Tag: ICS

Posted on

Meet the Mazamas

Connor Carroll is an avid backpacker, mountaineer and climber from Austin, Texas. Connor is an Oregon State University alumnus and since her undergraduate degree, calls Oregon and the Pacific Northwest home. After moving back to Oregon in 2020, she rediscovered her love for the mountains and noticed the profound impact on her depression, anxiety and disorder, Trichotillomania. Connor previously worked as an environmental educator and is now the Training and Recruiting Manager with People and Culture for Next Adventure. She spends her free time adventuring in the mountains with her Jack Russell, Dan.

Name:  Connor Carroll

Pronouns:  She/Her/Hers

Year Joined Mazamas: 2022

Present-day outdoor activities:  Backpacking, mountaineering, alpine and backcountry skiing, rock climbing, swimming in remote alpine lakes, and Stand Up Paddle Boarding.

What’s your earliest outdoor memory? Growing up with a father who was a Colorado native, I was fortunate enough to be introduced to backpacking at a young age. At just 5 years old, my family backpacked the Blue Lake Trail near Mt. Sneffels in the San Juans. We enjoyed simple snacks of Vienna sausages, frolicked in snow patches nestled on the mountainside, played on a log over a rushing creek, and my twin brother and I shared laughs in our sleeping bags on the forest floor. However, that adventure also marked my first encounter with altitude sickness. Struggling with the symptoms, my father had to carry me down the mountain. Since then, I’ve become overly cautious about altitude sickness, as it seems I’m particularly susceptible to it.

How did you first hear about the Mazamas, and what prompted you to engage with the organization?  Hold on…this is a long one!

Apart from a brief stint on the PCT in northern Washington after college, I hadn’t explored backpacking in the Pacific Northwest. Eager for an adventure summer of 2020, I settled on the Wallowas in Eastern Oregon for my first backpacking trip back in the PNW. The plan was to trek 9 miles to Ice Lake, unwind by the frozen lake, and summit Matterhorn, a peak standing at 9,826 ft. Being from Texas, I had little experience with snow, so I was surprised to find Ice Lake frozen, and Matterhorn covered in snow in early July. (Now – not so surprising HA)

The following day, we joined two seasoned hikers for a summit attempt on Matterhorn. As we ascended, there was a steep snow patch above Ice Lake that we had to cross. Due to my inadequate footwear, I slipped numerous times, almost risking falling into the ice-covered lake below. Thankfully, the quick reflexes of one of the men saved me each time I slipped. I’m forever grateful! Since I was unable to cross without slipping, we navigated through scree to bypass the snow patch. Despite the initial scare, we continued, scrambling over rocks and wading through deep snow until safety concerns prompted us to turn around. The views were unforgettable, and we descended by glissading down Matterhorn.

The rest was history; I was hooked. Eager to pursue mountain climbing safely (not slipping into an icy lake), I sought guidance. In March 2021, with the help of my friend Marisa Carrion, an experienced mountaineer, I conquered my first volcano, Mt. St. Helens. Marisa recommended Mazamas and encouraged me to enroll in a beginner course so I could join her on more technical climbs. At the time I was unsure due to time and financial constraints.

However, in the summer of 2021, I went backpacking solo in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. Following what I thought was the “off-trail trail”, I boulder hopped and soon found myself on the left side of the ridge. According to my GPS I was supposed to be on the right side of the ridge. Looking for another way around, it became evident that another way was impossible. I made the call to return to the lower lake to camp. While hiking down, I lost my footing and fell 15 feet, hitting my head on a rock.

To this day, I remember the slow-motion experience of my fall. When I landed, blood covered my face and head. I looked like I walked out of a horror film. I quickly took my pack off to get my first aid kit.  I kept repeating, “you’re okay, you’re fine.” I wanted to believe the words I was saying, after all, my worst fear had finally happened; I was alone in the wilderness and injured. I quickly put pressure on the wound on my head to stop the bleeding. Fortunately, at the lower lake there was a team of climbers that quickly noticed my head bandage and frazzled demeanor. They greeted me, sat me down, thoroughly cleaned out my wound and continued to monitor my state. I learned that this group of climbers met through a Seattle alpine club called The Mountaineers. The bond this team had was supportive and special. Where could I find a group of people that would have my back in the mountains? Mazamas.

I decided to apply for the Basic Climbing Education Program with Mazamas to gain the proper education and build a community that could help me work through my new PTSD. I was fortunate to have been accepted and to join Pushkar Dixit’s team, where I met some truly remarkable individuals that I now call my dear friends. After BCEP, I continued with my education and applied for ICS in 2022. Between BCEP and ICS I’ve had the pleasure of climbing 11 peaks. I cannot wait to see what the summer of 2024 will hold!

As more people seek to recreate outdoors, what advice would you offer them? Challenge yourself and step out of your comfort zone; that’s how I have such a range of outdoor hobbies. It’s terrifying! But by taking chances, I now am part of an amazing climbing community and I have been able witness some of the most breathtaking places. While it’s inevitable that bad things can occur in the backcountry, like my fall, it hasn’t kept me from pursuing what I love. Instead, I view each experience as an opportunity to learn and grow as an outdoorswoman.

What activities/situations/people most inspire you? It’s truly inspiring to witness how individuals who have overcome adversity, whether it’s a physical disability, mental health challenges, or unfortunate life events, find solace and healing in nature and the wilderness. As someone who deals with mental health issues and has faced setbacks, I’m deeply moved when I see people triumph over their struggles and continue to embrace the beauty and imperfections of life!

What is your favorite book/movie/TV show/social media account that you follow and why? “Fried Green Tomatoes” holds a special place in my heart. While my father is from Denver, my mother is from New Orleans. A lot of my childhood was in New Orleans, visiting multiple times a year. Growing up in the South and in an Italian family, cooking is deeply ingrained in our culture. This film is not just about cooking/fried green tomatoes; it’s about women, their strength, their love, and how they navigate life. It evokes a strong sense of home for me.

What’s on your adventure bucket list? I sadly lost my Uncle Andy at a young age, but my father has kept his adventurous spirit alive. Here’s an article about my Uncle Andy that our family finds hilarious:
https://www.westword.com/news/top-of-their-game-5054370?fbclid=IwAR0Xv5SYkQxwou9T32mSoLnwvdddj3YqFr0BGtHauTNT3VT9JUDtlNJ-rbM_aem_AQVCoN1NzpdjKst3pze6nN-f1xDjBfjHfC31U2Y1WZggnRq65KRsBQ_ekavMVME9F1WTAU7_TATDePUdP9r230IE

Since I was a kid, I’ve always associated my Uncle Andy with The Andes in South America. I have always wanted to visit and backpack in The Andes. Now that I have mountaineering and climbing experience, exploring this range in a more technical sense would feel like a meaningful tribute to my Uncle Andy and his deep love for the mountains.

Posted on

Meet the Mazamas

Joshua moved to the Pacific Northwest about 10 years ago, and in the past few years he’s done a lot of climbing with the Mazamas through our Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP) and Intermediate Climbing School (ICS) programs. When not out in the wild, he works to create more equitable, prosperous and resilient communities. 

Joshua also has been instrumental in creating the Queerzamas, an affinity group within the Mazamas for queer and/or trans folks and was part of our first-ever queer BCEP team.

Name:  Joshua Baker

Pronouns:  he, him, his

Year Joined Mazamas: 2022 

 Present-day outdoor activities: Mountaineering, rock climbing, hiking, backpacking  

What’s your earliest outdoor memory? Growing up on a dairy farm in northern New York – cows out to pasture are an early outdoor memory. In terms of outdoor recreation, ice skating on a frozen pond at my grandparents farm with my sisters and cousins is an early memory I have.

How did you first hear about the Mazamas, and what prompted you to engage with the organization? I first learned about the Mazamas about a decade ago when I worked for the nonprofit, Focus the Nation. Each summer we held an annual climate focus retreat at the Lodge and went on Mazama-led hikes up to Elliot Glacier area. It wasn’t until I had a couple friends who did BCEP in 2019 that I decided I wanted to get involved in the Mazamas though. 

As more people seek to recreate outdoors, what advice would you offer them? Find what brings your joy in the outdoor community. 

What activities/situations/people most inspire you? Historically I’ve been a solitary creature – particularly when it comes to outdoor activities. More and more I have found inspiration, comfort, and enjoyment in the community building aspects of my outdoor pursuits. That’s why I’m particularly excited to be part of the new Queerzamas affinity space.  Queerzamas will also be marching in the Pride Parade on July 16 – hope to see you there!

What is your favorite book/movie/TV show/social media account that you follow and why? For folx who’ve spent a good amount of time around me the past few years, they  know I’m a bit obsessed with beavers and their importance to ecosystems in the West (and that they are adorable). A lot of my passion stems from reading Ben Goldfarb’s  “Eager: The Surprising, Secret Life of Beavers and Why They Matter.”

What’s on your adventure bucket list? In addition to the mountains, I love the Oregon High Desert. I’m slowly chipping away at visiting, hiking, and volunteering on environmental stewardship trips to sites along the Oregon Desert Trail and across High Desert. I’m hoping to get out to the Owyhee Canyonlands for an adventure soon!

Posted on

ICS Spouse Survival Guide

by Becky Nelson

The author, right, and her husband Harry Colas.

So your loved one is considering the Mazama Intermediate Climbing School (ICS).
When my husband announced his intentions last year to apply for the ICS I wasn’t surprised—but I was a little worried.

We had made a Faustian bargain the year before: he would agree to move to my favorite city, Portland, if and only if I would sign up for a basic mountaineering course with him, which of course turned out to be the Mazama Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP). At the age of six, I floated a similar bargain to my parentas: I would agree to move to Arizona if and only if they bought me a hamster. Six weeks later, in Scottsdale, Busy Bob entered our lives. Despite a debilitating fear of heights and a distaste for anything remotely athletic—coordination is not my strong suit—I figured BCEP couldn’t be half as bad as owning a pet hamster so we shook on it, moved to Portland, and six weeks later jumped into BCEP.

And we had a total blast! But while I loved my BCEP experience, ICS felt like another beast altogether: a big, scary, massive time suck of a class colorfully illustrated by intense photos, secondhand tall tales, and snarky warnings (including my favorite, “BCEP is where you find a partner, ICS is where you lose them.”) If I wasn’t ready to take the plunge myself, I was even less enthusiastic about watching my partner do so. Harry, on the other hand, was fearless. So I watched him apply, ace the test, and get accepted with trepidation in my heart (trepidation, of course, requiring very little coordination).

The author, right, and her husband Harry Colas at Smith Rock.

But we made it through the nine months of ICS and I’m happy to report, at least for us, the worry and the warnings did not come to fruition—we are even still married! So if you find yourself weighing whether to wholeheartedly support or wholeheartedly sabotage your loved one’s application, I encourage you to consider the five simple survival tips below. Follow them closely for a happy, productive, and dare I say enjoyable nine months as the spouse of an ICS student.

Survival Tip #1: Learn the Lingo

It can be tough to get your spouse’s attention when he is full-throttle ICS, all the time. If you’re finding that real life pales in comparison to Defeating the Plaquette or Escaping the Belay, learn to compete by becoming fluent in mountaineering jargon. Imagine the excitement involved in Evacuating the Dishwasher, Exterminating the Dandelions, or Expurgating the Bedlinens!

Survival Tip #2: Anticipate Needs

After about 30 minutes with an ICS assistant, your partner’s definition of basic human needs will expand to include not just food, shelter, and water, but also things like a pink tricam and a second ice tool. This is great news for you! Not only will buying your spouse the random $8 carabiner bring profane amounts of irrational delight, but you are set up for the most straightforward holiday shopping season ever (spoiler: you’re going to be buying those yellow La Sportiva boots.)
Also you’re going to need an air freshener for the car. Just trust me on this one. One of those pine tree jobbers will help make your partner (and her new dirty mountain friends) feel right at home.

Survival Tip #3: Practice Patience 

It’s the defining truth of ICS abandonment that your partner will be out of the house a lot. Take advantage of this absence by teaching the dog, cat, or kid—your choice!—where his loyalty should lie. My dog and I had a great nine months hiking, snuggling, eating table scraps, wrestling on the upholstery, pooping on the lawn, burying bones under my husband’s pillow … you get the idea.

The author, right, and her husband Harry Colas.

I also recommend watching the trashiest options available on your partner’s Netflix account, thereby completely ruining the algorithm for all time.

When you do see your partner, chances are good that you will be climbing. Prepare for a change in your typical climbing day. Pre-ICS may have consisted of a leisurely breakfast burrito, six solid hours of climbing, and a leisurely burger and beer before heading home. Post-ICS, you should come to expect a leisurely breakfast burrito (save half for lunch, the most valuable advice given in ICS), five hours and forty-five minutes of intense discussion about the climbing anchor, fifteen minutes of climbing, a fraught burger and beer over which there is more intense discussion about the climbing anchor, and guess what? More discussion on the drive home. Pack headphones.

Survival Tip #4: Accentuate the Positive

A few ICS hacks I learned this year: 

  • ICS is the perfect time to challenge your partner to a footrace with high stakes. Their confidence is high, their physical fitness incredibly low. For a course about mountaineering, there is very little actual mountaineering (or hiking, or really even walking) being done.
  • ICS is also the perfect time to suggest a visit from your in-laws. Not only will there be no free weekends during which your partner can take you up on this very kind, oh-so-thoughtful, just the sweetest offer, but your guest room will also more closely resemble an REI garage sale staging ground than an actual room that actual people could sleep in.
  • Your spouse’s baseline for “fun” will drop precipitously, and include things like intentionally falling off tall climbing walls, laying maimed on a snowy mountain for hours during first-aid scenarios, and drinking lukewarm Starbucks Vias. Dinner with your friends or seeing the latest Marvel monstrosity will seem positively rapturous by comparison. 

Use these hacks to your advantage.

Survival Tip #5: Don’t Keep Score

It may be framed as a year of sacrifice for the spouse that’s been “left behind,” but there are actually many benefits of ICS that will come to you through the hard work of your partner.
Though he will be eating, sleeping, and breathing ICS, he also will be weirdly paranoid about failing his tests. By quizzing him, you are not only improving your lingo fluency (see survival tip #1), you are also essentially auditing the class for free. When you inevitably apply for ICS, you will be way ahead of the game.

You will inherit, through very little effort on your part, cool new friends who have gone through nine months of serious vetting.

And, most importantly, it is extremely likely that the beneficiary of all this newly minted rescue expertise will be you. After a year of hard work, your spouse will still not be able to pull herself out of a crevasse. But she will be able to pull your lazy bones out of a crevasse, or lower your broken bones down a pitch, or CPR your unresponsive bones back to life, or at the very least prevent the dog from burying any bones under your pillow. She will work hard all year to learn skills that will benefit all of her future climbing partners, including you.

So it turns out that your loved one’s nine months of intense mountaineering training away from home really ends up being a selfless act of love and protection, and there’s no room whatsoever for resentment or regret.

Of course the best way to pay that forward, or perhaps exact your revenge, is to apply for ICS yourself. (Learn more about ICS)

Author Bio: Becky Nelson has been a member of the Mazamas since 2016. In addition to this, her Bulletin debut, she writes several emails a day.

Posted on

Mazama Courses Encourage and Inspire

The Mazamas offers year-round courses in outdoor sport for all experience levels. Whether you are just getting into outdoor recreation, or are a well-traveled adventurer, there is something for just about everyone. Our most well-known series is the Basic Climbing Education Program, followed by the Intermediate Climbing School and finally Advanced Rock and/or Advanced Snow and Ice Climbing.
However, the Mazamas doesn’t stop at the summit. Mountain and Ultra Running Camps, Wilderness Navigation, Nordic Skiing, Ski Mountaineering, Canyoneering, Families Mountaineering 101, and a whole host of smaller drop-in courses make sure that everyone can recreate safely in the outdoors. Our menu of offerings continues to expand and evolve, and can be found on our website mazamas.org/education-classes. Below are some hard-earned lessons learned from past course participants.

Getting Where You Want to Go

by Kristie Perry

Eight years after I moved to Oregon, I finally paid Smith Rock a visit. It was August 2003, somewhere around noon, and the park felt like a furnace. I was on my way home from Bend, having spent the weekend watching the Perseids, drinking too much wine, and smoking too many cigarettes. Through my hangover and the waves of heat, I watched climbers that surely must have been part gecko ascend and stick, ascend and stick, and then dance back down the wall like spiders. No way in Hell you’d ever catch me doing something like that. Ever.

Fast forward to 2013. I’d completed BCEP and summited a handful of glaciated peaks (because what else do you do once you’ve quit the booze and tobacco?). I’d been spending my Friday evenings at PRG with a charming Advanced Rock (AR) grad who thought it was perfectly reasonable to take me there on our second date. Even though I’d never been there before. (He kindly suggested I “rainbow up” the wall.)

And it is November 2013 and I am once again at Smith Rock State Park. For the second time. Ever. With the charming AR grad. And I am standing in front of Honey Pot on the Picnic Lunch Wall.

And I am standing in front of Honey Pot. And I am standing in front of Honey Pot. And I can’t figure out how to get off the ground. Charming AR grad’s climbing buddy gives me a butt belay and up I go. Alan Watts’ Smith Rock guidebook says Honey Pot (5.9, 3 stars) “begins with massive potholes leading to a knobby slab.” I remember none of that. I remember seeing no place to set my fingers or toes. I had no idea how I was going to climb that thing, but I knew I was going to climb it.

I cursed mightily and inched my way up. I pinched nubbins, I stood up on my feet, and I refused to let go. I looked for holds, I committed to moves, and I trusted my body to find the right balance. My heart pounded and my calves twitched. And on my first trip to climb at Smith Rock, I made it to the top of Honey Pot.

I’m never going to lead Chain Reaction. Ever. But sometimes when I get stumped by life, I think about that morning on Honey Pot and I’m reminded that everything I need to solve a problem is right in front of me and right inside of me. And that it doesn’t hurt to ask for a creative belay from a fellow climber. Climbers are always happy to help you get where you want to go.

Interview with Rebecca Ross

by Sue Griffith

High-quality educational programming is a central part of what the Mazamas offer to its members and the community. Each year, prospective students can find classes ranging from one day skill-builders to months long climbing and mountaineering classes. I asked Rebecca Ross, a recent BCEP grad, to share with us how Mazama classes have helped her to climb higher:

SG: Where were you in your outdoors/mountaineering/climbing journey at the start?

RR: I’ve been doing backpacking and hiking for about a year prior to this journey.

SG: What Mazama class(es) did you take and why?

RR: I took the Mazamas BCEP class after learning about it through the Mazama Winter Weekend. I wanted to take the class because I knew it would help me expand on what I already knew from my own personal backpacking trips, but also it would fill in some gaps where I lacked knowledge and experience.

SG: What did you do as a result of the class that you couldn’t do before?

RR: Mountaineering is something that I wouldn’t have been able to do safely prior to taking BCEP. I’ve always been interested in getting into mountaineering, but knew I wasn’t quite prepared to do so. Now I feel that I have a good basic understanding on knowing what precautions are needed to be safe and knowing my own limitations.

SG: What did the class lead you to try that you never imagined?

RR: I don’t think I ever pictured myself summiting mountains until after I completed BCEP. Now I’ve become a mountaineering enthusiast.

SG: How does that new skill make you feel/change your self-image, etc?

RR: I’ve become more cautious because I now know there are serious risks to everything I choose to do. However, I also have a better understanding about safety. I feel more confident in the decisions based on the skills I’ve learned.

Mazama Classes Lead to Unexpected Benefits

Editor’s Note: Josha and I (Sue Griffith) were BCEP classmates. I admired her abilities and engagement with Mazama climbing classes and asked her to contribute her story to the Bulletin.


by Josha Moss

I can’t say that I enrolled in BCEP with hopes of tackling as yet unimagined challenges. I had no ambition in mind other than getting into ICS or Advanced Rock. With no major goal other than learning more about climbing, that initial Mazama class morphed into a strong desire to learn trad and take AR because I really love climbing on rocks and want to share that with my friends.

While working my way through the Mazama climbing program, I not only grew my climbing skills, but also found a new community of friends, which allowed me to grow more authentically in ways I hadn’t really experienced before. Mazama classes provided a space for me to be present, while pulling away from a religious group I had been engaged with over the past 14 years. I loved the spirituality of this Christian group profoundly. I had spent years caring for their children and taking their teens backpacking and hiking. But despite my deep attachment, I found I could no longer tolerate their lack of support for female leadership and their firm stance against gay marriage. This realization came as I finally accepted I would never be attracted to men and recognized the truth of who I really am. I was open and honest about this new understanding with the ministers and elders of the congregation. They told me if I ever “acted on my tendencies” I would not be allowed in a leadership role with the children and teens—an age group I was already limited to since I was categorized as “female.” It was a heartbreaking transition to pull away from this group that was like family to me, despite how unhealthy it would have been to continue to support a community who did not support me, and where I could not live a fully authentic life or be supportive of all kinds of people.

Joining the Mazamas and enrolling in classes was a step towards branching out while still in my comfort zone with outdoor adventuring. At the time, my fear of trusting people made me very reluctant to be part of any organization; but the Mazamas proved a good choice for me. I have just completed AR and cannot express the extent of how enriching and fun it was. Rock climbing has had such a wonderful impact on my life—it provides physical, psychological, emotional, social, and even spiritual benefits. I am pleased with and grateful for where the Mazama classes have led me.

Basic Climbing Education Program Led Me to the Top of Oregon

by Avinash Agarwal

Snow is scary! Growing up in Mumbai, India, I did not see snow until I came to the U.S. as a 22-year-old graduate student. Two attempts at downhill skiing, both embarrassing failures, very quickly convinced me to stay away from snow-covered mountains for the rest of my life.

Fast forward a quarter century, where after living in the Pacific Northwest for a few years, I caught the hiking bug. After many hikes around the base of Mt. Hood with a local hiking group, I found myself captivated by stories from people who loved climbing mountains, and a few who had summited Hood. It seemed like a dream. A sweet, distant dream which would remain distant.

But something drove me to enroll in BCEP this year, which turned out to be the greatest opportunity of my life. The brilliant Mazama climbers volunteering their time, teaching us, working tirelessly for hours to train us, and captivating our hearts and minds with their energy and passion for climbing. By the end of the class, the bubble of comfort and fear was bursting.

A week later, I joined our BCEP leaders and a few other students from our class on a Mt. Hood climb from the south side. While we turned back from the Hogsback Ridge, looking at Devil’s Kitchen’s Headwall, I was sure I had never been to a more beautiful place in my life. I returned home, after being so close to the summit, very sore and immensely enriched.

Three weeks later, on the night of May 27, my friend Doug from the BCEP class and I headed up from Timberline Lodge once again. The climb was difficult, but I could feel the mountain welcoming us and urging us to continue on. Continue, we did, and at 7:20 a.m. we were standing on the summit of Mt. Hood. The first time for both of us and we were greeted with perfect weather, jaw dropping views, the deepest sense of wonder, and unimaginable beauty.

Sharing That First Climb

by Christine Yankel

Do you remember when you first climbed? Craning your neck, the feeling that there was no way in the world you’d make it up ten feet, let alone to the top, but then doing it? Discovering that tiny pebbles can hold you, that you can figure out the puzzle, that you could hold your partner’s fall? We learn so much in Mazamas, but what I’ve liked learning most is how sweet the feeling is of seeing kids have the chance to experience climbing.

As part of youth outreach, volunteers like Sheena Raab organize events so Mazama volunteers can work with kids in youth-serving organizations like Friends of Children and Adelante Mujeres. These organizations do amazing work with kids at risk, giving them skills and support to help them thrive. It’s humbling to play a part in it, belaying, encouraging. At the MMC, area gyms, and under blue skies at Horsethief Butte, the kids climb and learn, support each other, and radiate the joy of learning how much they can do, that feeling you had when you first climbed. We are so lucky to have mountains to climb. We are even luckier to have the chance to share this with others.

It Started at Horsethief

by Ed Conyngham

I attended Basic Climbing School in 1997, hoping to recapture the pleasures of hiking, climbing, and skiing I had enjoyed as a high school boy at Gresham Union High in the 1940s. At age 67, it was a late start for sure but the excitement, fitness, and camaraderie that came with BCS gave me the ability not only to go on climbs, but moved me to take Nordic ski lessons and teach Nordic too. Later I joined the Nordic Committee where I have served for a number of years. It’s been a great run and it all started at Horsethief Butte!

Posted on

A Climber Gone to the Dogs

Ranger post rescue prior to being portaged
back to the trailhead.

by Bruce Wyse

I had been a volunteer dog walker at the Oregon Humane Society (OHS) for a couple of years while at the same time working my way up a few peaks with my fellow Mazamas. One day, I was chatting with one of the other dog walkers, describing the training I was going through in Intermediate Climbing School (ICS). She mentioned that it sounded a bit like what the OHS Technical Animal Rescue team (known as OHSTAR) does and encouraged me to check them out. Intrigued, I applied for a spot on the team and started to attend their training and got a look at their “3:1 mechanical advantage rescue haul system”. The hardware is different: bigger, heavier, and a bit more complex, but it still seemed like a fancy name for a crevasse rescue “Z-system” to me. I guess mountaineers are just in the habit of shortening everything, including the names of things, if they think it will lighten the load in their pack.

During their once-a-month trainings I melded with the team and “learned the ropes” (pun intended). OHSTAR uses rescue procedures similar to many SAR groups (the group’s technical advisor is a long time PMR member). The basic skills overlap a bit with some of the mountaineering techniques learned in the Mazamas: knot work, wrap three pull two, being mindful of your angles, don’t step on the rope, etc. Added to these familiar items is more complex gear and procedures such as mirrored rope systems, mechanical ascenders and friction devices. There is a lot of cool gear that would make a gear head’s eyes light up (at least until they realize that they would have to divvy up an extra 50 pounds of group gear amongst a climb team). Since dogs are not people (despite what many of their owners believe) there are also extra skills involved with animal rescue, such as animal harnessing, that go beyond the

A dark and stormy night: rescuer (center in white helmet) 
makes final preparations before lowering down to Eagle Creek.

standard SAR bag of tricks—most important is to know animal behavior. How do you convince an animal that the strange big headed person with the glowing eye (a helmeted rescuer with a head lamp), who dropped from the sky (was lowered down a cliff), and is carrying numerous odd rattling objects (is decked out with gear) is a friend and came to help? (The secret is to be patient, carry treats, and a muzzle).

Once on the team I started to assist on a few rescues: scouting locations, schlepping gear, setting up, and hauling rope and a couple of times I got the nod to be the rescuer (i.e. the guy on the pointy end of the rope). We’ve done rescues both in the backcountry and within the Portland metro area. I’ve done technical roped ascents into trees to rescue distressed cats, helped capture injured geese for treatment at the Audubon society, and have done joint human/animal rescues with PMR and PNWSAR. There have been many memorable moments but a couple rescues stand out in particular.

Sandy’s Christmas Miracle

A Christmas miracle: Sandy is retrieved from Eagle Creek. 

It was a dark and stormy night (literally). It was also Christmas. While most of us were feasting and celebrating with family and friends, a merry gentleman, while hiking along the Eagle Creek trail in the Columbia River Gorge, lost control of his dog Sandy. The yellow lab plunged 150 feet down the cliff and was perched precariously on a ledge above the creek. The call went out and eight team members were able to respond on this holiday evening. Night had fallen, along with plenty of drizzly Oregon rain, by the time the team assembled, divvyed up the gear, and moved up to the rescue site.

Coincidentally the dog had fallen only about 50 yards from a point where we did another rescue just a month earlier. That other site, at a bend in the trail with convenient stout trees for anchors and a good work space to set up the haul system, was a decent place to operate. This one, with a cliff down one side, a steep slope up the other, and a narrow trail in the middle… not so much. The team tossed around some ideas and eventually came up with a feasible plan based on some anchors I’d once helped build while assisting a BCEP class at Horsethief Butte. A teammate and I went back down the trail where the slope was a bit less steep and scrambled up above our rescue site. While trying not to knock loose rocks (or ourselves) down upon our teammates below, we rigged up an anchor with one of our ropes to a couple of fir trees. After rappelling down the rope back to the trail we made anchor points for the haul systems and were then able to lower J.T., the rescuer, who was then able to harness and secure the dog. That was the easy part (relatively speaking). We had a very narrow working space for our mechanical advantage setup (the “Z”) and it was a short hand over hand pull, pull, “reset”… over and over again until at last the dog and rescuer were back up on the trail. Miraculously (a Christmas miracle you might say) the dog was without serious injury and was able to walk back (now securely leashed) down to the trail head.

Ranger’s Happy Ending

It was neither dark nor stormy, it wasn’t even night. It was a rare occasion for OHSTAR as the usual callouts happen after a person and their animal out enjoying some daytime fun in the forest get into trouble. By the time someone can get to where they have phone reception and the call goes through the emergency response system and the rescue team is assembled at the trail head, night has fallen. 

The day prior to this particular occasion Ranger, an 80 pound mastiff mix, while nosing through the underbrush (as dogs like to do) fell more than 100 feet over a cliff at Butte Creek Falls. The local fire department in Silverton, Oregon was unequipped to perform a rescue. After going through various channels OHSTAR got called out the following day. The dog had fallen off one side of a rock promontory that jutted out into Butte Creek. Joshua Osmun, Mazama member Jeff Nastoff, and I were able to scramble down one side and rig up a fixed line to traverse the cliff below the falls, enabling us to reach the dog and better assess the situation. Ranger had been lying beside the rushing water all night. He was cold, tired, hungry, and most obviously in pain from the exposed bone sticking out of his shoulder (as well as other injuries we could not see). Still, Ranger had the decency to be courteous (his exhaustion and my handful of treats probably helped).

Ranger, post-rescue and post-surgery stops
by OHS to show the author some gratitude.

Conditions were too hazardous to attempt to bring him up the way we came down so we scrambled back up and the team formulated a plan. Our seven member team set up a haul system for a vertical lift about 100 feet from the cliff face, the closest anchor points, and I geared up to go over the edge.

Once I reconnected with the dog I signaled to the team to bring me back up. Ranger was very compliant, harnessed up and hooked to the ropes, as we dangled beneath an overhang at the bottom of the cliff while waiting for the team to reset the haul system. However, I smelled trouble in the air.

More specifically, I smelled skunk in the air and started praying that the team would quickly reset and get us out of there before someone decided that we were unwelcome guests in their home. Luckily it turned out to be a non-event. We got Ranger safely to the top of the cliff and littered him back to the trailhead. His owner later told us that after about $10,000 worth of surgeries he was again a happy dog.

It is a very rewarding feeling being part of a team and providing relief not only to an animal in distress but also the people who care for them. The best advice I can give to people who travel with dogs in the back country is that if you are traveling in hazardous or unknown terrain keep your dog leashed (it’s like putting yourself in a position to be lucky).

Whether it is front country or back country, contact the Oregon Humane Society Technical Animal Rescue if your pet, or someone else’s, is trapped or stranded and needs help. Trained OHSTAR volunteers can evacuate injured pets from wilderness areas, retrieve pets stranded on cliff sides, river banks, and other areas and structures that can only be accessed safely using ropes, climbing gear and other technical rescue equipment or extricate animals trapped in enclosed spaces whose lives are in danger.

Contacting OHSTAR
Monday-Friday, daytime hours: 503-416-2993
Evenings and weekends: 503-849-5655
In cases of emergency, please call your local police department.

About the Author: Bruce Wyse retired from the Army, returned home to the Pacific Northwest, and considers himself on permanent vacation. He started volunteering with the Oregon Humane Society in 2009. He joined the Mazamas in 2010. When not out with these fine organizations he can usually be found exploring in the wilderness with his Red Heeler, Sasha.

Posted on

The Threat that Binds Mazama Volunteers: Inspiration

by Dan Schuster

The author on the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Photo: Godlisten Christosa

Ask any longtime supporters why they give heart and soul to the Mazamas and you’re likely to get different answers. Contrary to popular myth, we aren’t all climbing sport enthusiasts. Yet to say we all love the mountains or mountaineering may exclude rock climbing buffs who’d rather hang out at Smith, or hikers who love the woodlands. It’s difficult to identify a common thread binding us together because our passions sometimes drive us apart. While we each may have a different vision of what the Mazamas should be, one thing we all share is inspiration. Mazama volunteers have inspired us and in turn, we volunteer to inspire others.

For many of us, that inspiration started with our BCEP instructors, and I was no exception. My BCEP ‘88 instructor, Bo Nonn, is one of the unsung Mazama heroes. That’s not to say he didn’t receive all the awards that come from being a long-time climb leader, but he kept a low profile, focused instead on inspiring us to pass on the love of mountaineering. I followed his example through BCEP, ICS, and ASI for the 28 years since, and as a climb leader for the past 14. Over the years, I’ve given both personal time and money to the Mazamas and with so many other critical needs out there, you might ask, “Why the Mazamas?” It boils down to inspiration.

For example, you may have seen the movie “Meru,” and been inspired by the extremity of purpose and commitment that might seem absurd to some. Yet the adventure aspects of the movie inspire even non-climbers in a way that golf and baseball never can. The movie had particular significance to me because of my experience with another Mt. Meru, Kilimanjaro’s unassuming cousin. In 2007, I traveled to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. My daughter accompanied me as far as Moshi, and while I was on the mountain, she volunteered her nursing skills at a local hospital. Afterwards, she shared her dismay on discovering how little of the hospital’s medical equipment was in working order. We later learned through a WHO report that up to 80% of East African medical equipment was nonfunctional. Inspired partly by Greg Mortensen’s school construction project for Afghan girls and partly by my BCEP instructor’s Peace Corps experiences in Botswana, I set about to remedy the equipment situation. It occurred to me that the many engineers who travel to Africa on safari and to climb Kili were part of the answer. “Voluntourism,” historically dominated by medical staff, was in dire need of technologists. After struggling to find a cooperative venue, I returned to Tanzania in January 2010 as an instructor at Arusha Technical College (ATC). Nestled in the shadow of Mt. Meru, ATC was created to fill the demand for qualified technical personnel in Tanzania. Since that first visit, I’ve spent 18 months in Arusha training future biomedical technicians to repair medical equipment and established a nonprofit corporation, Biomedical Engineering Technology Aid International (BETA Int’l), to support that endeavor. BETA Int’l has subsequently facilitated a biomedical engineering technology program at ATC by training faculty, providing modern test equipment and parts, and providing stipends for student internships at area hospitals. With a comprehensive training program in place, ATC now supplies electrical and biomedical engineering graduates to hospitals throughout Tanzania.

I’m not sure any of this would have come about if not for the volunteers that inspired me and the inspiration that comes from my own volunteering. Climbing taught me many valuable lessons including this from scree and soft-snow slogs: slide back a step for every two forward, keep going, and you eventually make the summit. You definitely need this kind of tenacity to deal with bureaucracies and governments in developing nations. And inspiration has opened doors to new opportunities. Now BETA is teaming with GE Foundation to address medical technology issues in all low-resource countries. Haiti is next, although it is more like climbing Mt. Everest. We’ve been slogging there since 2011, without yet reaching the first base camp.

For some of you this may not resonate (unless you climb Kilimanjaro and have need of hospitalization). For me, it justifies my “Curmudgeon Challenge” to raise funds for the MMC, and the countless hours I’ve put into Mazama training, climbs, and committees. My Mazama training was a prelude to a much bigger life mission—one that has become world-transforming. I understood that in 2003 when I teamed with Monty Smith to rescue a family on the Eiger’s neighboring peak; our oft-repeated leadership training saved five lives. So mountaineering will never be just a sport to me—the inspiration goes far deeper, and it is a fundamental test of character. Yes, I do love the mountains and any excuse to be in them—anywhere in the world. What inspires you may be different, but do keep our volunteer tradition alive within the Mazamas, and pass along the inspiration to others. Inspiration is the most pervasive impact we can have in this world, and our only legacy.

Author’s note: If you are bound for Kilimanjaro, interested in voluntourism opportunities, and have a medical or engineering background, see BETA International’s website at www.bmet-aid.com.
Author’s bio: Dan Schuster is a Mazama climb leader (2001) and has taught climbing since 1989. A retired Caltech-educated engineer, he founded Biomedical Engineering Technology Aid International (www.bmet-aid.com), a 501(c)(3) non-profit, and is also a volunteer science museum educator in lasers and robotics at OMSI.