After nursing a hot cup of strong Earl Grey, I was all decked out in mountaineering gear and ready to start the hike. We split into three different groups as usual but, this time, there was no particular category, such as a fast group, an intermediate group or an "endurance group" since it was going to be fairly a short hike. Once we completed this process, we headed out to the Timberline Trail that stretched pretty much straight up from there to Silcox Hut. In 10 minutes or so, we stopped to check our gear and to strap on our crampons. The temperature outside was a bit high at around 50 degrees and the snow felt heavy and mushy under our feet. 
Under the crystal clear sky that would warm us up in its 70 degrees air today, we sucked it up and started pounding the trail that launched steeply via a series of switch backs until we reached a split in the trail where, once again, it offered us a choice between "More Difficult" and "Less Difficult." At glance, it would be somewhat deceiving to first-timers as the "More Difficult" trail continued from that point with a short flat section while the other one climbed on. I'm sure you can guess by now which way we went.
Jason led my group, the intermediate group, with good spirit. From the beginning, he did a great job of reminding us about the abundance of poison oak on both sides of the trail whenever we made brief stops to adjust our gear, etc. We were also very wary of any dog dragging a hiker as it most likely had been going in and out of the poison oak bushes and looking for some victims to brush up against. 
But we thoroughly enjoyed the panoramic view of the Columbia River Gorge while we devoured our feed at the summit. Especially after beating the time from our last hike here by 15 minutes, at 1:45 to slither up from the trail head to the top, gaining 2850' in elevation. That's 1,629'/hour! 
Edgefield was packed with weekend warriors and alike outside. Every single table was taken so we planted ourselves on the lawn just behind a huge water tower. 
The cool grass felt great after the rigorous exercises. Our waitress was nice enough to accommodate us there for much needed beverages and even some real food. Couldn't get much better than that!
This hike was originally meant to be a snowshoeing trip. And, as far as we could see, it looked like the trail was going to be kind of icy so we strapped on our snowshoes from the outset. However the snow/ice on the trail vanished only after few hundred feet or so and we were forced to take off the snowshoe to lash them back on our backpacks. 
As we ascended through the woody area, we found ourselves walking through a section that was charred by a fire few years ago. Some of the burnt trees looked quite interesting - only the burnt outer parts of the trunks remained standing while their cores had relented to decay.
Their leader, Marty, organized his climbers into two groups, a group of people who wished to continue up to the Inn and another of those who opted to call it a day and to head down. 
Because we carpooled from the meetup point to the trail head, there was some logistical issues that needed to be taken into consideration as well.
There was no visible trail in particular so Matt plowed ahead stomping new steps along the way. Indeed after about a half an hour or so, we popped up on another ridge where Cloud Cap Inn stood.
And what a gorgeous view it had! we were awarded with the panoramic view of Mt. Hood's eastern foothill. Even better than that, the rocky top half of Mt. Hood showed itself as a veil of clouds flirted with its undeniable existence.
In less than a couple of months, many of us will be setting foot on the summit of this very mountain. That was pretty awesome even just to think about. As we milled around taking pictures, etc., a flurry of snow started to whirl around us. In order to avoid getting caught in an unexpected weather, we started descending by reversing our path. In some ways, descending was not much easier than climbing up as we still needed to keep ourselves focused traversing the sections we struggled on earlier and to pay close attention on our footings despite the fatigue that was starting to set in all of us.
When my turn came, I dumped everything out on the floor and Joe looked at them one by one. He seemed mostly happy with what I had. Particularly my whiskey flask. About the only thing he mentioned was that I would not need to bring any of my webbings, pullies, carabiners, Prusik cords, etc. as each guide would be carrying a set. However, he also left it kind of up to me. I have not decided yet but I think I will probably carry a minimal set of things at least anyway. It's sort of a security blanket thing for me - I remember there were more than one occasions in my past when I wished I had certain equipment with me that I didn't take with me. They wouldn't do any good just hanging in my closet for sure. Joe also showed me how to tie cords and webbings into small bundles to keep them from flapping around in the wind.
Once our gear inspections were complete, we put on our plastic mountaineering boots and headed out to meet back up by the training ground. I remember when plastic boots were just starting to become popular in Japan. The first double mountaineering boots I had had leather outer shell, actually. Plastic boots are well suited for snow/glacier travels in very cold temperatures as they are very stiff soled and your digits would be well preserved in the dry, toasty warm inner boots. They are not particularly suited for more technical stuff like trips involving rock/ice climbing because they do not give you very good feels for what's underneath your feet. It kind of feels like you're walking around in ski boots actually. On such occasions, leather or synthetic single boots typically work better. If you need warm boots for technical trips, nowadays you can actually find boots that are compromise between the plastic and the leather/synthetic kinds.
We marched out to the bottom of a small gully next to the Timberline Lodge's overflow parking lot where we could practice safely. The snow was very soft, loose and heavy as my thermometer was threatening to shoot past 60 degrees. Joe had explained to us earlier what boot penetration meant, which basically was the measurements of how far your boot would sink into snow as you put your full weight on your foot each step. The boot penetration was probably nearly two feet or so in some sections. 
I was thankful that our crampons came with antiballing plates that prevented snow from sticking to the bottom our feet. 
Without them we would have been turning into a bunch of snow balls ourselves in a condition like this. 
Once Josh, Marty and Heather strapped themselves up in their harnesses, they tied into the rope with Joe in the lead to demonstrate how a group of climbers would proceed without belay, with running belays, or with a quick belay. 
In the middle of all that, a dog showed up from nowhere and poked his head over the edge of the practice slope, obviously amused by the sight of people tied to a rope for a change.. 
Much anticipated Dog Mountain hike took place in wonderful gentle sunny weather with the temperature starting in the mid 50s in the morning. Many of us looked forward to this hike because of its reputation for the views from the top that any photographer would die for.
Once again, with my pack loaded to 35lbs, I joined the intermediate group led by our training leader, Kelly. From the large parking area, the trail began steeply. In several minutes into the hike, I tried to take a sip of water from my hydration tube when I realized that there was no water coming out! I thought perhaps the mouth piece was malfunctioning so I dug out the spare mouth piece and replaced it during our gear check break. Ugh, still no water!! Luckily the problem was pretty simple - somehow the tube got twisted when I put it in my back pack the night before. Thank goodness!! Though I had another bladder of water in my pack as a weight, it would have been a major hassle if I had to use that. 
After gaining about 700' already in the first 1/2 mile, we came to a fork in the trail. There was a Roadrunner cartoon style sign post with two planks of wood nailed to it. One read "More difficult" that pointed to the left, and the other "Less difficult" etched on to it. Both trails before us would lead to the top after 2850 ft of elevation gain. On normal hikes, your choice would be dictated by whether you liked pain in your lungs better than in your knees or vice versa. 
by default. The left fork climbed steeply up the northern flank of the mountain (the brown dotted line) with only few brief, relatively flatter sections. 
Though I felt like my level of fitness has regressed somewhat in the past couple of weeks as I had not been able to do much of physical exercises during that time due to some family stuff going on, I was actually surprised by how quickly we ascended this steep mountain. 
After an hour and fifteen minutes or so of pounding this wickedly steep trail, we were already popping out of the woods and were rewarded by the incredible panoramic view of the Columbia River Gorge as we emerged into the summit meadows. In fact, the view was so amazing to the point of distraction that I really had to remind myself from time to time to bring my focus back to the task of climbing at hand. At this point, we had only another 500' in elevation to go to get to the summit. 
We enjoyed our lunch sitting near a small patch of snow. Mt. Hood (left) was showing off its gnarly summit blanketed in clouds behind the Gorge. Mt. St. Helens (right) was probably the most prominent of all - even though its east half had been blown off by its last eruption, it exerted its massive presence.
I almost missed Mt. Adams (left) as it was sort of hidden behind the trees from where we were sitting. I couldn't wait to set my foot on it this August! 
Mercifully, we descended via the "Less difficult" route that took us to the east side of the mountain that was supposed to give us a little break from having to jack hammer the dirt with our poor knees. Notice I said "was supposed to". As tough as going up was on our quads, going down was torturous to say the least. But it's true, though, that the most important part of climbing is the going down part. I was at one of the REI's seminar, "Climbing the Cascades," last night and the guy who threw the talk put it best: "The best place to be on any mountaineering trip is the parking lot." 
April 2nd, 2010
highway 26 that ran westward from Portland. We started to see some traces of snow on the ground just as I made a remark about how we were lucky that we did not to see any snow when we were passing the 1,000' elevation marker. After driving for about an hour, we turned off onto a paved road that took us north for about another 7 miles to the trail head. After about a half way into this road, an awesome view of Saddle Mountain all of sudden appeared through the beautiful evergreen trees as we came around a curve in the road. We were the only ones in the parking lot.
her.
We started to see gradual increase in snow accumulation as we ascended through the wood. Little did we know that we were about to walk into a blizzard and near white out condition as we got above the tree line. The wind was blowing furiously up the side of the mountain and the trail had completely disappeared under two feet of snow in front of us. We could barely make out where it used to be. 
We were at the decision point. After few minutes of observing and discussing, we decided to proceed another few hundred feet or so to see if the condition on the other side of this section would be better, or at least good enough to go further. Don't ask us why but there we went.
Any exposed portion of our skin got thoroughly exfoliated in the process and, by the time we got to the other side of this section and took refuge behind a lone evergreen tree, there was no doubt in our minds that we were at the end of our little adventure for the day. Not to mention the fact that we were starting to follow a false trail (right) that led off a cliff. Great!!
Even after we were back under the trees' protection, snow had accumulated as much as about a foot or so on the trail and we had to be very cautious about our footings on our descent. But the sights were gorgeous in sort of surreal ways. On one of the sections, the snow covered tree branches formed a tunnel like path for us to walk through.
I had always loved hiking in snow despite its unique challenges. About a half way down the mountain, we saw another set of foot prints leading down the trail. There must have been somebody set off on a hike but decided to turn around and go back. Smart!In 2005, Cathy Davis was a healthy wife and mother, a Boeing employee who had recently been promoted to a new position in China.
The wife of Butte resident Tom Davis, Cathy ate healthy, exercised and never smoked. And she never suspected the nagging back pain she suffered could be lung cancer.
But four months later, Davis fell victim to one of the deadliest cancers in the country, one which killed more than 160,000 Americans last year.
"It really came out of nowhere," said Tom Davis, a 1984 graduate of Butte Central, in a phone interview with The Montana Standard. "By the time Cathy knew she had it, it was too late." Tom and Cathy met at Carroll College in Helena, where she was a star athlete. They moved to Oregon, then Seattle and then to Beijing. It was there that she got sick.
For Tom it was a tough introduction to the disease, one that carries a taboo when it comes to fundraising and research efforts.
"There is this feeling like you did it to yourself, or it's your fault if you have lung cancer. Cathy never did anything, she never smoked, she ate healthy, she was very active," said Tom.
It's in memory of people like Cathy that the American Lung Association started its "Reach the Summit" program, which trains people in mountain climbing. The program includes guided trips to the summit of Mount Hood in Oregon, Mount Adams in Washington State, the Grand Tetons in Wyoming, and summits in Ecuador, including the Cayambe volcano. The climbers all raise money for the association.
Patty Unfred, of Oregon, Cathy's sister, ascended Mount Hood in 2008 as a way to honor and stay connected to her sister.
"It's hard to make sense of this kind of stuff," said Unfred. "This was a way for me to feel close to her." It wasn't something that she could imagine herself doing.
"Cathy was the athlete, not me," Unfred said with a laugh.
But she persevered with the help of her climbing group, and since conquering Mount Hood she's been motivated to continue the sport on her own.
"It really inspired me," said Unfred. "It's become a passion of mine." Alison James, Helena, development manager for the lung association's Montana and Wyoming branch, said they are still looking for people to take part in the program.
"It's a really cool adventure," said James. "Most people who join with us have never climbed before, and we will be doing a lot of training as a group." The climbs occur from June through December. The climbers are asked to raise money to take part, from $3,000 for Mount Hood to $10,000 for the South America trip.
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