Summer's Best

  October has arrived and so has the classic Oregon rain. But before transitioning into sipping hot cocoa and getting lost in corn mazes, I've sifted through the summer's photos and chosen my favorite exposure from each trip or event. Here's to another great Northwest summer...

At the very end of the school year, I hopped in Darren's car on one of his weekly Smith trips. Here he is climbing Burl-master (5.13d)

The first big endeavor of summer was climbing Mt. Hood (ele. 11,249'). This is Rory. He'd graduated several before and would be leaving his home Oregon, where he'd been for 6 years, for good in two days.

My good friend and Volifonix frontman Trevor and I have an interesting history on Cape Kiwanda that translated into a song titled "Three Good Friends." They decided to make it their first music video and it was shot on site on the Cape.

I joined my roommate Porter and some of our friends at the local pizza buffet before they headed off to climb Mt. Thielsen (elev. 9,184'). Sure enough I was rushing home to pack the bare essentials and off I went with them. I didn't regret it.

The way I got roped into climbing Thielsen was an agreement Henry and I made. If I climbed Thielsen, Henry would join me on the canoe trip--Eugene to Corvallis via the Willamette--that I'd been planning for weeks.

I wrote a travel article about breweries and adventure for Beer Northwest. I was trying to think of a way to combine the two and my photography mentor, Dan Morrison, recommended this idea. Major props to Ninkasi for allowing this to happen and to Matt Frick for steppin' up to the plate.

South Sister is by far the most crowded summit I've ever seen. For twelve hours, however, my buddy Tommy and I enjoyed the summit all to ourselves with a few Anderson Valley Crema Cervezas and an astro bivy at 10,363' to boot.

After graduating from the University of Oregon in September, I ran for the coast to collect myself. There I met some interesting characters who helped make my coastal sojourn a memorable one.

Insomnia on Hood

Rory slams his third (but not last) 5-Hour Energy drink as Hardman and I race to change into warmer clothes while we wait for Tommy and Peter to show up in the Timberline parking lot. It's 11:00pm and none of us has slept for sixteen hours and now we're preparing to summit Mt. Hood.

Having conceived the plan just days before, we were now attempting all of our first ascent of the tallest mountain in Oregon sans guide. I've never even ascended a peak over 6,000 feet.

Burning up the terrain park at Timberline, we were en route to the Pearly Gates via the Hogsback. Within the first couple miles we were greeted by cold shoulders at the warming hut courtesy of those forgoing the slow march up the groomed tracks to Palmer Glacier. We would later reconvene with these folks as we waited for them to slowly ascend (and painfully) the final steep push to the summit where we were forced to withstand the putrid sulfuric stench billowing from the fumerol nearby. 

Eventually patience paid off and we ran up the steep slope through the Pearly Gates and traversed the knife edge to the abandoned summit. 

In the screaming wind we found solace as Rory and Pete slugged their summit brews while I tried to swallow my stomach back not capable of thinking about drinking the Longhammer IPA I'd packed up, (It was to be enjoyed with the company of a sandwich the following day.) 

Staving off altitude sickness in a state of insomnia left us stumbling during descent. Unfortunately for us the hard snow kept the convenience of glaciading--or sliding and self-arresting downhill--out of question. The snow was also bumpy, making a shovel ride a painful ferry, aside from the groomed trails, but the skiers weren't stoked about that.

After 26 sleepless hours, the parking lot never seemed to get any closer, but the thought of burritos, Dos Equis and bed kept our feet moving and eventually we found ourselves back in the concrete jungle where Rory downed another 5-Hour Energy. We were dead tired, dehydrated, hungry, and hurting... but most of all, stoked.

Thielsen on a Whim

Sitting stuffing as much food as we can at the local pizza buffet, I find a buddy willing to paddle the Willamette to Corvallis with me so far as I climb Mt. Thielsen with he and some friends. 

Twenty minutes later I'm packing quickly and crammed into the back of Henry's pickup. 

Just north of Crater Lake and brushing east of Mt. Bailey and Diamond Lake, Thielsen stands 9,184' into the sky in a spire fit for a Tim Burton film.

Thielsen, Diamond Lake, Bailey

The scramble to the summit push was sketchy loose scree. It required light feet and a quick pace.

Henry's boots gave him blisters, driving him to hike in sandals. For the last forty vertical feet, however, he was deduced to bare feet.

The traditional summit brew.