For the Love of Mountains

[From the February 2012 Mazama Bulletin]

By Keith K. Daellenbach

Mount Fuji, about 60 miles west-southwest of Tokyo,is one of the world’s most beautiful mountains. Its distinctive, symmetrical stratovolcanic cone rises above nearby Suruga Bay on the western edge of the Pacific Ocean. The mountain is an important cultural symbol of Japan and is the object of national veneration and spiritual significance, having formed a basis for many legends, ukiyo-e woodblock prints, and haiku poetry.

I wanted to climb Mount Fuji since my first business trip to Japan 5 years ago, but the season and logistics foiled me. The Japanese culture and aesthetic fascinates me and I wanted to experience this remarkable country in a deeper way. On my third business trip to Japan in October 2011, I finally cracked the logistics code and climbed the tallest mountain in Japan. At 12,388 ft, Fujisan, as the mountain is known to Japanese, is slightly higher than Mt. Adams.

The official climbing season is July and August. Outside of these two summer months, the mountain is officially “closed” by prefecture authorities. I made an attempt anyway figuring I would have to be found, caught, and deported from the mountain. I was up for an adventure in whatever form it took. At this time
of year, most public transportation options between mountain villages and trailheads were scaled back or non-existent. A gate, closed nightly, blocked access to the Yoshida trailhead so I chose to ascend the Subashiri Trail. I considered renting a car to drive myself but an International Driver’s License was required which I did not possess. My strategy instead focused on taking rail, bus, subway, and one critical cab ride to get to and from the mountain.

At the end of 3 days working with my medical device design engineering team, I left them with bows and domo arigato (“thank you”) and was absorbed into the throng of evening commuters at the Noborito rail station heading out of one of the world’s most populated cities. The Odakyu rail line traveled west and, 23 stations later, I was at Shin-Matsuda where I transferred to the JR Gotenba line. Here, English translations from Japanese kanji letters drops to near zero and finding an English-speaker is improbable. I asked the train station attendant at the small Shin-Matsuda station, “Gotenba?”, and he pointed to a station on the rail map, six stations away. Carbo-loading on the rice, sushi, and tasty fresh tangerines I picked up in Noborito, I waited for my train on the platform in the dark. It arrived, I boarded, and I was off for Gotenba or at least I assumed so. I counted the station stops and disembarked onto the platform at the sixth stop. Outside the station, I found a local map displayed that had “Gotenba” in Roman letters. So far so good.

I now needed a cab to take me 22 kilometers to the trailhead at Subashiri 5th Station. Fortunately, there were several cabbies waiting outside the rail station. I made one of their nights by negotiating 8,200 ¥ (~$107) for the ride using my VISA. To communicate where I needed the well-dressed cabby to take me, I gave him a rough map of the mountain with “Take me to Subashiri 5th Station” written in kanji by one of the sales engineers back at our office, and the cabby supposedly understood. Soon, we busted out of Gotenba’s city limits and into the dark countryside. Partway there, we left the main highway and shot up a steep, windy road. At every hairpin, the cabby, who evidently fancied himself as something of a Japanese race-car driver, downshifted his column-side gear shift, popped the clutch, and shot ahead for the next curve. He mercifully slowed twice to view a few Sika deer in the headlights as they fed along the edge of the road; I was thrilled to see native wildlife.

We hurtled upward, stopping finally at a trailhead abandoned of vehicles. We were in a dense cloud and it was lightly raining. Even though we were unable to communicate, I could tell he was uneasy about dropping a foreigner off at night in the rain, alone. After paying him the final bill of 7,950 ¥ (~$103) in cash because my VISA ended up, for an unknown reason, being rejected by his credit card uplink, he gave me a card with what I presume was his cell number just in case I needed help. It was a thoughtful gesture, but I had no cell phone. I hopped out of the cab and started sorting gear by headlamp. The cabby waited a few minutes while I packed and eventually left after I waived goodbye to him with smiles.

The forecast was for thick clouds but my hope was that I would punch through at some point. The Subashiri Trail, one of four maintained paths up the mountain, starts in a deciduous and evergreen forest. The fog and light rain were like pea soup in my headlamp light but I was hopeful, given only a light breeze and temperatures in the low 40s. I continued to hope for improving conditions above. The trail was obvious, being rutted in sections. Being alone in Japan after the hustle and bustle of Tokyo (my hotel was adjacent to the Shinjuku subway station, the busiest in the world with more than 3.5 million passengers transferring each day), was a gift. About an hour after I started, at 12:30 a.m., I caught my first glimpse of stars! I was psyched, for the prospect of returning back to Gotenba because of inclement weather, by a long walk, was not appealing.

A couple hours brought me to the last island of deciduous trees at 8,575 ft. The bulk of the mountain before me started to become clear through the clouds and I recognized some stars, like the Big Dipper, in the Great Bear of constellation Ursa Major, which comforted me in this foreign land. The waning moon, a half disc, appeared and the lights of four nearby cities shone like a subterranean glow from beneath the clouds. This remote east side of the mountain had no other climber but me, as far as I could tell, and the mountain huts were all boarded up and ready for the snow to fly. At one point I stopped at a seemingly impromptu mountain shrine consisting of a small wooden Shinto tori gate, perhaps 2 ft tall, festooned with dozens of small bells. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for my good fortune and stowed one of the bells to be opened at Christmas nearly 5,000 miles away in Portland, Oregon by my six year old boy Micah.

For hours I slowly trudged up the path, which never became difficult. I had lightweight six-point crampons in my pack but never encountered snow. At any steep section, a switchback would appear out of the darkness cutting across the slope. The mountain’s grade was similar to Monitor Ridge on Mount Saint Helens. I thought, for a time, that the mountain’s summit may be hidden in a lenticular cloud but as I continued on, this appeared to not be the case as I could see stars all around the hulking peak. Above treeline, the path was bounded by a continuous rope on the lower slope strung between metal rods with red tape marking the Subashiri trail.

At 4:42 a.m., the first sign of twilight appeared and this never fails to lift my spirits. By then I was at the Shita-edoya trail junction adjacent to the route’s 8th Station (10,682 ft). It is at this junction that the Subashiri and Yoshida Trails (north side route) join, heading for the crater rim. I felt like I needed to make it at least to this junction to afford me a way off the mountain via the Yoshida Trail, in order to access public transportation starting at Kawaguchiko 5th Station. With good weather above me I continued my ascent. By sunrise, I was at just over 11,600 ft, just below the last and 9th Station, crossing under a tall Shinto tori gate over the trail, feeling strong.

The grade steepened to Class 2 and there were lava bombs scattered about. For the first time I came upon two other climbers, Americans from California, on descent. The sun was rising above a sea of clouds below me and I soon arrived at the crater rim. There are multiple structures on the crater’s edge, including shrines, mountain huts and even a post office. Most of these featured rocks built up to protect the structure’s walls. All were closed for the season. I made my way clockwise around to the crater’s west side and, at 7:30 a.m., to the highest point in Japan, Kengamine Peak, at 12,388 ft, nestled among small buildings apparently constructed for meteorological observation. It was warm with hardly any breeze so I shed a couple layers, donned a red rising sun hachimaki (head band), and waved my American flag for a solo celebration.

Leaving the summit, I continued my circumnavigation of the crater rim back to the east side. I heard an occasional loud booming noise that seemed to emanate southeast from the summit. At first, I thought “thunder” but the noise was monosyllabic and could not have been thunder. It sounded man-made and reminded me of the loud noises I sometimes hear while running trails in Forest Park emanating from the nearby shipyards on Swan Island. I must say, being all alone on a volcanic summit and not knowing the source of the noise, this was spooky. The mountain is surrounded by forest and the nearest city is miles away so the source of the noise remains a mystery to me.

My descent took me back to the Shita-edoya junction and I started down the yellow-marked Yoshida Trail to the north. The entire route is dotted with large earthwork constructions; some gabion-like structures were 30 ft high in an effort, I assume, to stabilize the slope. There was a 10 foot wide caterpillar track zigzagging up the slope which apparently supports the supply of the mountain huts and shelters and a slope stabilization program. Attempting to control the natural entropy of a volcano seemed futile to me. I passed the two Californians and also another American heading up but none were able to provide any usable intelligence on the location of the Kawaguchiko 5th Station, my climb’s terminal destination. My rudimentary maps downloaded from the internet were only a little better than back-of-envelope sketches and my sense was that somewhere around treeline, I had to take a trail dog-leg left or else suffer a full descent of the Yoshida Trail far down the mountain to a lonely and deserted forest trailhead.

I made my way nimbly down the well-used trail, often denuded of scree, and over some artificial steps and Class 2 rock all the while looking for the westward exit trail from the primary-trunk Yoshida Trail. My ascent had taken much of the night and I was glad I hit the summit shortly after sunrise because, as the morning wore on, the atmosphere heated up, the clouds lifted, and the summit was becoming obscured. I was greatly relieved to be well on my way down in this unfamiliar terrain. Getting lost on this peak in the clouds and wind, while doing a major traverse, would be a real mind-bender. At about tree-line I came upon an elderly Japanese couple and inquired about the location of the 5th Station trailhead and they courteously pointed west as a general direction. Like a traveler in an ancient Japanese scroll, I continued on my journey.

Eventually, down into the deciduous trees with colorful fall maple and golden larch foliage, I found a series of steps taking me left and onto a 25 ft wide path dotted with horse manure. I took this as a sign that I must be getting close as this likely came from horses taken out for tourist rambles from nearby stables. Later, I passed a large group of older Japanese decked out in hiking gear and trekking poles; I was now close. A little further and I arrived at the trail’s end, Kawaguchiko 5th Station, a 3-hour and 30-minute descent over a total climb distance of 8.2 miles. Less than an hour later I left the small mountain village and caught a bus down the mountain to Fujisan station, then onto Tokyo after a couple of railway transfers.

After being awake for a continuous 35 hours, I was back in Tokyo that afternoon. I was so thrilled about my ascent, I visited the Ota Kinen Bijutsukan (Ota Memorial Museum of Art) to see a beautiful display of ukiyo-e art. I left my climbing pack at the front desk and donned slippers to visit this intimate museum. I then wandered around on my last evening in Tokyo taking in the ebullient capital before returning to my hotel and collapsing that night. I figured I would catch up on sleep on the 10-hour flight home the next day.

Fuji-san has a beautiful symmetric aesthetic that is integral to the Japanese culture, and I was glad to finally have had a shot at reaching its summit. Off-season climbing has the benefit of no crowds which would likely diminish the experience of climbing this great mountain. The climb is relatively easy and the logistics are the climb’s crux. I can understand the complex and, at times, inscrutable Japanese a little better after having had the honor of standing atop Japan’s most beloved mountain to admire the view.

[From the January 2012 Mazama Bulletin]

By Annie Lamberto

This story starts somewhere in history. Somewhere in my history. Somewhere when I lost brain cells dedicated to self-preservation, logic, and common sense. But, I won’t begin the story there…especially since I cannot figure out that time and place.

For the current story…I suppose it starts on a glorious 4-day trip into the Enchantments. I had never been there before and enjoyed every second of the trip. We hiked, headed to the top of Little Annapurna, saw the obligatory mountain goats, and basked in the amazing scenery. On the last day, while hiking out, I began to experience pain in my lower left leg. I cannot explain much more than that. By the time I returned home, later that day, my lower leg was swollen. My shin had a large, red knot and it was painful to walk.

Here’s where I caution all who are reading. The desire to continue with your plans does not mean you can change reality. Looking back, I am sure I believed, “If I pretend nothing is wrong, it’ll all work out.” I also pretended to take care of things. Upon returning from the Enchantments on Friday night, I practiced R.I.C.E. for a whole 24 hours. On Sunday, I went to a Feral Fit workshop at the gym—my leg wrapped in an ACE bandage, jumping, climbing ropes, and vaulting over obstacles. All the while, my leg was in pain and swollen. I’m sure you are wondering, “Why would you do that?” My response is simple:“I didn’t want to miss anything.”

With that at the forefront of my logic, on the following Tuesday, August 23, I headed up to assist on the Wonderland Trail Outing. The plan was aggressive and exciting. The Wonderland Trail circumnavigates Mount Rainier. The trail is 93 miles and has a cumulative 22,000 ft of elevation gain. By most accounts, the estimated 200 people who complete the entire trail each year take an average of 10–14 days. However, remember our outing was aggressive and exciting, and filled with those whom have a common philosophy: “Why take 10 days, when you can do it in 5?”

Our Wonderland Outing Team was led by Gary Bishop, assisted by me, and consisted of Terry Donahe, Sue Ann Koniak, Duane Nelson, and Brad Tollefson. The plan was set—Day 1: 17.6 miles, Day 2: 20.8 miles, Day 3: 18.9 miles, Day 4: 20.3 miles, and Day 5: 14.5 miles. Gary, Sue Ann and I met Brad and Duane the evening of August 23 at Cougar Rock campground. Terry arrived the next morning, August 24. We left the trailhead at approximately 9:30 a.m. on Wednesday, August 24. We were excited, clean, and amped with anticipation. I was also still hurting. I had decided that I was probably suffering from stress fractures in my shin. I mentioned it to Gary on the ride up to Rainier, quickly dismissing it as a problem, assuring him that everything was fine.

Within the first 7 miles of the hike, the pain in my leg and swelling increased. By mile 8, I was playing a mind game with myself, thinking, “Well, I can still do this for 5 days. I’ll ice it and rest in camp each night.” By mile 9, I was doing the math. “It will take just as much mileage to return to the trailhead as it will to get to camp.” I was limping and it didn’t seem to matter whether I was heading uphill or downhill. At a break, I quietly told Gary that things were deteriorating. As the limping increased, word spread among the group that I was injured.

I should take a moment to explain my personality. At my core, I am fiercely independent and extremely reluctant to be perceived as weak. Maybe it’s a girl thing…I don’t know. I’m also anti-social and commonly confused as to how I ended up in the Mazamas. I didn’t want to tell people that I was hurting and internally struggled with my desperate desire to not fail. Maybe this is a conflict common to climbers. Maybe we always ask ourselves, “When do we turn around, when do we keep pushing?” Maybe most climbers know how to answer that question. I apparently did not.

Sometimes, deep down, I consider myself an imposter, brazenly pretending to be something I am not, pretending to be a climber, a hiker, an adventurer, a Mazama. If I admit I am hurting, then people will see that I am a fraud, a fake, a failure. Sometimes, I am surprised that no one has noticed, that no one calls me on it, that I am accepted.

I do not mean to be so revealing, but I think it is important that we search our motivations, our passions, our desires, and our selves. I think, by nature, I want to become more aware of who I am…and why I sometimes act like an idiot.

Back on the trail, I kept going, still only on day one. I remember by mile 10, the wonderful Sue Ann turning to look at me, recognizing the look of pain on my face, and attempting to wrap her arms around me in a hug. I pushed her away, instantly realizing that I could not finish, that I wanted to cry, that I had failed.

At approximately mile 15, the team reached Klapatche Park Camp. It was not the destination for the night; we still had about 3 more miles to go to reach North Puyallup River Camp. However, I had reached my limit. I could not continue. At the break, I let Gary know I would be stopping. We reviewed my gear and considered my ability to self-evacuate. The team, which included experienced climbers, EMT’s, and WFR’s, felt comfortable about my ability to get out on my own. More importantly, I insisted on it, and felt comfortable in my ability to do so. We looked at the map to determine my plans for exiting the trail the next day. It was decided that I could leave Klapatche in the morning via the St. Andrews Trail. After about 3 miles, I would intercept the Westside Road, which would then take me about 8 miles to a trailhead where I would hope to get a ride back to Longmire. Since the Westside Road was closed to traffic, I would likely have to make it to the trailhead before finding a ride. I said goodbye to the team, and set up camp for the night. I was thankful to be alone. When my leg would spasm into a cramp, I could wail into the night. I couldn’t help it. I slept fitfully until morning, hoping that being off my leg would provide some relief in the morning.

I woke up on Thursday, August 25, feeling like I had been in the wilderness for weeks. I broke down camp and set off on the St. Andrews trail. I never saw anyone, was still limping, and had much time with my own thoughts. I wasn’t worried or concerned. As I continued down the trail, I was comforted by the fact that I had gear, food, and the ability to set up camp if needed. As I came upon the Westside Road, I was glad to have minimal elevation change. It was relatively flat and wide. After about 4 miles of slowly heading out, I told myself, “I can always set up camp and rest; I can take days to get out if needed.” I would stop and rest when the pain seemed unbearable, but since it didn’t seem to relieve anything, I often just kept going.

After about 5 miles on the Westside Road, a ranger’s truck was coming towards me. She stopped and asked what I was doing. I explained that I was on the Wonderland last night, but had to come out due to an injury. She asked if I needed help. I said it would be great if she could give me a ride back to Longmire.

Getting “rescued” by a National Park Ranger was an interesting experience. Ranger Turiya called in to dispatch informing them of the situation. She then requested my identification, permit number, and placed my gear in the back seat of the truck. I was frisked and questioned for weapons. I was then allowed in the truck. As we drove, we talked about being a ranger, conservation, and my injury. The drive seemed long and I came to realize I would have never made it out in one day had Ranger Turiya not arrived. I was dropped off in the Longmire parking lot and refused medical assistance. My Wonderland Trial adventure was over. I drove home.

Looking back, I am thrilled to have experienced the tiny bit of the Wonderland Trail that day. It was mesmerizing and amazingly beautiful. It left me with the anticipation of going back, which I plan to do next year….because I am a hiker, a climber, and an adventurer (and Mazama). I also caution all other adventurers to listen to your bodies…and don’t become an idiot like me.

Postscript: The Wonderland Team continued to complete the trail. I returned to the park on Sunday, August 28th to meet them at the trailhead. They were filled with stories of glaciers, bears, and lots of elevation. My leg remained swollen and painful for about 2 weeks.

[From the March 2012 Mazama Bulletin]

By Barbara Weiss

The Mazamas have recently taken positions on current issues facing both the cougar and wolf populations in Oregon.

In 1994 Oregon voters approved a cougar-hunting ban. Since then many rural residents have argued that the large cats pose a threat to humans and pets as well as to livestock. Voters refused to reverse the ban in 1996, but state figures showed a sharp increase in the number of cougars.

According to an April 2011 article on oregonlive.com by Jeff Mapes of the Oregonian, the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife has “expanded cougar hunting without hounds and made it cheap to get tags.” The result of this action was that more hunters bagged “as many cougars without dogs as they did before the ban.”

Supporters of a bill that is currently under consideration by the Oregon State legislature say that the use of dogs wearing collars with radio transmitters dramatically increases efficiencies because the dogs typically tree the cougars which are then shot by hunters.

HB 4199 directs the Fish and Wildlife commission to set up a pilot project on the use of dogs to hunt or pursue cougars. The Mazamas have taken an action to oppose this bill based on data that indicates:

• There are currently more cougars killed each year now by hunters than there were before hound hunting was banned. 
• The state has numerous tools (including dogs) at its disposal to target the occasional problem cougar that may be coming too close to human communities.

We stood in support of judicious use of management tools now available to ODFW to address the problem.

We also joined a Sierra Club-led coalition to oppose HB 4158, a measure before the Oregon legislature that provides easier means to issue kill orders for wolves in Oregon. This bill permits the elimination of wolves in the event that they have preyed on livestock.

Oregon established its first wolf bounty in 1843, bringing to bear more than a century of persecution that led to the end of the wolf population. The last animal submitted for bounty was taken in 1946 in the Umpqua National Forest. From then until 1974, no gray wolves were recorded in Oregon.

Today, Oregon’s wolf management plan allows the state to remove wolves involved in “chronic livestock depredation.” Currently farmers are compensated by the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife for the full loss of any livestock proven to be a wolf kill. At issue is whether the state and effected ranchers are taking enough non-lethal measures to prevent wolf/livestock conflicts before resorting to lethal means of control.

There are fewer than 30 wolves in Oregon’s packs. In the fall of 2011, a judge blocked a state order targeting two wolves in Oregon’s Imnaha pack, including the pack’s alpha male. The state order would result in the elimination of the first wolf pack that has begun breeding in Oregon in more than six decades.

In mid-February both bills were sent to the Ways and Means Committee and will be referred to a subcommittee for future work sessions.

Issues around how to allow cougars and wolves to live alongside humans and domesticated livestock are complicated with plenty of passion on both sides. There are no easy answers. And there will likely always be conflicts between ranchers and horse owners, and cougars and wolves. It is important, though, that we seek a thoughtful, balanced approach to how we manage these populations while being respectful of the real impact experienced by rural ranchers and landowners.

[From the June 2012 Mazama Bulletin]
by Ed Johann

On Sunday, May 13, 1973, six blind teenagers equipped themselves with ropes and crampons to scale the tallest mountain in Oregon. These brave, adventurous young people attended the Washington State School for the Blind in Vancouver, Washington. The six students included 12-year-olds Viola Cruz and Theresa Clay, 14-year-olds Dan Davidson and Bernie Buhl, and 18-year-olds Les Robbins and Dean Atkinson.

It was with some hesitation that I agreed to lead these enthusiastic youngsters up to the summit of Oregon’s highest mountain. I’ve had years of experience as a mountain guide in the United States and abroad, but never have I had the responsibility of a group like this one. I had visited the students at their school several times to talk to them and let them handle some of the mountaineering equipment.

Two experienced mountaineers accompanied each blind student on the trek up the 11,235-ft. snow-capped Mt. Hood. The party left from Timberline Lodge at 6,000 ft. and were under the direction of myself, Ed Johann, a Portland, Oregon fireman at the time, long associated with the Mazamas Mountaineering organization and the Mountain Rescue Service.

We equipped them well and took more precautions than usual to ensure their safety and protect them from the elements. We wanted to give them a mountaineering experience that they would remember happily. According to Bryan Bernow, superintendent of the school, “An object of the climb is to prove that you needn’t be able to see something to enjoy it.”

I learned that they had been getting into physical condition for this venture by running a course laid out with lengths of string. They would place one of their hands on the string to aid them as they jogged along. Mr. Berhow said that the students were really excited about the climb. I needed and obtained help for this venture from a few mountaineering friends. I also had the assistance of my two sons, Joe and Ed Jr., who had had many mountain ascents in the Northwest Cascades and elsewhere. I was also able to acquire the needed technical equipment for the kids and arrange the transportation.

For safety on the mountain, I tied everyone together in rope teams as we traveled upwards. The adults traveling with us used flashlights in the darkness to aid progress. The welfare of our young companions was the main concern of this climb. If anyone became tired or wanted to quit, we would all turn back. If the weather turned bad, the trip would be called off.

As prepared as we could be, our attempt began at Timberline Lodge. In the darkness of the early morning, we made sure that each student had the proper equipment needed in their pack sacks. The group started in good weather from the lodge at 2:30 a.m., the youngsters noticing the brisk, cold night winds. After the rising of the sun, it was necessary to remind them often to apply sunscreen lotion.

We had a slow, but steady pace set, and except for the sounds of boots crunching into the snow, it was quiet while we were traveling. As the dark, silent morning turned to semi-darkness, and streaks of gray began to show, a new day was born. Now with the warm morning sun shining, members of the group began to chatter as the warmth embraced them. The adults described the wondrous scenery to their young friends as we continued our steady pace.

In the steep or difficult places, we set up hand lines as well as being roped together in teams. Safety was the number one factor. After reaching the higher mountain slopes, efforts became tiring. We had a few rest stops during which we ate snacks of cookies and candy. Sunscreen lotion was also applied at these times. The students were unable to appreciate the various bright colors of packs and clothing spread out on the white snow during these rest stops. Viola said the students were able to eat lunch, despite the rotten egg smell slope of sulfur fumes from the crater, which sometimes spoils climbers’ appetites. “The food was good and we really were hungry,” she said.

The last torturous feet to the summit were up “The Chute,” an agonizingly steep slope that has claimed lives in the past. Special protection was provided here by setting lines anchored with pickets in the snow. The blind youngsters met the challenge with guts and determination, more than I’ve ever seen from any neophyte climbers. Near the summit we were involved with some very steep pitches and some precipitous sections. But, after much exertion and encouragement, we finally managed to get everyone on the summit; elevation 11,235 feet. The youngsters were all very excited that they had accomplished this great feat. It took 12 hours to reach the summit; the same amount of time usually needed to make the round trip. Miserable snow conditions, not the kids, slowed the party.

The girls were so tired they made the summit on sheer determination, nothing else. We’ve never been so impressed—to see a wisp of a little girl doing what strong, grown men sometimes have been unable to do. We were pretty choked up standing on top of that mountain with those incredible kids. We all felt good, really good.

By midday the snow had turned to mush under the springtime sun and the climbers sank to their knees with each step on the descent. Ski poles, carried by the blind students for more stability instead of the usual ice ax, helped keep the youngsters from stumbling at that point.

What was the favorite part of the climb for the students? “Going down,” they all agreed. The group, despite the messy snow, was able to glide and slide down the safer inclines. On the final stretch, a broad blanket of snow stretching thousands of feet in a gentle incline, two of the blind boys took the lead, using a ski pole to find the way. The trip back to Timberline Lodge took about four hours.

Viola, describing the climbers’ triumphant feeling, said “I did what I couldn’t believe I’d do, stand almost at the top of the world for a few minutes.”

I have climbed many peaks higher than this one, but because of these students, this will remain the high point of my mountaineering career.

News of this climb is mentioned in publications such as Mount Hood by Jack Grauer, Blindskills Inc., Salem, Oregon, Hazardous Adventures by Ed Johann, International Herald Tribune, Paris, France and newspapers in Oregon and Washington.

[From the April 2012 Mazama Bulletin]

Ingalls Peak, various routes (7662 ft)
Ingalls Peak, or perhaps Ingalls Peaks because there are three separate peaks, is located directly west of Mt. Stuart and is accessed through Cle Elum and I-90. It is possible to climb Ingalls car-to-car in a long day, but why do that when an overnight near beautiful Lake Ingalls is possible (mountain goats up close included)? Most climbers head straight to the classic South Ridge route of the 7662 ft. North Peak where very good rock and moderate 5.6 climbing awaits eager AR graduates. Not quite as popular is the East Ridge route, also on the North Peak, which is low 5th class except for a short section of 5.7 near the summit. From Ingalls’ summit there is a jaw-dropping view of the West Ridge route of Mt. Stuart, which will make a climber dream of even bigger adventures.

Castle and Pinnacle – Sojo Hendrix Photo

The Tatoosh, various peaks and routes
Along Rainier National Park’s southern boundary lies an east-west subrange called The Tatoosh. This range extends from Tatoosh Peak itself westward to Eagle and Chutla Peaks. The summits of this range are very popular because they are easily accessible, require moderate technical skills and, when the weather is nice, provide fabulous views of Mt. Rainier. While Tatoosh Peak and Stevens Peak on the east end of the range are seldom climbed, Unicorn Peak, The Castle, and Pinnacle Peak are very popular. Slightly less popular are Boundary, Lane, Plummer, Wahpenayo, Chutla, and Eagle. Maintained trails lead close to the tops of some of these peaks while the rest have 3rd and 4th class scramble routes. It is possible in a two day backcountry weekend to climb all the peaks from Unicorn to Eagle. If you desire more excitement than a scramble, Unicorn Peak has short routes on the summit block that are rated up to 5.6, as does The Castle, and the east ridge of Pinnacle is a long single pitch 5.4 rock climb. While Lane Peak’s main route is a scramble, there are several steep multi-pitch snow couloirs on the north side of the peak that can be climbed in winter or early season. The best known of these routes is called The Zipper. All in all, The Tatoosh are hard to beat for their alpine environment, mixed snow and rock routes, and gorgeous mountain scenery.

Mt Hood, various routes (11,240 ft)
The route choices on Mt. Hood are numerous and this year climb leaders will be offering seven routes up several sides of the mountain, including the standard Old Chute, the more difficult Wy’east route and the Reid Glacier. No matter which route you choose, you will find technical challenges along the way to the summit. If you want to avoid the crowds, look for a weekday climb of the peak.

Mt. Adams, South Side or Mazama Glacier (12,276 ft)
The South Side route on Mt. Adams is a high, gentle climb, great for beginning climbers who want an overnight trip with fewer people and a more wilderness feel than Mt. Hood. You will encounter little technical difficulty on this South Side route, but you will get to try your hand at camping around 9,000 ft. and using crampons and an ice axe. The Mazama Glacier route offers a bit more of a technical challenge and you may encounter snow slopes of up to 35-40 degrees, along with open crevasses.

Del Campo Peak, SW Buttress (6610 ft)
Del Campo Peak is among the peaks in the Monte Cristo range. It has a moderate approach over snow in early season, or on heather and rock in the summer. The summit pinnacle is a 3rd class scramble. The approach is through a historic mining area and many climbers choose to camp at Foggy Lake below Del Campo. Gothic Peak is often climbed on the same trip.

Eldorado Peak, Eldorado Glacier (8868 ft.)
Eldorado Peak is located on the edge of an expansive ice shelf in the North Cascades. The views from the summit are among the best in the North Cascades National Park, from Forbidden Peak, Buckner and Sahale Peaks to the summits of the Ptarmigan Traverse. The climb itself is a straightforward glacier climb with a knife-edged ridge leading to the dramatic summit. The approach is a typical North Cascades steep and strenuous hike, but well worth the effort.

[From the May 2012 Mazama Bulletin]

By Natalie Wessel, CSCS

Spring is upon us, and that means summer climbing season is on its way! As many of the 2012 BCEP students are learning first-hand, conditioning hikes are a key way to get fit to climb. But what other training routines are Mazamas following to get in shape? I interviewed a number of active members and here is what I learned.

Why do you think exercise is important for climbers? How has it also helped you in your daily life? ASI grad Derek Castonguay believes there are many variables to consider. “A climber must be able to get themselves and their gear up and down the mountain efficiently and confidently. Typical climbs go on for hours in duration, and travel through rugged and steep terrain at altitude. Climbing involves carrying heavy packs with large boots and bulky clothing. It is difficult even for the high-volume climber to stay in such sport-specific fitness. Thus, a structured exercise program is quite beneficial.”

Climb leader Tim Scott boils it down to this: “If you’re fit, you’re going to have a far more enjoyable time in the mountains. You’ll also be able to cover more ambitious efforts with a larger margin for delays.”

David Zeps, a climb leader and physician, provides another angle. “In my daily life, exercise helps me sleep better, gets my mind off problems and when done with a group, such as hiking with the Mazamas, is a bit of socialization and a chance to meet interesting people.”

Tell me about your active lifestyle–do you follow a specific training program?

I was curious to learn what some of my Mazama peers are doing right now, pre-season.

Wim Aarts, Climb Leader and former ski mountaineering leader for the German Alpine Society, integrates his training into daily life, with a daily 14-mile bike commute to work and a mission to continuously stay fit. “Training for me is much more an addiction than anything else. I’ve bike commuted since I was 18 years old. Biking to work is the most refreshing part of the whole day. And I basically stay relatively fit all year round. I’ve never been in a gym. I hate gyms. I bike, I run, I hike. I come home, I have a pull-up bar and some weights, I do some crunches. I like that much more. Being fit is really fun.”

Tim Scott lives an active lifestyle, too, incorporating cross training. “I bike around town whenever I go out or run errands, probably about 2-3 hours per week. Adding 10-15 lbs increases the workout a little. I also run steps at Mt. Tabor once a week. Eight laps takes about 45 minutes and counts for about 2,500 feet. That’s excellent cardio and strength training. I also get into the
rock gym 2-3 times per week.”

Robin Wilcox, a current AR student, seeks opportunities to improve her fitness every chance she gets. “I always carry extra weight in my pack when I’m hiking even if it’s just a hike with non-climbing friends. They usually think that’s pretty great because it means I’m carrying everyone’s lunch, extra clothes, etc., but it really pays off when I’m on a climb.”

Derek Castonguay works out at the gym, and stresses the importance of balancing cardio, strength and flexibility. “My choice for cardio is the elliptical trainer, with upper and lower body involvement and adjustable incline. You can keep yourself motivated by visualizing yourself climbing up a steep mountain!” As for strength training, “Strong legs are the main focus to climb up and DOWN steep terrain with a heavy pack and stay in control. Muscular endurance is most important. I prefer lunges in various directions for this. You train with functional movements building strength, balance, and stamina.”
Jed Stasch, an ASI Grad, mostly runs but notes the importance of training with purpose. “Running satisfies my need for cardio conditioning, but it does not help me carry a pack. In the early spring (now), I will start hiking with weight. Going fully loaded on a climb when you haven’t carried a pack in five months can be pretty painful.” He adds, “By far my most productive training has occurred while preparing for a particular climb or trip. I start ramping up my activity a good 6-8 weeks in advance, and am able to find motivation that I would never otherwise find.”

Specificity is indeed a key element. To prepare for a Denali attempt this June, David Zeps has been walking a loop in his neighborhood with a progressively heavier pack since November. He notes, “the loop is 3 or 3.5 miles, and I started with a 20 lb pack, increasing by 5 lbs about every 2 weeks and doing the loop 5 times a week. I will lengthen the distance and elevation gain once I’m at the 60 lbs. Target is 60 lbs, 4 miles and 2,500 feet of elevation gain for several days in a row without aches or pains that carry over from one day to the next.”

Considering the importance of being able to take care of yourself when you are part of a team strikes a chord as well. David remarks, “As a member of a goal-oriented group, we have an obligation … to contribute and not to be an impediment to achieving the climbing goal. Since the goal requires a certain level of fitness, the climber must exercise to achieve the level of fitness needed in a climb.”

Considerations when getting started?

It is important to take into consideration your current level of fitness when embarking on a new program. Trying to do too much, too soon, may result in injuries and over-training.
Derek reinforces, “It does take time to build a foundation. Try to plan ahead so you can allow a slow, steady progression to avoid over-training. I would recommend a good 6-8 weeks.”

Shayna Rehberg, a graduate of AR and multi-sport athlete, values the time in between workouts as a means to recover properly. “Getting enough/regular sleep is my goal for general quality of life and any kind of training I’m doing. I aim for 8 hours. It’s ongoing work for me, but I know how good I’ve felt—mind, body, heart, spirit, everything—when I’ve managed to get a prolonged period of good rest.”

David Zeps adds some age-appropriate considerations: “Older people, particularly in their 50s and 60s, need much more time, in part because they may be rebuilding muscle mass and bone mass and slightly remodeling joints with early arthritic changes.” Wim Aarts echoes, “It becomes much more important when you get older. I don’t do extreme hard training, but when you get older you can’t afford to stop 2 months and then go run a marathon. You recover much less easily, and you need to be more consistent.”

Jed Stasch provides some advice to BCEP students: “The BCEP hikes are a fantastic tool for building strength and a base fitness level. While you will see significant gains in a single season, keep in mind that those gains can be built upon year to year, which can be pretty rewarding. Use the BCEP hikes to accustom to training in the rain, in the cold, and in the dark. Then you can better train through the winter, an ideal time to get fit for the coming climbing season.”

Robin Wilcox closes: “For [BCEP] climbers, I’d say take the conditioning hikes seriously. Make sure you’re adding weight each week and moving quickly and efficiently. The conditioning hikes should be fun, but they aren’t a stroll through the woods. When I was finished with BCEP, I almost felt like the climbs were easier and more relaxed than the pace of our team’s conditioning hikes.”

7 pm, Friday, June 22, 2012

Damien Gildea literally wrote the book on mountaineering in Antarctica and will be giving a slide show on his expeditions in there over the past decade or more. Damien is the Antarctica correspondent for Climb magazine, the American Alpine Journal and Alpinist magazine. If you’ve ever been curious about climbing in the deep south, well, here’s your chance to find out more!

WHEN: June 22, 2012, 7 pm
WHERE: Mazamas Mountaineering Center on SE 43rd and Stark in Portland

For more information, please follow this link:
http://www.mazamas.org/your/adventure/calendar_event/1900/

Wednesdays

The Mazamas’ only Eastside ramble begins at the Mazama Mountaineering Center 43rd/Stark. Walk at a brisk pace (2.5-3.0 mi/hr) through the streets, admiring the gardens of SE Portland up to Mt. Tabor Park. We may even catch a glimpse of a heritage tree. Once in the park we will take alternating trails to the top of the park up to the top of the #280 stairs at the NE corner of the park.

From there we will have 30 minutes to walk up and down the stairs then finish with a moderate stroll back to the MMC. Great training for climbing or backpacking this summer (load up your packs as you wish ?). Total mileage 6 miles (not including stairs climbed up/down). Elevation gain approx. 600 ft. Starts promptly at 6 pm. Total time 2 hours. Leader: Meg Linza, (503) 502-8782. $2.00 Fee .

WHEN: Wednesdays starting at 6pm (please arrive a little early to sign in)
WHERE: Mazamas Mountaineering Center on SE 43rd and Stark in Portland

XXX

See webpage for dates –
Leader Training: June 23, 2012

This summer, the Sunnyside Street Tree Team, in partnership with Portland Parks & Recreation Urban Forestry, will inventory every street tree in our neighborhood. We’ll record important tree data and compile a report with future planting recommendations for our street trees! It’s a great opportunity to learn about tree types and more!

Volunteer opportunities include:

Team Leader – Must attend training session June 23rd. Great opportunity to improve tree identification skills and learn more about tree health.

Data Collector – No experience required. Work alongside a team leader. Measure trees & record data along the inventory route.

Arborist-on-Call – Assist inventory teams with tough Tree ID questions, tree condition assessment, and high voltage wire recognition.

For more information and to register for the project, please follow this link.