Hurt on Mount Hood: But not how you’d expect
Getting above the clouds on Mount Hood, looking back toward Timberline Lodge
In mountaineering you learn quickly that success means more than reaching the summit; it also means getting back down, and that most accidents happen on the return. You learn that the mountain doesn’t care what happens to you, and it will be there tomorrow to invite another challenge, whether you are or not. You learn to make decisions that could be life or death, but you also learn to accept that some things are just out of your control.
But this time, what happened to me wasn’t anything to do with the mountain or with my own decisions. It was another person’s reckless behavior that caused my ascent of Mount Hood to end badly.
On a Saturday in early March, myself and three friends climbed and skied Mount Hood on the south side, beginning and ending in Timberline Lodge Ski Area. We started uphill before sunrise, in bitter wind and blowing snow. Visibility was terrible, and we encountered a handful of other parties turning around because they didn’t think the summit was feasible that day. We remained optimistic, and sure enough we got above the clouds just after the sun rose. The sky was bright, the wind was calmer, and spirits were high. We pushed upward with frigid but beautiful conditions, and with the rest of the route well within sight. Clouds started to blow back in as we neared the summit, but we had a small window to enjoy the view from the top. We didn’t linger long because we still had to ski down.
Climbing “The Hogsback” ridge of snow leading toward the summit of Mount Hood
For the entire descent we skied carefully through the thickening fog. We could see just enough to safely make turns, and we relied on GPS to navigate back to the resort. Windblown snow on glacier ice did not make for great skiing, but that didn’t bother us. We were just stoked to have summitted and to get so much vertical on skis.
Finally back on the groomed runs, my legs were tired so I made many consistent, arcing turns to control my speed. We were only minutes from reaching the car when all of a sudden I felt my legs shoot out from under me and my head slam against the hard-packed snow. The next thing I remember I was struggling to answer a patroller’s basic questions like what day it was and what I’d done that morning. My head was throbbing, my mouth was bleeding, and my teeth felt like they didn’t touch together where they should.
I’d been hit from behind by a snowboarder who was going a self-estimated “45 miles per hour” and who claimed I had “come out of nowhere.”
Then I got my first-ever toboggan ride down to ski patrol. During their assessment my memory got worse before it got better, and I felt some intense sensations of deja vu inside the lodge even though I had definitely never been there before. Nothing else was seriously injured though, so there wasn’t much patrol could do for me other than wish me well and send me on my way.
Now I’m home with a concussion, a tweaked jaw, and a big cut inside my mouth. I guess I’m lucky it wasn’t worse, but I definitely don’t feel fortunate that such an awesome day ended up like that. The person who really got lucky is the snowboarder––lucky he didn’t catch a point on the ice axe that was strapped onto my pack. I think he got his ski pass pulled, but I wonder if that will really teach him his lesson like the ice axe would have…
Beginning the long ski descent from the top of Mount Hood
