At Four p.m. we depart the Devils Lake campground en route to the summit of the South Sister. From here on until the top we carry on despite the skeptical reactions of those we pass by on the trail after we inform them of our camp destination atop the 10,340' summit. In three hours we make the final push to the caldera that awaits us at the top and watch the sun sink beneath the coast range. Oddly enough, my camera's memory card malfunctions just before sundown and the only images I have are tucked safely in my mind.
After a windy slumber atop the peak, we mosey out on the glacial caldera and filter water that taste as though it'd been blessed by Charity herself. Rotating 360 degrees one last time, we say our farewells to the panoramic views that surround us and make space for the 100+ people (not an exaggeration) trudging towards the summit. The heavy traffic running up the cinder pile saturates the alpine air with dust, and a dip in the glacial pool is irresistible. On a mountain so crowded, it's the only place few will venture and I swim alone.
With Broken Top and Bachelor bordering us to the east and the Sisters to our backs, we hop in the Wilderness Battleram and take of northeast along the Cascade Lakes Highway towards Smith Rock for a couple days worth of high-angle goodness.
Shortly after arriving and getting ahold of our buddy over at the Phoenix wall, we check out a grassy patch for a second, lie down for a minute, and nap for an hour. Two hours later we're finally rope up for a couple pitches and retreat to 7th Street Brewhouse for a couple pints of Cascade Lakes Grizzly Mountain Stout.
Since I didn't get a chance to shoot some cosmic exposures (which I can't get enough of), I pulled out the tripod at North Point and captured the Milky Way above the Marsupials.
The sun rises above the Marsupials and instantly bakes us in our sleeping bags like uman Hot Pockets. A dirt bag breakfast of granola, yogurt and cowboy coffee kicks the day off as we read the beta for some pitches in the park. We set off with a slight idea of what we want to climb, and in ten minutes we're making the steep, crumbling approach to Voyage of Cowdog; a relatively new 5.9 multipitch. As we roped up, a local halfway up the first pitch twists his head 90 degrees about his torso and eyes us from his perch. Three draws into the route he decides to get some shut eye for the afternoon and soars away.
Atop the second pitch, Hardman turns over the sharp end to me for the summit pitch. The latter two pitches were like ugly step children compared to this final 60' of clean volcanic tough and exposure that puts 500' of air beneath your ass. The holds were there, but the route proved mentally draining. The runouts between the bolts makes 20' whippers into the void a real possibility, which became even more real during the final stretch. Battling 60' worth of rope drag over a bulge leaning over the deck a long ways below posts the toughest clip I've faced in my two years climbing. Reaching for the rope pinched between my torso and the bulge, I waste no time clipping into the draw and my breath rate relaxes simultaneously with the snap of the caribiner gate.
Resting at the anchor I laugh while looking on toward the Sisters and our campsite atop Charity.
