Exploring and Informing: Mt. Hood: Mazama Ridge and McNeil Point

Mt. Hood

I haven't done much writing about the Pacific Northwest, but since I'm moving to Portland in September I figured I might as well get a start.

Mazama Ridge is one of the more popular routes up the north side of Mt. Hood, the tallest mountain in Oregon and one of the only places in the state where skiing is offered year round. It is one of the Cascade Mountains, the ring of volcanos that stretch from Lassen in California into British Columbia. Mt. Hood is the most accessible of these volcanos, being so close to Portland, and as a result is also one of the most dangerous, seeing several fatalities every year.

I visited in mid-august, the time of year when the flowers begin to bloom and the weather is most pleasant. The timberline here is about 5500 feet, any higher above that the snow becomes too deep and stays too long to allow trees to grow. The warming climate means that snow is melting sooner and the snowpack is smaller, boding ill for the glaciers and rivers in the future. Anyway, the trail from Mazama ridge is very steep, and it is also one of the most popular routes to McNeil Point, one of the finest viewpoints on this part of the mountain. Lots of flowers were blooming, avalanche lily, old man of the mountain, lupine, and indian paintbrush were abundant. Weather was perfect and the clarity of the air was surprising, considering a massive wildfire was burning near Bend at the time we were up the mountain.

The trail winds through the woods.

The Mazama Ridge trail to McNeil Point is a snapshot of what climbing a mountain is all about; Winding slowly up the ridgeline between two glacier-carved valleys. The dense Oregon forest of firs and hemlocks towering skyward, interspersed with delicate lilies and clovers. Occasionally, while following the top of the ridge the forest opens up to reveal a hilltop meadow, often with pools of water and game trails pockmarking the green, grassy carpet. Higher up, the trees become less substantial, the flowers more persistent, and eventually the trees become little more than a mangled mess until they stop altogether, with only shrubs and lichens clinging to life much higher. Climbing the abrupt ridge above the vantage that is McNeil Point, the greenery disappears altogether by the time scaling the narrow Cathedral Ridge is upon the hiker. The drop on either side is impressive and deadly, and the trail narrow enough to warrant caution. The Glissan Glacier on one side, and the valley that forms the headwaters of the Sandy River below. The Sandy Glacier looms high overhead, not far below the peak of Mt. Hood. Upon reaching the wide rocks that form the safest stopping point, one can gaze upward at the dramatic face of Hood and its icy cloak of glaciers, crumbling under the weight of sunshine. When I was up there, a massive boulder rolled off an icefall high on the mountain down the Sandy Glacier, and the sound was such that it reminded me of human frailty, a boulder perhaps ten tons in weight bouncing down the slope before stopping about 2000 feet lower in altitude from where it began its tumble. The Cascade volcanoes are crumbly, and seeing rocks fall is not unusual, but the sheer size and sound of the one boulder made it all the more impressive.