Category: Activities

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Alano Club & The Mazamas Team Up for Peak Recovery

Ali Marie & Susan Koch on Dog Mountain. Photo supplied by Ali Marie Koch

In her 20s, Ali Marie Koch struggled with anxiety, an eating disorder, depression and panic attacks. 

“I tried a lot of different things to make myself feel better,” Ali recalls. But nothing helped. She even succumbed to her suicidal thoughts with a failed attempt. “When I found myself in a place of hopelessness, I knew I had to create a path back to wellness.”

That path led her to the Mazamas. Well, actually her mother, Susan Koch, a 2008 Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP) graduate, hike leader and Guardian Peaks award recipient, shepherded her to the organization.

“I didn’t think there were other people like me who were happy on a hiking trail and not walking at the mall,” Susan says. “But I just fell in love with climbing and hiking, and the Mazamas were so kind and made me feel so welcome.”

Susan, a physician with Kaiser, wanted to at least try and expose Ali to the outdoor experiences that positively transformed her life decades before. They began hiking together. Susan waited until Ali’s strength and endurance increased and the wildflowers were peaking. Then she brought Ali up Old Snowy. 

“When I stood on top of that mountain, I felt a sense of strength and inner peace I’ve never felt before,” Ali says. “I was connected to something bigger than myself…I thought there was a secret sauce here, which can lead to mental and physical wellness.”

Now 11 years into her recovery, Ali is an active Mazama who enjoys snowboarding, climbing and split boarding. She also aims to offer up some of that “secret sauce” to next year’s BCEP students via the Alano Club of Portland, the largest and oldest recovery center in the United States. Peak Recovery, a project of Alano, supports people in mental health and substance use recovery with free outdoor movement-based programming rooted in a true love of nature.

With Ali as program manager, Peak Recovery is excited to partner with the Mazamas and fund nine BCEP students in 2023 who identify as being in mental health and/or substance use recovery. Peak Recovery will cover the cost of the class and provide transportation in a 9-passenger Sprinter van. After the class, participants in the Peak Recovery cohort will be gifted a membership to the Mazamas to continue on their mountaineering journey.

“The ethos of Alano and Peak Recovery is in line with the Mazamas,” says Joe Preston, BCEP committee chair. “It’s the kind of partnership that will help us be more inclusive and welcoming, and we all want to see efforts like this expand every year.”

In 2022, BCEP put together several affinity teams, including an all-Latino team, an LGBTQ team and a sober team. The Peak Recovery partnership is an 18-month pilot program that Ali and Brent Canode, co-founder and Alano’s executive director, hope will become an ongoing partnership with the Mazamas.

“There’s a popular saying, and one of my favorite truisms in the behavioral health field, which goes like this: ‘The opposite of addiction is connection.’ At Alano Club of Portland we’ve taken that idea a bit further, recognizing that the point of connection must be meaningful and authentic for true community to grow and flourish,” Canode says. “Like most things in life, recovery is not a

One-size fits all journey, and those points of connection must speak in a way that compels a person to reach out and then remain on that path. That’s why we are thrilled to bring Peak Recovery to our community in partnership with the Mazamas, another legacy non-profit with a deep history of service and impact in Oregon.”

Susan and Ali credit the Mazamas in part for the happy, healthy lives they lead today, exposing them to a community of people passionate about movement and time in nature, tightening their family bond with trips that included the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro and highlighting how resilient they are as women in the healthcare field.

“It’s been such a privilege to spend time in nature with other Mazamas, some of whom we now feel are like family,” Ali says. “It’s now a privilege to light this fire, to share the transformative, healing powers of mountains with others.”

  • Learn more and register for the course at  Peak Recovery under the Mountaineering section for the “Mazama + Peak Recovery” BCEP team.
  • Learn more about BCEP and join the BCEP Info Night webinar at 6:30 p.m. Jan. 11.
  • Applications will go live January 18th, and applications close February 9th
  • Anyone applying for these 9 spots on the “Mazama + Peak Recovery” BCEP team will all be in the same cohort (which will be led by James Jula from the Mazamas BCEP leader team)
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MAZAMA BYLAWS: Proposed Amendments

Written by Aimee Filimoehala, Mazama Vice President
Printed in the January/February 2021 Mazama Bulletin

The Mazama Executive Council endorses the following proposed amendments to the bylaws. Updating and modernizing the bylaws will allow the organization to attract many new like-minded members, to improve operational efficiency, and to take a definitive step toward increasing diversity and inclusivity in the Executive Council, which is critical for a modern council’s decision-making ability. Understanding the reasoning for these bylaw changes will be facilitated by a town hall meeting in early spring. A special election to vote on the bylaw changes will be held in early May 2021. We continue to look to our past for a foundation, while also reaching to the future as we aspire to challenge ourselves to be better.

Glaciated Peak

According to our current bylaws, an individual must summit a glaciated peak to qualify for Mazama membership. The original intent of this requirement served to foster a sense of community and ensured that all Mazamas shared a love for the mountains. There has been an ongoing and genuine interest from nonmembers to become part of our member community while enjoying outdoor activities being offered through the Mazamas, including:

      • Hiking, backpacking, snowshoeing, and rambling
      • Rock climbing
      • Skiing (Nordic and Backcountry)
      • Canyoneering
      • Outings

Removing the requirement of summiting a glaciated peak allows us to:

      • Remove a barrier to becoming a Mazama, which is in line with the council’s goal to make it easier for participants that share the values of the organization to actively participate in and contribute to the Mazama experience.
      • Directly support our mission of inspiring everyone to love and protect the mountains.
      • Advance efforts of inclusiveness and diversity in our organization regardless of socioeconomic status, physical abilities, age, and outdoor interests.
      • Increase membership while improving both political presence and financial stability.

Our identity is preserved through our behavior and established culture. Other well-established mountaineering organizations such as the American Alpine Club and The Mountaineers have no such requirement and are still considered climbing organizations by their members and the larger community. The Mazamas will continue to recognize climbing achievements through badges and awards, including:

      • Completing the Basic Education Climbing Program,
      • Completing the Intermediate Climbing School,
      • Completing Advanced Rock
      • Summiting a Glaciated Peak,
      • Summiting the Guardian Peaks
      • Summiting the Seven Oregon Peaks
      • Summiting the 16 Northwest Peaks

Operations

Recent unpredictable and unavoidable events have highlighted limitations in conducting day-to-day business given our existing bylaws. In order to improve our ability to comply with bylaws while operating effectively, the Executive Council is recommending we separate some of the day to day operational structure currently dictated in the bylaws into a separate operations document. Recommended changes to the bylaws will:

      • Change the name of the Executive Council to the Board of Directors (Board), and its members will be board members or directors;
      • Allow board communication by electronic means according to Oregon law as needed;
      • Remove the requirement for two authorized signers for all financial transactions and allow the Executive Director or an authorized officer to sign for expenses up to $1,000;
      • Move the creation and management of committees to conduct essential work to an operations document.

Board Makeup

The existing Mazama Bylaws require board members to be a Mazama member in good standing for at least three years. A recommendation to emphasize skillset, applicable experiences, and diverse backgrounds vs. length of time within the organization is being made. The practical needs of our organization require knowledge and proficiency in specialized areas such as fundraising, accounting, and law, to name a few. With the current requirements, we have severely limited our ability to find and recruit the talent that is needed for our board. If we remove these requirements and instead place value on experience vs. length of time with the Mazamas, we will be able to recruit highly skilled board candidates and improve confidence in our members that we are operating in their and the community’s best interests.

Recommended changes to the board makeup include:

      • Removal of the requirement for three years of continuous Mazama membership to run for the board. These nine board members will still need to be voted in by the membership.
      • Three additional board members, who need not be Mazama members, will be appointed by the nine board members for their special skills or experiences, including their connections in the broader non-Mazama community, and they will share the same voting rights and responsibilities. Appointments will be made for three-year terms with the exception of the initial appointments. To stagger vacancies and to provide continuity, the initial appointments will be: first appointee for 1 year; second appointee for 2 years; and third appointee for three years.

Keep an eye out for the official voter guide in the March/April Bulletin. We will be holding a virtual town hall meeting on Wednesday, March 24, 2021, to discuss the proposed bylaw amendments.

If you have questions or comments about the bylaws, please email bylaws@mazamas.org.

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Safe Backcountry Recreation This Winter

Article and photographs by Ali Gray, from the December 2020 Mazama Bulletin
Good social distancing in the Mazama Backcountry Skiing course.

As I write this, the United States and the world are waiting in limbo for the results of the 2020 presidential election. What else am I and my fellow winter recreation enthusiasts waiting for? Snow! Each winter, people across the Pacific Northwest get out in greater and greater numbers to enjoy the wonders of winter backcountry recreation.

In fact, backcountry skiing and snowboarding is currently the fastestgrowing segment of the snow sports industry. At the same time, the numbers of people getting out in other ways—think snowmobiling and snowshoeing—are also increasing in leaps and bounds. This is a trend that has been happening for well over a decade.

But then COVID-19 hit. Thrust into a worldwide pandemic in the middle of the prime spring season, ski resorts across the country shut down. With nowhere else to go, and with the prospect of everyday attractions such as concerts, bars and restaurants, museums, and other social gatherings canceled for the foreseeable future, people turned to nature. Trailheads overflowed with recreationists, and backcountry touring equipment sold in record numbers throughout March and April. This trend continued through the summer, with many areas across the Pacific Northwest and beyond seeing more people on our public lands on weekdays than are normally seen during peak weekends and holidays. Weekend warriors like myself started to seek out trails that are more remote and off the beaten path to avoid the crowds.

What does this mean for winter? Ski resorts have implemented plans to remain open during the pandemic, but the reality is that the number of people riding the lifts this winter will be greatly reduced. Winter hiking, snowshoeing, and snowmobiling will also likely be on the rise as those who took to the trails all summer and fall will want to continue the activity while urban activities remain limited. It’s pretty easy to see that backcountry recreation will see record numbers of people out on the slopes and trails this winter. Although I’m delighted more folks will be experiencing nature in the snow, I’m worried about the consequences of more people with less experience in volatile winter environments. So how can you stay safe?

COVID-19 PRECAUTIONS

First off, a no-brainer. Just because you’re outside doesn’t mean you’re safe from COVID. Social distancing and wearing a mask are still important. Remember that studies have shown that fleece neck gaiters and buffs are less effective than cotton face masks and surgical masks. Also remember, cotton is normally a big no-no in the winter because it’s cold when wet and dries slowly, so you may need to bring a handful of masks on your outing, especially if you’re going to be breathing heavily.

KEEPING YOUR DISTANCE (IT’S NOT JUST FOR COVID)

We’ve all heard about avalanches and the risks they pose. Sliding snow isn’t just dangerous for the person that triggers the avalanche—many slides travel much further down the slope than you’d think, and can easily trap people down below who weren’t involved in the initial triggering event. With more people on the slopes this winter, this will be especially important. Be aware of your surroundings and how busy your trail is, and avoid traveling at the bottom of large slopes or in gullies. If you cross a steep, snowy slope, go one at a time. This way, if an avalanche were to occur, only one person is caught instead of your entire group.

SPEAKING OF DISTANCE …

If you’re like me, you may be traveling to fartherout and more remote places this winter to avoid the crowds. Keep in mind that while the trail may not be a conga-line and there may still be fresh powder, you’re also farther away from help. Carrying an emergency beacon is a really good idea, and also, in addition to the 10 essentials, make sure to carry extra warm clothes, socks, gloves, and maybe even a camp stove and small bivy sack. Remember that even a small injury can become way more difficult to manage when it’s freezing and there is snow on the ground, and that it gets dark quickly and early this time of year.

Avalanche debris on the climbing route on Mt. Shasta, 2019.

SPEAKING OF AVALANCHES …

There are going to be more people out this winter, so it’s super important each one of us does what we can to keep each other safe. While many online resources are aimed at skiers and snowboarders, knowledge of avalanches is just as relevant and important for snowshoers, hikers, climbers, and motorized users.

If you haven’t already, attend an avalanche awareness class! These free events are put on by local businesses across the Portland metro area, with many also being offered online this year. Awareness classes last a few hours and will teach you about the types of avalanches, where they occur, and how you can best avoid them. Also, Know Before You Go (kbyg.org), avalanche.org, and Avalanche Canada (avalanche.ca/start-here) are great online resources for avalanche education. The Northwest Avalanche Center (nwac.us) and the Central Oregon Avalanche Center (coavalanche.org) are our go-to places for avalanche information and forecasts in the region.

Want to go further? Take an Avalanche 1, 2, or Rescue course! These indepth classes cover risk management, terrain selection, and rescue techniques, and are imperative for anyone who spends time in the mountains in winter. Classes are filling up faster than normal, so make sure to sign up soon on the AIARE website at avtraining.org.

LEARN MORE

There is so much more to learn about traveling in the backcountry in winter, which won’t all fit here. For more, check out my article covering avalanches, winter weather, and preparing for the unexpected on page 8 of the January 2020 Mazama Bulletin: tinyurl.com/MazJan2020

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Mazama Trail Tending in 2020

Delayed But Not Stopped by COVID

August 24, 2020
By Susan Brickey

Many thanks to the twelve Mazamas and the Forest Service Volunteer Coordinator, Paul Bach, for stepping up on short notice and assuring the Mazama Trail’s legacy continues! 

Image: Three men with brightly colored safety helmets wave from the upper leg of a switchback on the Mazama Trail, Mt. Hood. The men are practicing safe physical distancing. Behind them, further up the switchback, is a tip of a small peak, with dead trees and bright green bushes surrounding it. It is a bright, sunny day with blue skies.
Mazama trail tendering volunteers on the Mazama trail. Photo: Susan Brickey. 2020.

Normally, the Mazama Trail work party is scheduled in late June after most of the snow is gone, but this year COVID-related delays by both the Forest Service and Mazamas postponed it until the heat of August.  Still, after much communication, the work went on with additional COVID protocols and special release requirements.  While we missed the Avalanche Lilies, a huge feature of the June work parties, we were delighted with the ripe huckleberries that replaced them as an enticement up the trail.

What is the legacy of the Mazama Trail?  Last year, longtime Mazama climb and hike leader Ray Sheldon retold the story for the 125th anniversary of the Mazamas.  It all started in 1994 when the Mazamas went in search of an appropriate way to celebrate its 100th anniversary. The abandoned Cathedral Ridge Trail was identified, adopted, and rebuilt!  This project took four years and involved temporary shelters to house people and gear.  When it was finished, the trail was renamed after our organization and a legacy was born.  See “Mazama Trail Construction” (DVD) in the Mazama Library for the full story and for images from the project.

The traditional three-day work parties involve camaraderie and fun, with the common goal of clearing the trail and protecting it for another year of adventuring.  Since the Dollar Lake Fire in 2011, a large part of the trail maintenance requires taking out trees that have fallen over, impeding the trail.  There are two major burn areas on the trail but in the years since the fire, huckleberries, flowers, and trees return.  One year, 75 trees fell across the trail!  This year, relatively lucky only 28 needed to be cut.  It’s a good thing that tree removal is a favorite of work parties!  However, this job is also dangerous, and saw certification training is required for the oversight. Thankfully, Mazama leader Rick Pope has that certification, which allows us to host work parties consistently.  Safety is key, especially in wilderness areas!  Don’t be discouraged if you’re new the trail tending game, though. First-timers quickly learn to handle the second side of the saws. This year, new participant Andy Klumpp took his first turn on the trip and said he’d be back to help again. We’re looking forward to it, Andy!

Mazama leaders, volunteers, and our USFS partner removed 28 trees during this work party! Photo: Susan Brickey. 2020.

Trail tending offers work for everyone.  In addition to the heavy work of removing trees, the work usually includes benching the trail to keep it wide, cutting back brush (with a benefit this year of munching the huckleberries along the way), and clearing drains to assure water runs off with all of our rains and snowmelt.  

The Mazama Trail features 14 switchbacks before you reach the Mt. Hood Wilderness boundary.  When you reach the boundary, be sure to look back over your shoulder to view the tops of Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams, and Mt. St. Helens.  Not to mention, the breathtaking views of Mt. Hood that you are treated to at the trailhead, as well as several places along the trail. Nothing like trail work with a view (and snacks, don’t forget those huckleberries)!

Finding some huckleberry snacks along the trail. Photo: Susan Brickey. 2020.

To ensure the health of our leaders and volunteers, 2020’s sign up process limited the number of workers each day and required using the online sign-up system (the same as used when signing up for hikes and climbs). Participants in this year’s trail tending work party were Paul Bach, our Forest Service representative, Rick Pope, Mazama Lead, Sue Brickey, Asst. Lead, Mary and Dave Mullen, David Carrier, Gary Riggs, Jeff Hawkins, Andy Klumpp, John Maroney, Tom Davidson, John Meckel, and Mike Kacmar. Thank you to these dedicated and hardworking volunteers!  

Missed this year’s work party and feeling bummed? Fear not! The logs holding the switchbacks in place require replacing and gravel on the scree field needs refreshing, so be sure to watch for more trail tending work parties in the near future!  

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Mazama Face Mask Design Contest

Now that we have all added a new item to our packing checklist, we thought it was time to make some functional, yet beautiful, masks!

So, whether you’ve found some new quarantine-inspired creativity or you’ve been at it for years, we want to see what you’ve got! Enter as many designs as you’d like and once the submission period ends, the Mazama community will have the chance to vote on their favorite designs. 

The design with the most votes will be available for pre-order purchase, at which time we will close the form and make our order. Masks will be sold for $21 each, with quantity-based discounts to ensure you have a mask for every occasion. The purchase price includes shipping and handling. 

Masks will be made from stretch-woven polyester face fabric and cotton blend lining, with an antimicrobial finish. Comfortable, breathable, and built to last, it’s a great option for everyday wear or your next alpine adventure. Plus, they’re local! All masks will be made in Salem, OR by our friends at NW Alpine. Designers can get an idea of the possibilities at nwalpine.com/collections/masks.

Design Specs*

  • Designs should be in the spirit of the Mazama mission to “inspire everyone to love and protect the mountains.” 
  • Designers may submit as many designs as they choose.
  • Files should be submitted as .ai, .tiff, or .png.
  • The outer mask has 2 sides that get seamed together in the middle. See this PDF for a design template.

*The Mazamas reserve the right to deny design submissions based on our quality and community standards. 

The artist whose design is chosen will receive 10 masks in their design!

Submit your original artwork here!

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News release: Limited Columbia River Gorge Trails and Day Use Sites Open As Crowded Waterfalls, Campgrounds, and Visitor’s Centers Remain Closed

The following update on Gorge recreation was created and released by the USDA Forest Service in collaboration with Washington State Parks, the Oregon Parks and Recreation Dept., and the Oregon Dept. of Transportation.

May 27, 2020 — Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area

A group of state and federal agencies are opening a limited number trails and day use sites in the Columbia River Gorge today, while crowded sites (including most waterfall viewing areas), campgrounds, and visitor’s centers remain closed.

When determining which facilities and services could resume, land managers followed CDC and state health authorities’ guidance for the outdoor recreation sector. The day use sites are part of a phased resumption of access that will likely span several months. Decisions are made in the interest of protecting the health of the public as well as local communities and agency employees, and sites could be subject to closing again if crowded conditions are deemed unsafe. The public should expect fewer available trails, activities, and services through the summer.

Agencies are coordinating their frameworks for phasing in access to public lands and waterways to make a conscious attempt to encourage visitors to disperse across as many alternative recreation opportunities as possible. Most waterfalls, including Multnomah Falls and others along the stretch of the Historic Columbia River Highway known as “Waterfall Corridor,” remain closed because they draw millions of visitors from around the world each summer. Dog Mountain, Beacon Rock Trail, and several other narrow hiking trails also remain closed. The trails in the closed post-Eagle Creek Fire area (including Eagle Creek Trail itself and the nearby day use site) also remain closed.

The driveable portion of the Historic Columbia River Highway, also known as US 30 or the Scenic Byway, remains closed between Larch Mountain Road and Ainsworth.

Here is an interagency snapshot of recreation site status in the Columbia River Gorge as of May 27, 2020:

The Historic Columbia River Highway State Trail is open to pedestrians and bicyclists from Hood River to Mosier (the “Twin Tunnels” section) and along the newer section from Wyeth to Viento. The section from John B. Yeon to Cascade Locks remains closed (this includes John B. Yeon, Tooth Rock, and Cascade Locks trailheads and parking areas).

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has opened the following sites for day use:

Western GorgeEastern Gorge
Bass Lake Wildlife AreaSeufert Park
Fort Cascades National Historic AreaHess Park
Hamilton Island Recreation Area (inc. the boat ramp)Spearfish Park
North Shore Recreation AreaAvery Park
Tanner Creek Recreation AreaThe Dalles Dam Northshore
Day use sights open in the Gorge.

Washington State Parks has opened Doug’s Beach and Columbia Hills State Park (including Horsethief Butte, Horsethief Lake, Dalles Mountain Ranch, and Crawford Oaks). Limited parts of Beacon Rock State Park are open, including the Doetsch Day Use Area, Hamilton Mountain Trailhead, equestrian trailhead, and boat launch.

Oregon State Parks has opened the following parks for day use only. [See this map for Oregon State Parks by status.]

DabneySeneca Fouts
Dalton PointSeneca Fouts – Seven Streams
Government IslandStarvation Creek
Mayor State ParkViento
Portland Women’s ForumVinzenz Lausmann
Post CanyonWyeth
Rooster RockWygant
Sandy River State Park (note: not the same as Sandry River Delta)
Oregon State Parks reopened on 5/27/2020.

The USDA Forest Service is opening:

Balfour-KlickitatLyle Trailhead & the Klickitat Trail
Bonneville TrailheadSams Walker
Bridge of the Gods Trailhead & the Pacific Crest TrailSt. Cloud Day Use Area
Catherine Creek Recreation AreaOn the White Salmon Wild & Scenic River:
Herman Creek TrailheadBZ Corners
Larch Mountain Recreation AreaHusum
USDA Forest Service managed trails reopened on 5/27/2020.

Skamania County has rescinded its Order of the Health Officer under RCW 70.05.070 that closed recreational hiking in Skamania County.

Visitors are asked to plan ahead, by checking agency websites or ReadySetGorge.com to see what is open before driving out and by considering a couple of “Plan B” recreation activities in case their first choice is too crowded when they arrive. Recreation sites may open or close with little advance notice; please respect any closures posted when you arrive.

Agencies are working in dialogue with a bi-state group of local and tribal leaders, and will monitor site use and its connection to local economic recovery as well as community health. Community leaders ask that you give them time before visiting, as the Gorge is still in transition. The Gorge is getting ready for visitors, but the region is still in recovery and is still adjusting and putting new measures in place.

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Snow (but not mud!) Free Hikes for Off Season Training

 Neahkahnie Mountain from the Cape Falcon Trail.
Photo: Darrin Gunkel.

by Darrin Gunkel

Snowshoeing not your thing? Traction devices annoy you? Here are 8 hikes to keep your blood pumping through the winter months that don’t involve strapping anything beyond gaiters to your feet.

One of the beauties of hiking and climbing in the greater Portland area has always been the multitude of 365-day per year (more or less, depending on the occasional ice storm) training options afforded by the Columbia Gorge. That is until the Eagle Creek Fire shut down most every trail on the Oregon side of the river. The 2017 conflagration put dozens of reliable all-season hikes out of commission indefinitely. And it ruined more than a few winter training schedules.

The speed of the recovery isn’t smiling on the itchy-footed and the impatient. Gorge trails are beginning to reopen, particularly around Multnomah Falls and Angel’s Rest. Unfortunately, the Forest Service warns conditions can be dicey, with downed trees, washed-out trails, and lots of loose mud and rock. As a result, expect your favorite off-season training trails to be a bit slower than before. Even if you’re experienced with rough trail conditions, there’s also the matter of conservation to consider. During the wet season, the erosional effects of fire damage are magnified and “normal” wear and tear takes a greater long-run toll. The message here is maybe we should go easy on the Oregon side of the Gorge for a while.

Not like our region doesn’t have plenty of other winter hiking options. What follows are some of the better low elevation trails for varying degrees of training. Outside of the occasional winter snow blast, these routes are open year-round, and more or less the same distance from the main population centers as the Gorge trails.

1. Tryon Creek Outer Loop: 5.7 miles, 630 feet elevation gain

If you’ve found yourself a little out of shape after the holidays, Tryon Creek State Park’s a great place to break your hiking fast and begin warming up for the summer. The Outer Loop, as described in the OregonHikers.org field guide is just the right length to begin restretching those (ahem) well-rested muscles. The park has tons of trails through mature second growth forest, though, and with a trail map in hand, you can tailor your own workout to fit whatever mileage and elevation needs you have.

2. Milo McIver Riverside Loop: 6.1 miles, 690 feet

This loop around the north side of Milo McIver State Park drops down the bluff to wander along the banks of the Clackamas River, saving the workout for the end. It also skirts a top-notch disc golf course! Again, Oregon Hikers maps out the details of this particular trip. But as with Tryon Creek, plenty of trails crawl up and down the bluff, allowing you to patch together any sort of workout you like.
Clackamas River Trail. Photo: Darrin Gunkel

3. Clackamas River Trail: 8.2 and 1,550 feet, one way

If you want to bring a bike, or an extra car, you can stash either the Fish Creek or Indian Henry Trailheads on the Clackamas River and through hike this fine portion of the Clackamas River, and sample one of Oregon’s newer protected areas, the Clackamas River Wilderness (established in 2009.) The net elevation gain from Fish Creek to Indian Henry is just 350 feet, but the trail bobs up and down the whole way, stacking up the elevation and making it a better workout than many other lower-elevation river hikes. If you don’t want to car shuttle or bike (or hitchhike) back to your car, an out-and-back trip from Fish Creek to Pup Creek Falls is bit shorter, at 7.8 miles, but adds 145 feet to the total elevation. Or, if you’re feeling particularly energetic, you could always do entire trail out and back for a workout equal to many of the tougher trails on Hood.

4. The other Eagle Creek: up to 15.4 miles and up to 1835 feet

Not a lot of people know about the other Eagle Creek, flowing west out of the Salmon Huckleberry Wilderness, into the Clackamas, near Estacada. It could be argued that this is a better springtime hike, once the carpets of oxalis on the old growth forest floor start blooming. Then again, there are many things to recommend the deep ancient forest in the depths of winter. Not the least of which is the lack of company. This hike begins and climbs a little higher than the others listed here, so check with the Estacada ranger station about snowpack before you go.

5. Silver Falls

There’s a lot more to Silver Falls State Park than the Silver Falls and Ten Falls Loops. The Perimeter Loop rewards your efforts with 16.8 miles and 2470 feet gained, but could be a bit snowy or icy. If you do the Buck Mountain Loop and add the Howard Creek and Cutoff Trails, you not only clock 8.6 miles and nearly 1,000 feet, you get to admire some fine old growth trees, as well.

6. South Molalla River Trails: up to 9.9 miles and 1,375 feet—or more!

 As with Tryon and Milo McGiver, many trails in BLM managed Molalla River Recreation Area wind up and down the bluff and along the river. Half the fun here is just picking a route. And there’s another possibility in this neck of the woods. Just 20 minutes further down the road, and you come to the Old Bridge Trailhead for Table Rock Wilderness. The trail into the wilderness here leaps up 1800 feet in the first 2.5 miles. This would put you at 3000 feet, not entirely out of the question in a low snowpack year like 2019. Not a bad jaunt, if you feel the need to do something steep with your day.
The pyramid wall at Macks Canyon. Photo: Darrin Gunkel.

7. Macks Canyon Skyline: as much mileage as you want, and up to 1,800 feet elevation

The Deschutes River Canyon east of Tygh Valley, where Oregon Route 216 crosses the river, doesn’t get nearly the attention it deserves. A BLM road leads north from the river crossing, winding through a spectacular collection of basalt pyramids, ridges, and walls, ending at Macks Canyon campground. From here, you could march 23.6 miles, slowly and steadily downstream, to the Deschutes River State Recreation Area at the Columbia. Or, you can pick a route up one of those ridges. The pyramid walling the east bank of the river just past the campground is a good option. Traversing it south to north and returning via the river trail will earn you 1800 feet up and down in 4.8 miles. And views of Adams, Hood, and Jefferson from the canyon rim.

8. Oregon Coast Trail from Shingle Mill to Short Sands 15.9 miles, 2,750 feet.

You can drive within a half mile of Short Sands Beach, but unless you’re carrying three kids and four surfboards, why would you want to do that? To get a real workout, and a real feel of the Pacific Coast, spend a whole day on this leg of the Oregon Coast Trail. Beginning just off Highway 101, at the OCT Shingle Mill Trailhead, it’s the nearest true hiking stretch of the OCT to the Portland-Vancouver area—a little more than an hour and a half. As long as the traffic gods smile upon you or leave early enough to beat the day-tripper traffic on Route 26 (which you probably want to do anyway, given the mileage on the route) you should have plenty of time to hike, dawdle among ancient Sitka spruce, lounge above the Pacific Ocean at Cape Falcon, and watch surfers compete for waves at Short Sands.
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Groundhog Day

by Jonathan Barrett

It is Groundhog Day … again. In honor of the movie (and the holiday), I have five suggestions for how to break out of your climbing and hiking deja vu. From the gear that we use, to the goals that we set for ourselves, a repeated outing is given context by these things. Although we are to some degree trapped by the fact that the Gorge is only so large and that there are a limited number of crags within an hour or two of home, we don’t need to feel like Bill Murray’s character waking up every day to the same bars of Sonny and Cher: “Then put your little hand in mine/There ain’t no hill or mountain we can’t climb.” It is possible to expand the universe without leaving the confines of its boundaries.

The author considers the merits of eating ice cream on a saddle
during a summer climbing road trip. Photo: Andrew Barnes. 

Use someone else’s gear

We all get used to the gear that we employ: our cams, our pack, our tent. This breeds familiarity, and frankly it makes our lives easier. Setting up your personal tent in a downpour takes only moments because you have done it a thousand times before. Plugging your gold Camalot into the hand-jam-sized crack becomes second nature. Every so often, I get the opportunity to climb on a partner’s gear such as during my most recent ice trip to Hyalite. I have climbed on Petzl Nomics since they were first introduced; my partner had brought a pair of Trango Raptors. Midway up The Dribbles, right before the WI4 headwall pitch, I asked to use his tools. The first couple of swings were awkward. The ice axes felt weirdly imbalanced. To compensate, I turned to using better footwork and looked down instead of up. The features of the ice curtain were transformed. Blobs appeared that I might not have noticed before, and I stepped on them gently, like they were features on a rock climb. In the minutes that followed, I climbed a completely new route with improved technique.

John Sharp investigates up-close the elusive (and viviparous)
rubber boa on the approach to Goode Mountain.
Photo: Jonathan Barrett. 

Climb at an odd time of day (or year)

“You know what I want to do?” Jarred asked me. Frankly I couldn’t guess, given his proclivity for provocative ideas. “Climb Dod’s Jam in the dark,” he said. In the dark? Why? When pressed, he didn’t have an answer really, something about the moonrise over the Bonneville Dam. Because I acquiesced, two weeks later I found myself face to face with a bushy-tailed woodrat, otherwise known as the infamous snafflehound. It’s eyes were glowing spheres under the light of my headlamp. He (or maybe she) tried to squeeze its shivering body into the fissure at the back of the “bird’s nest” belay stance. The moon had not yet risen over the cliffs of the Gorge, so beyond the wan circle of light, it was exceedingly dark: a hold-your-hand-two-inches- from-your-face-and-not-see-anything dark. Typically when I stem up the off-width corner on that climb, the exposure rattles my nerves a little. The climbing isn’t very hard relative to some of the sequences on the rest of the route, but there is something about the way that feature pitches ever so slightly towards the river that normally makes me sweat. That night, though, I didn’t feel any trepidation. I could turn my light towards the Oregon side of the Columbia and view only a wall of black. I carefully pasted the rubber of my shoes against the wrinkled edges and moved upwards with uncommon confidence because I could not see. Three months later, Jarred and I found ourselves finishing Young Warriors in the dark after attempting a multi-route link-up. As I belayed him up onto the final ridgeline, I turned my headlamp toward the remaining slabs and cracks. A familiar set of glowing eyes looked back at me in what must have been disbelief. Or perhaps it was annoyance. What was the little bugger thinking? Maybe: Oh! Not this guy again!

Bring different food

Knowing that a little levity can ease a tedious activity,
Andrew Ault takes the time to posedown mid-slog up
Mt. Adams. Photo: Jonathan Barrett.

Food is fuel, but also culture. As anyone who has traveled internationally knows, cuisine defines an experience, even if it is just Le Big Mac consumed on the streets of Paris. As such, the meals that we bring color our experiences in the outdoors. For better or worse, freeze-dried options have transformed backcountry dining and the way that people move through wild spaces. I have both a Jetboil and a Whisperlite. The choice between the two affects the culture of the trip. Typically, I bring the former for many of the obvious reasons: weight, fuel efficiency, and speed of eating. Consider the impact that this kind of choice has on a trip up the Emmons Glacier. With a night before and potentially after the climb at Camp Sherman, the instinct is to go as light as possible. However, a pot of tortellini smothered in pesto, sun-dried tomatoes, and sausage is worth the weight. As a matter of fact, it would be difficult to suppress a smug smile as you watched other parties scarf so-called “Chicken and Rice” from a plasticized foil pouch knowing that the only GI distress you will suffer will be altitude-related and not a function of the food. This is true in other ways as well. Last summer I brought with me the makings for a no-bake cheesecake when climbing in the Bugaboos. A bank of snow served as a refrigerator. Dinner that night felt Michelin five-star luxurious as I spooned out servings for my partner and I.

Find a new partner

Who one climbs with determines the vibe as much as what one climbs. With established partnerships, it is easy to warm up on the same routes, eat breakfast at the same joints, and pack in a matter of minutes, which is generally preferable. A new partner can breathe life into stale routines and jolt one out of tunnel vision. For years, my goal when traveling to distant climbing destinations was to climb as much as possible. This seemed to me like the logical thing to do given the financial outlay involved. Once, on an overseas trip, I was stunned to learn that my partner wanted to take the train into a neighboring country just to have lunch. I argued that it wasn’t raining that hard and would probably stop soon. He chuckled at my stupidity and pointed out that there was more to do than climb from sunrise to sunset. Through that new partnership, I have recalibrated and reconsidered my goals when traveling for climbing. This can be just as true for a local spot as well. Who knows how many times I drove past the Beacon Rock Cafe before a new partner once pointed out that we could climb all morning, drive a short distance down the road for a burger, and then head back for more laps. Suddenly that Clif bar in my pocket seemed slightly moronic.

Set completely different goals

I tend to want to hike fast and climb as many pitches as possible. My regular partners give me a hard time for always setting my watch to see how long it took from belay to belay. My goal is efficiency, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, per se. However, it does flavor the outing with a sense of urgency. Consider instead the influence that other goals might lend. Photography is not a hobby of mine, and in the attempt to move quickly, I don’t take many pictures. When I return to share my adventures with friends, the sloppy and ill-framed images are nearly useless. This is not to say that I should be asking my partner to reclimb a pitch multiple times to allow me the benefit of having a perfectly captured and Instagram-worthy photo. I do however envy the care and effort that folks like Steph Abegg have taken to thoughtfully and completely document a trip. This goal-setting philosophy can be applied in other ways as well. Out for a hike on a familiar trail? Maybe try to engage others in conversation or at least friendly banter. How many new acquaintances could you make over a dozen miles? Bring a bird, flower, or tree guidebook and stop to actually investigate that glorious flora that you have seen so many times. Use familiar terrain as an opportunity to try out a new piece of technology. What better place to learn the mapping software than in an area where you can double-check your work?

Some final thoughts

What benefits do these changes have for us as climbers and human beings? If Groundhog Day can teach us anything, it is that being stuck in a loop is not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself. How we respond to the conditions of our confinement is the question. In reflection, I can honestly say that making these kinds of changes myself have made me a better and more thoughtful climber. As someone who looks at my life and actions through the lens of climbing, they have also reframed the way that I travel, engage with people, and consider the possessions in my life. In doing so, I am equipped so that there is no hill or mountain I can’t climb.

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Skiing the Summit—Reflections on a December Mt. Hood Ski Descent

Words by Jordan Machtelinckx. Photos by Kevin Machtelinckx.

Faraway sounds wake me periodically from a fitful sleep. Giant machines meander around the empty parking lot, putting my REM cycles just out of reach each time they rumble by. Through my iced-up windows I can see windblown snow pass under glowing streetlamps. The wind creaks as it passes between the glass and the metal of my frozen-half-shut window. I continue to straddle the worlds of the waking and that of dreams as I drift off a few more times.

A sharp knock on my window scares the sleep away for good.

Assuming that’s my brother bundled up in the dark out there, then it must be five o’clock. I’ve slept in this parking lot at Timberline Lodge a number of times before, and I fall into the same ritual of emotions brought by an alpine start in December.

It’s cold. I’m tired. Maybe this was a bad idea.

I could be in a real bed.

There are many key attributes to the perfect climbing partner, but the most important one right now is that it’s someone who holds you accountable to get up at a ridiculous hour, in a ridiculous place, to do a ridiculous thing, when the last bits of slumber inject an ominous sense of doom into the day’s undertaking.

I force down a pre-dawn granola breakfast and reward myself with as many sips of thermos-tepid coffee as I can force into my waking body. Freezing fog gently coats my sleeping bag with ice crystals and going back to bed becomes significantly less appealing.

Packs are closed. The beeps from our avalanche beacons are swallowed by the gloomy dark of the overflow parking lot. I realize I’ve got more neighbors now than when I went to bed in the back of my Element. Lights flicker on through foggy windows in one car. Another van lays newly empty as its owner also starts his way toward the edge of the parking lot; the first steps toward the frequently-sought summit of Oregon’s Mt. Hood.

Clicking into my bindings, I tune into the music playing through the wires from my pocket to try to pass the time slogging through the last trees and onto the slopes.

I’m not wearing a watch today, but the milestones are familiar.

Breaking through the final trees: scrambled thoughts contained within the ring of my headlamp on the snow.

Passing by the rime-covered Silcox Hut: doubt.

Starting up along the Palmer express lift: anxiety.

I see climbers’ headlamps shining through the last siege of darkness above, hours ahead of us. Maybe we should have started earlier, too.

A rest near the Palmer lift house—the highest outpost of civilization, past which hikers become climbers. I watch as daybreak washes away the self-doubt. Rays of sunlight illuminate safe, mellow skies.

Not much further up, climbers who have reached the summit are passing us on their way back to the waking lodge, now 3,000 feet below. I leave my self-doubt below Illumination Rock as I enter the spectacular, rime-encrusted cirque of the summit crater. We are now committed to a summit attempt, graced with pleasant weather and agreeable snow conditions, and my rational mind knows that self-doubt has no place in this final 1,500 feet of technical terrain.

The question is no longer “if,” let alone “why,” but “how.” Which of the many routes up the final headwall will present us with the optimal balance of challenge and safe passage? We opt for an exciting attempt on the spectacular Pearly Gates, climbing a few hundred feet of steep, deep snow into a narrowing couloir. The right Gate is occupied by a slow-moving rope team, and melting chunks of ice from the sunlit cliffs above warn us that we have no time to wait around.
I ascend the left Gate, hoping it goes, because I dread downclimbing our steep, unconsolidated boot track extending below.

But alas, I’m stopped by a six-foot vertical wall of hard, blue ice. The longer I debate whether I should attempt it, the more I realize my forearms may not hold out long enough. The obstacle is spectacular, well-featured. A boulder problem of ice. I want to climb it, but more importantly I want to have climbed it. I want to push the threshold of my climbing past this icy couloir.
I take a few steps toward the feature, shattering holds with the tips of my ice tools. I search for solid foot placements, but my calves are burning. I reach up, hesitate, and reach down.

I want to be good enough. I want to live up to my expectations. But my instincts know better. I’m tired. My pack is heavy. One slip and the weight of the skis on my back will catapult me off the wall, tumbling a thousand feet into the summit crater. It would be foolish.

I curse myself for not bringing a rope and ice screws to make an attempt realistic. I immediately thank myself for leaving them behind since we made good time without the extra weight. I am terrified of the downclimb out of this couloir. I am wrestling with the thought that I may have sacrificed our summit because of my selfish desire to climb a route that is beyond me.

My mind is running wild but I am still clinging to the steep ice by the metal tips of my crampons and tools. I acknowledge the rampant emotions and set them aside, one by one. They have no place here. I have a job to do and I know how to do it. Nothing else matters until I get back to the ledge below the couloir.

Downclimbing seems endless. I hate my footholds and my ice tools plunge deep into useless powder.

We meet back at the ledge. I think we both know it was my lust for the Gates that cost us an hour and a half in that couloir. Our skis will save us hours on the descent compared with our previous bootpacking attempts on this mountain, so we agree to make a second attempt up the Old Chute, where most parties are summitting today. I let Kevin take the lead across the wide-open slope. I’m not going to let my ego fuck this one up, too.

The slope steepens, the chutes narrow, and we pick our way through the final rime formations to the summit ridge. Two hundred easy meters take us to a breezy summit, where we realize our fingers are frigid and we have no time to waste.

The summit is the halfway mark to safety. Long, deep breaths lower my heart rate from its frenzied battle against 11,241 feet of thinning air. I have to maintain control of my body so it can keep me safe as I cross a dizzying 20 meters of one-slip-and-you’re-dead knife-edge summit ridge to gain the descent chute.

The steep, soft snow is a cakewalk after that. We find the highest spot to feasibly transition to skis, as skiing off the true summit is impossible for us amateurs.

Perspectives change in downhill mode. Steep slopes which intimidate the uphill climber in me now appear as ideal ski terrain. My interface with the mountain changes as I now want to be sliding across its surface. I distance myself from the summit, with no more desire to be there.

I ski back toward the lodge, my car. To civilization, to safety, to satisfaction and self-fulfillment. Away from fear, self-doubt, and primal danger.

Back down to where I may find the courage to face my demons once again on another dark, cold morning with my brother knocking at my window.

Wake up. We’re going climbing.

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#vanlife

Darrin Gunkel outside his van down by the Alaskan Highway, with a pug.
Photo: Karin Hedlund. 

by Jonathan Barrett


As a parent of a small child, I have a deep, almost primeval, fear of vans. As a child of the 80’s, after school specials and public service announcements warned me against people who called out, “Hey kid! I’m a professional photographer. Come with me to my van, and I’ll take your picture.” As a result windowless van is the first place I am going to look when my son’s face appears on the back of the milk container. The problem is that now, all these vans are filled with beautiful, half-dressed Athleta models and Patagonia ambassadors. Since when did prAna start hiring transients as marketing influencers?

As a result, I find the whole #vanlife thing really confusing, as does my kid. For example, I brought my son, Liam, to Smith last fall. We got out of the car in the bivouac parking lot, and there was a man sitting in the open door of his black Sprinter. Liam grabbed my hand a little tighter and said fearfully, “Daddy, don’t let him take me!” I turned to him and replied, “Don’t worry, son. He has a trust fund. He can’t hurt you.” Liam looked really confused. This man’s fingernails were black. He was barefoot. His beard was thick, but artfully cut. He was shirtless. In his fingers was a funny smelling cigarette. “Daddy, why is he smoking?” Liam asked. “Well, son. Sometimes adults have a hard time coping with reality.”

“So he’s doing drugs?”

“No, that’s why he bought the van. The cigarette is just cloves.”

That evening when we returned to the parking lot, there was a man standing on the roof of a ‘96 Ford Econoline. “Daddy, is he fixing his roof?” Liam asked. I looked at him skeptically. Was he messing with me? The dude was doing downward dog in the fading sunlight. My son had seen me doing yoga in the our privacy of our basement before. He knew I kind of hated it. In his mind, no one would ever do it in public. “Maybe he is looking for a hole that water is coming through,” he offered thoughtfully. The shirtless man in $100 shorts moved gracefully into tree pose. “Oh no!” Liam said. “He’s going to fall off!” A lithe woman appeared on the ground next to the van. “Maybe she will catch him.” She took out her iPhone. “No, wait I think she is going to take his picture. Daddy, why is she taking his picture?”

The rainbow is not Photoshopped. Photo: Darrin Gunkel

“Well, son. Sometimes when you live in a van, it’s hard to stay connected to people. Always moving around. Not being in the same place all the time,” I said. Vanlifer was now doing Pungu Mayuransana, wounded peacock, and the girl continued to take pictures of him. Secretly I wondered: if a climber falls off a van roof in the woods, can anyone hear him scream?

“So, he’s homeless. We should give him something to eat. He can have my apple. I still have it from our hike.” He started to reach into his bag.

By this time the man had finished his poses and was climbing down off the roof of his van. He took a long swig from his Hydroflask. “Honey!” he called to his partner, “Can you check the Goal Zero batteries? There is a crack in the solar panel cable. It might not be charging.”

“‘Scuse me,” Liam said. “Here. You can have this.” He held out his apple in a gesture of sincere concern.

“Is it organic?” he asked. Liam looked at him blankly as the man took it to inspect the sticker.
“Thanks kiddo, but I am really careful with my body. You can keep it,” he said as he handed it back.

As Liam and I walked back to the car, he shook his head. “What’s the matter, bud?” I asked.

“That guy. He makes bad choices. Maybe that’s why he’s homeless.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He said he wants to take care of his body, but he was being very unsafe on the roof. And look,” he said as he pointed back in the direction of the van where the man was walking across the parking lot in his bare feet. “He should put some shoes on so he doesn’t cut his foot.”

Back at our friend’s house in Bend, Liam climbed into their truck-bed camper which served as guest quarters when we visited them. It was 8 p.m, his regular bedtime. “Daddy,” he said. “I’m really glad that we live in a house.”

“Why is that, bud?” I asked as I tucked him in with his stuffed moose, Mary.

“Because I’d miss my friends if we were always moving around, like that guy we saw today.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a fair point,” I said. How could I explain the fact that these people likely have many friends and acquaintances spread across the West, people that they regularly meet at Indian Creek or in Squamish. How could I explain that much of their community was online and digital? That even though they can open their doors and make a parking lot their new front yard, they can’t always know who their neighbors will be from one day to the next. That they are sacrificing a degree of regular, in-the-flesh human contact for space and mobility.

I pulled the fleece blanket up against his chin. “Well. They have friends online who like to see their pictures. They can share their lives that way,” I said.

“Oh,” Liam said. “Well, I like knowing that Owen is just up the street. And that he’ll always be up the street. He’ll never move away.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I don’t think that I would want to live on the road like they do, either.”

“What’s it like to live in a mobile home?” he asked as I was just opening Captain Underpants to read the next chapter to him.

“Well, actually it’s not really a mobile home,” I said.

“Oh, I mean RV.” I put the book down. How was I to explain that it was their home but not a mobile home. That old people live in RVs and go to national parks, like Yosemite. That young people live in vans and … go to national parks, like Yosemite. But it’s not the same.

“It’s a van, son. Let’s just read some of the book so you can get to sleep on time.” Somehow the world of an ill-tempered grade school principal who transforms into a superhero made more sense to him in that moment than the subtleties of #vanlife.

We all remember the Chris Farley SNL sketch where he admonishes David Spade and Christina Applegate to get their lives in order, otherwise they will be, “living in a van down by the river.” Maybe my point of view needs to shift. Maybe there is nothing wrong at all with childless men living in a van down by the river. After all, if my son becomes one of them, I know where to find his picture.