bringing in 2011 the best way I know how...

This past Friday, New Years Eve, my friends and I went to the climbing gym to work on some bouldering problems and the subject of evening activities came up.

FRIENDS: What are you guys up to tonight?

ME: Um, nothing huge... swinging by Lisa's house to celebrate her birthday and the New Year, but other than that... no huge plans. We might make a nice dinner before hand?

FRIENDS: Yeah... same here, no big plans.

ME: Well, you know.... I did had this crazy idea this morning that we could get up before dawn and drive to Mt. Hood and hike up it to watch the sunrise and then snowboard back down... but um, well.... you know, it's kinda last minute.

FRIENDS: I think that's a great idea... I had that same exact crazy thought actually, but was too afraid to say it.

So, we worked out our plan over the chalk dust at the gym and then polished them up over brews at Laurelwood. Then that evening, we had a nice dinner, went to a birthday/new years party, and then went to bed at 1am... only to get up three and a half hours later, bags packed, snowboards waxed, coffee hot and snowshoes ready to roll.

What follows are photos from the first sunrise of 2011 on Mt. Hood, which I believe, tell the story better than I ever could. Seriously, I can't think of a better way to bring in the New Years than with friends and enjoying the great outdoors... reasons like this is why I love living in Oregon.

Enjoy, and happy new year to you and your loved ones - I hope you made it special!

Best wishes in 2011!

Pre-dawn in the Timberline Parking lot... 7:00am

Ready to roll... 7:15am

ice...

breaking dawn...

Mt. Hood, looking beautiful as always...

me, surveying the scene...

Fritts, Amy, Julie, me, Sam

Fritts and Julie sharing a laugh...

Sam... contemplating...

the clouds start rolling in....

Did I mention the white out?

white out.... it was like walking in a cloud.

good and steeeeeeep....

Anyways... New Years Day, I feel a tradition coming on....

These are my day dreams in the winter

There are some days, especially those in the winter, that when I sit down at my desk and my mind doesn't go straight to the work to be done for the day. I walk into the kitchenette to get some coffee and I look outside, out into the cold damp dark morning. I watch as the working people rush into the coffee shop across the street and the computer monitors light-up in the office windows across the way. It is in these moments that my mind drifts far away from the hustle and the bustle of the city, my mind drifts off towards a snowy mountain pass somewhere. A road with tall, majestic fir trees lining the way; branches laden with snow and slumping towards the ground. Past the road, there is a deep dark snowy woods. A woods that is slowly filling with a soft morning light; going from a muddled navy to a light hazy lavender. There in the woods is untouched powder. It softy blankets the base of the trees, just waiting... waiting for someone to track through it. White, perfect, crisp, silent, still...

These are my day dreams in the winter.

I am not one to dream for Caribbean Cruise vacations filled with snorkeling and sandy beaches. My drinks do not come in coconuts with little umbrellas. My screen saver is not palm trees and crystal blue water. It is the snow, it is the trees, it is the mountains, and it is the cold. And these things I would gladly pass up any tropical vacation for. These are my day dreams, not only in the winter... but in the summer too.

Over the past few weeks a few storms have rolled into the mountains and dumped a fair amount of snow on the slopes of Mt. Hood. This has provided an ample base to begin the snowboarding/ski season and so this past weekend, I partook for the first time this winter. I've been keeping myself busy racing bikes all spring, summer, and fall long... but each time I put on my racing spandex and pull out my bike, I am secretly wishing for the time when I can put it away for a while. I am waiting till it gets cold, till it gets wet, and the seasons change. I've had my snowboarding bag, filled with my base layers, my wool socks, my snowboarding pants and my red parka, packed for the past three months, just waiting. I got my board waxed and edged last month.... just waiting.

I love pretty much everything about a trip to the mountain.

I love meeting my friends in the morning; coffee, breakfast burrito, and snowboard in hand... just waiting for the adventure that the day will bestow upon us. I love the approach, the drive up to the mountain. I love seeing how far away the snow starts. I love passing the Mt. Hood Wilderness sign and seeing cars pull over on the side of the road to put their chains on. I love the trees that line the way, branches heavy with snow. Little cabins nestled in the woods, warm glows coming from inside. I love telling my friends to be quiet for Silent Rock (respect it ya'll). I love the view that comes right after we pass it. I love seeing that first glimpse of the mountain. I love getting our parking spot and then getting out into the cold air in an eager attempt to layer up as quick as you can before the chill from the air gets to you. I love that first chair ride up, hearing the snow... listening for what it sounds like under the skis and boards of those below. I love trying to spot the powder stashes off to the side. And I love love love if it's a powdery day. If the snow is soft and light. I love if I can make it to my favorite little tree sections before they get all run through.

(I heart Jack's Woods)

I love the trees. I am sure that one day they will be the end of me, but I love nothing more on the mountain than a deep steep section of trees. I love plotting my way through them. Connecting the dots, using the trees as markers, swishing left, swooping right, narrowly making it through some trees that are only wide enough for a board, ducking under a fallen tree or a low branch. I love seeing a waterfall of powder under me... the snow becomes fluid, just like me, it cascades below till I catch up with it. More than doing tree runs themselves though, I love the trees because it is here that the mountain seems the quietest. Away from the lift lines, away from the park punks, away from the hill bombing toddlers, here in the woods it is still. Here in the woods I have the greatest connection to nature. I feel a part of the world around me. I honestly wish I could have a tree-run that would last for hours, endlessly boarding down without ever having to stand in a lift line to do it all over again.

But alas... at some point an end of the day has to come and with it, a sobering ride home from the mountain. That's the part I hate the most; leaving, driving, being tired from the exposure and the exhilaration. I wish at the end of each snowboarding day there was a few pints of a nice stout or porter, some pizza, cajun tots and then I'd magically be whisked away to a hot tub, a fireplace and a warm bed... wanting nothing but waiting for the alarm to go off and then do it all over again the next day.

Unlike many, I never listen to music while riding on the mountain - but if I did... it would be this song on repeat. There is just something about it that takes me to a snowy woods... enjoy and happy daydreams yourself.

	Fleet Foxes - Blue Ridge Mountains .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

mother nature is friggin awesome

(view of Mt. Hood from Heather Canyon.. near the lift)

Mother friggin Nature is awesome.

However, it is also terrifying and dangerous all at the same time. Sometimes i'm just left in awe at the amazingness that it produces. Take for example, Sunday evening at approximately 7pm, a massive avalanche roared down the Wy'east face of Mt. Hood through Heather Canyon and stopped it's path of destruction roughly 100ft from the Heather Canyon chairlift. Ski Patrol had attempted to blast the face earlier on Sunday, but visibility was low so they couldn't (logic: you can't shoot what you can't see). Luckily, the avalanche happened when Mt. Hood Meadows wasn't open in that area to the public but if it had happened a few hours earlier, I'd hate to think of the causalities we would have lost under a heavy crushing wave of concrete like snow and ice.

(view of Heather Canyon after the avalanche looking towards the lift)

Heather Canyon is a popular and elusive run for many skiers/snowboarders at Meadows who prefer to get in more "backcountry" style runs. However, due to the risk of avalanches, it's not open that often. In my two prior years of boarding, I'd never had the opportunity to board Heather Canyon due to my skill and comfort level, but in the past year I've progressed exponentially as a boarder and I've been salivating over the opportunity to ride there. That opportunity came for the first time this past Saturday when I ran into some friends of mine who are on ski patrol. Figuring that if I were to run into "shit happening in heather", that my ski patrol friends would be pretty good company to ride with, I followed them down into the wet thick and heavy pacific northwest snow. Visibility was low that day and we were unable to see across the canyon, but I enjoyed the soft turns into the damp snow and the run that for so long... had been out of reach.

(view of the avalanche looking up the mountain from the floor of Heather. photo: B.Barker)

On Monday, I returned to the mountain for a little more snowboarding. However, instead of the heavy wet damp snow that had covered the ground on Saturday, this time a soft light powder blanketed the ground. I was looking forward to doing some more runs down Heather Canyon, but I was disappointed to hear that it was temporarily closed due to the avalanche. So, my friend and I continued to hit up other parts of the mountain until we ran into our Ski Patrol friends again. We did a few runs with them until we heard through the grapevine that they were getting ready to open up Heather Canyon. Needless to say, we made fast tracks from Cascade down to Heather just in time to be let through the gates. We stood at the top of the run with about twenty other people looking down into the untracked fresh powder that lay below. When they unleashed us... all you could hear was whoops of joy from everyone plowing down the slopes and spray of powder following everyone's turns. I have to say, it was pretty friggin amazing snow... the type that if you take a tumble or two, all you can do is sit there and laugh at your good fortune. Otherwise known as Epic. Epic light.

We all made our way down the slope, hootin and hollering, sweet powdery turn after sweet powdery turn till we got to the section where the avalanche came through. At this point normally, one would want to build up a lot of speed to carry yourself through to the lift (otherwise it would be a long walk)... but the avalanche plowed through this whole area, carving massive rifts in the hillside and filling in the entire bottom run with snow and chunks of ice. The best way to describe the scene is imagine standing on a football field, and suddenly having the entire width of the field covered with snow, 15 feet deep. And... we're talking heavy snow. Concrete like. Standing there... right next to the mass, the reality of the situation sunk in. Had you been here when the wall of snow came towards you... there would be no where to go. Any attempt at getting out of the way or "swimming" would be pointless. And having someone "find you" and dig you out. Yeah, that would pointless as well. Pretty much being buried in snow of this amplitude and mass would be the equivalent of having a building collapse upon you.

(my friend Julie with the sea of snow debri behind her. photo: B.Barker)

Because the run out was filled in, everyone had to creatively find their way to the lift through the trees and small paths along side the river and the waterfall. Normally, the tight and technical course would be challenging enough, but add in about thirty people all trying to go through at the same time... and it pretty much turned into a log jam... or, as I like to call it... cluster fuck. There were more skiers than boarders, but everyone was caught in the same mess. You'd build up a little bit of speed and then almost run into someone who stopped suddenly in front of you to avoid hitting the person who suddenly stopped in front of you. If you slowed down to allow the people ahead of you to thin out... someone shot in front of you and then would suddenly stop. Thereby repeating the cycle. The best thing to do was just try to find the best route with minimal usage. This plan got me through the CF decently but also found me laying belly up in a small pine tree that I launched atop of, climbing up a slope that led into the avalanche debri, and successfully running the sweetest banked slalom course ever (it was either stick all of my landings and tight turns or have a few skiers and boarders run into me and get pissy at me for ruining their clean run). The CF took us right along the side of the avalanche route and at several points it was all you could do to just stop and look at the mass of snow and really, be in awe of the amazingness and the danger of it all. As well, it was really really cool to see this kind of thing first hand, up close and personal.

(from the floor of Heather, looking down the path of the debri towards the lift)

Nice Video of the slopes of Heather on a perfect powder day.

Video the tree run (aka: Jack's Woods) in Heather Canyon in which the bottom run out can be seen... this part was covered by snow.

ps: and if anyone else is curious to learn more about avalanches and safety as such, Mountain Hardware is putting on an Avy Clinic this Thursday, January 21 at their store in downtown Portland. Drinks, food, give-a-ways, and avy info!!! 6-8pm. FREE!

EDIT: 01.21.2010

Mt. Hood Meadows Released their report of the Avalanche.

Mt. Hood Meadows Blog Post

the beautiful monster : follow up

In the last day, Rescue Missions for the missing climbers on Mt. Hood have ceased and any further efforts will be now deemed a recovery mission. Most likely, no more evidence or clues or bodies will be found until the spring thaw. Since tuesday, when I made my last post, there has been more press and more debate on the climbers, their timeline, what may have happened, and also the whole rescue beacon debate (which will always rage).

Here is a follow up gathered from local news sources:

TIMELINE of ACTIVITIES

(based on KGW.com)

Friday, Dec. 11, 2009

1 a.m. Anthony Vietti, Katie Nolan and Luke Gullberg register at Timberline Lodge intending to summit Mt. Hood via the Reid Glacier route. The trio had an active cell phone

1:30 a.m. One of the climbers activates the cell phone, most likely while still in the lodge's vicinity

2 p.m. The climbers expected to be back at Timberline having completed their 13-hour summit

4 p.m. A worried friend reports the climbers missing

Late evening: A threatening weather system begins moving into NW Oregon

Saturday, Dec. 12, 2009

Early morning: Clackamas County coordinates 30 volunteers to search for climbers

10 a.m. The body of Luke Gullberg was found on the Reid Glacier above 9,000-feet elevation, near the base of a headwall. Searchers find a camera with close-up photos of all three climbers.
Family of climbers arrive, along with chaplains from Sandy and nearby communities

3 p.m. Volunteers continue the search; weather conditions become treacherous with limited visibility, preventing aerial support from helicopters or planes

Sunday, Dec. 13, 2009

Severe weather conditions across NW Oregon create zero-visibility, blizzard conditions on Mt. Hood and the threat of avalanches and falling ice prevents Search and Rescue efforts.

Churches and congregations across the country offer prayers and support for the three climbers, who were deeply religious and had met during church activities

Monday, Dec. 14, 2009

5:30 a.m. Search and rescue efforts begin with aerial surveillance from Civil Air Patrol, Oregon Army National Guard and the U.S. Coast Guard. A NWS meteorologist arrives and identifies a four-hour window for optimal searching, between noon and 4 p.m.

10 a.m. A press conference with the Search and Rescue coordinators and the family of Anthony Vietti
Lead Rescue coordinator narrows the search to the 10,000-foot-to-summit elevations of Mt. Hood's western face

12 p.m. Conditions clear enough for US Air Force Rescue Squadron to begin scaling upper reaches of Mt. Hood

3 p.m. State medical examiners determine Luke Gullberg died from hypothermia and had suffered minor "non-life-threatening" injuries in a fall

3:30 p.m. Another weather system moves in and forecasters predict 18 inches of new snow. Aerial search suspended.

5:00 p.m. Vigils held from Portland to Longview, Wash. by friends, coworkers and acquaintances of the three climbers.

6:30 p.m. Search effort suspended for day. Experts predict that the two climbers could remain safe in a snow cave for five days with provisions and without injury

Tuesday, Dec. 15, 2009

5:30 a.m. Blizzard-like conditions and a "white wall of snow" delay search efforts
Military arrives with aerial support and ground squadrons canvassing mountain
Coordinators say the moment weather lets up all rescuers will be "instantly deployed"

10 a.m. Search and Rescue specialized medic arrives to speak with family about survivability scenarios

11 a.m. Coordinators reassure family that operation remains "search and rescue" and not "recovery"

4 p.m. Dr. Teri Schmidt, a search and rescue special medic, said the odds of finding Nolan or Vietti alive after five days on the mountain were about 1 percent.

4:30 p.m. Investigators reveal that Gullberg may have died while trying to rescue Nolan. Search and rescue effort suspended until early Wednesday, when Blackhawk helicopters were scheduled to resume efforts.

Wednesday, Dec. 16, 2009

2 p.m. The massive search for Katie Nolan and Anthony Vietti was suspended. Clackamas County Sheriff's Office said rescue efforts would transition to a recovery mission once the harsh weather abated atop Mount Hood.

Katie's father, David Nolan, said his daughter was now buried upon the mountain she most loved - where she'd told her friends she someday wanted to be buried.

Anthony's father, John Vietti, asked those who had offered support and prayers to not lose faith in God. "God has answered our prayers - and for myself and my family this has not shaken our faith."

What the conditions were like last Friday on Mt. Hood:

What is determined that happened:

"Crews had hoped for a break in the weather Wednesday for one last possible air search over Mt. Hood but the storm never abated. A series of snowstorms dumped nearly two feet of snow on Mt. Hood since Monday. Images from the cell phone of the third climber, 26-year-old Luke Gullberg, whose body was found Friday, revealed that all three climbers reached Reid Glacier, and suggest that there was an accident involving Nolan. Investigators believe Gullberg then tried to rappel to get help.

Investigators suspect Nolan was injured because mountaineers found just one of her gloves Saturday with the body of Gullberg at the base of the Reid headwall. The slope rises at a 50-degree angle from the glacier to within a few hundred feet of relatively easier climb to the top above 11,000 feet. They found neither of Gullberg's gloves, Thompson said, leading them to think that Nolan had lost one of hers in the accident, that Gullberg had left her his glove, along with his pack, and that he had headed downhill, taking Nolan's single glove for whatever warmth it would provide. After a fall in which he suffered bruises and scrapes, Gullberg died of exposure. His body was found at the 9,000 foot level, at the base of the 1,500-foot headwall of the Reid Glacier. Nearby were tracks and some of his equipment, including a camera whose pictures gave rescue workers information about the route and equipment the climbers took." -kgw.com

As well, more news about the climbers and their short, but full lives:

An interview with one of Katie's clients she helped get off the streets:

The Mazamas explain the appeal of climbing Mt. Hood in the winter:

Why Portland Mountain Rescue opposes mandatory beacon usage:

closure and full report from local media:

In summary, I will close with this comment that Katie's father made regarding her and the incident. When I heard it on the raw video footage, it really hit a vein with me as I've shared that exact thought. I am sure that Katie and the two others climbers, when assessing their risk before setting out for their climb thought the same thing to themselves as I do when I set out... that, if today were to be the day when it all ends for me... that I can't think of a better place or a better way to end it. I can't say that she was lucky, but is really is quite fitting that she was able to have a poetic ending as such.

"Katie loved the mountain so much she wanted to be buried up there. And right now she is," said Nolan