Mt. Adams: She Said

In 2007, Ryan and I attempted to climb Mt. Adams.  It is the second largest (volumetrically speaking) and third tallest Cascade volcano, but Adams doesn’t involve anything more technical than crampons and an ice axe, so it sounded like it would be a great intro to mountaineering (pour moi).  Back then, I was in much better shape, and Ryan was still smoking, so I charged past him on the steeps to the false summit, feeling better than ever.  When we reached the false summit, the wind was howling at close to 70 mph, and I could barely crawl, much less stand and keep moving.  For this reason, we called it a day and headed back down.  The descent did not go so well.  The strength I felt at high elevation quickly dissolved as we headed down the mountain.  My quads and lungs felt great, but our rapid descent was taking its toll on my head and knees.  The issues most climbers get at altitude hit me hard once we were below 9,000 feet.  The headaches, nausea, chills, hot flashes, and disorientation left me pretty much useless.  Ryan got me to Hood River (the only part of which I remember is Ryan pulling over so I could expel the energy bar/gel cocktail from my stomach) and a bowl of broccoli and cheddar soup later, I was somewhat more lucid and functional.  So, after that miserable experience, why on earth would I ever want to go up Mt. Adams again?

I found myself asking this question as I was drinking cold instant coffee at 5 am, at the Cold Springs camp, ready to start out on another summit attempt for Mt. Adams.  Certainly not in the shape I was 3 years ago, I still don’t enjoy energy bars, gel, and we all know how much I dislike drinking water.  This could be a recipe for disaster.  I wouldn’t let Ryan tell me what time it was, because as far as I am concerned, all that matters is that the sun isn’t up, and therefore I shouldn’t be either.  Anyhow, we gathered our gear and set off.  

The hike up to the lunch ledge was pretty uneventful.  We hit snow much earlier than last time, as in thousands of feet earlier.  The weather was absolutely gorgeous!  It was actually downright hot, with alternating hot and cold breezes, from the Columbia River gorge and the northern Cascades, respectively.  We were warned that the mountain was in late spring conditions, so we were prepared to get wet.  Following the lunch ledge is a soul-draining 2500 ft elevation gain at a consistent 30-35 degrees, heading up to the false summit.  

(Ryan scopes out the soul draining ascent)

(the steeps, you can actually see the glissade trails!  and those black dots, are people)

The roles were switched this time, and Ryan quickly left me behind.  I have always felt that women are naturally better at endurance and pacing (this was evident in my early cross-country days) and can withstand pain for longer periods of time.  So,  although I was hurting and tired of the big steps (using others boot tracks is fine, if you have an average stride… however…), I soldiered on.  

Ryan was waiting for me at the top.  We sat for a minute and watched the skiers and boarders head back down the mountain.  There were also a number of dogs with said skiers, running full speed back down the snowfield.  This reminded me of that episode of Planet Earth with the amazingly agile snow leopard (if you have seen it, you know what I am talking about).  Finally, we dusted off and went for the summit.  It was much less windy this time, and still pretty warm.  Although we were over 10,000 feet, the temperature was easily over 60 degrees.  Climbing the last 600 feet is like sprinting at the end of a race.  I’ve always considered it my strong point.  It’s a little tougher when you are climbing through a field of windblown ice sculptures.  However, we pushed on through my aching joints and Ryan’s pounding headache.  We finally reached the summit and found a dozen or so climbers lounging about in the sun, enjoying simultaneous views of Hood, St. Helens, and Rainier.  After taking the standard summit photos, we donned all of our waterproof clothes for the slide back down.  

If you haven’t glissaded before, it is kind of like luging.  On a popular climb like Mt. Adams, the glissade trails are well worn and deep, so think luging, or a really long waterslide.  Sometimes the glissade trails are straight, but often they snake and curve, bringing cries of joy out of even the most unsuspecting of mountaineer.  You slow down by using your ice axe and pray that you don’t rapidly come across a rock or large chunk of ice that might do damage to your seat pants, or worse…

We were able to glissade back down to our lunch spot, but because of the less steep slopes and soft snow, we were forced to hike the rest of the way.  I refer to this part of the journey as the knee destroyer.  Because glissading tends to cram snow into every article of clothing you are wearing, we were pretty wet.  Hiking multiple miles with soaking feet ensures a miserable outcome.  On the upside, with the exception of the feet and joints, I felt remarkably well!  I was so glad not to be dealing with the same ailments as our previous trip.  We made it back to the car and then to Hood River, where we mowed through some great bar food and Pricelined a hotel in Portland. 

Misson accomplished, score settled.  Mt. Adams – 1, Summer & Ryan – 1.  

Progress Map: