MAZAMA INTERMEDIATE CLIMBING SCHOOL
Transform your abilities in ICS’s intensive dual-session program. Master essential skills, organize your own adventures, and open doors to Mazama leadership. Your most dramatic climbing evolution awaits!
Course Info:
Runs: August 2025 – March 2026
Applications open: July 10
Applications close: July 30
Tuition: $1,875 member / $2,150 nonmember
Join our 3-day adventure circumnavigating Mt. Hood this Labor Day weekend! Hike through alpine meadows and glacial terrain with stunning Cascade views. Daily hikes: 13-15 miles with 2,000+ feet elevation gain. Shuttle service provided to trailheads. Evenings at rustic Mazama Lodge. Led by experienced Mazama leaders.
Roundthe Mountai
2025
Round the Mountain Info:
Dates: August 29 – September 1, 2025
Applications open: Now
Applications close: June 30
Cost: $800 member / $950 nonmember
MAZAMA BULLETIN
IN THIS ISSUE CONTENTS
FEATURES
Multigenerational Mazamas, p. 14
The 16, the 7, & the 3: The Past, Present, and Future of Mazama Climbing Awards, p. 16
We Were Here, p. 24
She Climbs High! p. 28
Wheeler Peak, p. 31
Standing on the Precipice of Insanity ... and a New Era in Climbing, p. 32
Climbing Into a Community, p. 36
Looking Beyond Hood: Some of my favorite climbs, p. 38
Bikepacking on the Deschutes River Trail, p. 39
SEWS By Southwest, p. 40
COLUMNS
Executive Director’s Message, p. 4
President’s Message, p. 5
Navigating Rising Insurance Costs, p. 5
Federal Cutbacks, Backcountry Impacts, p. 6
New Members, p. 8
Letter from the Editors, p. 9
Successful Climbers, p. 9
Upcoming Courses, Activities & Events, p. 10
Mazama Supporters, p. 12
Looking Back, p. 43
Book Review, p. 44
Board of Directors Minutes, p. 46
These actions continue against a backdrop of shifting tactics, court orders and counter-orders, and temporary backtracking.”
p. 6
A lot of ambitious Mazamas set out to climb as many of these as quickly as possible.”
p. 16
In all, the Mazamas placed and managed a total of 35 summit register boxes on peaks across the Pacific Northwest ...” p. 24
Whether you like hiking and scrambling, cragging, multipitch climbs, or big-wall style routes, there’s something for everyone here.”
p. 40
Volume 107
Number 3
May/June 2025
Cover: Brian Hague going up the Southwest Couloir of South Early Winters Spire.
Photo: Brian Hague Right: Damon Greenshields wallowing through knee deep snow on Triple Couloirs, Dragontail Peak, 2025
Photo: Angie Brown
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR’S MESSAGE
by Rebekah Phillips, Mazama Executive Director
Welcome to summer!
While many of you are likely out on your own epic hiking, climbing, and backpacking adventures, here at the Mazamas we’re facing our own kind of mountain. Steep terrain, rocky slopes, tough conditions, and no clear beta for what’s ahead. But we’re not just trudging along in the dark. We’re drawing on the strength of our legacy and the power of our community to reach our destination together.
There’s no doubt that the current political climate in the United States is posing significant challenges for nonprofit organizations, including our own. Like for-profit businesses, nonprofits require sound financial management, strategic planning, and adaptability. However, unlike for-profit entities, we rely on the generosity of donors, alongside program revenue, membership dues, and volunteers, to sustain our operations. At the Mazamas, this interdependence between our revenue streams and the community we serve makes the economic uncertainty we face especially acute. When our members experience a reduction in income, reduced spending power, or limitations on free time, we too feel the effects.
The Mazamas is not alone in confronting these challenges. Many organizations, both nonprofit and for-profit, are experiencing hardship, particularly within the environmental sector. Recent rollbacks on global climate commitments, alongside policy reversals and the elimination of wilderness protections, have left key partners struggling to respond. It is early April as I write this; just last week, after firing thousands of USFS employees, the current administration took steps to open nearly 60 percent of our national forests and federal lands to logging. The state of
emergency declared over domestic timber supply and forest health directs agencies to eliminate environmental reviews (and therefore science-based decision making) and accelerate logging across the Pacific Northwest. Adjacent cuts to NOAA and the potential gutting of the Columbia River Gorge Commission—the agency that safeguards the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area—also pose serious threats to our ability to carry out our mission. It’s difficult to predict what further, potentially irreversible, damage will have been done by the time this Bulletin hits mailboxes in May.
Nevertheless, one of the defining qualities of nonprofits is our capacity for resilience and innovation in the face of adversity. Unlike for-profit businesses that often prioritize profit over purpose, we are uniquely positioned to tackle problems that others have deemed unprofitable. The Mazamas excels in community building, mountaineering education, and safety. Our programs provide a network, knowledge, and skills that cultivate strength, resilience, and determination—interconnected qualities that empower us to overcome both internal and external challenges.
The impact of the Mazamas is extraordinary: we drive both social change and personal growth, and this is a cause for celebration. Much of the credit for this is due to our dedicated program and activity leaders, whose tireless efforts in organizing, planning, and mentoring help transform today’s participants into tomorrow’s committee chairs, climb leaders, and board members, advocating on behalf of the Mazamas and serving as ambassadors of our mission wherever they go.
There are countless ways to support the causes that matter most to you, whether they are local or global, large or small. Now, more than ever, it is critical that we stand together to drive meaningful change. Some of us may choose to support a range of causes, while others may prefer to dedicate their efforts to one particular issue. Whatever your approach, by connecting with others, engaging with diverse perspectives, raising awareness, or empowering others to act, you inspire all
“The impact of the Mazamas is extraordinary: we drive both social change and personal growth, and this is a cause for celebration.”
of us to take initiative in working toward a brighter future.
If you are able to make a financial contribution, please consider supporting the Mazamas as well. As a nonprofit organization, your charitable contributions help us sustain and expand our programs, ensuring that we can continue to organize this robust community around our mission. Whether through your time, talent, or treasure, your involvement is critical to our success. Now is the time to play your part, to be hands-on with the organizations and causes you care most about.
As we navigate the challenges ahead, it is my hope that the Mazamas will continue to be a source of inspiration for all who share a passion for the outdoors, as it has been since 1894. Thank you for standing with us in the fight to preserve public lands, promote scientific research, advocate for environmental justice, and ensure that our beautiful forests and mountains remain protected for generations to come. Thank you for making the Mazamas a priority in your life. Together, we will ensure that this community remains a vital force for good. Climb on!
PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE Summits and Stewardship: Upholding the Spirit of the Mountains
by Debbie Dwelle, Mazama President
It starts in the dark— headlamps cutting through cold air, boots crunching over frost-hardened trail. Packs are heavy. The summit is far. But step by step, we move forward. In alpine climbing, there’s no shortcut— only the long, deliberate journey upward.
This is the spirit we carry as the Mazamas: commitment, resilience, and a deep respect for the places that test us. Our mission as a community isn’t just to chase summits—it’s to build a community that loves and protects the mountains. Because the places that challenge us the most are also the ones that need us the most right now.
Every time we rope up or posthole into a high basin, we’re reminded of what’s at stake: vast alpine cirques, fragile ecosystems, pristine ridgelines. These wild places define who we are—not just as climbers, but as stewards.
But these lands are facing growing pressure—both close to home and across the country.
Nationally, we’re seeing renewed pushes for oil and gas development on public lands, rollbacks of environmental protections, and attempts to transfer federal lands to state control—moves that could open the door to privatization
and restricted access. Climate change is accelerating, reshaping landscapes we once thought timeless: melting glaciers, shifting weather patterns, and destabilized ecosystems.
Here in the Pacific Northwest, the threats feel especially personal. Increased wildfire frequency, driven by climate change, is already transforming the alpine zone. Old-growth forests—some of the last of their kind—face renewed logging pressure under the guise of fire mitigation. Conservation safeguards for keystone species and waterways are being challenged, while efforts to expand infrastructure and recreation in sensitive areas raise difficult questions about access and impact.
These aren’t abstract policy debates— they’re decisions that shape the future of the places we hike, climb, camp, and find solitude as well as connectedness.
That’s why our mission must go beyond climbing. As an organization, and as individuals, we’re called to protect what we love. We know what it means to work hard for a summit; we also know what it means to turn back when conditions demand it. That same judgment, endurance, and long-view thinking apply to stewardship. The route ahead may be complex, but the objective remains clear: preserve wild places for the generations of climbers who will come after us.
We’re not alone on this rope team.
Through trail work, education, public advocacy, and local action, we’re building
a movement rooted in shared values. Our strength lies in community—people who show up, who speak up, and who hold the line when the terrain gets steep.
Whether it’s writing to a representative, volunteering on a trail crew, or introducing someone new to the alpine world with Leave-No-Trace values in hand, every act matters. The mountains have shaped us— now it’s our turn to return the favor.
Because in the end, alpine climbing isn’t just about standing on top. It’s about the way we get there. It’s about the team, the ethic, the care we bring to every decision. And that’s exactly what it will take to protect the landscapes we so deeply love and call home. So let’s stay roped together—not just on the mountain, but in our mission to build a community that inspires everyone to love and protect the mountains.
NAVIGATING RISING INSURANCE COSTS
by the Mazama Board of Directors
Over the past year, the Mazamas— like many outdoor nonprofits—have faced rising insurance costs at an unprecedented scale.
Despite our long history of strong safety practices, in early 2024 our general liability carrier declined to renew our policy, citing a reduced appetite for risk across the entire outdoor recreation sector.
We secured replacement coverage, but at a much higher cost. Premiums jumped to more than 17 percent of our annual operating budget—an amount that isn’t sustainable.
Since then, the staff and board have worked together to explore every option, including bids from other carriers, raising deductibles, and adjusting coverage terms. Unfortunately, the industry-wide price spikes left us little room to maneuver.
This month, the board made the difficult but necessary decision to cap insurance spending at 15 percent of
projected annual revenue. To meet this limit, we reduced some coverage limits and increased deductibles. While this does mean the Mazamas are accepting more financial risk, we have retained the core coverage to protect our members, volunteers, and operations.
We are committed to monitoring the situation closely and adjusting our risk management strategies as needed. Know that the Mazamas remain insured and fully committed to maintaining the safety standards that have always been part of who we are.
FEDERAL CUTBACKS, BACKCOUNTRY IMPACTS
by Mazama staff
Over the past several months, the mass firings of federal workers, closures of agency offices, cancellation of grants and other funding, and abrupt changes to established policies have set the stage for impacts to many services we Mazamas have come to expect when we venture into the backcountry. In particular, the current administration has moved to slash National Parks, National Forest, and NOAA staff, open more than half of National Forests to logging, and rescind contracts for maintenance and other support work.
These actions continue against a backdrop of shifting tactics, court orders and counter-orders, and temporary backtracking. With so much uncertainty, specific impacts are impossible to determine. However, Mazama hikers, climbers, and leaders should approach trip planning with particular caution this year, not assuming routine levels of road clearance, campground and trail maintenance, and climbing-related support staff, including climbing rangers and some search and rescue (SAR) operations.
Although many employees fired in February were called back in March, all these agencies face unspecified “reductions in force” in the coming months, so eventual staffing and service levels are unknown. The Washington Trails Association (WTA) expects these new cuts to be severe, along the lines of the February firings, but phased in over time.
Currently, the National Parks appear to be in the best shape. As of this writing, Rainier National Park believes climbing rangers, who are seasonal workers, will be hired and working this year. After several months of confusion, Climbing magazine reports that Yosemite National Park has restored funding for most services,
although its SAR efforts will be staffed only by employees; the many climbers who supplement Yosemite SAR, and perform many of the rescues of climbers and tourists alike, will apparently not be hired this year.
National Forest staffs were decimated by firings and buyout offers in February, then partially restored by court order and agency backtracking, but face further actions beginning in late April. In February, the Okanogan–Wenatchee National Forest, which includes the Enchantments, Alpine Lakes, Glacier Peak, Chelan, Pasayten and other wilderness areas, lost 40 employees, including 10 of the 13 staff managing recreation in the Enchantments and adjacent areas; the agency was already bare-bones after funding restrictions put in place last year. According to the WTA, 70 percent of the Mt. Baker–Snoqualmie National Forest’s recreation staff were fired in February, leaving 16 employees to manage 280 sites and 1500 miles of trail. Oregon national forest staff reductions were likely similar, although numbers are hard to find.
Support organizations such as WTA and Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) have been hard-hit by funding cutbacks, including the withholding of funds previously awarded. In March, TKO (which maintains OregonHikers.org) reported that “nearly $500,000 in federal funding awarded to TKO is stalled, delayed, or in question.” The cuts jeopardize their maintenance of several National Forest visitor centers, wildfire restoration work in Mt. Hood National Forest, training and certification for sawyers who clear downed trees on many trails, including the Pacific Crest Trail, support for 3,000 volunteers working on maintaining and restoring trails, and other projects.
Although most Mazama activities occur on federal lands, be mindful that state and local entities, and their contractors, are likely to be impacted by grant and other funding cutoffs as well as state and local budget shortfalls.
We recommend that those planning trips consult multiple sources to verify access and services:
■ Check recent online trip reports: WTA, Mountaineers, Cascade Climbers, Mountain Project, OregonHikers.org, Instagram, Facebook, etc.
■ Check National Forest and National Park sites for road and trail status; phone calls often work better than website postings.
■ Consult ODOT and WSDOT on road closures
In addition to more thorough trip planning, Mazamas should take time this year to do our part to help others:
■ If you observe maintenance neglect at trailheads and campgrounds, do what you reasonably can to help.
■ Write and publish trip reports, especially if you observe something unexpected.
■ Volunteer with organizations involved in trail maintenance, including the Mazamas!
This year, 2025, promises to be a fine year for hiking and climbing, but please be our eyes and ears in the backcountry this year as we work to monitor and report on federal actions and their impacts.
CONTACT US
Mazama Mountaineering Center 527 SE 43rd Ave., Portland, OR, 97215
Phone: 503-227-2345
Email: help@mazamas.org
Hours: Tuesday–Thursday, 10:30 a.m.–4 p.m.
Mazama Lodge
30500 West Leg Rd., Government Camp, OR 97028
Hours: Closed
PUBLICATIONS TEAM
Editor: Mathew Brock, Bulletin Editor (mazama.bulletin@mazamas.org)
Members: Darrin Gunkel, chair; Patti Beardsley, Peter Boag, David Bumpers, Theo Cantalupo, Aimee Frazier, Ali Gray, Brian Hague, Owen Lazur, Ryan Reed, Michele Scherer Barnett, Jen Travers. (publications@mazamas.org)
MAZAMA STAFF
MATHEW BROCK
Director of Special Collections and Media Mazama Bulletin Editor mathew@mazamas.org
RICK CRAYCRAFT Building Manager facilities@mazamas.org
REBEKAH PHILLIPS Executive Director rebekahphillips@mazamas.org
LEAVE A LEGACY
for the love of the mountains
Learn more about how you can integrate charitable giving to support the Mazamas.
Whether you’re considering a bequest in your will, setting up a charitable remainder trust, or exploring other options, by including a planned gift in your legacy, you’ll secure our continued success while ensuring that your passion endures for generations to come.
If you’ve already decided to include the Mazamas in your estate plans, we invite you to let us know. You’ll want to be sure that you’ve recorded the Mazamas with the Tax ID (EIN) 93-0408077.
Even ordinary people can make an extraordinary difference.
CONTACT US: Lena Toney, Development Director 971-420-2505 | lenatoney@mazamas.org
BRENDAN SCANLAN Operations & IT Manager brendanscanlan@mazamas.org
LENA TONEY Development Director lenatoney@mazamas.org
CATHY WILDE Finance & Administration Manager cathywilde@mazamas.org
For additional contact information, including committees and board email addresses, go to mazamas.org/contactinformation.
MAZAMA (USPS 334-780): Advertising: mazama.bulletin@mazamas.org. Subscription: $15 per year. Bulletin material must be emailed to mazama.bulletin@mazamas.org.
The Mazama Bulletin is currently published bi-monthly by the Mazamas—527 SE 43rd Ave., Portland, OR 97215. Periodicals postage paid at Portland, OR. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to MAZAMAS, 527 SE 43rd Ave., Portland, OR 97215. The Mazamas is a 501(c)(3) Oregon nonprofit corporation organized on the summit of Mt. Hood in 1894. The Mazamas is an equal opportunity provider.
STEEP SNOW & ICE 2025
Ready to Level Up Your Steep Snow and Ice Climbing?
Are you an ICS graduate—or a climber with similar experience—looking to build your confidence and skills on steeper snow and alpine ice terrain? The Mazama Steep Snow & Ice Skill-builder (SSI) might be the perfect next step for you!
Virtual Information Night:
■ Wednesday, May 28, 2025
■ 6:30–7:30 p.m.
■ Zoom link available on Mazama Calendar
Course Highlights:
SSI is designed to help climbers refine their movement and decision-making in steeper, more complex terrain. You'll focus on confidently using your ice axe and crampons as your main tools for both security and upward progress— whether you're front-pointing up firmer slopes or moving with more traditional techniques on snow.
While this course does not include leading on ice, you will get hands-on experience placing ice screws and climbing short sections of alpine ice— excellent prep for objectives like the Reid Glacier Headwall. Throughout the course, we’ll emphasize risk management and sound judgment in every scenario.
Application Dates:
■ June 1–21, 2025
■ Applicants will be notified of their status by July 4, 2025.
Course Format:
The course runs in August 2025 and includes three weekday evenings at the Mazama Mountaineering Center (MMC) and one weekend field session on Mount Hood. The class will be divided into Team A and Team B to allow for more participants.
All students must attend the first two MMC evenings:
■ MMC Session 1: Tuesday, August 5
■ MMC Session 2: Thursday, August 7
Team A:
■ Foam Ice Wall Practice: Tuesday, August 12
■ Mt. Hood Field Session: August 16–17
Team B:
■ Foam Ice Wall Practice: Tuesday, August 19
■ Mt. Hood Field Session: August 23–24
Please also reserve September 6–7 as a weather contingency weekend.
This is an incredible opportunity to build the skills and confidence needed to take on more challenging alpine routes. We hope to see you at the info night!
NEW MEMBERS
Between February 1, 2024, and March 31, 2025, the Mazamas welcomed 91 new members. Please join us in welcoming them to our community!
Dorothee Abbott
Wenzel Abels
Eddie Allen
Lynne Backman
Austin Bauman
Sylvie Bobo
Alex Breiding
Matt Brown
Nancy Brown
Jordan Burgess
Kimberley Byelick
Pilar Calderin
Dale Carstensen
Terra Cathey
Ben Clark
Nolan Conley
Austin Cooper
Dylan Corbin
Brandon D’Andrea
Giang Dang
Trina Delany
Kim DeMent
Sarra Devalence
Sylvie Donovan
Nicole Durchanek
Joshua Ewing
Joe Faski
Noah Flick
Tom Frisch
Ian Fuller
Kiran Hall
Scott Hamlin
Laura Harmon
Michael Hermanny
Zach Hogue
Zachary Horton
Dan Hoyt
Nick Jurgensen
David Klingman
Diana Knopik
Art Koehler
Alyssa Koida
Lori Lancaster
Austin Lee
Lewis Lem
Amber Little
Kimberly LoganElwell
Monty Lunsford
Juliana MacFarlane
Jana MacNally
Alexander Madej
Cheryl Marthaller
Eliot Martin
Matty McComish
Harrison Means
Gregory Mockford
Sofia Molvi
Brooklyn Noel
Molly O’Donnell
Ronan Peck
Ekena Pinage
Laurynas Rekasius
Olga Roshet
Gerald Runyan
Lexy Scarpiello
Nick Scheimann
Kegan Scowen
Rachel Sherrard
Kevin Shevel
Jeff Sillick
Sumeet Singh
Dan Slowey
Aidan Sojourner
Craig Southwell
Nick Spanier
John Spann
Carrie Stein
Lauren Stern
Shylee Stroud
Shelley Tinkham
Yana Ulitsky
Jessica Vo
Robert Vogel
Mike Ward
Andrew Weygandt
Dustin Wienecke
Johnsie Wilkinson
Jordan Williams
Patricia Winkler
Judi Canada Wolff
Jason Woodrow
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS
by
Mathew Brock, Mazama Bulletin Editor, and Ryan Reed, Content Editor
Welcome to the alpine climbing issue of the Mazama Bulletin. Whether
you’re fresh from Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP) or an experienced climber, we think you’ll find something of interest in this issues’ lineup of articles.
We begin with two important messages: one from Mazama Executive Director Rebekah Phillips and another from our staff, addressing the concerns about threats to outdoor recreation by the current administration in Washington, DC. This is followed by insights from Mazama President Debbie Dwelle, who delves into
SUCCESSFUL CLIMBERS
Jan. 20, 2025-Mount St. Helens, Swift Creek Worm Flows (No Permit). Janelle M Klaser, Leader; James M Jula, Assistant Leader. Peter Boag, Kristen R. Frank, Alex Kunsevich, Cliffe Kim, Sergei Kunsevich.
Jan. 26, 2025-Mt. St. Helens, Swift Creek Worm Flows (No Permit). Laetitia Ma. Pascal, Leader. Margo Conner.
Feb. 28, 2025-Mt. Hood (Wy’east), South Side. Pushkar Dixit, Leader; Rob Sinnott, Assistant Leader. Bikash Padhi, Assistant Leader. Matt Snyder, Ryan Shafer, Chris Rivard.
Mar. 1, 2025-Mt. Hood (Wy’east), Wy’east. Darren Ferris, Leader; Ryan Reed, Leader; Gordon Wilde, Assistant Leader. Kaitlyn Beecroft, Gordon Wilde, Heather Nesheim, Noel Tavan.
the board’s strategic planning process and priorities.
Our feature articles start with Patti Beardsley’s heartwarming look at multigenerational Mazamas and the stories they share across decades of climbing. Ryan Reed then provides a comprehensive exploration of the history, current state, and future of the Mazama climbing awards program, traditionally focused on the 16 Peaks.
Mathew Brock takes us on a journey through the history of summit registers, while Amy Brose, Rick Craycraft, and Jeff Thomas collaborate on the first of several articles profiling early Mazama women climb leaders who broke barriers in the sport of climbing.
For those interested in specific peaks, Joan MacNeal offers a compelling profile of Nevada’s Wheeler Peak, and Peter Boag examines the first ascent of Three Fingered Jack and its aftermath. Darrin Gunkel
shares a touching narrative about finding an unexpected community during a climb of Mt. Baker, while Jen Travers highlights less well-known peaks for both new BCEP grads and those with more training, and recounts this spring’s first Mazama bikepacking trip on the Deschutes River Trail.
Rounding out our features is Brian Hague’s thrilling report on a snow-season trip up the Southwest Couloir of South Early Winters Spire in Washington’s North Cascades.
Throughout the issue, you’ll find all the regular columns you’ve come to expect: New Members, Successful Climbers, Looking Back, and a thoughtful book review by Publications Committee alumnus Brian Goldman.
We hope this issue inspires your next alpine adventure!
Altitude Training
• 10% off for all Mazamas members
• 50% off for climb leaders!
650 square ft Altitude Training room with altitudes from 10,000’ to 13,000’
Benefits of Altitude Training:
• Improved sea level or at altitude performance
• Improved aerobic fitness
• Increased strength
• Pre-acclimation to high altitude locations
• Accelerated recovery and return from injuries
• Maintenance of fitness while injured
• Increased fat metabolism
• Increased mitochondria production
• Increased energy production
• Increased capillary density
• Increased oxygen delivery
UPCOMING COURSES, ACTIVITIES & EVENTS
INTRO TO HIGH ANGLE RESCUE SKILL-BUILDER
Applications open: Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Course dates: May 27–June 4, 2025
Location: Mazama Mountaineering Center
Cost: $180 members / $200 nonmember
The Mazama Advanced Rock Program (AR) presents a comprehensive fourevening-session skill-builder focused on high angle rescue techniques. Hosted at the Mazama Mountaineering Center, participants will master essential skills including ascending and descending systems, mechanical advantage, and spider rappel. Prerequisites for this course include documented experience leading at least three multipitch routes within the past year, plus a current belay certification from a local climbing gym. Students must already be sport climbing, anchor building, lead belaying, and performing multipitch techniques, as these fundamentals will not be covered. This skill-builder offers the perfect stepping stone for climbers ready to advance their skills.
BASE CAMP: FORESTS UNDER SIEGE
Date: Thursday, May 8, 2025
Time: 6:30–8:30 p.m.
Location: Mazama Mountaineering Center
Cost: Free
Environmental activist Rand Schenck will discuss his book Forest Under Siege: The Story of Old Growth After Gifford Pinchot. He will examine 100 years of Pacific Northwest forestry, through the lens of forestry practices in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. This volume offers his visceral perspective on decades of stewardship, relentless harvest, and the move toward the rebirth of old growth. Rand has worked for the Sierra Club and the Oregon Natural Resources Defense Council (now Oregon Wild), and helped found 350PDX and Mobilizing Climate Action Together (MCAT), which works to implement climate-smart forestry.
BASE CAMP: THE VOLUNTEERS
Date: Wednesday, May 21, 2025
Time: 6:30–8:30 p.m.
Location: Mazama Mountaineering Center
Cost: Free
Enjoy a screening of The Volunteers - Mountain Rescue Brings Us Home, a documentary by Mark S. Weiner. Two mountain rescue organizations—one near Seattle, Washington, the other in Tyrol, Austria—are linked by a surprising historic connection. Historian Mark Weiner takes us on a journey from America to Austria as he considers the origins and meaning of their work. Both groups have grown from a strong sense of place—because before you can save a stranger, you first must love your home. Q&A to follow with co-producer/codirector David Ritsher and Portland-based cinematographer Sean Conley.
BETA EXCHANGE: LEADERS & LD CANDIDATES
Date: Thursday, May 15, 2025
Time: 6:30–9 p.m.
Location: Steeplejack, 2400 NE Broadway, Portland, OR 97232
Join us for a casual get-together for Mazama Climb Leaders & Leadership Development Candidates to socialize, share insights, and learn about routes in the Pacific Northwest! Connect with fellow climb leaders, exchange beta on routes, and hear about upcoming climbs for the season. The evening will include a 30-minute presentation about Sloan Peak—get the inside scoop on this gorgeous PNW climb!
Details:
■ 30-minute presentation about Sloan Peak beta by Tim Scott—don’t miss it!
■ This evening will also be a great chance to chat with other climb leaders about beta and the climbs they have planned for the upcoming season.
■ Food & Drink: Will be available for purchase (not covered by the Mazamas).
Come for the beta, stay for the conversation —we hope to see you there!
STEEP SNOW & ICE 2025
Dates: August 5–20, with field sessions
August 16–17 and August 23–24, 2025
Info night: May 28, 2025 (Zoom)
Application dates: June 1–21
Notification of acceptance: July 4
More info: www.mazamas.org/ssi
Are you interested in climbs like Mt. Hood’s Reid Headwall, the Adams Glacier, and the Kautz route on Mt. Rainier? The Steep Snow & Ice skill-builder is designed for early intermediate alpine climbers who want to start building the skills necessary to tackle routes like these. SSI occurs in August and features several evening sessions at the Mazama Mountaineering Center to discuss the unique risks and hazards of winter climbing. This is followed by a weekend field session putting our new techniques into practice on steep snow and icy seracs on Mt. Hood’s Elliott Glacier. Students will multi-pitch climb ice slopes, practice building anchors and rappelling, and mock lead on the steeper stuff.
Prerequisites are graduating from ICS or having similar climbing experience, as well as having done some post-ICS climbing on snow and ice.
ROUND THE MOUNTAIN 2025
Dates: August 29–September 1, 2025
Applications open: Now
Applications close: June 30, 2025
Cost: $800 members / $950 nonmember More info: www.mazamas.org/rtm
Round the Mountain is back this Labor Day, August 29–September 1, 2025. Join us as we set out from the Mazama Lodge each day for a 13 to 14-mile adventure. We carry only day packs, because each night we return to the lodge for great food, hot showers, a cozy bunk, and stories from your day on the trail. Your adventure includes all meals and dorm lodging. Shuttle vans will transport you from our meeting place in Portland to the Mazama Lodge, as well as to/from the trailhead each day.
WILDERNESS FIRST RESPONDER
Date: Friday, October 3, 2025
Location: Mazama Mountaineering Center
Cost: $995 members / $1,350 nonmembers
Applications period: July 18 – August 18
The Wilderness First Responder course combines 30 hours of online learning over five weeks with 45 hours of hands-on training across two weekends. Weekend #1 takes place at the Mazama Mountaineering Center, while Weekend #2 includes an overnight stay at Mazama Lodge on Mt. Hood with meals provided. CPR training and certification included in course price.
STOP THE BLEED INSTRUCTORS NEEDED
Have you considered becoming a Stop the Bleed (STB) Instructor? The Mazama First Aid Committee is looking to expand our first aid skill-builder mini-course offerings. The Mazamas recently applied to become a national STB education center and are applying for a STB instructional material grant. Having more STB instructors and more classes helps with our application and provides a community benefit. Goto www.bit.ly/MazFASTB and see if you are eligible to become a STB instructor. The list of eligible health care and non-health professionals includes: WFR, Ski Patrol, OSHA instructors, lifeguard, dietician, pharmacist, and law enforcement to name a few.
If you check your eligibility and committed to becoming a STB instructor, send an email to firstaid@mazamas.org. Thank you for considering becoming a part of the Mazama First Aid community!
DIGITAL ONLY BULLETIN?
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We envision a vibrant, inclusive community united by a shared love for the mountains, advocating passionately for their exploration and preservation.
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Building a community that inspires everyone to love and protect the mountains.
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RECOGNITION LIST COMING SOON!
MULTIGENERATIONAL MAZAMAS
by Patti Core Beardsley
As we enter that magical time of year when the mountains become more accessible, the deserts are welcoming and the hills are filled with color, I am reminded of the cycle of life that we so easily take for granted in nature and in our Mazamas. What cycles of life can there be in the Mazamas you ask? Perhaps every climb is a cycle as we return to basecamp and certainly every season of climbing that matches the cycle of the seasons. But, what of the cycle of generations that grows
with the Mazamas every year. We are curious to hear your stories of being introduced to the Mazamas and introducing others—whether through circles of friends or generational traditions.
In recent years, revisiting Mazama stories documented in past Annuals has raised a lot of curiosity about where those hikers & climbers and their children and grandchildren are in their mountain adventure lives. Outreach to a few coparticipants from the 1970s has brought forth some fun reminisces and opened up a lot of questions we’d all love to explore more.
My story is one of being raised hiking (picture kids with homemade backpacks as soon as they could walk) by two outdoor enthusiasts who found the Mazamas
when they moved to Portland in 1968 and remained involved as hikers, climbers and committee members. Dad applied his engineering way of thinking with other members whilst measuring glacial retreats on the Eliot Glacier, determining variations on routes, and working on the Lodge. Like many Mazamas, his perseverance enabled continuing his adventures well into his 80’s including several climbs with the Mazama Elips (elders in the Chinook language). Mom’s adventurous organizational skills led her to join Mazama outings hiking around Annapurna and through the mountains of Peru whilst pitching in on the Mazama Banquet efforts where members shared their stories in a lively annual event. Together, their enthusiasm led us up and around mountains throughout the Northwest enabling us to meet some of the legendary leaders of the era and their
Above: Mazama Elips members on the summit of Middle Sister, July 1996.
children whose stories we hope to share here in future issues.
Take, for example, Malcolm Montague, himself a third generation Mazama, inspiring his children (the fourth generation) to hike up and around the mountains of the Northwest including being part of the crew that carried fireworks to the summit for the 75th Mazama Anniversary celebration. His daughter, Ellen, recently intrigued this writer with reflections about the Mazama experiences of her father, aunt, grandfather and great-grandfathers as well as her first and qualifying climb up South Sister at age 11. As many readers might also remember, she described sleeping over at the Mazama Lodge prior to a Mt. Hood climb and the distinct sound of yodeling at 3 a.m. to let the climbers know it was time to rise and shine and ascend. Summitting was not a requirement for great adventure as evidenced by multiple hikes around Mt. Hood with the Girl Scouts—much to her parents’ delight.
TELL US YOUR STORY
Many of these stories of adventures and conservation efforts are documented in Bulletins and Annuals and the Mazama archives, which are themselves great reading. Many reside in the memories of you, the reader, and your mentors/family members. Please help us build upon this initial collection by sharing your “cycle of generations” stories, whether through circles of friends or family traditions. Email us at yourstory@mazamas.org! Not sure where to start? We have some ideas...
■ What is the first hike you remember with your parent/ relative/friend? Where did you go? How did they entice you to keep going? How did that story get told over the years?
■ What inspired your parent/ relative/friend to become a mountaineer and climb leader?
■ What particular adventures do you remember them telling stories about?
■ What goals did they have—which completed and which left for future generations?
Ellen’s father was inspired by his aunt and grandfather. As a third generation Mazama, Malcolm became a frequent climb leader and this writer remembers a North/Middle Sister climb with him where the unexpected wind took care of at least one tent on the Hayden Glacier where the team had set up camp. Malcolm relished time around the campfire sharing stories and was thrilled describing the summit of 10 Alps during an early 1970s Mazama outing that included achieving his life long goal of summiting the Matterhorn. If he left any summit undone, it was the Eiger. The full story of the Swiss Alps outing in the 1970 Mazama Annual is a worthy read.
Malcolm’s grandfather, Richard, was one of the early Mazamas and inspired multiple descendants to be active outdoors people, historians, and conservationists. Ellen remembers her father along with close co-leaders and friends Carmie Dafoe and Peg Oslund demonstrating the Mazama ethics of truly caring about those on their climbs by “running the line” of the whole team checking on their progress, thus doubling or tripling their own mileage on any trip—with a smile.
Last year, Ellen had the opportunity to travel the Grindelwald to Matterhorn route that her father so fondly remembered, and she also visited the shop where Malcolm borrowed an ice ax and, along with several members of the outing, had one made. That recent trip included the next generation who are now inspired to pursue their own Mazama adventures in the future. Perhaps a future generation will reach that Eiger summit with Malcolm in mind.
As we look forward to learning more about multi-generational Mazamas, I am grateful for our part in the cycle. I met my
■ How has the love of the mountains been passed down to subsequent generations?
Email us at yourstory@mazamas.org
other half of “generation #2” in a Mazama rafting class. He was an avid adventurer and mountain rescue guy who, upon meeting my mid-70s Dad on South Sister said “yikes, do you expect me to be that active at that age?” We continue to enjoy adventures with nephews, great nephews and our son who became a Mazama in his own right after a three day outing to the top of Old Snowy when he was an adventureappropriate age of 4 and was distracted by “playing soccer” with a pinecone going up the trail. We leave our first generation Mazama family members’ unfulfilled mountain dreams (the Tour d’ Mt Blanc and the Baltoro Glacier) to retirement and these subsequent generations.
Above: Ralph Core & Malcolm Montague on Hayden Glacier, undated
THE 16, THE 7, & THE 3: THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE OF MAZAMA CLIMBING AWARDS
by Ryan Reed
Maybe you first saw it at the Mazama Lodge: 16 pairs of names and elevations in descending order, bold and clear in black ink on your lasagnastained napkin. Or maybe it was printed on the side of a water bottle. For some, it’s just a list of notable regional peaks, another trivia quiz like “Ten Largest Lakes of Africa.” For others, it’s a call to action.
Ian McClusky remembers it exactly, as a BCEP student at the lodge. “My eyes scanned down the list [on the napkin]. Some mountains I had grown up with: Mt. Hood, Saint Helens, Mt. Adams...some I knew from a distance, some I had never heard of. Where was Stuart? Shuksan? Glacier Peak? In my hand was a simple list, but it represented the entire homeland of my Pacific Northwest. I realized that to truly know my birth land, I would need to know these mountains up close. In my hand was an invitation.”
That list, of course, is the “16 Major Northwest Peaks.” The Mazamas has an award for summitting them on official climbs, along with awards for the seven in Oregon, and the three most local volcanoes—the “Guardian Peaks.” And there’s the Terry Becker Award for leading official climbs of the 16.
A lot of ambitious Mazamas set out to climb as many of these as quickly as possible. They may find delight in other peaks, or make their own bucket list, but these iconic summits persist in the mind. Many Mazamas know where they are on the list, whether they’re pursuing it or not.
Surprisingly few finish. Since its inception in 1935, only 497 members have received the 16 Peaks award. Another 733 members have completed the Oregon Seven, while just over 2,000 have received
the Guardian Peaks Award. (The awards must be applied for, so it’s anyone’s guess how many have earned an award but not requested it. And there’s another unknown cohort who’ve summited the peaks but not all on official climbs.)
But the number of awards given out has been trending south for several decades.
Guardian awards averaged 50 per year during the 1960s and 1970s; the last 20 years, only 6 per year. In the same time frame, Oregon Peaks dropped from an average of 17 to 3, and the 16 Peaks from 11 to less than 4.
What gives? Are these awards too hard to achieve? Are they anachronistic?
Should the Mazamas discontinue them, or perhaps expand recognition to different peaks? We asked a few dozen awardees for their opinions, and got quite a response.
The Meaning of Recognition
“I think the award is special,” says Amy Brose (16 Peaks, 2014). “It takes ages to make the 16 Peaks happen, it's a pretty great accomplishment for a Mazama.” But it was more than just a tick list. “The adventures contained in that award are pretty special.”
For many, the Guardian Peaks was a gateway into mountaineering. “I first learned about the 16 peaks in my BCEP class,” says Patrice Cook (16 Peaks, 2016). “I had an amazing leader, Dean Lee, who provided an opportunity for any of his students that wanted to earn the Guardian Peaks award in their first summer as a Mazama. It was a huge incentive.”
STORIES OF THE 16
We asked a few 16 Peak Award recipients to reminisce about their journey to the award. Note: The Terry Becker Award, created in 2000, is given to climb leaders who lead the 16 Peaks. The Leuthold Award recognizes outstanding contributions to the climbing community in addition to leading the 16, and recipients must be nominated and approved.
MARTY SCOTT (2004)
David Zeps (16 Peaks, 1998) says the award “gave me credibility with the students in my BCEP groups early in my Mazama career. The bottom line is that awards do confer status, and for instructors, credibility within the organization.”
The Becker Award is clearly a strong motivator for climb leaders. “I’m definitely planning on leading the 16 peaks,” says Forest Brook Menke-Thielman (Guardian Peaks, 2021). “I think it’s a motivator, because once you have the skills to do it, leading a Mazama climb takes more energy than just doing it with friends, but doing it for the organization where you meet new people, and can be recognized for your achievements becomes the motivator. So yes, I do like the awards.”
The effort can form connective tissue between members and climb leaders. “For me to get it, many climb leaders had to accept me on their climbs and
reach difficult summits, and then I had to organize and lead a bunch of them too,” says Amy. “It really kept leadership stoke high for all involved.”
For Ian McClusky, the 16 Peaks Award was a way of connecting to Mazama history. Early Mazama climbers endured multi-day approaches and climbed with alpenstocks and hobnail boots. “These people were bad-asses,” he says. “Although summiting these peaks is infinitely easier today with modern gear, the act of going into the alpine and reaching a summit is still fundamentally just as profound. To complete the Mazama 16 Peaks was, for me, a way to connect to this heritage of mountaineering, and add my name into a hallowed list of those who blazed the way.”
Diagnosing the Decline
So why then do so few earn the awards these days? There are certainly some objective factors.
The average number of climbers on a team declined sharply in the 1970s with the advent of self-imposed and designated wilderness limits.
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It took from 1987, when I took BCEP, to 2004, when I finally climbed Shasta. I’m not sure when I started to think about the 16 peaks. Maybe around 1997, at which point I had climbed all but three, many several times. At that point I started to try to include the remaining ones on my schedule, but it took me until 2004 to finally get Shasta after seven tries— including at least three times that we turned around before the summit due to bad weather or route conditions.
TIM SCOTT (2006, BECKER 2013)
I summited Mt. Hood in ‘99 and Mt. Shasta in ‘06, so it took 7 seasons. The 16 was more of a framework of worthy objectives. During 2001-03, I climbed a lot with Terry Cone and he was all about the 16 peaks. He was a big influence because he took me on all the climbs I applied for.
BOB BREIVOGEL (1997; BECKER, 2001)
It took 15 years, but I only applied for the award when I had led the 16. My hardest 16 Peak lead was Liberty Ridge on Mt. Rainier.
Above: The 16 Peaks Award plaque. The appropriateness of the lone white male climber has been under discussion since at least 2002.
16 Peaks, continued from previous
The Forest Service no longer permits BCEP “Graduation Climbs” of Mt. Hood, which used to start a large number of climbers on their way to the Guardian Peaks award.
Half the 16 now require permits secured (or won in a lottery) in advance, complicating the scheduling for climb leaders.
A thinner climb schedule, still recovering from the pandemic, slightly less popular 16ers like Olympus, Stuart, and Glacier, often accomplished just once or twice a year.
Global warming is shifting and shortening the climb season for many peaks. “I believe [the 16] is getting harder,” says Joe Whittington (16 Peaks, 1992). “Climate change is affecting the routes, and the weather just seems more uncertain.”
The awards may also be suffering from a decline in awareness. Tim Scott (16 Peaks, 2006) points out that the awards presentation has lost its original venue, the Mazama-only Annual Banquet, moving to first the Portland Alpine Fest’s Summit, then to the Volunteer Appreciation night, which has yet to attract the broader membership. “It's become a night for the Old Guard to gather and chat,” says Tim. “It feels insular and not a lot of new blood shows up.” One result is that newer
Mazama members aren’t exposed to the awards.
Amy Brose received her award, unusually, at a BCEP lecture at Jackson Middle School: “All those brand-new people being introduced to the Mazamas at that lecture got to see someone get an award that took ten years of hard work and fun. I'm hoping maybe it inspired a few of the BCEP students to aim high and climb a bunch out of BCEP when they were done.”
There may also be an expectation that the awards are automatically assigned in the Mazama website, like other badges. This may be an eventual option, but for now members must still request the awards.
But few of these factors can fully account for the long-term decline since the 1970s. What about cultural and generational factors? Certainly, there are other outdoor sports attracting our attention: trail running, ultra-marathoning, rafting, mountain biking, and of course rock climbing. “The 16 Peak Award just isn't the grail it once was,” says Rick Craycraft (16 Peaks, 1994). “First off, the world seems to be being taken over by rock climbers, and the patience and commitment about waiting through possibly years of climbing to get the award is not in fashion like it once was.” One could also point to a
STORIES OF THE 16
AMY BROSE (2014)
It took me 10 years. I got lucky on the big ones. Olympus once, early on after BCEP, with super heavy new-climber gear, and we made the summit. Made it to the top of Glacier, Jefferson, Shuksan, and Baker on my first try each time. Those are often the hard ones for people to get...I was grateful that leaders trusted my skills and took me on these big climbs and were really organized and knew how to make the summits happen.
I had a failed first Rainier climb (a Mazama climb), but two weeks later went back and did it with friends as a private climb and summited. And two years later did it again as a private climb. I finally decided that I might as well lead it as an official Mazama climb so it could count for my 16 Peaks Award ... so I did. And we got it. That’s still one of my proudest accomplishments, and not just as a climber.
As someone who grew up here with a family who did absolutely nothing outdoors and thought mountains were put there to kill people, never in my life did I imagine that I’d not just be climbing all these Cascade peaks but actually leading a climb up Rainier ... Without the 16 Peaks award as a goalpost, I probably would have just kept leading it as a private climb. Instead, I made it an official Mazama climb and others benefitted as well.
It would be a huge omission if I didn’t recognize John Godino for his lead on my last of the 16 peaks: North Sister. I was terrified of it, so many people have been hurt climbing it, but John had that mountain dialed in terms of protection and a climbing plan. It was probably the most fun I’ve ever had in camp (we did a ‘no dehydrated food potluck’ in camp the night before and ate like kings), we sang stupid Bon Jovi songs on our way up the glacier as the sun came up, and the climb went up with no issues. I sat on that summit and felt a huge accomplishment when I realized that I had finally knocked out the 16 peaks with the Mazamas.
Above: Steve Waggoner , Ann Ames, and, Rico Micallef each finished their 16th Peak on the summit of Mt. Olympus, July 2016.
page.
society-wide decline in civic organizations, and to the ability of recognition-seekers to post their accomplishments on social media.
Still, other climbing organizations manage elaborate lists of peaks and dole out pins, badges, plaques, and even paperweights for member climbing achievements – the Mountaineers give awards for about 30 different peak lists, the Sierra Club at least 16. Many climbers avidly pursue summit groupings—there are hundreds detailed on the website peakbagger.com.
The expansion of the climbing awards came along with the birth of the Climbing Committee in 1934–35. Until then, all “climbs” occurred during the Annual Outing, a mass excursion to the foot of Mt. Adams, Mt. Rainier, or some other locale for a weeks-long encampment marked by nature walks, campfire theatricals, folkloric reenactments, singalongs, and, yes, climbing. Any other hike or a climb came under the jurisdiction of the Local Walks Committee. As the demand for climbing ramped up, Local Walks was unable to train enough qualified climbing leaders,
But the 16 is no ordinary list. It bears a special relationship to the Mazamas, embedded in its history—and not without controversy. Time for a little history.
Guardians and Majors
Like other organizations, the early Mazamas loved regalia, and awarded special rings, shoulder patches, emblems, and insignia for various accomplishments. Summits were rewarded with satin ribbons printed with the mountain's name and date of climb from at least the 1910s; in 1932 these became the familiar parchment certificates.
Climbing awards for multiple summits started with a book: John H. Williams’s Guardians of the Columbia, published in 1911, an illustrated volume extolling the beauty of Mts. Hood, Adams, and St. Helens. Within two years, the Mazamas were awarding Guardian Peaks badges, a satin ribbon with the mountains’ names and date of climb in gold lettering.
and Mazama members were organizing their own “outlaw” climbs.
To staunch this trend, the Mazamas set up a Climb Committee; among its early actions was to supplement the Guardian award with awards for Seven Oregon Cascade Peaks and Fifteen Major Northwest Peaks (Mt. Stuart was soon added). The motivation was simple; as committee chair John D. Scott bluntly put it: “It should be carefully noted that these Mazama awards are not given merely for making a certain number of specified ascents,” he wrote in 1940. “The mountains are free and anyone of average mountaineering ability can climb all of them. The awards are offered as a direct inducement to promote group climbing sponsored by this particular [organization].”
The committee spent significant time hashing out the associated paraphernalia, settling eventually on “emblem sleeve patches made of blue felt, with one, two
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STORIES OF THE 16
IAN MCCLUSKY (2022)
I was in BCEP [when I saw the napkin list of the 16 Peaks] and had not yet completed an official Mazama climb, but this simple list spoke to my soul. I made a promise to myself: I would climb every mountain on that list.
I was 46 years old at the time. I gave myself an added milestone: climb all 16 by the age of 50. The numbers didn’t really matter: it was more the importance of acknowledging that, at that time, I had the physical ability to push my body; I would not always have that, and I could not take it for granted. Numbers can be arbitrary or meaningful; fifty is just another year, or it’s a major milestone. A lot of people pick major challenges to mark such moments. I took that napkin home and pinned it to my wall. Challenge accepted. I was able to get the 16 Peaks completed in 4 years. Rainier was my third attempt. The first two attempts were with climber leader Yun Long Ong, who had stage 4 cancer. Both times we reached base camp at about 11,000 ft. and both times he was unable to continue. The third time I climbed in his memory, and reached the summit. It was officially my 16th Peak.
The fact that the 16 Peaks span from the North Cascades to northern California gives me a feeling of knowing the entire Northwest region. I feel so much more rooted to the mountains as a regional range. I can proudly stand on one peak and look to the south and north and see at least one or two that I’ve also been atop. Seeing these peaks—not as individuals, but as a family—gives me a deeper appreciation for how all of the mountains are connected.
Deep in the Mazama archives are old alpenstocks, many carved with the names of successful summits and dates. There is a rich history in the Mazamas. In wanting to be a Mazama, I wanted to be part of this tradition. The 16 Peaks, in this sense, meant an opportunity to follow in the footsteps of climbers like Fay Fuller.
Above: Climbing award and leadership sleeve emblems, designed in 1935, since discontinued.
Peaks, continued from previous
or three gold starts”—replaced later with parchment certificates. The 16 Peak awardees also received a bronzed metal plaque picturing the 16 peaks and mounted on a wooden base.
The new awards were a hit. As Scott later put it, “The rank and file of [Mazama] climbers took to the award idea like ducks to water. The number of individual ascents registered on the official climbs jumped from a little over 200 to some 350 in a single year.” (Despite the goal of promoting official climbs, a certain number of private climbs counted if long as two members attested to the summit, or if you climbed with another federated outdoor club.)
The 16 were hardly a random selection. Eleven are lofty volcanoes, two are crumbling but dramatic volcanic cores, and the other three are glaciated peaks that dominate significant areas. With the exception of Mt. Olympus and Glacier Peak, they are all landmarks visible from many of the region’s highways and towns. Even today, with more roads and a thoroughly explored backcountry, few would dispute their exceptional stature.
As it happens, the 16 also encompass a wide range of climbing experiences. Seven include glacier travel, six have low-grade technical rock, and three involve both. Two
require multi-day approaches; two ascend into the thin air of 14,000 ft. Four can be considered non-technical, accessible to those with limited training.
Significantly, most of the 16 were wellknown from previous Annual Outings, and all offered reasonable access for the era. In fact, they comprised the vast majority of official climbing objectives through the early 1950s. In a typical year, 1940, only ten official climbs were offered—each attempting one of the 16.
Only 20 members earned the 16 Peak award in its first decade, and it typically required 20 or more years to complete the set. As the climb schedule grew, the time and effort required plummeted, and during the 1960s and 70s upwards of 80 members received Guardian Peaks awards annually, and 16 Peak awards averaged ten per year.
Despite the subsequent decline in award numbers, there’s a reason the 16 persist as a recognized goal, says David Zeps. “There are, of course, much more difficult peaks (and routes) in the Northwest. But the 16 majors are achievable with persistence, reasonable effort, and relatively low risk, so represent a worthy goal for Mazama members.”
But there’s always been some discord about the honors. John D. Scott addressed
STORIES OF THE 16
RICK CRAYCRAFT (1994)
My approach as a freshly minted Basic School graduate in 1989 was to treat the list as a survey course. I knew very little about the mountains of the Northwest, so I just thought I’d do this representative list to judge what I liked and what I didn’t. I guess I was defining myself as a climber. I applied for climbs aggressively in 1989, and during that season I climbed half of the 16 peaks. From there on, my connections with climb leaders and reputation as a quality party member carried me along. I thought I had completed the list in July 1993 by climbing Rainier after two previously unsuccessful attempts (including being pinned down by a blizzard in Emmons Flats for 36 hours). But then it came to light that I had not summited Stuart in 1990 as I had thought, in reality only getting to the false summit in thick fog. Fortunately, I had already signed up for Stuart two weeks after Rainier, and that was the 16. I was a little embarrassed at the next Annual Banquet receiving my award surrounded by seasoned climbers.
ANN AMES (2016)
My only goal when I started climbing seriously in my 50s with the Mazamas was to memorialize my mother on the summit of Mount Rainier, as she summited “The Mountain” in 1948 after spending a summer working at Paradise. From there the peaks’ summits simply compelled me!
[The award] was an unintended achievement that accompanied the joy (and challenges) of climbing and playing in the mountains. After summiting about 8 of the 16, I gradually felt driven to pursue the award, knowing I intended to climb the more famous peaks anyway, and it seemed a challenge worth pursuing.
Above: Chris Rears, second from right, on the summit of Mt. Rainier, his 16th Peak, June 30, 2017, with leader Andrew Bodien at far right.
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the divide directly: “There are always some purists in the out-of-doors fraternity,” he wrote in We Climb High (1965). “There are mountaineers who are revolted by the idea of gaining an award for climbing. But the vast majority of us (ignoble mortals!) are more than willing to pursue a lovely award.”
In 1926, an award for climbing the five Oregon peaks over 10,000 feet was proposed, as well as a “Guardians” association within the organization; in response, L. A. Nelson argued that awards would push unqualified climbers into danger and result in loss of life. “When mountain climbing becomes a contest and not a sport, dire results are sure to follow,” he wrote in a letter to the Bulletin “A mark of distinction for achievement in mountaineering is all very well, but it should be a reward and not an objective.”
In 1954 the Climb Committee expanded the awards, authorizing a 10-Peak award, adding a 25- and 50-Peak award a decade later, and capping it off with a 100-Peak award (awarded only four times) in 1971; recipients received a parchment certificate, a silver Mazama emblem pin, a gold pin, or a bronzed plaque (picturing, oddly enough, Sinister and Dome peaks). In 1974, the committee voted unanimously to discontinue all of these, citing the excessive time their support consumed, and noting that “the question of worthiness of a particular peak does not arise with the traditional peaks.” Only the 16 had the undisputed status for an award.
The expansionist urge did not go away. In 1994, Richard Denker proposed a “Second 16” award, submitting a list of peaks that included also-rans like Thielsen and Broken Top as well as higher-end goals like Forbidden, Challenger, and Bonanza. In declining the suggestion, then–Climb Committee chair Doug Wilson responded that “even today there are a great many members that would like to see all climbing awards done away with because they feel that climbing should simply be for the joy and outdoor experience, not as a means of recognition or for plaques and certificates.” The current award system, he wrote, “reflects [Mazama] history and allows interested people to set climbing goals without showing an undue emphasis on awards.”
Reconsidering the 16
But having just three awards based on a single list also has its downsides,
especially for impressionable beginning climbers. “Not being able to get on climbs is a common member complaint,” Joe Whittington says, “But it's primarily the 16 peaks climbs that folks are upset about not being able to do.”
With fewer climbs on the schedule and the difficulty of getting permits, “it seems a shame to only prioritize the 16 peaks,” says Amy Brose. “There are so many wonderful mountains that made me a much better mountaineer that aren't on that list. Eldorado is still my very favorite climb, I've done it many times, and anyone who has done it with me just fell in love with the climb. It's sometimes a shame that other awesome climbs that aren't the 16 peaks aren't added as much as they should be to the schedule.”
The original 16 served in part to expand the Mazamas’ focus beyond the Guardians to include the greater Cascades; now, ironically, it might be restricting our vision. In his “Second 16” proposal, Richard Denker made a point of including peaks in southeast Oregon, the Wallowas, and British Columbia. (Richard has also compiled a list of Oregon peaks over 7,500 feet with a 1,000 feet gain on all sides, then climbed/hiked all of them, writing an unpublished manuscript about the effort.)
Climb leader Daniel Mick is more blunt: “Are we loving and protecting all the mountains, or just 16 of them?” Daniel is concerned about the rush to climb the same peaks and the consequences of honoring only a limited list. “63 percent of the 16ers are C climbs,” he points out. “That’s out of reach for a lot of Mazamas.” And too many are simple volcano slogs with low fun factors.
Several 16 Peakers acknowledge the limitations but found motivation in other peak lists—no Mazama award needed. “I think the awards are great, but we probably do not need to expand the list,” says Joe Whittington. “There is a website, Peakbagger.com, where people who are into this can record their climbs and receive recognition. It's also a great resource for planning climbs.”
After completing the 16, Joe pursued the 50 state high points, falling just short on a Denali summit day; David Zeps managed to complete the list on his 70th birthday. Doug Wilson, who thought the Mazamas supported enough lists, went on to complete the Rainier National Park 100
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STORIES OF THE 16
JOSH LOCKERBY (16 PEAKS, BECKER, LEUTHOLD 2008)
For me the 16 Peaks was a 25year journey. I followed my parents, who climbed Hood in 1981, and I took Basic School in 1983 [at age 15]. The following year, I became more interested on a Middle Sister climb, as one of the team members was doing his 16th peak. I had just completed the Warrior Peaks requirements [the substitute for the Guardian Award while St. Helens was closed to climbing in the early 1980s], and when I received the award later that year I saw those who received the Oregon Peaks, 15 and 16 Peaks Awards [also adjusted for St. Helens] as well as the Leuthold Award. Being only 16 at the time, I figured to go for the Oregon Peaks Award and wait and see. I earned it a few years later. Along the way, I got to climb with some other current or soon-to-be Leuthold recipients (Larry Stadler, Ed Holt, and Jack Grauer).
A few years later, I abruptly became a climb leader (there was no Leader Development back then). So, I focused on leading climbs I had already done. By Fall of ‘97, I realized I had already led all of the Oregon Peaks. After Terry Becker’s passing, I was on Climb Committee when discussions of the Becker Award took place. It was then I decided to lead the remaining 16 Peaks. They were all “exploratory”, but I had help from assistants who had been there already, especially Shuksan–Fisher Chimneys and Glacier–Frostbite Ridge, which were my two hardest because of bad footwear. Year by year, I whittled away at them, eventually finishing the 16 with Mt. Olympus— the best climbing trip I ever had.
I was not one to attend too many awards ceremonies, so I waited to complete the Becker Award on Mt. Adams the following year. So, in 2008, I finally received the 16 Peaks Award, along with the Becker Award, and Climbing Committee was gracious enough to toss in the Leuthold Award as well. Not bad for the age of 40!
Peaks, continued from previous
and the difficult 100 Mountains of Japan. Rick Craycraft has been inspired by the Colorado 14ers, the Sierra Club Desert Peaks, Jeff Smoot’s Climbing Washington's Mountains, and several other lists.
The Future of Climbing Awards
But there are many who think the Mazamas should honor more climbing accomplishments. Richard Denker thinks awards are a significant motivator. “Years ago, when the Mazamas had a whitewater program, I went on several Mazama raft trips. I remember [talking] about having a whitewater award for those who navigated the Northwest rivers. The consensus was that it would boost interest in the whitewater program. The Mazamas are moving from a climbing club to [an organization] with diverse activities. A set of awards for hiking and any other activity the Mazamas sponsors may help to keep and grow membership.”
Our survey of 16 Peak recipients yielded plenty of suggestions:
Josh Lockerby (16 Peaks, 2008): “I do think some additional awards should be created for those who maybe don't care so much for the technical exposure—like a list of A and/or B level peaks. Another thought is number of years active—which is not a bad goal at all.”
Tim Scott proposes a unique idea: “I'd like to see a 10-, 25-, 50-Mile High
Award, based on the elevation gained from trailhead to the summit on a Mazama climb.”
Ann Ames suggests keeping 16 as a numerical goal but not the summits: “I would love to see a selection of peaks beyond the famous 16 that climbers could choose from for their 16 successful Mazama climbs. There are so many equally/more challenging peaks to climb in our beautiful Northwest, it might be nice to cast a wider net. This would also incentivize climb leaders to expand their offerings to less well-known peaks but 16 Peak worthy.”
Bob Breivogel thinks there’s room for additional lists or awards. He’d include climbs like Mts. Logan, Daniel, Thielsen, and Matterhorn Peak, with perhaps another list for technical rock peaks, like Triumph, Liberty Bell, Forbidden, Redoubt, and Prusik.
Richard Denker says “a walk-up [hiking] award may be appropriate. That list might have some overlap, it could include Mount St. Helens, but also other lesser peaks of the Northwest, such as Strawberry Mountain, Rock Creek Butte, and Sacajawea Peak.”
Daniel Mick’s Proposal
No one is more outspoken on awards expansion than Daniel Mick, who views it in terms of the Mazama mission: To build a community that inspires everyone to love
STORIES OF THE 16
CHRIS REARS (2017)
My dad taught me the love of the outdoors and showed me many adventures when I was growing up. He took my brother and I up Lassen at 4 years old and Mt. Shasta at 11. Quite a responsibility for him but it meant a lot.
Before joining the Mazamas I had climbed a few of the 16 peaks, using what I learned from my dad and recruiting a friend or two. After a while it became harder to schedule such climbs, as most of my friends and I were working and had families. My wife suggested I join a club so I’d be able to climb more, and she also didn’t want me to climb on my own, as I had a few times—although she did like that I always came home happy. I joined the Mazamas in 2003 and took BCEP, ICS, and ASI by 2006. I didn’t have a goal of 16 peaks at that time, I really just signed up for climbs that fit my schedule. After 8 or so years I realized I had done most of the 16, so focused on that goal.
In 2012 I was accepted on a North Sister climb with Glenn Widener. That climb was epic and is still an incredible memory for me. We started at 3:30 a.m. and climbed North Ridge. Got back to camp at 11:30 p.m. Wow, was I tired! But a good tired. It took until 2017 to finish the 16 with Mt. Rainier, which I had climbed twice before but not with the Mazamas. Finishing the 16 I felt great; it was a worthy goal for sure.
I think about some of those climbs a lot. Not really as part of the 16 Peak goal but more as the experience I had being on them. I have made many friends and have been lucky to finish the 16. I will always appreciate the experiences.
Above: Amy Brose celebrates her 16th on top of “terrifying” North Sister, led by John Godino.
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and protect the mountains. He wants our awards to:
■ Recognize climbers of all skill levels, including non-BCEPers, who may be intimidated by technical challenges.
■ Reduce the frustration of beginners overly focused on the 16, and unable or unqualified to get on those climbs.
■ Encourage climbing in diverse ranges, especially outside restricted permit zones.
His initial proposals are directed at climb leaders. In place of the somewhat obscure system behind the 5-, 10-, and 15-Point Awards, he suggests awards based on total number of summits and total number of unique summits, adjusted for climb grade and type, and perhaps total number of climbers on their trips. Rewarding variety might relieve some of the burnout of leaders who feel pressure to lead and re-lead the 16. He also stresses adding more A-level climbs and climb leaders, with a goal of building a broad foundation for beginners to enter meaningfully into Mazama programs.
After leader awards he’d want new awards accessible to novice climbers, including scrambles and even trail trips.
“There are a lot of possibilities to explore. Any peak can be climbed in a more difficult manner. In central Oregon, there are a lot of buttes with trails to the top, but you get onto the back side, you might find a nasty, gnarly scramble.”
Ideally, the awards could be bestowed automatically through the Mazama database, like other badges, rather than applied for; this would sidestep the reluctance many climbers feel about achieving recognition. A physical token—a pin, a ribbon, a plaque—could be given upon request.
Daniel has lists of 38 peaks in Oregon and 165 in Washington he considers worthy of recognition; most are A-level climbs. But he’s also interested in awards for the broad array of peak-bagging lists: high points, prominence, etc. And perhaps recognition for extreme accomplishments as well.
Any awards expansion would of course require a lot of effort from limited staff and busy committees. And many decisions: Would all climbs or hikes still have to be official? If not, would verification be needed? Could the awards be granted automatically, or still only upon request?
Is our database sufficient to track multiple lists?
The urge to climb most often begins with what we see: so many climbers start out just wanting to climb Mt. Hood. If a list on a napkin can somehow encourage further adventures, that’s a good thing. If more lists can “gameify” the selection process, that’s not necessarily bad. Because whatever odd prompts drive us into an adventure, in the end it’s the actual experience that will stay with us.
“Looking back, the journey was far more rewarding than the awards themselves,” says Josh Lockerby. “Are the awards needed? I know there are those who never aspired for them, but I do think having such goals available pushes a lot of us into that great experience.”
SUPPORT THE MAZAMAS TODAY AND SAVE ON TAXES
If you are age 70 ½ or older, you can transfer up to $105,000 annually from your IRA accounts directly to a qualified nonprofit, such as the Mazamas. Make your contribution by December 31 to count as a 2025 Qualified Charitable Distribution (QCD).
Benefits:
■ QCDs are tax-free and don’t require itemized deductions to receive the tax benefit.
■ Counts towards your required minimum distribution for the year.
■ Supports building a community that inspires everyone to love and protect the mountains through outdoor education, responsible recreation, and conservation.
If you have questions about donating to the Mazamas, please contact Lena Toney, Development Director, at 971-420-2505 or lenatoney@mazamas.org .
WE WERE HERE
History of Summit Registers in the Pacific Northwest
by Mathew Brock, Director of Special Collections and Media
On August 12, 1888, Ray Farmer and E. C. Cross succeeded in scaling the summit pinnacle of Mt. Jefferson for the first time. “We had nothing to leave on the summit except a cartridge, which we shoved in the crack of a large rock,” Farmer recalled. The rifle cartridge proved critical evidence when the second team to the summit found it: “It was nine years after we made the ascent before it was made again, and during that time our statements were, to be plain, rather disbelieved, but now all are willing to admit it.”
The second team up Mt. Jefferson, as it happens, “also carried the Mazama Box to the summit.” It was 1897; only three years after its founding, the Mazamas’ summit register box program was well underway.
Mountaineers have long felt compelled to leave some sign of their achievements. Early climbers built rock cairns to mark their presence, especially for a first ascent, while others left their names on paper slips in tin cans and bottles lodged among the rocks. Some deposited personal mementos like buttons, coins, and calling cards as evidence of their visit, while some even chiseled their names into summit rocks. Heavy flags were sometimes hauled to and deposited on summits. In 1883 a weighty sheet of pliable lead was transported to Mt. Rainier's summit crater for visitors to etch their initials on what was then thought to be America's tallest mountain.
The practice of placing weatherresistant containers on summits to house registers took off only in the last decades of the 19th century, and the Mazamas were at the forefront. Today, the Mazama Library and Historical Collections contain roughly 30 linear feet of summit registers, from summits throughout the Northwest, spanning roughly 100 years from the 1870s to 1980s; we also have a variety of summit register containers, from film cans to engraved copper boxes.
In forthcoming issues of the Bulletin, we plan to explore samples from this
archive. The registers yield useful scientific observations, especially concerning glaciology and geology, practical route and safety information, and insights into climbing practices and customs. But above all, the material offer glimpses into the changing culture and allure of climbing.
Browsing through the older summit registers is like a trip back in time to an era when copperplate writing was common. While often weather-beaten and muddled by rain and snow, the handwriting is beautiful and a joy to read. As the reader progresses through the years, the writing becomes more casual and at times, very hard to read. The older entries often read like poetic odes, eloquently capturing the euphoria of standing atop the world. In contrast, more recent scribblings tend to be hurried and informal, sometimes laced with profanity – a raw, unfiltered expression of the moment. Yet, beneath the varying tones lies a common thread: the desire to leave behind a permanent record of one's achievement, etching their name into the annals of that mountain's history.
On popular summits, the register books fill up quickly each season, brimming with the tales of countless ascents. But on remote, challenging peaks, the same
registers can endure for decades, their pages gradually filling with the accounts of a select few who dared those formidable heights. Regardless of the pace, these registers stand as living chronicles, preserving the personal narratives that form the rich history of climbing heritage in our region. Humans have a need to mark the places they have traveled to or reached. Those messages always mean: we were here.
Summit Register Containers
The Oregon Alpine Club (OAC) first started placing copper boxes atop the more popular northwest peaks in 1888. Records show that a copper box was placed on the summit of Mt. Hood in 1888, followed by Mt. Rainier in 1889, and Mount St. Helens and Mt. Adams in 1890. These early boxes were simple copper boxes with a hinged lid. The sole remaining OAC register box in the Mazama Library collection dates from 1891 and is similar in appearance to the register seen in photographs of the OAC atop Mount St. Helens in 1889.
In his 1896 Preliminary History of the Mazamas, William G. Steel noted that among its accomplishments, the OAC, “caused copper boxes to be placed on the summits of the principal peaks of the Northwest, containing registers for those who made the ascent.” Following their lead the Mazamas, the successor to the OAC, placed summit boxes on Middle and South Sister in 1903. Seven years later, during the Three Sisters Outing of 1910, H. H. Riddle noted that, “boxes were placed, each containing a Mazama record book, on the summits of North Sister, Middle Sister, South Sister, Broken Top, The Husband, and The Bachelor. The old box placed on Middle Sister … was found filled with holes from lightning. It was replaced with a new box and record book.”
to protect the record books inside. The boxes were designed to hold a standard 8.5x11 inch ledger book. The boxes were cast in aluminum from a metal pattern, with brass fittings added during machining. The finished product was 9x12x2 inches, weighing 15 pounds with the record book and anchor included.
By 1930, nine boxes had been constructed at a total cost of around $170 (or approximately $3,100 in 2025). Seven were installed that year, some anchored to lookout cabins on peaks like Mt. Hood, and others chained to solid rock. Precise installation methods like rock drilling were used to securely affix the boxes. The committee planned to periodically replace the record books and maintain the rubber gaskets. Their goal was to provide a permanent way for all climbers to record
Nevada mountains date back to 1894, when the club began placing official registers and boxes on prominent peaks like Mt. Dana, Mt. Lyell, and Mt. Conness. This initiative was decreed by the club's directors, including the famous naturalist John Muir, who served as the club's president at the time. At the time Muir encouraged members to “show your appreciation for the Sierra Club and of its purpose by using care in replacing the register in the box, and by restoring the box to the spot whence taken.” The registers were intended to record ascent information, routes, and observations from climbers, as well as to promote the Sierra Club's mission of exploring and protecting the Sierra Nevada range.
Over the following decades, the Sierra Club continued to place registers on numerous summits throughout the Sierra Nevada. This effort was driven by a group of pioneering climbers and explorers who used the mountain ascents as a means to gather topographical data, produce maps, and document the region's geography. Prominent figures like Joseph N. LeConte, a professor at UC Berkeley, used the summit registers to record precise coordinates and elevations, helping to fill in the "white spaces" on maps of the time.
their summit achievements.
In the fall of 1929, Mazama President John Scott appointed a committee to design and construct permanent summit record boxes for the major peaks in the region. Previously, climbers had to make do with improvised containers like bean cans or flimsy homemade boxes to leave records of their ascents. The committee spent considerable time designing a durable, weather-resistant aluminum box with a hinged cover that could be securely closed
By 1961, the Mazamas had placed 25 of these sturdy aluminum boxes on major peaks, including Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Shasta, and Mt. Olympus. In all, the Mazamas placed and managed a total of 35 summit register boxes on peaks across the Pacific Northwest between 1931 and the late 1970s to early 1980s.
The Mazamas were not the only organization in the summit register game. In California, the Sierra Club began placing summit registers in 1894, while the Seattle based Mountaineers began placing summit registers in 1915. The Sierra Club's efforts to establish summit registers in the Sierra
By the mid-1920s, the Sierra Club's register program faced competition from the California Alpine Club, which began placing its own cast aluminum boxes with hardback books on Sierra summits. This led to a dispute between the two clubs, with the Sierra Club often relocating the CAC's boxes to assert its authority. Ultimately, the CAC relinquished the responsibility of maintaining summit registers to the larger Sierra Club, which continued the tradition through the 20th century. Today, the Sierra Club's historic summit registers dating back to the late 19th century are preserved at UC Berkeley's Bancroft Library, serving as a valuable record of early Sierra Nevada exploration and mountaineering. Similarly the Mountaineers also got into the summit register game. In the early 20th century, The Mountaineers recognized the importance of leaving a record of successful summit attempts. In 1915, a committee led by Redick H. McKee initiated the purchase of 18 cast bronze cylinders, each measuring
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Above: Dale Kunz on the Summit of Mt. Washington with at least three summit register boxes.
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1.75 inches in diameter and 7 inches long. These cylinders, bearing the word "Mountaineers" and a unique number, were designed to be anchored to the rocks on mountain summits, serving as weatherproof containers for summit registers.
The committee's efforts were successful, and the first batch of 18 bronze tubes was placed on the most popular peaks in Washington, including the "six majors." One of these tubes, numbered 8, was even featured in a film called Ascent of the Tooth, showcasing legendary climbers Jim Crooks and Fred Beckey signing the register and rappelling from the summit using the dulfersitz method. Recognizing the growing demand for summit registers, The Mountaineers continued their efforts. In the 1930s, co-founder Lloyd Anderson fabricated more than 100 additional tubes from off-the-shelf plumbing materials, handstamping "Mountaineers" and the canister number onto each one. These "second issue" tubes were then distributed by hardy Mountaineers across the region.
end oversight and management. Currently the Mazama Library and Historical Collections contains over a hundred years of summit registers and a sizable collection of summit boxes. The library occasionally receives registers from obscure peaks when climbers bring them down.
The tradition was carried forward in the 1980s when Mountaineer Don Goodman proposed the establishment and maintenance of summit registers throughout Washington State. After a two-year committee effort and the rediscovery of the original casting mold, The Mountaineers produced 200 new tubes, each with a waterproof register book. These tubes were numbered, assigned to specific summits, and placed by dedicated volunteers like Fay Pullen, a legendary climber who summited many of Washington's obscure peaks.
While some registers were lost to the elements, vandalized, or removed by misguided individuals, the efforts of the Mazamas, like the Mountaineers’ and Sierra Club’s efforts, have left an indelible mark on the region's mountaineering history. Each summit register serves as a testament to the spirit of exploration and a record of those who have stood atop these peaks, weaving their names into the fabric of the Pacific Northwest's rich outdoor history.
The Mazamas maintained the boxes and collected the registers into the early 1980s, when a rash of vandalism to the containers prompted the organization to
Types of Summit Register Containers
The types of summit register containers held by the Mazama Library and Historical Collections vary in size and material. The smallest in our collection is an old aluminum 35mm film canister with a screw top, while the largest are those made by the Mazamas mentioned above. Others include mason jars, cigar tubes, US military ammo cans, and metal pipes fitted with screw caps on either end. The earliest in our collection came from the OAC and is a beautiful hinged copper box engraved with the club’s name and date. Unlike the Mazamas, the OAC didn’t number their boxes, so its provenance is unknown.
Types of Summit Registers
Beyond the 8.5x11” bound register books included in the Mazama summit register boxes, registers have ranged from slips of paper torn from guidebooks to calling cards, coasters, and photographs. Several are address books complete with indexed pages for A–Z, while others are more modern spiral bound notebooks of college lined paper. Without fault, every one of them shows signs of wear and tear
that comes with having spent significant amounts of time on wind-swept, rain and snow-soaked summits.
Preservation and Archiving of Summit Registers
Within that collection, the largest is the Mt. Hood summit register collection, spanning from 1873 to 1988. Other peaks in the collection include the Three Sisters (South, Middle, and North), Three Fingered Jack, Mt. Adams, Mt. Baker, and Mount St. Helens to name a few. Geographically, the registers span from the North Cascades of Washington state to California’s Mt. Shasta, and east into Idaho’s Seven Devils. The collection also includes summit registers for both well known and lesser known rock climbing routes like Smith Rock’s Monkey Face and Beacon Rock in the Columbia River Gorge.
Summit registers serve as invaluable historical repositories that capture far more than just the basic facts of a climber's ascent. These registers meticulously document names and ascent dates, but their value extends well beyond these fundamental details. Seasoned mountaineers often record comprehensive observations about weather patterns they encountered, including temperature fluctuations, wind velocities, precipitation types, and atmospheric pressure readings that provide meteorologists with historical climate data from elevations rarely monitored by standard equipment. Climbers frequently note detailed
Summit register and container on the summit of Mt. Shasta, undated.
geographical features visible from these commanding vantage points, identifying distant landmarks, valleys, neighboring peaks, and even atmospheric phenomena that can only be witnessed from such heights.
These registers contain useful scientific observations that would otherwise remain uncollected. Geologists benefit from notes about rock formations, evidence of volcanic activity, or erosion patterns visible only to those who reach these remote locations. Glaciologists rely on climbers' documentation of changing snow and ice conditions, crevasse formations, and glacial retreat measurements that, when compiled over decades, provide crucial evidence of the impact of climate change. Botanists and zoologists gain insights from records of plant and animal sightings at extreme elevations, helping track shifts in alpine ecosystem boundaries over time. Beyond scientific value, these registers often include practical information about route conditions, equipment recommendations, and safety hazards that prove essential for future expeditions—creating an interconnected community dialogue spanning generations of climbers who may never meet but share their experiences through these humble mountain notebooks.
As the custodian of these records for the past decade, I often half-jokingly say, “If they climbed it, and they signed it, we can usually find it!” But that is not always easy, or even the case. The Mazama summit registers are (with one exception) not indexed or scanned. A COVID-19 Pandemic effort at crowd-sourced transcription didn’t produce the result and the user base for the registers is too niche for digitization grants. So, it falls to the individual researcher to make an appointment, settle in, and begin the (at times) tedious process of scanning every page for the name they seek. Memory is fallible, so often having the year, month, and day of a climb is not always a predictor of results. Often, when finally found, the name will appear days, months, or even years from the original recollection. If a researcher is looking for an individual who was a Mazama at the time, we can often triangulate the date by looking at the published Successful Climbers in our monthly Mazama Bulletin or by consulting a large collection of climb prospectus and after-the-fact climb reports.
Clockwise from top left: Mount St. Helens Summit Register, 1898–1908; calling card from summit of Mt. Hood, 1873; page from the Mt. Jefferson Summit Register noting Mazama climb on August 7, 1917; Oregon Alpine Club Register Container; climber artwork, The Husband Summit Register; scrap paper documenting the first ascent of the Eagle Claw on June 7, 1970 by Eugene Dod and Gerald Binghamn.
SHE CLIMBS HIGH!
Women’s Climbing Leadership in the Mazamas: The Pioneers
by Amy Brose, Rick Craycraft, and Jeff Thomas
From the outset of the Mazamas, women played a significant role in leading and creating opportunities for people to challenge themselves on the Pacific Northwest peaks. Here we highlight a handful of Mazama women who have broken trail for those who followed.
The Mazama ‘Mountaineuse’ Takes Charge:
As an active Mazama skier and mountaineer, Anne Dillinger was setting records before she made her mark as the first woman to lead a climb for the Mazamas. In 1913, she was the first woman to summit Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, Mount St. Helens, and Mt. Rainier all in the same season. She organized Mazama ski outings and shared her expertise in local mountaineering seminars given to
Portlanders. This extensive experience and enthusiasm led to the first opportunity for a Mazama woman to shine as a climb leader.
In July of 1915, Anne was tasked with officially leading a group of climbers up the Cooper Spur route on Mt. Hood. An avalanche made for a newsworthy ascent and showed Anne’s strengths as a leader. This release of snow on the route threatened Anne and Gertrude Wiley, a fellow climber in her group. Anne pushed Ms. Wiley out of the path of the slide and then acted quickly to drive their alpenstocks into the snow to protect them both as the avalanche overtook them. Fortunately, they were able to dig out, and Anne took Ms. Wiley down to safety. She then went back up to help those who were descending. After a young man crossed a patch of ice that had opened into a voluminous crack directly on the climbing route, Anne Dillinger wrapped a bright red piece of cloth to the top of her alpenstock and placed it in the snow near the ice hole to warn others of the hazard on the descent.
Only two weeks after this eventful Hood climb, Anne went south to take part in the Mazama Annual Outing on Mt. Shasta. This was no small feat, as the trip from Portland to Mt. Shasta was long and involved, the climb itself was challenging, and climbers on her team were suffering the effects of elevation on Shasta’s flanks. On the day of the summit attempt, she soldiered on with the people who felt well enough to make it to the top, and the Oregonian reported, “‘the indomitable Anne Dillinger was, as usual, the first Portland woman to reach the summit’ that day.”
Women Influential from the Start
Strong Mazama women like Anne Dillinger weren’t a rarity. Women were enthusiastic participants during the first moments of the organization’s existence. On the 1894 Mazamas founding climb on the summit of Mt. Hood, 19 percent of the Above: Women Mazama members who reached the summit of Mt. Adams during the 1913 Annual Outing. Anne Dillinger is lying in front of the group. VM1995.008 Mt. Adams Collection
climbers who summited were women. Fay Fuller, a journalist and eager climber from Washington, not only participated in the founding climb; she became a member of the first board of officers as the official historian. Ms. Fuller was a powerhouse of Pacific Northwest mountaineering at the time. She was the first woman to summit Mt. Rainier, in 1890, at only 20 years old. She had already helped found two other Pacific Northwest climbing organizations—the Washington Alpine Club and the Tacoma Alpine Club—prior to her participation as a founding member of the Mazamas. She continued to play a leadership role as Mazama Vice President from 1895–1897.
An All-Women Climb Shows What’s Possible in Leadership
After Anne Dillinger’s historic lead, nearly two decades would pass before women would play the role of leader again. The first all women’s Mazama climb, organized by Bea (DeLacy) McNeil and Margaret Lynch, changed the landscape for climb leadership by women in the
Mazamas. Four ladies and a dog made it to the summit of Hood in July of 1932, with women filling the roles of both climb leader and assistant leader on the same climb. Following this climb, women assisted more often on official climbs led by men, but it wasn’t until the early 1950s that women were routinely leading climbs for the Mazamas.
Bea DeLacy joined the Mazamas in 1920 and actively climbed for decades. She was the first woman to climb the Jefferson Park Glacier route on Mt. Jefferson in 1933, an icy and difficult affair whose summit was hard-earned. She received the Mazama 16 Peaks Award #6 in 1938 and went on to spend many of her most active climbing years with the Alpine Club of Canada. In 1948, at the age of 51, she led a climb of Peyto Peak’s loose, rocky summit in Canada and graduated six beginner climbers on their qualifying climb, with two men as assistants.
Raising the Bar for Climbing Achievements by Women
Ida Zacher Darr, a highly skilled Mazama climber in the 1930s and 1940s, was frequently a member of climbing parties that made first ascents in the area. She climbed with a team who made the first ascent on the south face of Mt. Washington in 1940. A celebrated historic accomplishment was her participation in a first ascent on St. Peter’s Dome in the Columbia River Gorge. This formidable basalt tower had tempted climbers for decades. The Wy‘East Climbers party that included Ida Darr worked for weeks on a route that allowed them to finally be the first to stand atop the dome. This was a highly coveted achievement at the time among local mountaineers.
Ida played a pivotal role on multiple scouting trips and on an eventual rain, blizzard, and avalanche-addled first ascent of the formidable Bonanza Peak in the
Above left: Fay Fuller, c. 1890. VM1993.008 William Steel Collection. Above left: Bea DeLacy, undated. DeLacy Family Collection.
Above right: Ida Darr with equipment used on St. Peters Dome. Jeff Thomas Collection.
Chelan area in 1937. After several years of research and attempts, she and husband Everett Darr were with the great Joe Leuthold, Curtis Ijames, and Barrie James as they worked their way to the summit of Bonanza Peak. Close to 1,000 feet from the summit, Everett Darr couldn’t continue on, and Ida Darr stayed with him, sacrificing her own summit for her husband’s safety. Avalanches on the route made the climbing hazardous for the entire party. It took the Leuthold group over 8 hours to ascend the last 1,000 feet and 5 hours to descend.
During one of several Bonanza Peak scouting efforts, Ida left camp and completed a solo first ascent of nearby Martin Peak in 1936, a huge feat for a woman climber at the time. She was one of the first women to serve on the Climbing Committee, from 1943–1945. When she and her husband saw a need for improved access to high quality climbing gear, they opened the Mountain Shop (initially the Nestledown Outdoor Shop), a business that continues to cater to skiers and climbers in Portland today. Ida was a skilled seamstress as well as climber: She sewed the shop’s signature sleeping bags and backpacks for
local Mazamas and the Wy’east Climbers in the 30s and 40s.
The experiences of these trailblazing Mazama women from the late 1800s through the 1940s showed what was possible and inspired the generations of those who followed them. In our next installment we will pick up in the years following World War II, when Mazama women hit their stride and became a permanent presence as leaders on the yearly climb schedule.
NOTABLE ACCOMPLISHMENTS BY MAZAMA WOMEN BY THE 1940S
First woman to summit
■ Rooster Rock: Margaret Redman (1915)
■ St. Peter’s Dome: Ida Darr (1940)
16 Peak Award winners
■ 1937
□ Mabel Petty #3
□ Maxine Faircourt #5
■ 1938
□ Bea DeLacy McNeil #6
□ Martha Darcy #10
■ 1941
□ Marion Clarke #19
WHEELER PEAK
by Joan MacNeill
Wheeler Peak, New Mexico, is that state’s highest point. In Nevada, Wheeler Peak, at 13, 065 feet, is that state’s highest actual mountain. Both were named in honor of Major George Wheeler, who led a party of surveyors and explorers which documented much of the southwestern United States.
Nevada’s highest point is Boundary Peak, a 13,147 foot bump on the northern ridge of the White Mountains, which lie mostly in Inyo County, California. Boundary Peak is considered a subsidiary peak of its neighbor, Montgomery Peak, less than a mile away in California. Boundary Peak rises only 253 feet from the saddle between the two, less than the 300 feet prominence considered to qualify for an actual mountain.
Wheeler Peak lies in Nevada’s Great Basin National Park, near the Utah Border. It is a limestone mountain in the Snake Range, created by faulting. At its base is Lehman Cave, a classic limestone cavern offering guided tours. Local farmers would hold square dances inside in hot weather. The ceiling there shows many a name, date, and other information drawn by black candle smoke.
A decent road rises to a lovely, treeshaded campground at 10,000 feet. Trails lead to a cirque containing the peak’s rock glacier, and to a healthy stand of ancient bristlecone pines, which held the nearly 5,000 years-old Prometheus tree, before it was inadvertently cut down by a foolish researcher. The more well-known Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in the White Mountains of California contains a living tree, Methuselah, only slightly younger than the Prometheus tree. Bristlecone pine groves are scattered throughout the southwest, including in Utah and on Nevada’s Mount Charleston, a grand high oasis near Las Vegas. Mount Charleston is higher than Mt. Hood and an hour from downtown Las Vegas.
Another trail leads to the summit itself, literally a walk in the park. It is good enough to be wheelchair accessible. The dry air is usually exceptionally clear, such that when 19-year-old Charlie decided to run as far as he could uphill at 12,000 feet (that’s a teenager for you), he didn’t appear to be getting more distant, only smaller. Thankfully, he was pooped enough afterward, that my older-person gait and his were then matched.
The summit is comfortable, with the near-obligatory low rock ring shelter. The limestone rocks abounding show the interesting feature of creating sparks when thrown against one another. Of course, the views are splendid, mostly of Nevada and Utah’s arid topography. It’s a good idea to bring some regional maps to identify local and distant features.
On the peak three years earlier, also with Charlie at about 12,000 feet, I commented that we could see the campground from there, exhausted Charlie groaned “Who cares?” I decided that he sounded like a classic mountaineer, and we would still be ok for the remainder of the climb. Two minutes after we summited, he was again full of that boundless teenage energy.
Wheeler Peak is a most welcome break to the sometimes dreariness of driving through Nevada. Nevada is full of wonders, but there is a certain monotony. The region around Wheeler Peak has other interests. There is an interesting variety of plant life, including prickly poppy and prickly pear. The latter is tasty, but watch for tiny irritating hairs. Fence art appears, whereby travelers attach various objects, like shoes, to roadside barbed wire fences. When passing through basin and range country, look up the mountains’ canyons, There may be signs of water, such as shyly appearing aspen. Further up in such places can often be found more lush growth, shade, interesting plants, and good water.
So, there’s probably your easiest thirteener that you can’t summit by car. Itself alone is worth the trip, added to all the other delights of getting there.
Wheeler Peak, Nevada
Photo: Ken Lund is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
STANDING ON THE PRECIPICE OF INSANITY ... AND A NEW ERA IN CLIMBING
Three Fingered Jack in the 1920s
by Peter Boag
“Friend, we caution you, be sure and leave nothing here for which you must return.” Those were among the words that the first six climbers to reach the summit of Three Fingered Jack recorded in a register that they left on the mountain’s highest point on September 3, 1923. Clearly, these conquering alpinists known in the mountaineering history of the Pacific Northwest as “the boys from Bend,” anticipated that others would follow them. And anyone who has followed them can readily locate the value in their summit advice.
The more forthright among us might further admit to sharing in the feelings that less reserved climbers expressed on the summit of Jack over the handful of years that followed the feat of the boys from Bend. “The peak of this damned mountain,” wrote terrified climbers in 1925, “shakes when the wind blows.” The next year, LaVerne Coleman, who also was a Mazama, shakily inscribed into Jack’s register, “I have been scared the whole way up and now I am more afraid than ever. This is my idea of Hell.” Just a month later, Richard Steinhoff stated more succinctly: “My first and last climb.”
Accompanying Steinhoff in 1926 was Ervin McNeal. He had been one of the boys from Bend who had first ascended Jack just three years earlier. The thoughts he recorded in the register below Steinhoffs are among my favorites, since similar sentiments flashed through my mind when I scaled Jack for my second time. My first ascent was in 2021 when I was fresh out of BCEP. It was actually a two-day affair:
Above: Janet Moffat, Edith Peirce, Margaret Lynch, and Emil Nordeen on the summit of Three Fingered Jack, 1929. VM1999.001 Lynch Collection.
we scaled Mt. Washington just the day before. While the former peak provided its moments, I found Jack much more unsettling. When one of my co-climbers on that second perilous day broke down just moments before traversing the notorious “crawl,” we made a pact to carefully watch out for each other as we picked our way along that gravity-defying precipice. The
next year, and after having completed ICS, I resolved to work on my fear of exposure and so chose to give Jack another go. I found the experience worse than the first and concluded exactly what McNeal had written in the summit register back in 1926: “Now I know I am crazy.”
Although standing little more than 7,800 feet high, the rotting pile of alpine
rock known as Three Fingered Jack is counted by the Mazamas among the 16 major peaks of the Northwest. That list includes world-renowned mountains like Rainier and Shasta, both of which climb to altitudes not a whole lot less than twice the elevation of Jack. It is of course the technical and psychological difficulties that Jack presents that makes that peak such an object of attraction . . . and repulsion. And Jack had and has repeatedly repulsed climbers before and after 1923.
“Unclimbable” was the word that Mazama member John Penland used in 1917 to describe it after he completed the last apparent attempt of Jack prior to Bend’s boys in the summer of 1923. Penland and his two companion climbers, the brothers Art and Ed Peterson, attended the Mazama 1917 Outing held at Mt. Jefferson. They were among those who successfully reached Jefferson’s summit on August 11. The next day, the threesome decided to break off from the larger group to explore the area down around Three Fingered Jack. Their initial intention was
not to climb Jack, but that changed the morning of August 13 when, in camp on the shores of Marion Lake, they observed the jagged peak in the distance poking through the hazy sunrise. “Stubborn and bold,” Penland explained, it seemed “at first to beckon us, then to dare us, and upon the next look to say: ‘You cowards!’” And so, off the baited “cowards” skulked at 6 a.m., ultimately approaching the mountain’s uppermost ridges from the southwest, a route similar to the standard track we use today. As they ascended higher and higher, they came across the names on notes that other, earlier climbers stashed in cans and crevices along the way and where those turn-arounds had apparently ended their own quests. After ascending an intervening pinnacle, the trio realized they were more in “need of prayer-books than alpenstocks.” As they “crept along a narrow ledge under the hanging wall on the east,” they spied what undoubtedly is the crawl: “a narrow tilted ledge some distance below us.” They carefully slid down to it and followed it, eventually making their way to the
base of the summit spire—farther than anyone was known to have climbed before. There they determined they could go no further. After taking some photos and stashing a small box among the rocks in which they recorded their own names, the three returned by the route that they had ascended.
And that was apparently that until six years later when McNeal and his comrades Armin Furrer, Phil Philbrook, Leo Harryman, Elmer Johnson, and Ernest Putnam, did what had not been done before. The summer of 1923 was already a momentous one for the first four on this list. On August 26, just days prior to conquering Jack, they, plus Wilbur Watkins and Ronald Sellers, had become the first climbers known to reach the summit of Mt. Washington. Officially dubbed at that moment by the local press as the “boys from Bend,” these Washington conquerors told the Bend Bulletin that they had headed to Washington’s summit by way of a route that we would recognize today as the
continued on page 35
Above: Nick Ostini on Three Fingered Jack, undated.
Photo by Ryan Reed..
standard approach. At the northern base of the main pinnacle, they came across a small can containing the names of a fourperson Mazama party that had failed in an attempt on Washington just the year before. The names included those of the intrepid and seemingly ubiquitous John Penland and Ed Peterson who had vainly searched for a route on the upper peak. When they threw in the towel, Penland and Peterson concluded, as the Bend boys would prove the next summer, that a route on the northeast would likely yield the best results. While Bend’s boys nonchalantly told the Bulletin that their “ascent was not difficult,” they also let it slip that Harryman, the last of the climbers on the way up, “lost both his footholds…and was left hanging to a rock by his hands. He managed to recover his hold and to continue, and made no comment when he reached the top…but was as white as a sheet.”
Despite his terrifying experience on Washington, Harryman chose to head to Three Fingered Jack a few days later. Nine boys from Bend in fact set out on that journey. Whether they were among this group of nine is lost to history, but neither Wilbur Watkins nor Ronald Sellers of the Mt. Washington team from days before ultimately summitted Jack on this outing. Of all the boys of Bend, Sellers was the only one to join the Mazamas, though for only two years. He wrote “The Conquest of Mt. Washington” for the 1923 Mazama Annual.
In the 1929 Mazama Annual, Lynch wrote of the expedition that she had spearheaded, explaining that she and Moffat had been thinking of climbing Jack since their camping trip to nearby Duffy Lake in 1928 where they had gazed longingly at the rocky spires of the mountain above. But they had also “been told to stay off this mountain as the rock was of such rotten composition as to be most dangerous for amateurish climbers.” This starkly contrasted with the celebratory support that had cheered on the amateurish teenage boys from Bend during their climbs a few summers before. Wisely (perhaps) Lynch and Moffat ignored the warnings likely made to them because of their gender. And thankfully so, for when she concluded her tale of her feat, Lynch well explained why the pile of alpine rock known as Three Fingered Jack is one that both attracts and repulses the alpinist in all Mazamas: “In elevation Three-Fingered Jack is a small mountain,” she wrote. “Nevertheless its. . . altitude present[s] problems in mountaineering for the adventurous climber which will not be encountered on many of Oregon’s major snow peaks.” And so it has been for all sorts of adventurous climbers—admittedly frightened or not—both prior to and since 1923. Three Fingered Jack, continued from page 33.
At 11:05 a.m. on September 3, only six of the nine boys who had initially set out for Jack had reached the spot that rebuffed the Mazamas in 1917. Their description of what lay ahead compares to what climbers encounter there today. They first ascended a 50-foot chimney that led to a shelf, about 20-feet below the summit. “Finally, at 11:27 o’clock, the mountaineers were perched astride the knife edge of the finger, an edge only about 15 feet long, and so narrow that it could be felt to vibrate as Philbrook knocked out with his knife a shallow groove in which to place the tube containing the names of the climbers and the story of the climb.” Unlike the Mazama party six years earlier, the boys had brought a rope along. McNeal, who had led with the ropes up Washington the previous weekend and was also responsible for recording the group’s sentiments in the register on Jack, was the last to descend. At the bottom of the
pinnacle, however, when trying to pull the rope, the loop that they had left in it could not be dislodged from a spire. Heeding the advice that McNeal had left on the summit just moments before—leave nothing here for which you must return—the group did not even try to retrieve what they had left behind, even despite its importance.
The Bend Bulletin first broke their glorious tale as it had the marvelous account of the first climb of Washington just a week before. The Three Fingered Jack report began with the imperious statement, “Again a supposedly unscalable mountain peak has yielded before an attack launched by Bend youths.” And as the article continued, it revealed a reality about the historic nature of this Pacific Northwest mountaineering accomplishment: “Incidentally, feats of the kind. . . have reached their end. Six local boys shook hands with Three Fingered Jack on Labor day [sic], and ‘Jack,’ since the climbing of Mount Washington, was generally credited with being the only peak which still defied all efforts of alpinists.” Indeed, Jack was the last of the Mazamas 16 major peaks to be summitted. When that happened, it concluded an era of mountaineering in the region that had begun 70 years earlier, in 1853, when the first known climbers reached the summit of Mount St. Helens, the Northwest’s first major peak to be scaled.
But the success of the boys of Bend also opened a new era of alpine rock climbing in Central Oregon and their “feats” that the Bend Bulletin considered the last “of their kind,” were hardly so when looked at in other ways. Over the years, other climbers established new routes up both Three Fingered Jack and Mt. Washington. And a variety of people have set out on their own personal quests to reach the frightening summit of Three Fingered Jack. Some stopped with one success. The crazies among us have kept going.
The first women who appear to have climbed Jack were Eleanor Bechin, Mary Ellen Foley, and Mary Conn, who along with four men, reached the peak’s spindly summit on August 18, 1929. None of these climbers appears to have ever been Mazama members. However, just two weeks after them on September 2nd, Mazama members Margaret Lynch and Edith Pierce, along with fellow Mazama
Garry Desiata, and non-member Jane Moffat, made it to the summit. They were guided there by Emil Nordeen. Although not a Mazama, Nordeen had been one of the climbers who composed the second party to reach Three Fingered Jack’s summit in 1925. By the end of the decade, he was a well-known rock climber, Nordic skier, and a member of Bend’s pioneering ski club the Skyliners.
CLIMBING INTO A COMMUNITY
by Darrin Gunkel
“You’re in luck. No thunderstorms in the forecast tonight. Have a good climb.” The ranger lingers a minute more, taking in the view from our perch on a snow-bound saddle beneath a soaring rock tower at the edge of the alpine world of Mt Shuksan. The landscape is vast: west, Mt Baker silhouetted in the afternoon sun, and east, deep ravines falling off into dark forest and canyons to, somewhere below the rising evening fog, Sulphide Creek and eventually Baker Lake. To the north, shoulders of Shuksan’s lower reaches block long views but mark tomorrow’s route. It’s a giant landscape, and the silence is profound. And once the ranger plods down the ridge and away into the forest, we feel tiny, entirely alone, and it’s exhilarating.
I’m used to spending time alone in the wilderness, in fact, until now, have preferred it. I’ve done many many solo backcountry trips. But it’s time to try something new. I am ready to try more challenging climbs. My main experience with mountains, so far, has been walk ups. A few big ones, granted, but nothing technical. My friend George grew up a stone’s throw from Rainier in Yelm, Washington, and spent countless weekends backcountry skiing at The Mountain, which
led to decades of climbing throughout the Cascades. Shuksan is one of the last big ones he has to bag. So he’s been mentoring me the past few months, and I’m ready to start sharing my wilderness.
The weather report pans out, and our camp is fortunately not wracked by the huge storms that engulfed the mountain as we drove towards it yesterday. Clear and calm up here above a sea of clouds. Early sun strikes our camp as we gear up, and begin the first traverse and then the climb up to the edge of the Sulphide Glacier, brimming against the west edge of the Shuksan massif. The scenery is off the charts, and it appears we have the mountain completely to ourselves. It’s as otherworldly as it is lovely.
On the big plateau at 7,600 feet, we stop to take pictures of each other with Mt. Baker behind, and, wonderfully, partly below. Seemingly out of nowhere, a figure appears, approaches, and introduces himself. Tomas, from the Czech Republic. He’s been up here a couple of days, on his own scouting routes up the summit pyramid. “Yeah. The gully. But what gully? I found the wrong one yesterday, so I’m going back to the right one today.” We exchange more beta and pleasantries, and then, “Shall we go?” Our team of two is now three.
Tomas is the definition of dirtbag. He’s in the States “until I get tired of it,” climbing whatever he can. Apparently with whomever he can: not that I’m in bad shape, but next to this man of steel, forearms like a pile of cables, calves like small boulders, I feel positively flabby. And my near total lack of experience fazes him not one bit. He started climbing in the Alps in his teens, and he’s nearing 60. And pretty
unflappable. I ask how yesterday’s storm was up here. “You would have laughed to see me chasing my tent around!” Okay. George is pretty bad-assed. Tomas is definitely.
The pleasant plateau stroll is over all too soon, and it’s time for the slog up past the hourglass to the base of the summit pyramid, looking more intimidating with every step. We pause to trade the rope before heading up, and again, this wilderness that I believed belonged to George and I solely coughs up another soul: Frederick, from Olympia. Like George, another Washington native born with spikes on the soles of his feet. He’s mellow, and a little less assuming than Tomas, “Mind if I join you?” And so, on my first big technical thing, I find myself approaching the summit with an international trio that between them, possess a century’s climbing experience. And no one seems bothered by my several hours’ experience.
It dawns on me that I’ve trudged my way from solitary forest depths into a community that exists across the world, and comes alive up here on the rock, snow, and ice above the clouds. There’s something powerful in the trust that these strangers are showing me, and each other. It’s assumed we know what we’re doing, it’s assumed we accept the risks. It’s stunning though, that these strangers have some unspoken understanding that they can count on each other to share a rope on a cliff 9,000 feet above the world where most humans enact their versions of community. Or not share a rope: We reach the base of the pyramid, and Tomas describes the ways not to go, and the way to go, and I
Above: Mt. Baker at dawn.
Photo: Darrin Gunkel
start feeling out of depth. The first steep bit is a snow field. It’s beginning to feel really exposed, and maybe not more than I bargained for, but more than I can manage. Halfway up, I call it quits.
“I think this is getting too hairy for me.”
“We can rope up, if you feel like it,” Frederick says. I’m grateful for the offer, but I decline, sure that I would at best slow them down, and at worst, become a liability. “If you’re sure,” he says and climbs a few more steps before turning back to me. “You know, sometimes the mountain wants you. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
As they slowly ascend and disappear among the crags, I find a spot to wait. There are worse ways to spend a few hours on a July afternoon than sitting on a boulder looking nearly 8,000 feet down to Baker Lake, and across the empty sea of space between Shuksan and Baker. High clouds drift by, dappling the glaciers. I have this all to myself, but am keenly aware I never would have made it to this astounding spot without help and encouragement. And while this moment of solitude is profound, I know I wouldn’t be able to test these sorts of limits without that community that opened up to me when George asked one day, “Hey. Want to climb Mt. Shuksan with me?” At the time, the joke was that he just wanted someone to carry the rope. Which is an apt metaphor. We go out there together to share the burdens of climbing as much as the joys. Up until now I’ve savored the effort of wilderness travel; now I am learning to share it.
A few hours later I see my ad hoc team picking its way slowly down that first steep snowfield. Back at my boulder they share their summit story, and I am glad I didn’t go.
“The snow was light up higher,” says Tomas. “You had to climb like a cat, just on the claws!” I’m relieved, knowing I would have choked. And somehow I’m not disappointed. None of them tells me that I missed out, or that it’s a shame I didn’t make the summit. I’m thrilled for them, and as we make the slog back down, I’m struck again by the sense of community, even as it slowly dissolves, Frederick needing to hurry to get back home, then Tomas peeling off to “Go see if my tent ran away again.” The community dissolves as naturally as it began, without apologies, with an understanding that what came alive here above the clouds will live on, suspended, ready to become real again when the mountains require it.
Top: Approaching the Summit pyramid; Middle: Darrin Gunkel on the flank of Mt. Shuksan; Bottom: The long, glorious slog back down. Photos: Darrin Guniel.
LOOKING BEYOND HOOD: SOME OF MY FAVORITE CLIMBS
by Jen Travers
Hey there, fellow climbers. Climbing season is about to begin. What are you going to do this year? I’ve heard many of you talk about wanting to climb Mt. Hood, but here are some other peaks to consider that can give you a different kind of alpine experience.
For new BCEP Grads:
Unicorn Peak: This is the classic post-BCEP climb, and there are plenty of offerings this year. Unicorn is the highest peak in the Tatoosh Range, located on the southern side of Mt. Rainier National Park. On this climb you will use many of the skills you learned in BCEP. Ascending involves a steep snow approach through a couloir, and a short vertical rock pitch climb to the summit. After celebrations, your team will rappel off the summit block, then glissade down the snowfields, all with huge views of mighty Tahoma.
Middle Sister: This is often done as an overnight trip. There are several approaches, but most teams come from the east side, hike up, and camp on a tree island below Hayden Glacier. Summit day begins with an alpine start, and soon switches to roped team travel up the glacier to a saddle between Middle and North Sister. Climbing the steep exposed ridge to the summit may require a running belay. Reaching the top, you truly feel like you are in the middle, as you gaze at all the Cascade peaks lining up to the north and the south.
Goat Island Mountain: Located on the east side of Mt. Rainier National Park. This is more of a scramble/long hike, but the trail is not on the map, so you will have solitude, and the scenery is magnificent. Once you emerge above the trees, you’ll enjoy a mile-long open ridgetop ramble. Rainier’s Frying Pan and Emmons Glaciers loom over you, spewing waterfalls and rumbling with rockfall and groans of glacier shifting noise. Scramble down a
long steep hillside to the meadows of Summerland, and rejoin the hordes of tourists on the Wonderland Trail.
Sahale Mountain: Surrounded by a sea of mountains in the North Cascades. Obtaining permits for the high camp is challenging. In August, the Sahale Arm trail has wildflowers, marmots, mountain goats and huckleberry browsing bears sharing the meadows with you.
Mt. Ellinor: Located in the southeast corner of the Olympics, Ellinor can be a day trip from Portland. This is only a climb during the winter and spring, when you use the steep winter chute. The payoff for the steep ascent is the panoramic view of the Olympic Range nearby and the Washington Cascades lining up across the Puget Sound to the east. Plus, a fun glissade down.
Once you have more skills:
Second Mother Mountain: Located on the north side of Mt. Rainier, and accessed via Mowich Lake. The challenge here is off-trail travel and route finding through heavenly alpine terrain. Leave the Wonderland trail and head up to a high basin filled with icy blue tarns, steep heather meadows, and solitude. There is a short section of class 4 scrambling to the summit.
Ingalls Peak: Ingalls Peak rises above an idyllic lake, and stares at the looming mass of Mt. Stuart. It is an easy (5.4) multi-pitch rock climb in the granite wonderland of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness in Washington. If you can, spend a night before or after your climb in the meadows of Headlight Basin with the mountain goats, pikas, and marmots.
Acker Rock-Peregrine Traverse: A 10-pitch rock climb that finishes at an airy fire lookout tower. Located in Umpqua National Forest, Southern Oregon. Will be offered as a multi-pitch course this summer.
Glacier Peak: It’s a long approach up through the spectacular White Pass area on the Pacific Crest Trail, and then onto the moonscapey moraine of the receding Whitechuck Glacier. On climb day, your team winds its way up and around the crevasses on the Cool and Gerdine Glaciers, then finishes by scrambling up a ridge to the summit. Crevasse rescue skills required for this trip.
The Brothers: Southeast Olympics. There are two brothers, but you will likely only climb one of them. Steep climbing up from the old growth forests above Lena Lake, through “the Valley of the Silent Ones.” Ascend through the hourglass snowfield to a summit scramble.
Above: Climbing party on Mt. Sahale, undated.
Photos: Jen Travers and Ben Hoselton
BIKEPACKING ON THE DESCHUTES RIVER TRAIL
by Jen Travers
On March 1, 2025, the first Mazamas bikepacking trip took place. Seven of us met at Deschutes River State Park, located east of the Dalles at the confluence of the Deschutes and Columbia Rivers, and packed up our gear in various ways to spend the night in a beautiful desert canyon. We biked south, through public land on an abandoned railroad grade that is now maintained for hiking and biking. The bike upstream was a gentle climb on a hardpack or gravel surface. Most of us used mountain bikes.
The canyon has a subtle golden beauty. It’s Columbia Plateau high desert, with basalt rimrock, sagebrush and grasslands, abundant wildlife and endless opportunities for wandering. The weather for our trip was perfect, sunny and warm, a lovely escape from cold, wet Portland. We biked up about 11 miles to a rafters campsite. It had a nice grove of trees, a clean pit toilet and a resident screech owl.
After setting up camp, we biked further upstream, hiked up a side canyon, visited some pictographs and climbed 1,000 feet up to the canyon rim. In the evening, we had some good old fashioned funplaying charades! Even the most reluctant charader admitted they enjoyed it. Early to bed, and those of us who did not bring earplugs heard the screech owl’s serenade intermittently throughout the night.
The trip was a great success, and we are scheming about the next one. Stay tuned!
Top and middle: Bikepacking the Deschutes River Trail, March 2025. Bottom: Fall Canyon Camp, March 2025. Photos: Ryan Gwillim and Melanie Means
SEWS BY SOUTHWEST
by Brian Hague
Up in the North Cascades lies one of the best areas for alpine rock climbing in Washington State, but did you know that it’s also a great destination for snow activities during the winter and spring?
Washington Pass lies at 5,477 feet along the North Cascades Highway, and it’s been well-known for decades due to its highquality granite rock and accessibility to a variety of summer activities. Whether you like hiking and scrambling, cragging, multipitch climbs, or big-wall style routes, there’s something for everyone here. During the winter, the pass closes due to deep snow piling onto the highway. But that’s only the beginning for winter fun. Skiers venture to the pass via skis, snowmobile, and even helicopter for bounties of bowls, couloirs, and glades. Once the highway opens in the spring, the area provides a brief window for easily accessible ski touring and mountaineering.
My first experiences in Washington Pass was hiking to Blue Lake and climbing the Beckey Route on Liberty Bell. I was
intrigued about venturing into this area with more snow on the ground. Some research online and in books led me to the Southwest Couloir of South Early Winters Spire (or SEWS for short). While typically a screefest during the summer, this route fills in during the winter, with conditions varying between filled-in snow or icy rock depending on the season and time of year. Most of my sources recommended accessing it within a month of the highway opening in the spring. In 2024, the highway opened April 19, and the clock in my mind started ticking.
Thanks to an easy approach, a trip up the SW Couloir only needed a good weather window and a few days’ notice. The warm weekend of May 11–12 seemed favorable, and a trip report from the week prior confirmed that the couloir would be in good shape for at least another week or two. Accompanying me was my friend and co-worker Jeroen, a rock climber and aspiring mountaineer. Given the short approach and non-committing route, this was a great opportunity for him to try out some steep snow and practice crampon and ice axe skills. I drove up from Portland on Saturday and met him in Seattle. After a quick gear check, we drove an additional 3.5 hours up to the Blue Lake trailhead
near the pass. Once we arrived, we downed some Jersey Mikes subs that Jeroen brought (perhaps a subtle nod to Fred Beckey’s “will belay for food” sign) and got some rest for an early start.
Well … sorta. We awoke at 3 a.m. and promptly agreed that we needed an extra hour of sleep. At 4 a.m., we got ready and hit the trail. Knowing that this was Jeroen’s first mountaineering trip, we planned to go at a slow but steady pace and be willing to bail if needed. As we ascended into the basin below Liberty Bell, we were treated to beautiful alpenglow illuminating the surrounding spires and peaks. It was going to be a great day in the mountains.
Three hours later, we got to the base of the couloir and took an extended break. After our break, we traded hiking poles for ice axes and racked up for the couloir ahead. As mentioned previously, climbing the SW Couloir is dependent on conditions. Given the 2023–24 season’s thin snowpack and the beta from last week’s trip report, I thought we might need to protect some
Above: Washington Pass during late fall, with the Liberty Bell Group overlooking the North Cascades Highway. Liberty Bell is the rightmost spire, SEWS is the leftmost spire.
Photo: Brian Hague
portions of the climb. I racked up a smattering of nuts, tri-cams, and cams for rock protection. I also brought a couple pickets and ice screws just in case, as well as extra webbing, cord, rappel rings, and locking carabiners for potential rappels. With all our gear ready and our bellies filled with snacks, it was time to head up the couloir.
Our first challenge was navigating around a large “chockstone” (debatable, but it was Beckey’s words, not mine) with deteriorating snow bridges on both sides. We hooked right and carefully made our way up and around. Once past, we continued our way up as the couloir steepened to around 30 degrees. At a fork in the couloir, we hung right to stay on route. We noticed a rap station made up of two pitons, a sling, and a taped carabiner serving as a makeshift locker. Considering that we might want the option to rappel rather than downclimb, I made a mental note for our eventual descent.
As we ascended and saw these pitons, I couldn’t help but step back in time to when the first climbers ascended these spires. The first ascent of SEWS was made via this same couloir in 1937. The biggest difference back then was the lack of a highway. Climbers faced a long 16-mile approach to reach the base of the Liberty Bell group. After a failed attempt to build a highway across Cascade Pass (hence the existence of Cascade River Road), the North Cascades Highway opened in 1972. A 16-mile approach became an easy 2 miles. While easy access usually means more people, there’s still plenty of opportunity for solitude out there. On the way to this couloir, we saw a few climbers, backcountry skiers, and a dog. Once on the route, we were the only party.
As we continued up, the environment got more interesting. The snow was in good shape as the couloir steepened to about 40–50 degrees. With Jeroen following me, I noticed that there was a section ahead where the couloir narrowed. I radioed in and asked Jereon to find a safe place to stop while I went ahead and checked it out. As
the rock walls closed in, the snow turned into a mixture of rock and ice, requiring a bit of mixed climbing. After soloing through this section, I looked up and saw a small rock recess with an anchor, followed by more exposed rock and ice. I figured the best and safest course of action would be to set up an anchor, throw down rope to Jeroen, and give him a belay through the rock/ice mixture. After belaying him up, we pitched out the last section towards the top of the couloir.
A wonderful quality of this climb is that there’s protection everywhere on the right side of the couloir. Depending on comfort level, it can be soloed or pitched out. For the next pitch, I placed a stubby ice screw, a tricam, and a couple cams in some deep, dry cracks on the way to a notch just below the summit. This pitch was a 60 meter rope stretcher. Slinging a tree and placing a .3 cam provided an anchor for this long pitch. I belayed Jereon up to the notch. After catching our breath, we were presented with a beautiful view of the hairpin turn of Washington Pass, the Early Winters Creek basin, and Kangaroo Ridge. Looking down skier’s left, we could see footsteps from folks who topped out on the South Arete. And then all of the sudden, BOOM! We were treated to a wonderful show of avalanches coming off the cliffs across the basin. With Glacier Peak poking up over the snowy
North Cascades, the view was the highlight of the climb. After we took a short breather, I could tell we were starting to “bonk” after a strenuous bit of climbing. While this route can be soloed in about 30–60 minutes from the couloir’s base, we spent two hours protecting it and pitching it out. We remembered our plan at the beginning of the climb, to be conservative and bail if needed. Although the true summit was only 40–50 feet of 4th class climbing, a bit of snow on the route may have warranted another short pitch and/or rappel. We agreed this notch was “good enough.” The summit wasn’t going anywhere, and the view from here was more than enough for us. It also meant getting back to Seattle in time for dinner, getting back to Portland at a reasonable hour, and perhaps having a reason to come back to climb the South Arete during the summer.
With the sun warming up the snow and our energy waning, we knew the descent required our full attention. Our plan was to rappel the route until we got past the steep patches of ice and rock. At that point, we could downclimb the less steep portion of the couloir. At the notch, I left behind some webbing and an aluminum rap ring, taking us down skier’s right on the rockier part of the couloir to a slung tree. One more rap took us to an alcove with a huge boulder, followed by an overhanging rappel over another boulder and down onto the snow. One more rappel, using the station we saw on the way up, took us to the beginning of the couloir where we passed the chockstone. With crampons off, I introduced Jereon to glissading and we were full of laughter as we slid down a couple hundred feet more. Once the slope became more gradual, it was plungestepping all the way on a beautiful spring day. In a few hours, we were back at the car, chatting with folks doing early-season ascents of other routes in the area.
The SW Couloir is just one of many alpine activities around Washington Pass. During the winter, access is limited from the east via the town of Mazama. This
continued on next page
Above: Jeroen and Brian at the notch, just below the true summit.
Photo: Brian Hague
town, nestled within Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest, is a winter destination in itself due to North America’s largest crosscountry ski area nearby: Methow Trails. Featuring dog-friendly trails, a reservable hut network, and numerous places to rent gear, Mazama provides a great basecamp for XC ski enthusiasts. Winter fat tire biking (a sport growing in popularity) and snowshoeing can also be done on these trails.
For those willing to venture out farther towards Washington Pass, backcountry enthusiasts hire guides or find someone with a snowmobile to get up to the pass itself. North Cascades Mountain Guides provides snowmobile-accessible ski touring, while North Cascades Heli provides helicopter-accessible skiing and remote yurt trips.
Jacket and Goat Creek provide parking and vault toilets perfectly fit for the dirtbag climber camping in their car. Be sure to also check out Goat’s Beard Mountain Supplies for gear and beta, as well as the Mazama store for food, groceries, and coffee. SEWS, continued from previous page.
Once spring arrives and the North Cascades Highway opens, the pass becomes a lot more popular and accessible. Similar to the SW Couloir, many alpine climbs in the area are only in good condition for a month or so once the highway opens. One example is the Early Winter Couloir on North Early Winters Spire. A step up from the SW Couloir, this
climb features more challenging mixed climbing and usually has a cornice that climbers must go around, over, or even through (yes really, there’s a tunneling option according to one trip report).
Ski touring is probably the most popular springtime activity, with numerous couloirs, bowls, and traverses that can be linked together in various ways. Some of the most popular and documented tours include the Birthday Tour, Kangaroo Couloir, and Silver Star Mountain–a good beginner mountaineering objective usually accessible into late summer.
If you find yourself making the long (sixplus hours from Portland) drive to the area, the town of Mazama is a perfect basecamp. North Cascades Mountain Hostel (in nearby Winthrop) can provide affordable lodging, while numerous hotels, lodges, and cabins can provide a more luxurious experience. For those looking for a more rustic experience, campgrounds such as Lone Fir, Early Winters, and Klipchuck provide first-come, first-serve camping. My personal favorite areas are the Washington sno parks in the area, which are large and free to camp in from April to October (sno park pass required otherwise). Yellow
WINTER SUGGESTIONS
■ Snowmobile-accessible ski touring - see North Cascades Mountain Guides in Mazama, WA.
■ Helicopter-accessible ski touring - see North Cascades Heli in Mazama, WA.
■ XC Skiing - see Methow Trails: North America’s largest XC ski area. Dog friendly with a hut system and lodging in the area. Trails are also open to XC skiing, fat tire bikes and snowshoes, all of which can be rented in Mazama, WA.
SPRING SUGGESTIONS
■ Silver Star Mountain via Silver Star Glacier - a popular climb for beginning alpine climbers.
■ NEWS via Early Winter Couloir - a more challenging mixed climb on the north side of NEWS, featuring 3 chockstones and a cornice.
■ Ski tours - The opportunities are endless, but some common ski tours include the Birthday Tour, Kangaroo Couloir, and Silver Star Mountain.
RECOMMENDED BASECAMP:
■ Mazama, WA, accessible from the west when the highway is open
■ Gear: Goat’s Beard Mountain Supplies
■ Groceries and coffee: Mazama Store
■ Campgrounds: Lone Fir, Early Winters, Klipchuck
■ Sno Parks: Yellow Jacket, Goat Creek (free from April-Oct, otherwise WA Sno Park Pass required)
CLIMBING BETA SOURCES:
■ Cascade Alpine Guide Vol 3 by Fred Beckey, Mazama Library 917.97 B38
■ Mountain Project - SEWS SW Couloir
■ Li Ciavola’s SW Couloir trip report, May 6th, PNW Peakbaggers Facebook group
Above: The route, going past the “chockstone” and up to the right.
Photo: Brian Hague
LOOKING BACK
by Mathew Brock, Director of Special Collections and Media
Welcome to “Looking Back,” an occasional column that delves into the rich history of the Mazamas. As your guide through the annals of time, we’ll embark on a journey back to revisit the remarkable events, happenings, and adventures that have shaped the organization’s legacy. From awe-inspiring mountaineering triumphs to community milestones, this column serves as a nostalgic look back at the moments that have shaped the Mazamas.
110 years ago (1915):
First Ascent of Rooster Rock
Rising 320 feet above the Columbia River near Bridal Veil, Oregon, Rooster Rock stood as an imposing challenge to early climbers. Its lower slopes, deceptively gentle with soft earth and grass, gave way to an almost vertical rock face that seemed to defy human ability. For years, local climbers viewed the monolith with a mixture of respect and desire, their only reference point being the story of a sailor who had managed to reach the top but became stranded, requiring rescue by rope from below.
All that changed on April 15, 1915, when Thomas “Ray” Conway, a recentlyjoined member of the Mazamas, set his sights on the rock formation. Conway, although small in stature, possessed extraordinary climbing abilities and an unwavering determination. In a display of remarkable skill and courage, he scaled the rock’s treacherous face in just 21 minutes, completing both the ascent and descent without the use of ropes—a feat that would become legendary in Pacific Northwest climbing circles.
Conway was not content to keep the achievement to himself. By September of that year, he had organized an official Mazama climb. The planning demonstrated his methodical approach to safety and leadership, even placing a register on the summit the week before the climb. On the morning of the official climb, while 70 eager Mazamas waited at the base, Conway and two assistants ascended first to prepare the route by strategically placing ropes.
The climb itself, as documented by participant Margaret Griffin, was a study in progressive challenges. After struggling up the initial soft earth section, climbers reached what became known as the “plateau of decision”—a narrow shelf where, as Griffin noted, participants could “conveniently pause and decide whether to
While Rooster Rock became popular with climbers in the early 20th century, this unusual natural monolith, standing as sentinel at the western edge of the Columbia River Gorge, began drawing the attention of the region’s artists and photographers in the 1880s. The famed Oregon artist Eliza Barchus (18571959) painted this small rendition (9 ¾” x 5”) at about the time Conway made his first ascent of the basalt plug. Courtesy, Peter Boag.
persevere or turn back.” Beyond this point, the true test began.
The route demanded increasingly bold moves. Climbers first had to navigate
a section with widely spaced but solid handholds, all while trying to ignore the 200-foot drop below. The crux of the climb centered around a massive boulder that required an intimate embrace of the rock. Climbers had to place one foot in a precise crevice, wrap their arms around the boulder, and swing their other foot around to safety—all while suspended hundreds of feet above the ground.
The final pitch proved equally challenging, following the exposed ridge where loose rocks demanded careful testing of each step. As Griffin noted, “The only encouraging thing about this part of the climb is that it ends it.” Nine climbers ultimately reached the summit that day, each signing the register and celebrating their achievement with Conway’s playful verse: “Rainier’s fourteen and Hood’s eleven, but Rooster Rock is nearer heaven.”
Conway’s safety measures for the group climb were comprehensive. Fixed ropes secured to the rock provided aid at critical points, though they were used primarily for balance rather than artificial assistance. Life belts attached to ropes held by Conway on the summit provided an additional layer of security, serving more as psychological comfort than physical necessity. As Griffin noted, “Nothing was left undone to ensure the safety of the climbers.”
The successful group ascent of Rooster Rock marked a significant moment in Pacific Northwest climbing history. While Conway would go on to achieve many other mountaineering firsts, his first ascent of Rooster Rock—both solo and as a leader— demonstrated the possibilities that lay within seemingly impossible challenges. The climb established new standards for both technical difficulty and safety protocols in Northwest mountaineering. And Conway’s willingness to share his achievement helped transform an isolated feat into a celebrated chapter in Mazama and Oregon climbing history.
BOOK REVIEW
HEADSTRAP: LEGENDS AND LORE FROM THE CLIMBING SHERPAS OF DARJEELING
BY BY NANDINI PURANDARE
AND
DEEPA BALSAVAR
by Brian Goldman
Let’s take a quiz. How many of you have heard of Maurice Herzog, Edmund Hillary, Reinhold Messner, Junko Tabei, Chris Bonington, Hermann Buhl, Jerzy Kukuczka, George Mallory, Lino Lacedelli, or Wanda Rutkiewicz? Perhaps a majority of these mountaineers? Here’s another list: Tenzing Norgay (who summited Mt. Everest with Edmund Hillary), Ang Tharkay, Ang Tsering, Nawang Gombu (who summited Mt. Everest with Jim Whittaker), Nawang Topgay, or Dorjee Lhatoo. Perhaps one or two?
Most Sherpas are described in books as supporting characters, load-carrying appendages to Westerners who climbed in the Himalayas, necessary tagalongs for the European and American mountaineers who sought personal and national glory. The book’s authors, Nandini Purandare and Deepa Balsavar, founded The Sherpa Project and spent a decade interviewing and recording oral histories of the climbing Sherpa community. In their new book, Headstrap: Legends and Lore from the Climbing Sherpas of Darjeeling, Purandare and Balsavar reveal previously untold stories of the strength and dignity of the people responsible for the lives of Westerners who climb the Himalayan peaks.
Much of the book centers on the town of Darjeeling, which was expanded as a colonial retreat by the British in the 1830s in order to escape the crowds and heat of India. It became famous for its tea estates and attracted local porters from around the region, Nepal, and Tibet in search of work. When Darjeeling became the jumping-off point for early Himalayan expeditions, workers from the Sherpa and Bhutia communities soon established themselves as the preferred high-altitude porters, known for their courage, physical strength,
and sacrifice. The book compiles some of their stories, or as the authors stated in a recent interview, “We wanted to talk about the people rarely heard about—they cooked the food and carried the loads…the contribution of real people forgotten in books.”
What are these headstraps referred to in the title? The authors (and anyone who has trekked) note that “…across Darjeeling and Nepal, porters can be seen carrying heavy loads secured by straps across the head. Officially called tumplines, these are known locally as headstraps, or namlo. During Himalayan climbing’s early decades, all loads were carried using the headstrap. Even today, porters carry loads up to basecamp this way. There is no single origin story for the headstrap. Traditionally it could be a strip of leather, fabric, or rope worn across the top of the head. Sherpas are the most famous headstrap users, using it to carry loads as heavy as their own body weight. The straps enable weight to be distributed evenly down the back and allow for lung expansion, unlike backpacks, which can restrict the chest.” Women carried as much weight as men, sometimes more, and made as many trips as possible, carrying firewood, chang (rice beer), or whatever was needed to make money and take care of their children and elderly.
and guides, but not necessarily Sherpas. Few received the fame and fortune of their Western peers, many of who would not have summitted without the expertise, route-finding, and physical and mental strength of the sherpas.
Readers learn that Sherpas (capital S) are members of a specific community with 18–21 clans or ru, whereas sherpas (lower case) are the high-altitude carriers
Sherpas received recognition in the form of the Tiger Badge, awarded by the Himalayan Club to exceptional porters with proven ability on ice and rock. The possession of the Tiger Badge meant higher rates of pay above the snow line and bestowed upon the porters respect and status. This relationship continued down the years. The last of the Tiger Badges was given to select porters of the Indian 1965 Everest expedition. Some lived until the 21st century, such as Ang Tsering, Nawang Gombu, and Nawang Topgay.
One author of Headstrap, Nandini Purandare, is the editor of The Himalayan
Journal. She has a background in economics. The second author, Deepa Balsavar, is an adjunct professor at IDC, the Design School, in Mumbai, India, and an illustrator of 30 children’s books. The authors include the perspectives of the wives of the Sherpas, female climbers, and others such as Joan Townend, a trekker who helped identify the flora of the Himalayas and served as an officer on the Himalayan Club. Joan, known as “Towney memsahib” by the sherpas, spent much of her time attending to the welfare of the porters. Another woman, Jill Henderson, became Honorary Secretary of the Himalayan Club between 1951 and 1955, and in this role, she organized the Sherpa teams for several expeditions, ensured there were agreed rates of pay, and organized logbooks for Sherpas to record their expeditions and their achievements. She nursed Tenzing Norgay, exhausted after two prior attempts to summit Everest. Without her encouragement, Tenzing never would have summited Everest with Edmund Hillary. And the rest is history.
The authors state that “At the end of our first visit to Darjeeling, in April 2012, we made a promise that this book seeks to fulfill: to record and share Sherpa stories and histories from this region. We uncovered many tales over the coming years, in the narrow, often grotty lanes of Toong Soong, a Sherpa settlement in Darjeeling. We found them in the warm homes of the sons and daughters of Sherpa heroes from decades ago. We traced connections and attempted to chart family trees. We discovered that there are new Sherpa climbers in Darjeeling today, but they are separated geographically, historically, and technologically from those who came almost a century ago. We dug into forgotten papers and books published by the Himalayan Club, set up in India in 1928 to encourage climbing and exploration in the Himalaya, and met with climbers all over the world who shared their memories with us. We had to learn not to ask our interviewees questions that reflected our modern intellectual concerns and may be insensitive to our subjects’ conditions and priorities at the time, like ‘Did you ever think of doing something else to earn your living?’ or ‘What did the women feel when their men left for the mountains?’ Most of all, we learned that many Sherpas who appear in expedition accounts, both written and oral, were
legendary climbers, but had no family or heirs to their stories left in Darjeeling. We are sincerely sorry that we could not cover them.”
We learn of Ang Tharkay, born in a family so poor he had to live with his aunt across the Tibetan border. Lovable, modest, and unselfish with an infectious gaiety of spirit, he was one of the first to earn the Tiger Badge. As the Sardar (highest ranking porter), he enabled Frenchman Maurice Herzog to summit Annapurna, the first 8,000-meter peak to be climbed, even carrying, with other Sherpas, the frostbitten French climbers on their backs. For his effort, Ang Tharkay earned the French Legion of Honor, the first and only Sherpa to earn this award.
Pasang Dawa, born in a small village near Namche Bazar, came to the climbing center of Darjeeling as a young man and soon distinguished himself carrying loads for expeditions. In 1939 on K2, he reached 8,371 meters, the highest altitude climbed by a Sherpa up to that time. He, too, earned the Tiger Badge. Sadly, he was also known for his bullying behavior and arrogance, kicking anyone who got in his way. He was the Sardar for the 1956 second and third Swiss ascents of Everest and the first successful ascent of Lhotse.
Ang Tsering was another Sherpa who traveled to Darjeeling in search of work in the 1920s. He met a lama who advised him against climbing, which would make the gods angry and bring calamity to the 1924 Everest expedition. Sure enough, Ang watched as Mallory and Irvine climbed toward the summit of Everest and disappeared from view. When asked why he was willing to work as a porter, carrying 60+ pounds and be paid even less than his work as a woodcutter, he said “Because the work is easier.” He took under his wing children who were made orphans by their fathers who died on expeditions. Ang passed away in 2002, at 98 years old.
Tenzing Norgay was the 11th of 14 children, born in Tibet. At a young age, he was brought to a Tibetan Buddhist master, Ngawang Tenzin Norbu. This religious leader proclaimed the child was a reincarnation of a rich man and rechristened him Tenzing (“supporter of religions”) and Norgay (“wealthy”). Tenzing actually began exploring Everest in 1935, part of famed English mountaineer Eric Shipton’s reconnaissance. Even though Tenzing had never climbed before, he was a
quick student and, at 19 years old, became known for being cheerful, a hard worker, and a strong climber. In 1953, he summitted Everest with Edmund Hillary and began to live a life no one could have imagined. India’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, embraced Tenzing and built the Himalayan Mountain Institute (HMI) in Darjeeling so that India could “make a thousand Tenzings.” The book spells out in detail his personal life, unhappiness, and anger. However, he was considered the bedrock upon which the Sherpa mystique was built.
Many other short biographies await the reader. The narrative of Headstrap is straightforward journalism and easy to read. Missing is technical information about the equipment, food, strategies, and logistics of the many climbs.
The appendix contains family trees of some of the better-known Sherpa clans; an explanation of Sherpa names; those who have earned Tiger Badges; and names of contemporary Sherpa climbers.
Headstrap is available in the Mazama Library, call number 954 P97.
BOARD OF DIRECTORS MINUTES
JANUARY 26, 2025
Attending: Petra LeBaron Botts, Liz Crowe (Treasurer), Debbie Dwelle (President), Marty Hanson, Chris Jaworski, Chris Kruell, Matthew Sundling (Secretary), Robin Wilcox. Staff: Rebekah Phillips, Executive Director. Guests: Greg Scott, Immediate Past President. Absent: Claire Tenscher.
WELCOME & CALL TO ORDER
■ The meeting was called to order at 9:10 a.m. by President Debbie Dwelle.
■ A quorum was present.
TOPICS
■ The election of officers for 2025 followed a discussion of the responsibilities associated with the officer positions conducted by Matt Sundling. The election results were as follows:
□ Vice President: Matt Sundling
□ Treasurer: Liz Crowe
□ Secretary: Chris Kruell
■ Meeting adjourned at 9:50 a.m. to spend the day developing objectives for the strategic plan, which was developed in a planning session held on November 9, 2024.
FEBRUARY 4, 2025
Attending: Petra LeBaron Botts, Liz Crowe (Treasurer), Debbie Dwelle (President), Marty Hanson, Chris Jaworski, Chris Kruell (Secretary), Jessica Minifie, Matthew Sundling (Vice President), Robin Wilcox. Staff: Rebekah Phillips, Executive Director. Guests: Jeff Hawkins. Absent: Claire Tenscher.
WELCOME & CALL TO ORDER
■ The meeting was called to order at 6:07 p.m. by President Debbie Dwelle.
■ A quorum was present.
MEETING AGENDA
■ Meeting Minutes Approval
□ Approval of the previous meeting minutes required a vote.
□ The Board reviewed and voted on approving prior meeting minutes: December 2024 Minutes. The motion to approve was made by Chris J. and seconded by Liz C. The minutes were approved unanimously.
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR REPORT
■ The Executive Director outlined their key objectives as driving revenue, enhancing
engagement, and streamlining operations. The FY23 financial review and filings with the county, state, and Forest Service were completed in January. Staffing updates included finalizing annual performance reviews and new titles for two staff members. Several updates at the MMC and Lodge are underway, including improved security measures required by insurance and ongoing development of the Lodge operations model. She provided details of recent advocacy efforts in partnership with the Conservation Committee and Outdoor Alliance, as well as digital campaigns to attract new members and generate BCEP leads.
■ Next, Rebekah reviewed the year-end revenue reports, noting that in 2024, the organization received $744,111 in charitable donations from 940 donors. Of this amount, $487,500 is restricted by the Wilson Estate. The year-end appeal was considered successful, with 53 donors contributing nearly $37,000. Grant applications are currently in development, including proposals with Nike, Stop the Bleed, and several foundations, while the establishment of a formal planned giving program is in progress. Membership revenue is expected to be on track for 2025 and shows year-over-year growth. Programs and activities generated $349,605 from 1,047 participants. Of these, 93 participants successfully climbed Mt. Hood over 15 climbs (with 11 climbs canceled); we anticipate that permit fees will total $1,674.
TREASURER’S REPORT – JANUARY 2025
■ As of January 31, 2025, our cash balance stands at $71,955, with net assets available for operations totaling $500,344 as of December 31, 2024. The FY23 reviewed financials were issued on January 23, 2025.
■ Financial Overview:
□ Assets:
■ Total cash: $104,705
■ Investments: $1.45M (YTD performance: +$110K)
■ Wilson Expedition Fund deposits: $479K
■ Withdrawals to cover budget deficit: $129K
■ Receivables: $2,457 in outstanding accounts and pledges
■ Fixed asset additions: Major projects included MMC fire panel repair ($12K), lodge roof replacement ($82K), and new equipment for MMC and the lodge ($9K total).
■ Disposals: $34K in assets removed per Multnomah County’s property tax review.
□ Liabilities & Deferred Revenue:
■ Accounts payable: $18,832
■ Lodging tax payable: $6,639 (requires registration and payment)
■ Insurance premium financing: $39,526 (with YTD interest expense of $5,148)
■ Deferred revenue:
■ Program fees: $61,182
■ Membership dues: $137,655
□ Net Assets:
■ Available for operations: $500,344 (down $66,000 YTD)
■ With donor restrictions: $846,842 (up $45,000 YTD)
■ Overall, while investments have performed well, we’ve experienced a net decrease in assets available for operations due to withdrawals covering a budget deficit. Strategic financial planning remains crucial as we navigate these trends.
■ Strategic Planning Goals Review & Next Steps
■ Discussion of the prioritization of five goals was initiated with next steps and further discussion postponed to another Board working session.
EXECUTIVE SESSION
■ There was no executive session.
ADJOURNMENT
■ President Debbie Dwelle adjourned the meeting at 7:58 p.m.
FEBRUARY 18, 2025
Attending: Petra LeBaron Botts, Liz Crowe (Treasurer), Debbie Dwelle (President), Marty Hanson, Chris Jaworski, Jessica Minifie, Matthew Sundling (Vice President), Claire Tenscher, Robin Wilcox. Staff: Rebekah Phillips, Executive Director. Guests: Jeff Hawkins. Absent: Chris Kruell (Secretary).
WELCOME & CALL TO ORDER
■ The meeting was called to order at 6:18 p.m. by President Debbie Dwelle.
■ A quorum was present.
TOPICS
■ January 26, 2025 board meeting minutes
□ Motion to approve: Jessica Minife
□ Second: Petra LeBaron-Botts
□ Abstain: Claire Tenscher
□ Opposed: None
□ Not present for vote: Chris Kruell, Robin Wilcox
STRATEGIC PLANNING PROCESS:
■ Review of five strategic priority areas and associated goals, timelines, gaps, and key players.
ADJOURNMENT
■ Meeting adjourned at 8:12 p.m.
MARCH 4, 2025
Attending: Petra LeBaron Botts, Liz Crowe (Treasurer), Debbie Dwelle (President), Marty Hanson, Chris Kruell (Secretary), Jessica Minifie, Matthew Sundling (Vice President), Claire Tenscher, Robin Wilcox. Staff: Rebekah Phillips, Executive Director. Absent: Chris Jaworski
WELCOME & CALL TO ORDER
■ The meeting was called to order at 6:01 p.m. by President Debbie Dwelle.
■ A quorum was present.
MEETING AGENDA
■ Approval of Meeting Minutes
■ The board reviewed and approved the minutes from the January 26 and February 4, 2025 meetings. Petra moved to approve both sets of minutes, with Jessica seconding. The motions carried with Claire abstaining from both votes.
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR’S UPDATE
■ The Executive Director is working with insurance broker Alliant to evaluate insurance coverage to find less expensive options for renewal effective April 15, 2025. A membership renewal campaign is underway and a fundraising campaign is beginning soon. The director notes concerns about program enrollment due to price increases and member anxiety over advocacy issues related to public lands. She announces plans for a past presidents’ luncheon on April 15th and one-on-one meetings to engage stakeholders and discuss the
organization’s challenges. The director also mentions an upcoming committee chair update meeting focused on scheduling and emergency management.
TREASURER’S REPORT
■ Liz presented the January financials, noting they were unremarkable. There was further discussion of the upcoming insurance renewal and reducing coverage levels to address rising costs and reduce expenses.
■ Liz also introduced an initial five-year cash flow forecast. Based on current projections, the organization faces a $161,000 cash deficit in 2025, which will require a significant investment drawdown. Without significant financial changes, the non-restricted investment account is expected to be depleted by Q2 of FY28. The board acknowledged that the working model provides a valuable framework for revenue-neutral budget planning, exploring alternative revenue streams, as the current model based on programs and membership alone is not sustainable.
GOVERNANCE COMMITTEE UPDATE
■ Matt reported on the first meeting of the Governance Committee to focus on board education, operational continuity, and the board nomination process. The committee also plans to review the board charter and policies.
MEETING ATTENDANCE
■ Debbie initiated a discussion about how to manage non-board member attendance at board meetings. Petra suggested setting aside a designated public comment period at the beginning of meetings. Matt will draft a board meeting protocol document for discussion and potential adoption.
MAZAMA LODGE DISCUSSION
■ The board discusses the Mazama Lodge’s future role in supporting the organization’s mission to build community and inspire mountain protection. Survey data show that 92 percent of members consider the lodge a significant part of their Mazamas experience. However, the lodge has contributed to an annual operating deficit of approximately $58,000 over the past several years. The board reviewed various scenarios, including
operating the lodge as a revenue-positive enterprise, partnering with other organizations, and even potentially selling the facility.
■ Immediate plans include reopening the lodge on weekends, staffed by volunteer hosts. The caretaker agreement will be extended, and an hourly contractor will be hired to handle reservations and on-site coordination. Some events have already been booked for 2025, and more are planned.
■ There was additional discussion about roles and responsibilities associated with the lodge’s reopening, particularly regarding who oversees operations, marketing, and volunteer coordination. Matt requested clarity on the scope of work and expected outcomes for the marketing hire. The board agreed to define roles more clearly and to meet with the Lodge Committee to finalize planning efforts.
STRATEGIC PLAN AND WORKING GROUPS
■ The board discussed narrowing the scope of the strategic plan to focus on four core areas: revenue generation, member engagement, board development, and facilities. Due to capacity limitations, other goals will be deprioritized for now. Liz and Chris K. will co-lead the revenue generation working group, Chris K. will also lead the member engagement group, and Robin will lead the facilities group.
■ Matt will lead efforts to improve program offerings and pricing strategies in coordination with the Finance Committee. He and Rebekah will also focus on developing supportive tools for staff. Robin and Chris K. will work together to create a decision-making rubric to evaluate future lodge options.
ADJOURNMENT
■ The meeting was adjourned at 8:20 p.m.
Above: Starting up a thin traverse halfway through the infamous runnels section on Triple Couloirs, Triple Couloirs, Dragontail Peak, Washington.
Photo: Angie Brown.
