Climbing a Cascade Giant....... One kick, one foot hole at a time I tell myself as the back of my right thigh starts to tighten up. I can see the pinnacle now, about a thousand feet in front of me, and the goal of reaching the top seems realistic now. My body plateaus on a new form of exhaustion and the only thing keeping my legs and arms moving upward is a tiresome mental battle. My body screams for me to stop and rest but my mind understands that this would be a poor choice and that it should push on. The sun is at its peak in the sky and snow conditions are becoming more unstable by the minute as a soft layer forms over the glacier I am clinging to. I hear an echoing crack and pause to look across to another ridge line only to see a car sized bolder launch over a 300 ft cliff with a thunderous crash into the ravine below. The mountain is speaking today and its words are impossible to ignore. I understand that my time to reach the top is becoming more limited and there is little time to rest. My climbing partner is about a hundred feet above me kicking hard into the snow pack when the first small snow slide of the day breaks loose just above me. I freeze waiting to see how big it will get, but it stays minimal and passes by me about ten feet to my left. This is the point in the day were I started to worry a bit. On 35 to 50 degree slopes there is small room for error and one failed foot hold could mean the difference between tumbling at a very high speed thousands of feet to the valley floor and getting one step closer to the top. The day before I predicted a 10am summit time at the latest and it is now past 1pm in the mid day heat and I and my climbing partner still had about an hour to go. It was fast becoming one of those days that you wished you had just slept in that morning........................ Let me take you back a little though to the beginning of this trip and tell you how it all started. Just two strangers that decided to take a trip up the side of a volcano together. It was that time of the year again and I started to get the itch to go climb something big, steep, and gnarly. I had my sights set on Mt. Jefferson in Northern Oregon just a couple miles outside of Portland where I reside. I decided to post a few things online to see if anyone was interested in doing the climb with me this year and to my surprise I got a response to one of them and so it began, two strangers with one common goal. For two weeks we talked about the climb and did a few mt. bike trips together to feel things out and then finally set a date. It seemed like we would get along just fine, but in situations like these when at times to feel like you are putting your life into the hands of another the results can be unpredictable. We looked past the "what if" factor though, and to my amazement my new climbing partner (Michelle) seemed rather trusting of me. In retrospect I don't think either of us quite knew what we where getting ourselves into. I knew the climb would be one of the hardest ones I have attempted so far but without ever having climbed any slope on Mt. Jefferson before it was impossible to know just how challenging it was going to be. We departed on a Sunday evening to avoid the crowds that might be lingering after the weekend masses that camped out at the near by and popular Detroit lake rec area. On our drive to the mountain we got to experience a variety of weather from massive drops of rain that seemed to explode when they hit the windshield of the car two huge cracks of thunder that sent vibrations through your body. I think in the back of both our minds we were hoping that this was just a short term storm passing through the area. Climbing a mountain with thunder and lightning was not an adventure I wanted to have on this trip. That night we car camped in the back of my old 4runner at the Pamelia Lake trail head parking lot just 13 miles out of the town of Detroit. At this trail head you have to have a permit to climb/camp that can only be picked up at the Detroit ranger station in town. Years back the lake used to have a no limit fish catching policy, but because of all the people that took advantage of this the vegetation around the lake took a heavy beating and the lake it now limited to just 20 visitors per day. We woke early that morning and had a light breakfast and made it to the ranger station by 8am to get our permits. As we walked into the station ranger Rick stood at the desk. He was an older man with a round face, rosy cheeks, and full belly that had seen many years in the ranger game. At first he seemed a little weary of the two of us and talked slowly pausing with a puzzled looked on his face between sentences. We kept it positive though and smiled big to assure ranger Rick that we where only there for good old fashioned fun and soon broke through his distant demeanor. It was only a matter of time before Rick was cracking jokes with us and sharing stories. One thing that I have learned in my years is it is never good to be on the bad side of a ranger because they typically lack in the sense of humor department. Within no time we had our permits and were on our way back to the Pamelia lake trail head. It was about a two and half mile hike into the lake that would become our base camp for the climb. I had convinced Michelle that it would be a great idea to bring our skis and get some turns in on the way down and she seemed to embrace the idea also. So we packed up and headed out from the car with our heavy packs to begin our trek up the side of Jefferson. One thing that we did not see coming was the fact that our packs where so heavy on the trail in it caused a tremendous amount of pressure on our feet and we both ended up with quarter sized blisters on our heels by the time we reached the lake. It was a discouraging start you our trip but we pushed past it and had plenty of mole skin and duck tape for our feet to keep our spirits high. We spent the next twelve hours of the day just being as lazy as possible. The weather was great with clear skies and cool breezes. This was very conducive to lazy behavior and I spent most of my hours napping on my mat and sleeping bag looking up into the big Evergreen trees that towered above us. Each one covered in a bright green moss that I thought oddly resembled facial hair, but for a tree of course. Like each one was sporting a nice shaggy beard that helped keep them warm on those cool nights. The day passed slowly and other than the masses of flies that never stopped buzzing at our camp it was stress free and very peaceful. 1:30am...... The familiar sound of a cell phones ring emanates in our tent and its time to wake up and get started on our trip up the side of Mt. Jefferson's SW face. Our followed the Milk Creek route and took us up one of the steeper routes on Jefferson. Its started off on the Pacific Crest trail and then dumped us out on a melting river bed's snow field. The first mile of this route was filled with loose rock and sand combined with dense brush. Michelle started to doubt my guiding skills as we traversed over loose rock and thick shrubs, and she and asked several times if I was sure that this was the right way. I trusted our map and tried to reassure her that we were headed in the right direction but I could tell that it wasn't until we reached the snow pack higher up the creek and got out of the bushes that she started to believe what I was saying, and I have to say that I was equally relieved. We make it all the way up the Milk Creek river bed that was littered with boulders large and small that had broken loose from the rock walls that carved it and start our first steep pitch of the day at the base of the sleeping giant. The light was still very low at this time in the morning and the mountain seemed peaceful still. We make it to the top of that first pitch and Michelle decides that this would be a good spot to lighten her load and she drops her skis and boots from her pack and couldn't be happier with the new lighter load. The sun is starting to fill up the sky (around 6am) and light up the back side of the mountain casting a huge shadow into the SW valley. It is about this time that I also decide to lighten the load and drop off my skis and boots doing my body a favor. My body thanks me but this would not last for long and soon it would be in a negative mood. At this point in the climb the pitch of the slope become steep enough that i decide it is a good idea to put on my cramp-ons and lessen my risk of slipping out of a foot hole and tumbling down the mountain. My confidence is boosted and comfort level rises and everything is going smoothly for the most part. No gear problems, my feet are numb enough to were I can't feel my blisters and other than fatigue my body can't complain. To my joy Michelle seems to be feeling the same way and says that she is feeling pretty comfortable on the steep face. It was her first time ever doing anything like this and she seemed to embrace the experience and all its discomforts. There were even a few points in the trip that I wished she would take a little less risk, but I managed to hold my breath long enough at those moments and work through them trouble free. We ended up at the base of the summit pinnacle on top of Jefferson late in the day, well after 2pm. By this time the snow pack was very unstable and the mountain was in full motion. You could here it crack and creek as you almost felt like it was waking up from it morning slumber. Several football sized rocks released from the summit pinnacle just above and we both decided that the two hundred foot climb to the top that day was probably not a good idea. So we both took a moment and caught our breath and started the long trek back down the mountain. By the time we made it to our skis we were both tired that it almost took the fun out of the turns and I say almost. Like most days I strap on my skis I managed to put a big stupid grin on my face before I made my first turn. I had trouble even staying up right but that feeling up sliding down the side of a hill on two sticks gets me every time. We were just coming to the end of our climb that day but by no means was it over yet. Climbing with a partner can be a humbling experience and make a trip into a completely different experience. Many of my previous climbs I had done solo and didn't have to worry about anyone else. If i made a bad choice only I had to face the realities of that. If my judgment was poor we both stood to suffer and vise verse. I was more cautious on this trip than any I had been on before. The reality that someones life was potentially in my hands truly hit me and it was not time for personal glory. This was something that I didn't expect at the beginning of this trip but feel grateful to have experienced. Moments like those really help you put life in perspective. Sometimes it is so easy to get caught up in your own world that you have trouble seeing what it is like to experience someone else's. You start to think about things like, this person has a family, kids, a dog.............. Then it becomes about much more than just reaching the top of a mountain. That is also one of the beauties of being in a place like this, you start to realize just how small you really are and how short life can be. You are truly just a guest on the side of that mountain and at anytime those privileges could be revoked. It seems like during these times in life I feel the most alive. Fresh air smells better than it ever did before. A cold drink of water satisfies more than you could ever imagine. One step forward is a harder task than you would ever believe. The sun cresting over a distant ridge line is more beautiful that anything you have ever seen before. Life just slows down and you can start to take it in on a full scale view. With this story I am only attempting to share my experience with others, but understand that there is no way that I can totally do this experience justice. I feel like everyone should go climb a mountain just once. Everyone should push their body and mind past what they feel is a comfortable limit, just once......... A great man once said "to me it's why am I living..... well gee its to have some adventure." PHOTO JOURNAL: Written by: Dustin Briedwell Edited by: Niccolo Roselli 8-1-08