Mount Hood, the highest peak in Oregon and one of the more notable mountains in the United States, drew my attention initially due to its status as Oregon's highest point, but in a broader sense, I wanted to climb Mount Hood simply because it is a gorgeous, magnificent peak, nothing more. Having read as much as I possibly could on Mount Hood, and talking to a few people I knew who had climbed it, I gathered it would be a good "beginner" peak for a snow/glacier virgin such as myself. Not that Hood is easy, as accidents and deaths occur on the peak with unfortunate regularity. But as far as the big Cascade volcanoes go, and for all glaciated peaks for that matter, Hood does have the advantage of an easy approach and a relatively short climb over a relatively short glacier to gain the top. Even so, I opted to sign up for a guided climb with the Timberline Mountain Guides, based in Government Camp, the little town at the base of the mountain. I knew essentially zero about glacier travel going in to this climb, so I viewed this as an ideal opportunity to learn some basics about this style of climbing. We all have to start somewhere, right?

I had the latter part of May open from teaching, which coincided well with the ideal season for climbing Hood - late Spring, when the mountain still has considerable snow and ice, which actually cover up the crevasses moreso than later in the summer. In reality, Hood is a big loose crumbly peak; the more snow and ice holding it all together, the better. I planned to make the long drive to Government Camp over four days, spending nights in SoCal with my folks, the Bay Area with some college friends, a hotel in Klamath Falls, Oregon, and finally, Government Camp. I had some grand plans for this trip - perhaps a bit optimistic for me - which included an attempt on Mount Rainier in Washington as well. I stayed in a little hotel in Government Camp, then drove up to the Timberline Lodge the next afternoon to meet my guide, Kirby, and the other climber for this trip, Jim the Doctor from Indiana. We went through our gear, then spent a few hours on some snow slopes practicing basic mountaineering travel and etiquette, such as how to walk, how to clip in and out of a fixed line, rope management, basic knots, self arrest techniques, things like that. It was a good class and I learned a lot in this short time. That evening, I opted to stay in the climbers' barracks at Timberline Lodge, sort of like dorm rooms set aside for climbers. I had the room to myself which was nice. Even so, I was out of bed by 1 a.m. and getting myself and my gear in order. I met the others at the small ski lodge building. Our climb was to start at about 2 a.m. Naturally it was dark and very cold but we had a partial moon and it was very lovely. I was amping with excitement and a bit of trepidation. All the months of looking forward to this climb and the fears of doing something radically new and different, well now, here I was. Time to make it actually happen!

The first "leg" of the climb was in a snowcat (snow tractor). This was an uncomfortable little ride, cramped into this metal box, as we were ferried up past the ski runs to the 8,000-foot level at the top of the ski runs. There was another team of climbers in the snowcat as well. Along the way we passed a few hardy hikers/climbers trudging up this bit, obviously on their own. It felt kind of like we were cheating a little bit, but then again, this took care of about 90 minutes of tedious snow-walking, but still left us a good 3,000 feet below the summit and all the interesting glaciers, headwalls and the big bergschrund way up there. The "real" climbing still lay above us. I equated the snowcat leg as driving a forest road to a higher trailhead, which I have done numerous times, so I didn't feel that bad after all. We piled out of the snowcats at close to 3 a.m., our two parties getting all together and on our respective ways.

Now the actual climb. We started well and fortunately we all seemed to have a good common pace, Kirby leading and Jim and I following. We were unroped and generally followed a beaten path of sorts through the snow and ice. Conditions were good: clear and calm, cold but not dreadfully cold (maybe just a smidge below freezing), and the snowfield itself offered good footing. This portion covered a couple miles and about 2,000 feet of gain, ending at the Hogsback, a prominent saddle of snow below the bergschrund headwall. We arrived as dawn broke. Numerous parties were around us. We'd passed a few on the way up, and a few passed us, and there were already plenty of parties at the Hogsback when we arrived. At this point we roped up and psyched ourselves for the crux of the climb: the bergshrund and the steep icy slopes above it and below the summit. The air reeked of sulphur, bearing in mind Mount Hood is a volcano. The terrain up here was indescribably beautiful, a world of rocky spires and cliffs, snow and glacier, and rime ice covering some of the rocks, while other parts exposed due to the thermal nature of some of the vents. A magical place.

The bergschrund is probably the most notable feature of the climb, even visible from Timberline Lodge below. A bergschrund is a giant crevasse, specifically where the entire glacier pulls away from the mountain headwall. Literally, below the bergschrund you're on glacier, above the bergschrund you're on icy slope. Roped, with Kirby leading, Jim second and me trailing, we walked the easy route to the bergschrund, arriving in a matter of minutes. There was a jumbled section "sort of" spanning the bergschrund, and we crossed here. It involved maybe 10 feet across and about 10 feet of up, including a big step of about 5 feet, requiring me to front-point in my crampons and use the axe as a point of contact. I felt like a real mountaineer there for a moment, me. Truthfully, this was exciting as hell! We were doing great, moving efficiently, and no troubles so far. Above the bergschrund we made our way up the steep, much icier slopes which looked impossibly steep from below. Well, they were steep but not terribly, maybe 35-40 degrees. A very scant path from previous climbing parties marked a way up, and we followed this up to the Pearly Gates, a ramp of snow set between two rocky ramparts, covered in rime ice (and hence the name, Pearly Gates, which is very appropriate). Above the Pearly Gates were were essentially on the summit ridge, and it was an easy couple minutes of walking to gain the summit proper, which we did about 6:45 a.m.

The summit was beautiful! Many of the Cascade volcanoes were visible north and south of us, notably: Adams to the north and Jefferson to the south, with mighty Rainier farther off to the north. We congratulated one another, got some photographs, did some looking around, but generally stayed huddled for safety and to stay out of the wind. Despite the exquisite beauty of the summit, it was very cold and breezy. We stayed up top maybe 15 minutes. One solo climber was already there and a few other parties were slowly inching their way up. The descent now lay ahead of us, with the added bonus of getting to look down the entire way. As happy as I was to have summitted Hood, I wanted down now, and the sooner we started was fine by me.

For the descent to the bergschrund, I "led", so to speak, Jim second and Kirby last, although in reality, Kirby took the up-slope position to govern our movements and arrest a fall should one of us rookies slip. The probability of a slip was very real, and I was as focused as I have ever been for this stretch. I didn't look down to the forests below, I simply looked down to the next clump of ice to be sure my boot was solid and my axe was in a good place. Just one step at a time, literally. In this manner we made a safe descent to the bergschrund, going down the same jumbly section we took going up. This was a bit tricky, but we made it, but afterwards, Kirby suggested to other climbers to avoid this bit since it seemed precarious. Later parties simply took the long way around the bergschrund. Back onto the Hogsback, we unroped and rested, the trickiest bits above us now. We still had the descent to the top of the ski runs to go, but this slope was easy and safe, and we braided out a little bit, all convening back at the ski run boundary about 9 a.m. No snowcats here to taxi us in, we walked down a service road (a cleared path in the snow) all the way back to Timberline Lodge, arriving just before 10 a.m., which was good because the kitchen closed at 10 a.m. to prep for lunch; we were able to score a table and get a good breakfast in our tummies just under the wire.

Jim had a room at the Lodge for that evening and he graciously allowed me to shower up and change into regular clothes. Afterwards, we met back at the bar and had a few beers, sitting at a table with a great view of the peak and our climb. It was an amazing climb all the way around, and great fun afterwards to sit back, drink a beer or three, and stare at the mountain we had just climbed that morning. It didn't seem real. But it did feel wonderful to be able to look at Mount Hood and know that I had a successful climb, a safe climb, with a competent guide and partner, and the best part was to be able to sit there and enjoy the afterglow. By 3 p.m. a front had moved in and Hood was starting to disappear into the clouds, and I felt it also the correct time to bid Jim a hearty good-bye and plenty of thanks for his comradeship on the mountain.

The trip could have simply ended here as far as I was concerned, but I still had it in my head that Rainier was next to be conquered. I drove into the Seattle area and stayed the night with my old college (UC Riverside) roommate Victor and his wife, Joelle, also an alum of UCR. The three of us were planning to climb Rainier starting in two days. Well, that attempt proved to be a brutal slog and one of the worst, least enjoyable experiences of my life (albeit a valuable learning experience). For more on the Rainier climb, Read here. I should note Vic and I were successful later that summer on Rainier. From Rainier I split the drive to SoCal over to days, one night in Cottage Grove, Oregon, then a 900-mile marathon to San Dimas. After a rest day or two, back to the furnace of Arizona, Mount Hood in the books!