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Ralph Summers grips his shovel and scrapes away at the ice above his head. It's the evening of May 12th, 1986. Summers has been on his knees for about 90 minutes now, carving out a cave in the snow high up on Mount Hood. Summers quickens his pace as he listens to the blizzard raging outside.
If he constructs the cave properly, it will serve as shelter for 13 stranded climbers, including himself. The muscles on his face are numb with cold. His forearms ache, but still, he keeps hacking away.
He pauses for a moment to review his progress. The icy, white cave interior is roughly six feet long, eight feet wide, and four feet tall from floor to ceiling. Smaller than a four-person tent. He'd like to make it bigger, but there's not enough time. He has to get the other climbers out of the storm and into the cave as soon as possible. Some of them are already showing signs of hypothermia.
The cave is small, but it should be big enough if everyone squeezes close together. Summers puts his flashlight between his teeth and crawls out of the cave into the blizzard. As he rises to his feet, he's nearly knocked over by a gust of frigid wind. He shines his flashlight at the 12 people who have been waiting for him, huddled together under a snow-covered tarp.
The cave is ready. One at a time, students get in first. And hurry, let's go! The climbing group is comprised of 10 students from a local high school who are taking part in a wilderness program and two adult faculty members. Summers watches them crawl into the snow cave one by one. To enter, they have to squeeze through a narrow tunnel, which Summers kept small to prevent wind and snow from blowing into the inner chamber.
He sees the kids' shoulders trembling beneath their parkas. He hopes they'll warm up once they're out of the wind. Summers is serving as their climbing consultant. His job was simple: accompany the group as they ascended Mount Hood, give them technical climbing advice when required, and administer first aid if needed.
But five hours ago, his assignment became much more complicated. A massive storm hit the mountain, blasting the climbers with high winds and thick flurries of snow. The climbers attempted to retreat, but with visibility reduced to a few feet, they quickly got lost. Now, they're stuck here, high on the mountain, somewhere on the south side of Mount Hood.
Summers turns to the teacher in charge of the climbing party, Father Tom Gohmann, who helped him dig the cave. Is everyone inside now? Everyone except Pat. He needs help. Can you bring him over? Summers nods and walks over to the tarp, which flaps loudly in the wind. It's covering the climber's cache of supplies, and it's also providing temporary shelter for Patrick McGinnis, a student who's suffering from hypothermia.
Patrick has been bundled up inside his sleeping bag underneath the tarp, trying to stay warm while Summers and Goeman dug out the cave. Summers calls out as he approaches the tarp. "The cave's ready, Pat. Let's go." But there's no answer. "Hey, Pat. You all right? Wake up." Summers grasps the edge of the tarp and lifts it up. And then his stomach drops. Patrick isn't there.
Summers whips his flashlight from left to right, but the snow is coming down so hard, he can't see more than a few feet in any direction. Pat? Pat! Summers' heart pounds. He has no idea how or why Patrick has disappeared, but at this high altitude, in the middle of a menacing storm, Summers knows he has to find him within minutes. If he doesn't, Patrick is doomed.
From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. On May 12th, 1986, a group of high school students from Oregon Episcopal School in Portland set out to climb Mount Hood, the tallest mountain in the state. Their plan was to reach the summit and return before a storm was forecasted to roll in.
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High school junior Mick Garrett nervously paces the length of the school bus that's supposed to take him and his classmates home from Mount Hood. Outside, in the darkness, the wind howls. He calls out to the bus driver. "What time is it?" "8:45." "8:45? They should have been back three hours ago."
It's been nearly nine hours since Mick arrived here at Timberline Lodge after turning back from the climb to summit Mount Hood. With him on the bus are three other students who also turned back early after the climb proved to be far more strenuous than any of them expected. Mick peers out a window. The storm outside is frightening. A swirling stew of wind, snow, and ice.
If his classmates are still up on that mountain, then they are in serious trouble. Mick takes a seat close to the other students. We've got to do something. They might be trapped up there. A student named Courtney Boatsman rises to her feet and turns to the group. I could ask the bus driver if he'll walk over to the lodge with me. We can find the people in charge and tell them what's going on. Okay? Okay. Okay. That sounds like a good plan.
Mick watches Courtney exit the bus along with the driver and cross the parking lot to the lodge. He looks down at the scuffed floor, then closes his eyes. He wants to believe that Father Tom and the others will be back soon, but something in his heart tells him that the time for optimism has passed. This is going to be a long night. ♪
Ralph Summers stands outside the snow cave, scanning the darkness with his flashlight. But all he sees are snow flurries, endless white in every direction. Patrick! Patrick! Patrick! Patrick! Patrick! Patrick! Patrick! Patrick!
Pat? Pat, I'm coming! Summers hurries in the direction of the voice. He arrives back at the tarp where Pat was resting earlier and where the group's supplies are being kept. Summers turns in the direction of the voice. Just beyond the tarp, the mountainside drops away sharply down a steep slope. He shines his flashlight downward and sees Pat. Pat?
Pat is lying face down, several yards down the slope. Behind him is a pitch black void. If he falls or slides further down, he's a goner. Summers gets on his stomach and leans over the edge of the slope. He slams his ice axe into the ground near Pat. "Grab the handle!" Pat reaches up and grabs hold of the axe. Slowly, he crawls up the slope.
until Summers is able to reach down and grab him under his arms. Summers pulls with all of his might and hoists Pat up over the edge to safety. They collapse to the ground and lie still as they catch their breath. Pat lifts his head. "I saw everyone going to the cave, so I got up to follow them. But I guess I got turned around in the dark."
Next thing I know, I'm sliding down the side of a mountain. It's okay, Pat. I'm just glad I found you. Summers musters the strength to stand, then pulls Pat to his feet and leads him to the snow cave opening. He makes sure Pat's in safely, then climbs in behind him. Finally, they've all got shelter. Now, they just have to wait for the storm to subside.
High school senior Molly Shula gazes up at the white-domed ceiling of the snow cave, just a couple of feet above her head. The dark cave is illuminated by splashes of light emanating from the flashlights of her classmates. Molly can barely move. Two people are lying on top of her, though she's not sure who exactly. The cave is a tangle of limbs and bodies.
As soon as Patrick McGinnis and Ralph Summers entered the cave, it became clear that they couldn't all comfortably fit at once. So for the past hour, they've taken turns crawling back outside to free up room. They rotate three at a time every 20 minutes. Molly tries to shift into a less awkward position.
She's lying on her back in a thin layer of cold water created by the snow and ice melted by their collective body heat. She'd like to switch with one of the kids on top of her, but she can't get out from under them. Suddenly, she hears a noise at the cave entrance. She lifts her head and sees Father Tom Goeman shaking violently as he crawls into the cave. His wool cap is gone, and his head is coated in frost.
He's very pale and his lips are blue. Molly realizes that he was one of the first people to leave the cave and he's only just now returning. He's obviously spent way too much time outside in the storm. Molly's eyes well up. She's always admired Father Tom for his kindness, sense of humor, and love for the outdoors. It meant a lot to her when he selected her for the Base Camp Advanced Climbing Team.
It's an emotional gut punch to see him suffering like this. "Are you okay, Father Tom?" All she can hear is the sound of Father Tom's teeth chattering. He is too cold to speak. She turns to Ralph Summers. "He needs help. Let's drape your sleeping bag over him." "Got it. And we need to keep his head warm. Any extra hats back there?" A classmate behind Molly hands her a wool cap. She puts it on Father Tom's head.
Others shift their bodies so Goeman has more space to lie down. Molly wraps the sleeping bag around him like a blanket. He looks up at Molly and manages to flash a smile before his teeth start chattering again. Thanks, Molly. I feel better now. Molly nods, but she's not convinced that he's telling the truth. His whole face is now a bluish color, and he can't stop shivering.
Molly can feel herself growing increasingly desperate. She wishes she could leave the cave to find help, but it would be suicidal to follow through on that impulse with the blizzard as bad as it is. She lowers herself to the cave floor once again and stares up at the ceiling of snow. The wind outside howls louder than ever.
Frank McGinnis blinks several times as he wakes up on his worn, gray living room futon. The lights are on, and it takes him a few seconds to adjust his eyes. He checks his watch. 9:58 p.m. He must have dozed off. He's been anxious all night. His son Patrick was supposed to be back from climbing Mount Hood by now, but he isn't. And now it's raining. The weather might be even worse up on the mountain.
It's been two and a half hours since someone from the school called to tell Frank that the climbers were running behind schedule. He decided to wait by the phone until he got another update. He nearly gasps with relief. It must be the school, calling to report that Pat and the other students have finally made it down the mountain. He picks up the phone. Hello? Are you with the school? Frank waits as the woman clears her throat. Uh, yes.
Frank's mouth goes dry. He wants to believe he misheard her.
but he didn't. "We'll be in touch as soon as we have more information. Sorry to be bearing bad news." Frank clutches the phone tightly. He tries to make sense of those words: "Lost on the mountain." He can barely breathe as he imagines his son wandering the slopes of the state's tallest peak, frightened, cold, and lost.
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It's 1:30 a.m. in Portland, and Harder is talking with Barry Wright from Portland Mountain Rescue. So what's the situation, Barry? Well, it's not good. Harder listens as Wright explains about the student climbing group lost on Mount Hood and the storm that is currently pummeling the mountain. As Harder listens, he rummages through the closet for his survival gear.
It sounds like conditions on Mount Hood are deadly. This might be the most daunting mission he's undertaken since Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980. Harder is a relative newcomer to Portland Mountain Rescue, but he's a veteran of several search and rescue organizations. He's also a paramedic with the Portland Fire Department and a pararescue jumper for the U.S. Air Force. Helping people is what he lives for.
In the local search and rescue community, Harder is known as the bagger. That's because in his first 25 rescue missions, he recovered 24 bodies. The nickname is a term of endearment, not an insult. Other rescue specialists respect that Harder is always willing to tackle the hardest and most emotionally taxing crisis work.
Carter checks the contents of his medical bag as he cradles the phone against his ear. I'm on my way, Barry. You said Timberline Lodge, correct? That's right. We'll set up a command post there and start sending teams up the mountain as soon as possible. Sounds good. See you there. Carter hangs up and grabs his heaviest parka. According to Wright, this storm is unlikely to lift for at least a day.
He's going to need all the layers of protection he can bring. Molly Shula can't tell if her eyes are open or closed. It's so dark inside the snow cave that all she can see is blackness. They've turned off all the flashlights to conserve batteries. Outside, the wind howls. The storm hasn't let up all night.
She's lying on her stomach on the floor of the cave. It's wet. All the body heat inside the cave is continuing to melt the icy walls, causing frigid water to pool around her. She suddenly feels desperate to move, to find someplace dry. But when she tries to change position, she can't. Her legs won't move. She realizes that she can't feel her legs at all.
She calls out to whoever will listen. "Hey, hey, hey guys, I need help. I can't move my legs." Molly hears Father Tom's voice in the darkness. "Hey everyone, wake up! There might be something wrong with Molly's legs." Molly's anxiety spikes when she hears that. She's suddenly very aware of how small the cave is. How many bodies are pressed right up against hers.
She begins to hyperventilate. Oh my God, what's wrong? Is it frostbite? A few flashlights switch on at once. Molly can feel tears running down her cheeks as she tries to force her legs to move. They won't. She watches as Ralph Summers crawls towards her.
Hey, Molly, calm down. Your legs just fell asleep. Someone must have been sleeping on top of them. Give it a minute, all right? The feeling will return. Take slow, deep breaths in and out. Molly breathes as deeply as she can. She starts to feel a prickling sensation in her legs. It feels like thousands of warm needles being pressed into her skin. She takes another deep breath.
She tries to move her legs again, and this time they respond. "Um, I'm okay." "Thanks, Ralph." "No problem, Molly. Glad you're doing better." Summers turns toward the tunnel that leads outside. In the glow of someone's flashlight, Molly can see that he looks concerned. "We need to clear the cave opening. The storm is blowing a lot of snow into the tunnel. It's half the size it was before."
I'll take care of it, Ralph. No!
Everyone points their flashlights at the cave entrance. The teen who was outside crawls back into the cave, his eyes wide with fear. The shovel, I lost it. The wind tore it right out of my hands. Molly swallows hard. That was their only snow shovel.
She knows from her wilderness training that without it, they'll have a hard time keeping the snow cave entrance clear. The storm will continue to blow fresh snow into the entrance, and that snow will harden into ice. They can still use their axes to chip away at the ice, but axes are no substitute for a shovel.
And the way this storm is still raging, Molly knows there's now a chance they could be sealed inside the cramped and freezing cave. And if that happens, they could all suffocate. Rick Carter follows a sheriff's deputy down a carpeted hallway in Timberline Lodge. He's just arrived and wants to interview the four students who left the climb early and reported the group missing.
He needs to get solid intel from them before the search can start. They stop outside the door to a guest room. Harder checks his watch. It's 3:45 a.m. The climbing party has been missing for almost 10 hours. The deputy knocks, then knocks again, louder.
A teenage girl pulls the door open, squinting her eyes. A slightly older looking boy stands next to her. "Sorry to wake you, but I need to talk to you. I'm Rick Harder with Portland Mountain Rescue. I'm Courtney Boatsman and this is Mick Garrett." Courtney tells him that the other two students aren't feeling well and should sleep. So she steps out into the hall, waving for Mick to follow her. They step around a corner and Harder begins the interview.
Okay, Courtney, can you tell me the last known position of the missing climbers? I mean, we left early, so I'm not sure, but we were taking the south side route, a Palmer snowfield. What did everyone have on? Normal climbing gear, parkas, helmets, gloves? Yes, everyone was properly dressed for the climb and had all the right tools, rope, ice axes. There was a snow shovel, I think.
Harder continues grilling the two teens, but they don't know much. Both left the climb very early, hours before the other climbers were reported missing. That means they could be almost anywhere in the massive area between Palmer Snowfield and the summit.
Harder thanks the teenagers and then hustles back down the hallway towards the lodge's ski patrol office, which has been turned into a search and rescue command center. Despite the bad weather, he hopes he can get a team assembled and get up the mountain soon. They're going to have to cover a very large search area as quickly as possible. Patrick McGinnis lies on his back in the snow cave's access tunnel, kicking a mound of snow as hard as he can.
The storm is blowing snowdrifts into the cave entrance that are freezing into ice and threatening to seal the cave shut. Pat's legs are cold and sore, but he keeps kicking. He knows that every kick is a chance to save all their lives. But Pat can feel his energy flagging. He's felt better since he got inside the cave, but he's still lightheaded from hypothermia.
As he aims another kick at the wall, a pain in his right leg is suddenly unbearable. He's also completely winded. He tries to inhale, but can't catch his breath. He wonders if they're already starting to suffocate inside the cramped cave. Pat pulls his aching legs back in from the tunnel.
He reaches down to adjust his socks, making sure no snow melt is seeping under them. His dad bought him the socks at REI just two days ago. They're made of polypropylene to help keep his feet warm and dry. They were expensive, but Pat's dad insisted on buying them. When he handed Pat the socks, Pat told his dad that he loved him. Now he wonders if he'll ever be able to say those words to his father again.
He hears the sound of falling ice behind him and turns around. Some of his classmates are passing an ice axe around and using it to poke breathing holes in the roof of the cave. Already, the air inside feels less stifling. Seeing his friends fight to survive lifts Pat's spirits. He takes a deep and grateful breath and turns back to the cave entrance.
Then he grits his teeth and kicks with all of his might.
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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Comparison rates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. Giles Thompson crawls out of the snow cave and wraps his arms around himself for warmth. It's still dark out and the storm is still raging. But it's his turn to stand outside to free up room inside the tiny cave.
Plus, Ralph Summers says if they keep entering and leaving the cave at regular intervals, it will help keep the entrance from freezing shut. Giles decides to walk over to the tarp, stretched over the climbing party's equipment cache. Maybe he can search the cache for some more warm clothes. But when he gets to where the tarp should be, all he sees is snow. He feels a surge of panic.
Giles drops to his knees and starts digging in the snow to try to reach the tarp. Since the snow shovel is gone, he has to use his hands.
Within minutes, his fingers are numb, even though he's wearing thick ski gloves. But still, he keeps digging. The cache includes not only more warm clothing, but extra food and a climbing stove they can use to melt snow for drinking water. They can't afford to lose it all under a snowdrift. Finally, he finds a corner of the tarp. It's buried under more than two feet of heavy, wet snow.
He grips the corner and tries to lift. He pulls until he can feel the veins bulging in his neck and temples. But it's no use. The tarp barely moves. Without a shovel, there's no way to dig out the tarp. Already, the storm is burying the one little corner Giles exposed. Giles lets go of the tarp, breathing heavily. He has to get back inside the cave to warm up.
He walks back to the snow cave entrance, feeling defeated. Maybe once it gets light out, he can come back with Ralph Summers and Father Tom, and they can try again. He knows that without the rest of their clothes and equipment, they're in big trouble. Welcome to the community.
Rick Harder gulps coffee from a Styrofoam cup and tries not to explode with impatience. He's standing in the brightly lit Ski Patrol office that's been converted into a search and rescue operations center. The other rescue workers around him are gesturing at a large map of Mount Hood tacked to the wall.
It's 5:30 a.m., but the search and rescue coordinators still haven't sent teams up the mountain. For safety reasons, they want to wait until dawn. But Harder wants to climb Mount Hood now.
He knows that the missing climbers won't be able to hold out much longer, even if they've managed to take refuge. Children lose body heat faster than adults, so some of the teenagers are probably in advanced stages of hypothermia already. They can't afford to waste any time. Finally, a voice loudly asks everyone to quiet down. It's Portland Mountain Rescue Coordinator Dave McClure.
Harder steps towards the map and gives his full attention. McClure uses his finger to outline a large area around the mountain's peak.
Right now, we're looking at a triangular search zone of about two square miles. The three points of the triangle include the summit, the Mississippi head cliffs on the mountain's western side, and White River Canyon to the east. One of the rescue workers interrupts. "Alright Dave, but how the hell do we find them in a storm like this?" "Look, it's almost dawn, so that should give us a little help with visibility.
We've got to assume they did what most climbers do in a storm, and that's descend along the path of least resistance. That would probably put them around here. McClure points at an area on the map just beneath the mountain summit. All right, sunrise is at 5.40 a.m. That's in seven minutes. It's time to hit the mountain. We're going to start with two teams of four.
Team 1 will explore the south side route. That's the route the climbers took as they made their ascent. Team 2 will focus on the area west of Palmer Chairlift. McClure looks at Harder. Rick, I want you to lead Team 1. Hopefully you can find their trail wands. You got it. As he exits the base operations office with his team, Harder feels a surge of adrenaline. Conditions on the mountain are rough, but he knows he can overcome them.
He is not going to leave Mount Hood until the missing climbers are found. Ralph Summers sits pressed against the icy wall of the snow cave.
The climbing party has been crammed in here for 12 hours, and the frigid temperature is wearing them down. It won't be long before hypothermia begins to claim lives. Summer's face stings from the cold, and he has a splitting headache. He hears shrieking wind and sees blowing snow coming in from the cave tunnel that leads outside. The sun should be up by now, but there's barely any daylight visible from the cave entrance.
The storm is somehow getting worse. The students are piled on top of each other for warmth, but Summers can see that they're still shivering under their damp parkas and sleeping bags. Most have barely had anything to eat since they entered the cave. Summers can tell that they're succumbing to lethargy, a key symptom of hypothermia. They're dazed, drowsy, not thinking straight.
In their addled state, many of them have lost hats and gloves. He estimates that the temperature inside the cave is no more than 32 degrees. Warmer than it is outside, but still cold enough that the weakest students won't survive another night. Summers looks over at Father Tom Gohmann, who is lying right next to him. Gohmann insisted on taking more shifts outside to help keep the cave entrance clear.
Summers could see he was getting hypothermic and tried to talk him out of it. But Gohmann refused to listen. He said it was his job to help keep the kids safe. Now, Father Gohmann looks terrible. There's no color in his face, and he's shaking. His mustache and beard are lined with frost. Summers leans down towards his ear. Tom, can you count to ten for me? One...
Two... Five... Gomen shakes his head in confusion, then aims a blank stare up at Summers. Summers knows this level of confusion and slurred speech are signs of extreme hypothermia. He squeezes Gomen's shoulder. He needs help, or he will die here very soon.
Summers thinks about that fact and makes a decision. He calls out to the others in the cave. I'm going to leave now and try and get us some help. One of you needs to come with me. It'll be safer, and I'll be more likely to succeed if I have a partner. Who's up for it? No one replies. Summers scans the cave. He looks at Marion Horwell, the only other adult besides Gomen.
She seems to be doing okay, but Summers wants her to stay behind so the students have an adult present if something happens to Gomen. His partner will have to be a student. But who? All of the kids look so scared and cold. Even Big Giles Thompson is shivering and exhausted from a long shift keeping the mouth of the cave clear. Summers really doesn't want to have to venture out into the storm alone, but he thinks he might not have a choice.
Then, he hears a voice from the back of the cave. "I'll go, Ralph." It's Molly Shula. Summers nods and smiles, touched by her bravery. "Alright, Molly. It's you and me. Let's go." Summers crawls through the snow cave tunnel and pushes his way outside. Summers stands and braces himself against the wind. He turns and watches as Molly emerges from the tunnel. Her hair is caked with ice.
Summers bends down and helps her to her feet. Then he bends again, cups his mouth, and shouts into the tunnel. We'll keep walking until we've found help, or until we die. Summers turns and takes his first step into the swirling white void of the storm.
Molly follows close behind him. Sheets of snow strike their bodies as they're blasted by howling winds. Summers lowers his head and takes a few more steps forward. He cannot turn back. The lives of the 11 people still inside that snow cave are now in his hands.
This is episode two of our four-part series, Trapped on Mount Hood. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the book Code 1244 by Rick Conrad. I'm your host, Cassie DePeckel.
Hannibal Diaz wrote this episode. Our editor is Sean Raviv. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Joe Richardson. Script consulting by Rick Conrad. Produced by Matt Almos and Emily Frost. Our managing producer is Tanja Thigpen. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis. For Wondery. For Wondery.
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