LHamilton

A few very ordinary climbing photos. Had to smile, looking through these. Frankenstein Cliffs, 1979: Last Chance, Pokomoonshine, 1980: Otter Cliffs, Acadia, 1981:

from the Oregonian: Son recounts father's death on Mount Hood's Cooper Spur Rescuers say not wearing a helmet was just one of a series of mistakes made by the climber Wednesday, July 30, 2008 HELEN JUNG The Oregonian Staff Devin Lee, concentrated as he descended a Mount Hood snowfield Sunday afternoon: Drop a couple feet, plant the ice ax, drop another couple feet. His technique -- honed over four years of climbing with his father, Dr. Gary Lee -- was the only thing Devin would let himself think about. Just seconds earlier, he had seen his father struck by a watermelon-size boulder that came hurtling down the mountain. The 55-year-old cancer specialist tumbled down a steep gully and slid out of view. As Devin descended, he came across the bicycle cap his father had been wearing. The Stanford University junior put it on and kept searching, he recalled Tuesday. But it would be several hours before rescue crews would locate the Eugene oncologist, who had been killed by blunt force trauma to the head. Two days after the accident, a Portland Mountain Rescue veteran questioned the men's decision to climb without helmets. All climbers on any Mount Hood route should wear helmets, said Steve Rollins, one of the rescue team members. "There is too much loose rock," he said. Rollins also criticized the decision to descend via the dangerous Cooper Spur route, which is more technically difficult than the mountain's popular southside routes. But Gary Lee, who had summited Mount Hood more than 40 times, knew the mountain "from all angles . . . and at all times of the year," said his wife, Dr. Stephanie Harris. And considering the size and speed of the boulder that struck Lee, his family doubted a helmet would have helped. "That same question was in my head," Harris said. "On that particular day, he made that choice and felt that it wasn't necessary. . . . The reality in this particular instance? Chances are it wouldn't have made any difference." A life of climbing Climbing -- as well as hiking and skiing -- was a passion Gary Lee shared with his family. While Lee and Harris were dating in medical school, he introduced the Southern California girl to his beloved Mount Hood. She grew fearful at 8,000 feet, she recalled, and they turned around. But she went again -- although that time they got lost with two other students, overnighted on the mountain and came out a different route than planned. Lee kept climbing, taking on peaks in the Himalayas and the Andes, his wife said, reserving about three weeks each year to climb. She always felt an undercurrent of fear, knowing the risks associated with mountain climbing. As much as his practice meant to Lee, Harris said, so did his family, including his parents, Dr. Gilbert Prentiss Lee and Patricia Brownell Lee of Portland, and two brothers, Dr. Gilbert Brownell Lee of Portland and Granville Lee of Clackamas. Helping his 21-year-old daughter, Alison, and his son develop their own independence was a priority, she said. Alison, an avid cross-country skier and a senior at Harvey Mudd College, persuaded him to pick up skate-skiing, which the father and daughter often did together. And when Devin was 16, Lee and his son started going on climbs together. The treks were outings for the father and son to talk and through which Lee hoped to help instill "a warrior spirit" in his son. And about a year ago, Devin recalled, his father complimented him, telling him, "I can definitely see you grow up to be a warrior." Boulder strikes On Sunday, as the two descended, they found Mount Hood more exposed than they expected, Devin recalled. But when they had made it to the snowfield they felt they had reached relative safety. They unroped and put on their crampons. But after proceeding a short while, Devin saw the boulder topple his father. Lee, his son recalled, did not utter a sound. "I shouted after him," he said, watching as his father "was ragdolling down" the snowfield. Devin then descended after him, shouting out to anyone who might hear. "All I could hear was my echo," he said. But soon two hikers who had walked up a ridge past the top of the Cooper Spur trail heard Devin below them. Lonnie Feather and Bill Weismann made their way to Devin and called for help on their cell phones. They stayed with Devin until evening, calling Harris, and taking him to his grandparents' Portland home. "There is no way that I can possibly tell or express my gratitude to all of the climbers and rescue people," Harris said. "I don't even know how." The accident is still setting in for the family. Devin has worn Lee's cap ever since the accident except for letting Alison wear it briefly. "It's a little small for me," Devin acknowledged. "It doesn't matter." A dangerous route It is impossible to know whether a helmet would have saved Gary Lee. But rescuers also challenged the decision to descend Mount Hood's Cooper Spur route instead of the more popular and less challenging south route from Timberline Lodge. "We were talking about it during the recovery," Rollins said. "No way would we go down Cooper Spur this time of year. It is way too dangerous, way past its prime." Rollins also urged climbers to wear helmets, as well as pursue safer routes. The recovery put the lives of 12 climbers in jeopardy, he said, and was at the outer edge of the envelope for safe rescues and recoveries. But Lee -- a world-class rower and avid skier, cyclist and swimmer -- always seemed able to do anything, his son said. "He's living life like everyone wants to," he said, "but no one knows how."

Smugglers Notch, Vermont, 1979: Chitlin Corner, Acadia, Maine, 1981:

Gary Lee was my long-ago partner and since then a good friend; from the opposite coast, I've followed his adventures and growing family over the years. I was deeply saddened to hear this news yesterday, that he died on a climb with his son. After a while I went upstairs and scanned a bunch of almost 30-year-old slides, from our climbs together on Pokomoonshine, Smugglers Notch, Cannon, Cathedral, Mt. Washington and Acadia. Back when Gary drove a Rabbit and had even worse fashion sense than I did, our 4-year-old daughter found him very charismatic. She'd shout "Gary Lee!" with delight when he pulled into our driveway. Suddenly the old slides seemed precious, like something to hang on to. Gary was just a great guy. I doubt you'll find anyone who knew him who thought otherwise. I know he saved many lives.