In early October, in a period of about 30 minutes, Shreyas, Chesson, and I convened and, for better or worse, purchased flights to Oregon. The standing plan was to do a cute and short 24 mile loop trail in the Jefferson Wilderness as a weekend overnight backpack. Little did we know that in a few weeks we would be walking the length of this loop in a single day, a third of it in 3 inches of snow, in a very different location. The trip was about to become much less cute and short.
Let’s take a moment to ponder how these things happen. Often when 3 approx. 25 year old males are gathered for a trip in a foreign place, ideas start flowing. We had not exited the plane in Portland before someone (cough cough Shreyas) had started hinting that we might need to do more than a lil ol’ 24 mile loop, beautiful terrain or not. We were fresh and clean and feelings of grandeur began to stir within our chests. Would we stoop to the level of a chill 24 mile overnight? The answer was quickly determined (with much egging from Chesson [who would not stop blabbing about his ultramarathon ambitions btw]) to be a resounding “NO!”… Indeed, it was decided that we must either climb Mt. Hood or walk all the way around it. How these emerged as our only two options, I don’t quite remember.
What I do remember is that by the time we reached REI (20 minutes later) we had decided to walk around Mt. Hood in 48 hours. The trip sounded amazing: 10,000ft of gain and 43 miles circumnavigating the beautiful and glaciated Mt. Hood. A big trip for some big boys – yippee! But with only 2 days of time, this was a relatively ambitious task. Consider the following: (1) Shreyas has permanent ankle damage and is going to break in brand new trail shoes on a 43 miler overnight; (2) RAIN, RAIN, SNOW, MORE RAIN; (3) none of us have previously backpacked over 20 miles (with 40lb packs) in a day, much less twice back-to-back. Regardless, I must reiterate that we knew ourselves to be the biggest, most grown of boys, so the only real option was to go on a big boy trip (Chesson being an especially big boy). That night we camped near the trailhead and enjoyed a fire and some brews, staying up a bit later than ideal and sleeping in through our alarms (not a very optimal decision).
Saturday morning began very well if a bit late. By lunch on the first day we had covered 13 miles and, although it was beginning to rain, felt quite up to the task. We stopped at the day’s high point, having climbed from ~6000’ to ~9000’, where one could literally lean 20 degrees into the wind coming down a valley adjacent to the mountain (figure 1, including Chesson in his underwear because he didn’t bring the right pants). The views were spectacular across the entire western side of Mt. Hood. In fact, most of the day was gorgeous and relatively uneventful. Some of our latter mileage was passed in good spirits by belting the entirety of “99 Bottle of Beer on the Wall”. Other events of the day include accidently ditching Shreyas when he experienced quad cramps (sorry buddy). By the end of the day we had managed to cover 20 miles and 5600’ of gain, not bad with pack weight (I packed relatively heavy). We began around 9am and finished around 6pm, with a 30 minute lunch break.. The next day we planned on finishing her off (we had no choice…), which would mean a similar elevation change, but 4 more miles. Shreyas and I had quite tired feet at that point, and I think even Chesson had his fill of mileage for the day. It was enjoyable but hard, certainly. Or at least we thought it was hard. We were about to learn more about what “hard” really meant.
That night it poured. The wind blasted down Mt. Hood and rattled our stakes, which were daintily buried in the soft and porous earth (read: the stakes didn’t do much). A smattering of condensation from our warm bodies coated the tent interior, although that mattered not, as about 50mL of water sprinkled through my old rainfly every hour (whoops - sorry guys). Having grown up in a place where rain is rare in fall, I was especially unnerved by so much of the stuff. Vestibule checks every hour or so proved Shreyas and I’s packs were mostly dry. But having stuck most of my clothing for the next day in my sleeping bag, I neglected to check the mountain of gear at the base of the tent…
Around 6am the next morning we began to stir, and soon Chesson and Shreyas discovered that the majority of their gear was sopping wet. The chronically cold-handed Chesson wept tears that no amount of mileage could ever elicit (did I tell you yet that he is a marathoner??). Thankfully, the hard rain had stopped.
Day two began much like day one had ended. It was cold, sprinkling, and our feet hurt. The lads trekked on that morning, each of us more or less entering our own mind palaces and walking the time by. Having completed 30 miles in 36 hours, the last 10 in sprinkling rain, we were now all fully damp (if not already from the start of the day). Additionally, my dainty and thin feet had begun to hurt quite a bit on the bottoms, where certain areas of sole had experienced severe pummeling from the La Sportiva waterproof boots I was wearing (Europeans don’t believe in cushioning). Hard days in these boots had been comfortable, but the mileage was catching up to me.
Unfortunately, Shreyas was in a bit poorer of a state. Although always a glass-half-full hiker, he had developed a limp by mile 30. Having damaged his ankle in years past, it appeared his ligaments were not fond of the unending plod. We had reached the point in a trek where one is wet and calorie-deprived enough that stopping longer than 10 minutes becomes cold, quickly. In this way, neither continuing or breaking is very satisfying. Lunch was a beautiful (but again, chilly) respite. See the waterfall in figure 2.
The first 7 of the final 10 miles of our second day went by well. As it had begun to snow, the small amounts of accumulating snow cushioned our feet, relieving some of the sole-bludgeoning, and the landscape soon transformed from a spooky, autumnal forest perfect for halloween, to a true PNW winter wonderland. The old man’s beard in the pines was first to saturate with snow, before the entirety of the trees and ground became laden; only the red and orange shrubbery around our many low elevation water crossings remained uncovered. Please enjoy figures 3 and 4.
The last 3 miles were hard. By 5:30pm in the snowstorm it was dark, by 6:15 it was black, and the snow was now 3+ inches deep. Temperatures were relatively warm, perhaps insulated by cloud cover, but we were all wet and generally tired at this point. Throw in the increasingly heavy snowfall, and the 2000’ of gain in this last stretch of mileage, and you have our slowest pace of the trip: a little less than 2 mph. We were all very ready to be done, and discussions of the food we would eat after completion had now gone on for over an hour. Finally, at around 8:00pm, one could observe a soft orange glow on the other side of the trees in an apparent opening. Ten minutes later the ski lodge was in sight, and in another ten the trip was complete. Celebration ensued in the form of gyros and a long shnooze in a fancy hotel bed.
