Mount Adams

Do you ever get the itchy urge to do something extreme?  I do.  I get this drive to do something that kicks my butt and, at the time of doing, tends to be a miserable sufferfest.  But when all is said and done I can just feel totally, unselfishly awesome.  And I can think back on the glory days as I sit at a desk in Boise click-clicking on hundreds of squiggly trails I did not walk with features I never saw. 

Last weekend four of us planned an excursion to Washington to climb up Mt. Adams.  Last year I did trailwork on the PCT at the foot of Adams.  The mountain was our constant backdrop during work and in camp.  At night the full moon lit up the glaciers to ignite an alpine glow.  The idea of climbing up the mountain was intimidating and awesome.  Adams rises like a beast out of a rather subtle landscape in southern WA, giant, snow-covered, and 12,276 ft tall.  We drove to Washington on Friday and arrived after dark.  In the morning we could see Adams looming through the trees in our campsite.  We quickly ate breakfast and packed our bags and started on our way to hike the mountain.

“You and 220 others.”  The forest service lady was quite frank with us as she filled us in on the essentials: Drive slow to the trailhead, the road is single-lane most of the time and people drive too fast around blind curves.  Do not descend to the southwest, you will get hopelessly lost in trees.  Melting snow is the only way to get water at the lunch counter (base camp).  You share camp with hundred of others, some who do not dispose of their waste properly, so boil your water to avoid contracting an exotic disease.  Here are your WAG bags.  Use them.  Do not glissade with your crampons on, you will break a leg.  Be careful of cornices or you will find yourself taking the very quick way to the bottom.  She was lovely.  Once we had our permits and our map we drove that crazy mountain road to the trailhead.

Our boots hit the trail by 10:30.  It was pretty rough from that moment on.  The unfortunate thing about climbing up a mountain is that… it’s all up.  There is really no relief.  So we went up.  Up into the snow that relentlessly reflected the sun so our skin was exposed in every possible place.  The underside of my nose has never been so abused.  When we felt like we were nearing Lunch Counter (our base camp for the night) we started asking people on their way down about how far we were…. the first guy said 800 feet.  About 20 minutes on, the second guy said 900 feet.  The third guy, a bit further on, told us 1,000 feet. These were not comforting predictions.  At that point I just put my head down and walked.  We made it to Lunch Counter at about 3 pm.

UP!

View of Mt Hood from our tent

Mountain shadow

Melting snow for water

We found a cozy place to set up tents.  There are lots of rock wind-barriers set up, so we snagged a few of those and when the tents were up we climbed in a laid down flat for a good while with our boots off.  Too soon we had to get up and start the process of melting snow for drinking water the next day.  It took forever. 

We went to bed with the sun because we planned to get up at 3 am to continue to the top.  Unfortunately at 3 am the wind was howling and the tents were flapping like mad tethered birds trying to take flight.  It was not the sort of morning that gets you out of your sleeping bag easily.  So we reconsidered.  Set the alarm for 5 and tried to keep sleeping despite the racket.  At 5 nothing much had changed, but after peeking out the tent and seeing clear blue skies we decided we better get a move on.  We got some coffee and food in our bellies and got all decked out in gaiters, crampons, ice axes, hats and gloves, and sunglasses.   

The morning was just one step at a time.  I was just reciting to myself, “step.  step.  ice axe.” repeat.  It was a good rhythm.  Right before we got to the false summit (the think that looks like the top of the mountain, till you get there and realize the top of the mountain is still a good ways off) we were surrounded by swirling cloud wisps.  

clouds found us

Nothing too bad, but we couldn’t see too much in our immediate surroundings.  And we definitely could not see the view or the real summit.  But we’d come so far, so further we went!  To the summit!  We made it around 11 am.  It was very cold and very windy.  No view to speak of.  But it was exhilarating.  We took some pictures and ate a nearly frozen pb&j and then scurried back down to warmth and sunshine. 

Toji, Dave, Me, and Christina on top of a mountain

weeee! and now I'm ready to return to the safe life I remember at 2,000 feet

The decent was more of an amusement park ride.  There was a glissade chute that took you down about 2000 feet from the false summit back to lunch counter.  You just sit your butt down in the chute, position your ice axe for braking, and ZOOM.  You fly down that hill. 

Our trip ended with a beer and a burger in Hood River and a seven hour drive with 5 people, 5 packs, and plenty of miscellaneous gear in a tiny Honda civic.  We got back into Boise at 4 am.  It was great.  I plan on climbing more mountains as soon as possible.