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Trip: Mt Jefferson - South Ridge Trip Date: 10/22/2018 Trip Report: Don't listen to the haters, this route is damn fine. I was lucky to snag the very last Pamelia Lake permit Thursday night. Because I knew I needed sleep before my big trip, I got none and I was really droopy heading out Saturday morning: had tea with a nice person about to travel far away, printed my maps/permit, texted plans to my coparent, and overshot Pamelia Road by 15 mins all in a dizzying podcast muffled blur. The low point of my trip was at Pamelia Lake. It turns out the BeFree filter's bad reviews have merit: with a hard squeeze drops were coming out slower than I was perspiring. It's been used for about ten nights total. For some reason, after sucking on it hard (no, there's no pun there) the flow upgraded to an infuriating trickle and my trip wasn't ruined. I got to Coyote Lake after a few hours of slow and sleepy PCT, mostly nondescript except for this huge owl. There were a few peeps on the other side; I was surprised by how few I'd seen given all the cars at the TH. I heard the climber's trail is hard to find, so I decided not to try and just bushwhacked uphill starting right where the PCT meets the lake. I love bushwhacking. I love the expeditionary feeling, the independence, the navigation, and the mindfulness it mandates. As a bonus, no predator could hunt me without making a lot of sound, so it's safer than a trail. Right? Well, I had a mild navigation problem. I'd intended to camp at a flat spot at 7100 ft. I popped atop a knifey ridge and utterly failed to read the terrain, so I did my best and (finally) read the altitude instead: 7700 ft. I'm way off, but in a good way? I scramble a bit more with headlamp and find a narrow perch at 7800 ft to call it a day after trying and failing to pinpoint myself on the map by moonlight. Wake naturally at 6:10 after sleeping well. I still don't know exactly where I am, but uphill seems sensible. I consistently find excellent boulders to use for climbing, next to no scree. If you're one of the many annoying folks that whine about this route, I'm so excited to tell you that if you stick just a bit to the SE you'll have nothing to complain about. Traversing to the N side of the pinnacle was certainly not trivial, but easier than I expected: dry at first, then with some ice I could navigate around, then the crampons came on. It was wicked to dislodge rocks and see them explode into many pieces 1000 ft down seconds later. Took a few false starts till I found the way to the summit; I'd agree with peoples' fourth class assessment, though there's one narrow snowy ledge on the North side of the pinnacle that has some crazah exposure facing East (fourth pic down from here). This was the one spot where conditions weren't ideal: snow was soft and a few inches deep. Slippery, no purchase. Did I mention conditions? Extremely good, everything in shadow was very firm snow or dense water ice. Very trustworthy. This is my first mixed snow/ice/rock experience and it was SO rewarding, made me feel so competent :->. Descent was similar, though I opted for screeing instead of the boulders. Accidentally found the climber's boring trail and followed it. Decided to descend via Hunt's cove, got my bushwhack fix there with a nice, steep shortcut. So dreamy in the fall. I might've picked some boletes on the way back as an offering to my dad, who expressed want for them and specifically asked me not to climb Mt Jefferson. Back in town only five minutes late to pickup my daughter this time. Such a rewarding excursion! Gear Notes: Crampons, ice axe, Assam tea Approach Notes: I'm 80% sure the mushrooms are called Fat Jacks, and 100% sure they're nontoxic by way of human experimention.

Trip: North Sister - NW Ridge Trip Date: 09/23/2018 Trip Report: Friends. This is my first non-trivial mountain (well, there was Hodge Crest, but that was unnecessarily complicated). I'm rather hyperbole averse, but I still feel good about calling this a harrowing climb. Sorry it's so long, I can't help myself. Not sorry. I disliked descriptions of the standard approach (South Ridge): seems like a complicated set of gendarmes to navigate over crappy terrain. Plus I've already sunk into a crevasse on the Collier glacier and could use something new. Plus beaten path, eww. The NW ridge caught my eye via caltopo: it just generally seemed more appealing. I later shelled out 40$ for a usable misprint of Oregon High, and found some interesting info there, with the FA of Glisan especially entertaining. The internet by contrast is sparse: there's a trip report of a failed attempt on traditionalmountaineering.org, and another on a personal site I can no longer find which was so vague it could've been a different route. Walking out of Scott TH a hearty two hours later then intended, I imagined how I'd word the solitude, firmly believing I wouldn't see a soul for two days. That was contradicted in minutes. The hike in is beautiful, really dry and wet at the same time. Cotton jeans + t shirt felt slightly questionable, but I was wearing them yesterday and picking fresh clothes would've been too much work. Eventually I came upon Collier's geologic diarrhea dump, then through more forest, then through Collier cone's interior (by previous logic, its anus?). I left the PCT and went over the cone's southern ridge down to the Collier glacier's moraine's terminus, where I was relieved to find muddy water (earlier streams I was hopeful about were dry). I set up camp at the edge of the moraine, right under the NW ridge, on a bit of a saddle. I was paranoid about lightning (there was none), but didn't want to be low in case of precipitation, so finding the saddle was a relief. I've been near a lightning storm once, and seeing agitated dark clouds tumbling over the ridges gave me some serious heebie jeebies. I also heard weird sounds, possibly even voices, and remember reading others' accounts of feeling generally weird before lightning, so things sucked. I calmed down and went to bed at 19:30, and slept like a baby (that is, woke up 10 times but got the right amount of quality rest). It rained for a few hours, which was not forecasted, I worried a bit about my water "resistant" single wall tent but it did fine. Enthusiastically up at 6:30, with stars still visible but the beautifully clear sky brightening. I was extremely low energy yesterday, and was elated to be in the mindset for ass whooping today. I heard voices again, and was shocked to see two climbers already going up the ridge. Hey! This is my obscure project! No, honestly it was a relief to not be totally alone. Also relieved not to be hearing things. I ate my homemade granola and packed my stuff. Crampons and axe? Hmmmn, I looked up the mountain, saw a dusting of snow, and imagined that'd be gone in an hour and I'd feel like a chump for carrying them (some backpackers questioned me yesterday). On the other hand, the remaining elevation gain is Dog Mountain, I can use the training weight. The climb up the ridge was very straightforward. I don't know if it was the rime covering the rocks or what, but things were sturdy and scrambling very, very fun. Rule of thumb: from the base till Glisan pinnacle, either go over obstacles (many are easier than they look) or go right. I caught up to the pair, they too were surprised to see me here. One of them had tried this once before, only getting up "Gilson peak". Passing them, I saw some faint footprints here and there. Not as obscure a route as I thought. Traversing under Glisan is where I first encountered proper loose rock, but it was easy enough. I started up a notch leading to a saddle leading to the South route, and happily put crampons on there: they helped immensely. This wasn't snow, this was a granular mix of snow, ice, and mud that gave my ancient spikes extremely good purchase. Over the saddle, traversed some more loose rock, and looked up. Is that the bowling alley? Nah, can't be, too steep. Wussies climb this (I have no idea why I tell myself this). I looked around some more. Yeah, that actually was it. I climbed a small step and headed up. I realized I'm cramponing 45ish° without an ice axe, so I get that out, swing it, and find it useless. So, it's slippery enough that a fall would suck, but forget self arrest. Don't fall then, gotcha. I go up some more, then climb a couple near vertical steps and then back down, terrified. I curse myself and resolve to get outta here. Then I try a slightly different way and, cursing loudly (no bad words, much worse: genuine bad sentiments), it becomes tame again, more and more. I am so happy to have crampons, and so happy the rocks are firmly cemented in place. I walk to the south horn because it has a cairn. From there, north horn looks higher, plus maybe I can scout a different (better?) descent. I climb it, and sit on the peak taking time to declutter my head. I was starving before, but can't eat now, and that's when how distressed I am fully sinks in. Looking around - there's not a better way down this pinnacle (Jeff Thomas made the NE aspect sound doable... nope, though I'd love to try with snow). I decide I'll be ok descending as slowly and deliberately as possible. This works out - I actually found the descent easier. Passed the crux and felt huge relief. Found two different climbers just below the bowling alley; they had no crampons and quickly decided to call it. They'd cowboy camped in that rain, I admire their high spirits. Sitting to eat, the other two from earlier emerged: one soon turned back, the other went up the bowling alley a bit and came back down. No crampons. Poor guys, but I'd be lying if I denied that me being the only of five to summit that morning wasn't a bit of a tremendous ego boost. During this, I remembered how sure I was that the cruxy fun was of type 3, and was amused that I demoted it to type 2. Rime, rock, and my layers are starting to peel off. I traverse back under Glisan, and scurried down the ridge, tripping over loose rock a few times. Yeah, I think the ice made a positive difference on the way up, lucky me! I ran much of the way back to the car and made it back to Portland just an hour late to pick up my daughter. Memorable :). My least favorite thing about this trip is that my micro 4/3 camera broke just before - I used my phone like a normal person. Gear Notes: Crampons, ice axe, and why did I leave a flash drive in my pocket? Approach Notes: Yeah, it's a long drive, but refrain from Schubert sonatas on your way in. That shit gets stuck in your head and then it's not fun.

I get aviators and bend them to hug my face close. Haven't tried it, but in theory it should be possible to remove the lens and stick a piece of pantyhose or something to block the sides. Yes to reflection off the glacier being a problem; last year I skimped on sunscreen but had a hat on Hood in June. My face was always in the shade... and took weeks to peel off and recover

YESSSSSSSSSS! Too cool! My favorite part: "My roped solo system requires traversing each 60 meter rope pitch three times, so I knew it would be slow." Just the summary so far, I'm gunna eat up what you wrote for the individual days.

jeebus! Since when? I had no idea!

...not to mention hardwoman. http://publications.americanalpineclub.org/articles/12193010600/print The modern human wussy is (sipping americano at Stumptown) me.

nice, nice

Whoa, amazing! Tell us more about this Sisters/Broken Top traverse. Never heard of someone including Broken Top.

thx for the compliment and yes to both!

Well done! That's real interesting; I saw a photo of the crevasse from a month ago and was also really surprised. I went two weeks ago and couldn't see much (white out) despite thinking about it, but I did cross over someone's footstep that seemed bottomless. Went pretty much straight up, definitely not left. I wonder if it's opening and closing as the glacier flows. Topmost climbers in your second photo look like they're humping.

Trip: Mt Hood - Old Chute Trip Date: 06/16/2018 Trip Report: I know what you're thinking: "Old chute? Lame". Yeah, I'll tell you what's lame: How dead this forum is. Old chute will have to do (and I want to see more lame reports!). I'd been feeling extremely itchy for an interesting outing for a while. I was encouraged by the weather forecast and looking forward, but then this happened I caused this: Remember to drive with not bald, well aligned/balanced tires, especially if you go (tastefully) over the limit after fresh rain. It's much worse than it looks: the frame deformed about two inches and one of the engine mounts failed (though, very surprisingly, the engine still runs fine). The displaced engine broke a CV joint. Oh well, cars are for wussies. Invigorated, I eventually settled on using the bus to climb a new to me route on Hood: west crater rim. I started walking toward the transit center at 11:30 on Friday. Soon, civilization fades and I get my first view of the mountain: The slog was great. I don't get how people can be disappointed with it. Do a little zigzag on your way up, there's so much to see! I get AMS at the drop of a hat (literally, dropping a hat decreases air pressure around it and makes me sick) and I'm generally weak so I shared Illumination Saddle with a hardcore duo that just did Reid, a mountain rescue person and his bro, and a big group of energetic residents from Legacy who surrounded me with tents and snored all night and played my least favorite music and didn't offer me any of their alcohol despite me doing minor favors for them. Bless everyone's souls. The weather forecast called for calm clarity followed by PM clouds, wind, and snow, so I was a little surprised to emerge from my tent at 5:00 and find the upper reaches encased in angry clouds. Seemed foolish to try a new route off the beaten path above fumaroles in a likely white out, so I very loosely decided to try the Old Chute instead: familiar terrain. I hastily packed up my stuff, imagining that the visibility would only decrease (the clouds were usually about 1000 ft above us) and navigating back to the saddle would suck. Seems like I was correct, as I could hardly see anything when I left my tent and sleeping bag on some random rocks at 9300 ft somewhere between the saddle and the edge of White River glacier. I talked to a few unhappy climbers on the way down, but for some reason every interaction bumped my inclination from "prolly not" toward "this'll be extremely fun". Visibility remained about as bad as it could be up to the summit (well, it can be worse when the wind blows ice around your glasses into your eyes, thankfully none of that), and the snow conditions were excellent. It took an unexpected amount of mental energy to stay on the boot path, but it worked and it made for my favorite mountain experience so far. The contrast was so weak that I had a scary moment realizing I had to stop climbing at the summit ridge. On the way down once I was near the bogshack the clouds lifted very dramatically every now & then. Anyway, that's my hyped up ho hum story. My loveliest climb yet! Gear Notes: I think I get curved axe handles now Approach Notes: Watch out for house centipedes on your way out the basement apartments

What an awesome report, congrats & props! I love that you waited out the weather at home and opted out of the beaten path :->.

Welcome, and thx for the unique report! I've always wondered why more folks don't start from Meadows.

Woooooooooooo, well done! Not sure what I'm more excited about: an intriguing FA or just the fact that a new Oregon trip report has been posted. Either way, awe ya!

Welcome to the area dude! I admire your cowboyish inclinations to figure this out yourself. I highly recommend you spend a few hours combing through trip reports through all seasons. You might notice certain patters, like the rarity of October reports. When you go, the singly most important thing is for you to be willing to turn back when things get stupid. I made six solo attempts before finally getting up there, in a mess of AMS, and my own cowboyishness has a way of unsettling others. I haven't observed rockfall in early snow, but I'd be surprised if it's worse than late July (when there is still much climbing). I'd be most scared of poking into a poorly covered crevasse, and there will be many in unusual/unexpected places this time of year. The slopes are also more slopey, and even in optimal conditions the Old Chute is unsettlingly steep for most noobs. I hate to say it since going with the flow is so lame, but if you want to be safe your best bet is to go when there are a lot of others present, not only because you probably aren't all making the same mistake (ha), but also because if something happens you will be immediately helped. Happy climbing!