality with juggy solution holes, or huecos, with thin cracks. We used to use knifeblades and Lost Arrows, nowdays you could probably use cams or chocks in some of the huecos, and thin wires or minicams in the cracks; there used to be some bolts (well, what we used to call bolts) at strategic points,and a few fixed pins, including a summit rappel anchor, but it's been years, and I have no idea what's there now. Very fun little spot, quite a lovely place.

Thanks,Bug, for your comments, and your focus on socks and gaiters, which I completely spaced. And yes, there are some excellent lightweight boots that give a lot more protection in snow and wet conditions. I forgot to mention Scarpa and Merrell, among the boot manufacturers, and they both have some really great lightweight boots. And I use both knee-high and lower ankle-type gaiters, depending on what kind of boot or shoe I'm wearing. Even if you don't need them for snow, they're great for keeping out dirt and gravel, pine needles,etc. Your system (liner sock, vapor barrier,heavy sock, etc.) is identical to what I do,except that I don't use the vapor barrier. I started using silk, later poly liners, in the 60's because mountaineering socks were mostly rough, itchy ragwool. As the socks got better, I continued to use them with socks like Merino wool, Ultimax, etc. It seems, for me at least, to provide an extra layer of air which works kind of like a breathable layer, and I seldom seem to have a problem with getting cold feet because of being too wet. I also usually use foot powder to help keep my feet dry. The other downside of having damp or wet feet is that it softens your skin and that can make it easy to get blisters, even in really comfortable boots. That happened to me once descending Hood, wearing a very well used, comfy pair of Koflachs.

Depending on the season, many trekkers, as well as climbers, use a lightweight trail or approach shoe, or even running or trail running shoes with an agressive tread, for the hike in to Everest base camp, NOT a heavy mountaineering boot. The most important criteria is comfort and light weight, as well as durability. If you're going with a trekking guide service, you might ask them what they recommend. Also consult the various catalogs of climbing boot and shoe makers, such as La Sportiva, Lowa, Asolo, Koflach, Salomon, Vasque, etc., and communicate with their staff online for advice. They can recommend what will be most suitable for you based on your size and weight, how much you'll be carrying, any particular foot problems you may have, and whether or not you intend to do any actual climbing beyond just hiking. It might also be useful to find someone who's actually done the trip, although each individual will have their own needs and preferences. The main thing is that the hike in to Everest base camp does not automatically require a pair of high tech heavy mountaineering boots.