Patrick McGinnis grimaces in pain as he steps forward and his leg sinks into knee-deep snow. It hurts just to walk. He's so cold that it's difficult for him to speak or even think. But he knows he has to keep going.
It's late afternoon on May 12th, 1986. Pat is near the summit of Mount Hood in Oregon with a climbing group from his high school. They've been caught in a sudden blizzard that shows no signs of letting up. Now they're racing to get down from the mountain before nightfall. If they don't make it, they'll be trapped up here and they might freeze to death. Pat takes another step forward and stumbles.
He's 15 years old, lean and athletic. He runs track, but now he can't seem to get his limbs to do what he wants. He's been told he has hypothermia, so he knows that he must get to a warmer location fast. But every step takes so much effort. He looks around and realizes he can't see where he's going. The sky and snow-covered mountain slope seem to have merged.
There is nothing but white. He stops and hangs his head, unsure of what to do. "Patrick." "Hey Patrick!" "Come on buddy, we gotta keep moving." Pat looks up and stares at the man who just spoke. It's the group's 30-year-old climbing consultant, Ralph Summers. Pat had completely forgotten that Summers was holding on to him, helping him stay upright.
Summers has his left arm, while an older student named Susan McClave has his right.
Pat nods weakly, then takes another step. He's surprised that he still has the strength to keep going. They've been hiking for over 13 hours. Pat hoists his leg out of the snow to take another step. But when he tries to plant his foot, his leg suddenly buckles. He loses his balance and pitches forward. He tumbles headfirst down the steep slope.
Shards of ice slice his face as he falls. He frantically reaches his hands out in the blind hope that he'll be able to grab onto something. Then the slide stops, just as abruptly as it started. Pat looks around and sees Susan to his right, on her stomach. She must have fallen with him. Ralph Summers is several feet above them, further up the slope.
He pulls himself to his feet, slowly, and calls down to them. "Pat? Susan? Don't move. If you try to get up, you could slide again. Stay put. I'll help, but I need to grab an ice axe first." Pat is too weak to respond, so he lowers his head back onto the snow and tries to stay as still as possible. But it doesn't matter. He can feel his body beginning to slide down the mountainside again.
He feels powerless to stop it. The overwhelming whiteness that surrounds him starts to grow dim. He realizes that he's on the verge of blacking out. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder. If you're looking for new ways to ignite your creativity and open your mind to fresh perspectives, then let Audible be your guide. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, or any genre you love,
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From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. Mount Hood is one of the most climbed mountains on Earth. Over 10,000 people scale it every year. But despite its popularity, Mount Hood can still be dangerous.
Experience and technical skills are recommended for all who attempt to reach its 11,000-foot summit. And even in summer, the weather on the mountain can change in an instant. In May 1986, a group of students from the Oregon Episcopal School in nearby Portland set out to hike to the top of the mountain. They were part of the school's outdoor education program called Base Camp.
The program was led by a teacher at OES, Father Tom Goeman. Goeman had climbed Mount Hood at least a dozen times before, including many trips with students from OES. So even though bad weather was in the forecast, he was confident when the climbing party began their ascent in the early morning hours of May 12. If the conditions became treacherous, Goeman was certain that he would be able to lead the climbers back to safety.
This is Episode 1, Whiteout. It's the evening of Sunday, May 11th, 1986. Frank McGinnis drives down the quiet suburban street that leads to OES, Oregon Episcopal School.
He glances over at his 15-year-old son, Patrick, who sits by his side in the passenger seat. Pat looks back at his father and grins. Better slow down, Dad. We're almost there. Oh, yeah, you're right. Sorry, Pat. Frank turns into the entrance of the OES campus. He pulls into a parking space and peers through the windshield at the dark campus and empty parking lot.
It's so silent that he can hear the rustling of leaves in the nearby trees. He turns to his son. Are you sure the trip is still on for tonight? Where is everyone? Yeah, it's still on, Dad. The school bus is down there by the bell tower. See? Father Tom said we won't head out until a little after 10. We're just early. Pat opens the car door and jumps out.
He starts grabbing his climbing gear from the back seat, a large red backpack filled with snacks and equipment, and a thick parka. Frank watches him with fatherly pride. He loves how enthusiastic Pat is about everything. He's a well-adjusted kid, outgoing and constantly in motion. He runs track and works with the school's drama program as a stagehand. He's been looking forward to climbing Mount Hood for weeks.
Frank steps out of the car and goes to give his son a hug. Are you sure about this trip, Pat? You've still got that cold, right? There's no shame in pulling out of this if you're not 100%. Are you kidding? I'm feeling great, Dad. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Okay. Pasta for dinner? Yeah, pasta sounds good. It's their little joke. Frank isn't much of a cook, so pasta's on the menu most nights.
Frank watches as his son bounds off towards the yellow school bus. His energy is infectious, which Frank appreciates, especially because lately, life hasn't been so easy. Frank is going through a divorce and doing his best to raise Pat and his younger brother on his own.
He tries to keep it from his kids, but he's often emotionally drained from dealing with lawyers and physically drained from putting in long hours at his wood finishing shop. Still, he feels very lucky for the time he gets to spend with his boys. Frank gives his son one last goodbye wave, then climbs back into his car and drives away. He glances at the rearview mirror as the OES campus disappears from view.
Suddenly, Frank feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomach. He gasps and takes several deep breaths. But the pain just keeps getting worse. Maybe he's caught whatever virus Pat was sick with. But Pat never complained about stomach pains. Frank leans forward and holds onto the steering wheel tight, just hoping he can get home before the pain gets any worse.
John Whitson sits alone towards the rear of the school bus as it speeds down a dark stretch of highway bound for Mount Hood. He rests his aching head against the window, grateful for the touch of the cool glass. John is a 16-year-old sophomore at OES. Last night, he partied with some friends, and he's been hungover all day.
He wishes he could just fall asleep before the bus reaches the mountain at around 2 a.m. But he knows there's little chance of that. The bus is filled with 14 of John's eager schoolmates, plus their leader, Father Tom Goman, who is seated up front near a few adult chaperones. Everyone's chattering with excitement. John tries to tune them out by focusing on the view. He looks at the silhouettes of tall trees as the bus speeds past them.
But that just makes him nauseous. So he shuts his eyes, angry that he did this to himself. Before this hangover, he had been looking forward to this trip. This is his first year at OES, and he got excited when he learned about the school's base camp wilderness program and the climb up to Mount Hood. He loves a good challenge, even if there's something about Father Tom that rubs him the wrong way.
He closes his eyes again, making one last ditch effort to get some sleep. But he can't help eavesdropping on a pair of students in front of him. Is it true what they say about Father Tom? Did he really meet God at the top of the mountain? Why don't you ask him? I'm not going to ask him. You ask him. John chuckles under his breath.
He thinks it's very unlikely that Father Tom ever met God on Mount Hood, or anywhere else for that matter. But he decides to keep that opinion to himself. Ralph Summers lifts his head from his pickup truck's steering wheel and blinks. He rubs his eyes and sees that the OES school bus has just entered the Timberline Lodge parking lot here at the base of Mount Hood.
Summers checks his watch. It's 2:30 a.m. The high school climbing party is already running half an hour late. Summers is the climb's technical consultant, and he knows they can't afford to fall too far behind schedule.
It will probably take the students at least 10 to 12 hours to reach the summit and descend back down to the lodge, so they need to start climbing in the middle of the night. Plus, the cold nighttime temperatures actually make for an easier climb. Cold snow is firmer, so your feet don't sink into it as much. Summers knows all this and more, because in addition to being a climbing consultant, he's a part-time ski instructor.
He lives on the southwestern side of Mount Hood and has climbed it five times. He's also summited over half a dozen other peaks in the Cascade Range. Summers smacks his cheeks a couple times to wake himself up. He hops out and walks towards the bus with a smile as the students exit. He's pleased to see that it looks like they all came prepared.
The students are all wearing thick jackets, ski pants, gloves, wool hats, and hiking boots. As they step out of the bus, the older student chaperones hand everyone a helmet and an ice axe. They won't need the helmets and axes much, but they'll be glad they brought them. They'll be climbing up Mount Hood's Southside Route. The first two-thirds of the route shouldn't be difficult. It's more of a high-altitude hike than a climb.
But the final third of the climb is quite steep and technically challenging. They'll need to cross a glacier, keep their eyes out for rockfall and avalanches, and avoid falling into crevasses hidden under the snowpack. It will require strength, stamina, and strong mental focus. But with any luck, Summers thinks it should be a pretty uneventful climb.
Summers watches as father Tom Goeman steps out of the bus and adjusts his thick rimmed glasses. Goeman is a tall, slender man with long hair and a thick beard. Tonight, he's dressed like an old school mountaineer in lots of layers of wool with a down parka and leather climbing boots. He's also wearing rainbow striped suspenders, which makes Summers smile.
Summers and Gomen have never climbed together before, but they had a few conversations in preparation for the upcoming ascent.
Gomen has always come across as an upbeat, likable guy. More importantly, Summers knows that Gomen has summited Mount Hood over a dozen times. He's glad that he'll be working with a man who also knows his way around the mountain. Gomen calls out to the students, "All right, everyone, make sure you've got all your things and please get organized into groups of three." Summers watches as the students follow Gomen's directions.
Once in their groups, the older students distribute more climbing gear, rope, first aid kits, and one large backpack containing additional equipment. While the students are busy with their gear, Goman walks over to Summers. Hey, Ralph. Ready to get going? Sure thing, Tom. You're aware of the forecast, though, right? Stormfront's moving in?
could reach the mountains sometime in the late afternoon. I've heard, but I'm not too worried. We'll just keep an eye on the weather. If it looks bad, we'll turn around and head back.
Summers agrees with that plan, then follows Goeman over to the students. Goeman calls them all to attention. By this time tomorrow, you'll be able to say that you climbed to the highest point in the state of Oregon. The climb will be strenuous at times, but I'm confident that all of you can make it. It should take us between seven and nine hours to reach the summit. Then we'll take a few pictures, turn around, and descend for about three hours. All right, let's get going.
Summers walks alongside the students as they follow Gomen towards the base of the mountain. He looks up at the crisp, white slopes of Mount Hood, dimly visible in the starlight. They'll ascend over 5,000 vertical feet during their climb. It won't be easy, but the mountain looks inviting tonight under the stars, which shine brightly above scattered clouds. They're ready to begin their ascent.
Molly Shula adjusts her headlamp to get a better look at the snow blanketing the terrain in front of her. She takes a deep breath and feels invigorated by the brisk mountain air. The first leg of their climb takes them up a slope called Palmer Snowfield next to a groomed ski trail. The snow is up to Molly's calves, deeper than usual for this time of year.
but she maintains a steady pace. Molly is a 17-year-old senior at Oregon Episcopal School and a member of Father Goeman's Advanced Climbing Team, or ACT. ACT students are upperclassmen who have participated in Mount Hood climbs in the past. They're here to help lead and encourage the sophomores when the climb gets tough. It's also their job to escort any student who may need to abandon the climb early.
Right now, Molly's taking the lead, blazing a trail through the snow so everyone can follow in her footsteps. She turns to look back at the rest of the climbing party: 15 students and five adults. She's surprised to see how many of the students are already breathing heavily. As Molly trudges through the snow, she overhears snatches of conversation behind her. "My legs are sore." "Why won't she slow down?" "I can't keep up." "I'm so tired."
Molly gets the sense that the sophomores are hoping she'll hear them and take a hint. She debates whether or not she should stop and take a break. She's not wearing a watch, but she guesses they've only been hiking for about 15 minutes. She thinks they should keep going, but she also doesn't want to burn the hikers out so soon. "10-minute break!" The students respond with loud exclamations of gratitude.
Molly tells the students that if they're feeling too warm, they should remove one outer layer of clothing. She waits as several shed their jackets and parkas. As the hikers catch their breath, Molly gazes at the path up the mountain. They're not going to have time for too many more breaks. It's important that the climbers reach the summit on schedule at around noon, nine hours from now.
If they fall too far behind, they might have to deal with the bad weather that's been predicted for this afternoon. They might even be forced to turn back before they reach the summit. After 10 minutes, Molly rallies the group and the hike resumes. She takes the lead and trudges forward, happy to hear the crunchy chorus of hiking boots behind her. She feels a gust of wind on her face.
It's strong, but not so strong that it will make the climb any harder. She hopes it won't pick up too much as they get closer to the summit. Molly remembers her first time on the top of Mount Hood. The incredible views, the feeling of accomplishment. She wants these sophomores to experience that too. So she presses on, blazing a trail through the snow and picking up her pace.
She knows they have to stay ahead of the approaching storm. When you're hiring, time is of the essence. That's why more than 3.5 million businesses worldwide use Indeed to find exceptional talent fast. Indeed's powerful matching engine works quickly. So quickly that, according to Indeed data worldwide, every minute, 23 hires are made on Indeed.
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Grow your business with Shopify today. Go to shopify.com slash the odds right now. One more time, that's shopify.com slash the odds. Giles Thompson breathes heavily as he stomps through thick snow on the southern face of Mount Hood. At 16, he's one of the bigger and stronger OES sophomores, but he's struggling now. They've been climbing in the dark for two hours.
The snow is very soft and quite deep. His knees and hamstrings ache from having to hike through it. Up ahead, just beyond the line of students in front of him, Giles sees a small, rundown structure made of wood and stone.
Father Tom stops next to it and turns around. This is Silcox Hut, constructed in 1939. It's been abandoned since 1962, but it makes for a good rest spot. You can stand behind it if you want a break from the wind. But don't take too long, please. We're moving a little slower than I'd like, and we're about an hour behind schedule.
Giles makes his way up to the hut, then throws himself against the side of the building. He leans there for several moments and catches his breath. His friend, Mick Garrett, leans next to him. How you holding up, Giles? Mick is one of the ACT upperclassmen. Giles notices that he barely looks winded. He tries to put on a brave face. I'm good. I just need to catch my breath.
Giles sees that a golden glow is beginning to rise from behind a distant, snow-capped ridge. It's almost dawn, and he can already feel the warmth of the sun. He turns to Mick. Oh my god, it's going to be really hot. I've got to get some of these layers off. It looks like everyone's starting to move. Hold on, I'll see if you can stay behind to change. Giles nods gratefully as Mick jogs over to Father Tom.
He leans his head against the hut for a moment and takes a deep breath. The hike certainly isn't what he expected. He really hopes the experience of making it to the summit will be worth the effort. Giles turns to see Mick trotting back, smiling.
Father Tom said they're gonna keep going, but I can wait here with you while you change. Then we'll catch up to them, okay? Awesome. Thanks for doing that. Sure, but be as quick as you can. Father Tom is right. We are behind. The terrain only gets steeper from here. If you think you're tired now, just wait. I hear you. I'll be able to move quicker once I get some layers off. Giles takes off his yellow raincoat and immediately feels relief.
The heavy fabric is good protection against the wind, but it doesn't breathe, and he's sweating from the physical exertion of the uphill hike. He stashes the jacket in his backpack and wipes sweat from his brow. He's surprised at how difficult the climb has been, but now that the sun is starting to come up, he's ready to give Mount Hood his best shot. Mick Garrett grits his teeth as he hikes up the vast white expanse of Palmer Snowfield.
It's been four hours since they left Silcox Hut, but even though the sun is up, it's actually gotten colder. They're up around 8,500 feet now, and Mick knows the higher they climb, the colder it will get. The whole climb has been much harder than anyone was expecting. The snow is unusually deep for this time of year. It's exhausting to slog through it.
Already, three students and a parent chaperone have turned back. Their group is down to 16. Mick looks up at the slate gray towers of a nearby chairlift and wishes he could catch a ride back down to the lodge. But the chairlifts aren't in operation. He tries to assess the body language of the younger students ahead of him. They're clearly fatigued, but they're pushing themselves.
He's proud of them for their effort and decides he can keep pushing himself too. Then one of the climbers in front of him collapses to the ground. He rolls onto his back and lays there, catching his breath. Mick rushes over to him and realizes that it's sophomore John Woodson. Hey John, you okay? I'm done, man. I want to go back.
Mick studies the paleness of John's face. He looks like he's about to throw up. There's no way he can complete the climb. Mick sees Father Tom approaching. What's going on here, Mick? It's John. He's not feeling good. He should head back down. Are you serious? Come on, John. Are you really going to give up what could be one of the greatest moments of your life? John just moans.
♪♪
What's the matter, Marion? You can't hack it either? I don't believe this. Yeah, it's cold. Yeah, it's steep. Yeah, it's windy. We're climbing a mountain, people. Mick frowns. Father Tom is usually warm, friendly, and generous. It's not like him to lash out at people like this. Maybe the effects of the climb are getting to him too?
Mick notices that John is staring up at Father Tom, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Look, I'm done, okay?" After some more discussion, Father Tom reluctantly agrees that John should be allowed to head back. But to be safe, he needs someone to go with him. Mick assumes that will be Marion Horwell. She looks like she can't make it much further, but to his surprise, she decides to keep climbing.
Mick considers the fact that he's already made it to the summit of Mount Hood before. He turns to Father Tom. "I can go back with John. Sorry, Father Tom, but I've hit a wall too." Father Tom looks at Mick and John and sighs. "Alright, Mick. Listen. You boys have done a good job today. I respect your effort. Really." With that, he pulls Mick into a bear hug.
Mick is somewhat surprised by this abrupt burst of affection, but he hugs the teacher back. Then he turns to John. "Alright, we should probably get going." Mick and John say their goodbyes, then turn and begin walking downhill. With each step, Mick becomes more convinced that he made the right call. Even now that he and John are descending, it seems to be getting colder by the minute.
Mick peers off to the west and sees clouds gathering. He wants to get out of this weather and inside the lodge as fast as possible. Hopefully Father Tom and the others can reach the summit soon. It seems like the storm might be coming faster than anyone expected. Patrick McGinnis clutches his stomach as snowflakes drift down from the gray sky.
It's 2 p.m. on Mount Hood's rocky Coleman Glacier, up at about 10,500 feet. The OES group has been climbing for nearly 12 hours. Now, they're less than 1,000 feet from the summit. Earlier, Pat ate a bit of granola, hoping it would give him some energy. But now, he just feels queasy, anxious.
The rotten egg stench of sulfur doesn't help. It flows from the volcanic openings that run along the eastern wall of the mountain. He can't understand how he got so cold. He expected the climb to be chilly, but not freezing. Despite all his layers of warm clothes, his fingers and toes are numb, and his teeth are chattering. He pauses and looks up the steep path ahead.
There are black, jagged boulders to each side, and the sky suddenly seems much darker than before. Pat doesn't want to go any further. He stops and watches as his classmates leave him farther and farther behind. He doesn't understand why he feels so tired. From all of his years of running track, he was sure this hike would be no big deal. But the truth is, he just can't keep up.
Tears well up in his eyes, and he drops to his knees in the snow. Maybe he'll just wait here while everyone else goes to the summit. By the time they're back, maybe he'll be rested enough to make the trip back down. He's sitting there, staring into the gathering clouds. When he feels a hand on his shoulder, he looks up and sees Ralph Summers and Father Tom Gohmann. They both look concerned.
Father Tom kneels next to him. "Hey Pat, what's going on?" "I don't feel good." "Where does it hurt?" "Everywhere." Summers reaches down and grabs his shoulders to lift him onto his feet. "Listen Pat, I'm doing this for your own good. If you stay where you are, you're just going to get colder. You need to move." Pat nods weakly as he stands.
Summers turns to Father Tom. He doesn't look so hot, and the weather's starting to turn. I don't like the look of these clouds. What do you think we should do? We're almost at the summit. Let's keep going. Pat'll feel better once he starts moving. If the weather's worse in an hour, I'll turn us around. Pat watches as a classmate approaches and offers to walk with him.
As they set off again, she flashes him a smile. "Don't worry, we're almost there. Everything will be okay." As they trudge up the steep slope together, Pat tries to share her optimism. But as the pain keeps coursing through his body, he finds it hard to imagine that he'll make it to the top. Ralph Summers wipes Frost from his ski goggles and calls out to Father Tom Gohmann.
"What time you got?" "3:15!" Summers shakes his head. They're now more than three hours behind schedule, and they still haven't reached the summit. He takes a step forward, scanning his surroundings for landmarks. He knows there's a crevasse nearby, a deep crack in the glacier they'll have to hike around. But he can't get his bearings.
Dense snow is falling from the gray sky, turning everything above and below them a hundred shades of white. He holds up his fist and shouts to the climbing party to halt, then walks back to Gomen. This is getting bad. We should be able to see the summit from here, but we can't.
Too many clouds have moved in, and I'm worried about that McGinnis kid. He might have hypothermia. But we're so close, Ralph. I know we can make it. We just need to move fast. Summers takes a moment to think. He's not the boss on this trip, and he doesn't want to argue. But he's starting to question Goeman's judgment. The students are all clearly exhausted.
There are only 13 climbers left now, down from 20. A few hours ago, another one of the adults dropped out. Summers is beginning to regret that they all didn't turn around with her. Over the howling wind, he shouts as loud as he can, "Everyone wait here! I need to do some scouting!" Summers heads up the mountain quickly, leaving the climbing party behind.
Before they can advance any further, he needs to find that crevasse. As Summers steps onto a more exposed ridge, he's shocked at how hard the wind slams into him. It almost knocks him over. He thought he'd be able to see this storm developing well in advance.
But it's taken him completely by surprise. The snowfall has intensified in just the past few seconds. It's coming down quicker and heavier than ever. He turns to look back at the climbing party and gasps. All he can see is a blank curtain of white. He knows the climbers can't be more than 30 feet behind him, but the storm has made them invisible.
He hurries back the way he came until the silhouettes of the climbers reappear. He calls out to Goeman. "Tom, can you come up here with me for a second?" Goeman walks over to him, out of earshot of the students. "Tom, we need to get out of here. Now." For a second, Goeman just stares at Summers. It looks like he's about to argue, but then he stops himself.
Maybe he can read the fear on Summer's face. "Okay, Ralph. I understand. Let's turn back." Summer sighs with relief. Gohmann turns and addresses the students. "Sorry, everyone. We're not gonna reach the summit today. The weather is just too bad." No one argues. The climbers turn and begin to walk downhill as fast as they can. But even going down, their progress is slow.
The slopes are very steep and slippery, and the snow is coming at them almost horizontally. Summers guesses that the wind must be gusting up to 40 miles per hour. Visibility has dropped to less than 50 feet. They're in a near total whiteout. Summers is glad that Goeman finally ordered the retreat, but he can't help but wonder if it's already too late.
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They're shrouded in a thick fog of gray and white. The wind is blowing so hard that it's pushing him backwards. He pauses to regain his strength, then notices something just a few feet away, sticking out of the snow. It's a thin pole with a red ribbon attached to it. A trail wand. He noticed Father Goeman placing them on the way up, so they could retrace their steps coming back down.
Maybe that means they're on the right track. Giles resumes his descent, moving as quickly as possible. He's not sure what time it is, but he knows that it must be getting dark soon. If they can't make it down the mountain fast, they might get stuck up here. But the wind and low visibility are slowing them down.
Giles sees that many of his fellow students are struggling as badly as he is. Patrick McGinnis seems to be having the toughest time. He looks like he could drop for good any minute. Giles squints through the driving snow and sees that up ahead, Father Tom Goeman and Ralph Summers have stopped. They're talking with one of the ACT students, Susan McClave. Giles walks up to them. Why did you stop?
Summer shouts to be heard above the wind. "We gotta be sure we're moving in the right direction. Most of the trail wands have been blown away or buried in the snow." Gomen touches Thompson's bright yellow raincoat. "I want you to take the lead, Giles." "Me? Why?" "Your raincoat. You're the most visible person here. I'm gonna tell everyone to follow you. Here, Susan, take my compass. You can be Giles' navigator." Susan checks the compass and directs Giles to head left.
He begins walking and tries to keep his anxiety in check. It feels crazy to him that he and Susan are being trusted to lead this group to safety.
Just then, he spots a second trail wand and sighs with relief. Maybe the wands will still be useful after all. He soldiers ahead through the relentless barrage of wind and snow and does his best to quicken the pace. He knows that they must move faster because the storm is getting worse by the second.
At the sound of knocking, Mick Garrett sits up and takes a moment to get his bearings. He's on the bottom bunk of a wooden bed and has just woken up. He recalls that he's in a guest room in Timberline Lodge at the base of Mount Hood.
It's an old-fashioned, European-style chalet room with wood plank walls and faded plaid carpeting. John Whitson is on the top bunk. Two other students who left the climb early are asleep in a second bunk bed. The lodge managers told them they could nap here while they waited for the climbing party to return. Mick gets out of bed and pads to the door. Coming! Coming!
He opens the door and sees a uniformed man with a cart full of cleaning supplies. He smiles at Mick. "Hey, I've gotta clean this room, sorry." "Yeah, sure, no problem." "Hey, what time is it?" "Five." Hearing that, Mick feels a little twinge of anxiety. How can it be 5:00 p.m. already? And if no one's come to get them, that must mean the climbing party isn't back yet. What could be taking them so long?
Mick rouses the other students. Come on, guys. It's 5 o'clock. Let's go back to the bus. They gotta be returning soon. The other three students rub their eyes as they collect their belongings and put on their coats. In the lobby, Mick walks past the massive stone fireplace to the front desk. He flags down a receptionist. Excuse me, has the OES climbing group gotten back? The receptionist flashes a pained expression and shakes her head.
In a daze, Mick pushes open the doors that lead to the parking lot and steps outside. What he walks into leaves him stunned. There is so much snow coming from every direction that he can barely see 20 yards. He turns to John Woodson. Whoa, where did this storm come from? No idea, man. Come on, let's get out of this. John makes his way towards the bus in the parking lot, making the other students follow.
Mick remembers now that a storm front was forecast for today, but he had no idea it would be this intense. He looks up at the rapidly darkening sky. He can barely see the mountain, even though it's right in front of him. He thinks about the rest of the climbers up there, fighting through this storm, and feels very, very worried.
Frank McGinnis stares out of his living room window at the darkening sky. He's at his home in a suburb of Portland, watching storm clouds roll in. A sudden flash of lightning brings back the pain in his stomach that started last night.
It's 7.30 p.m., almost 22 hours since he dropped off his son Patrick at Oregon Episcopal School. They should be back from Mount Hood by now. He's been waiting for the call to come pick up Pat. Frank grabs the receiver on the first ring and is relieved to hear a familiar voice.
It's the wife of the OES headmaster. The base camp climbers are running a little late. They might not get back until 11 o'clock or so. Do you still want to come and pick up Pat? Or he can spend the night at the school dormitory if you'd like. He can just stay there. Listen, are you sure they're okay? They'll be fine. They just ran into more snow than they expected. But Father Gellman knows what he's doing. He'll get them down safely. Okay, well, please call me again as soon as they get back. Okay.
Frank hangs up the phone, and another flash of lightning flickers through the living room window. Despite what the headmaster's wife said, he's worried. If the storm is this severe down in Portland, how bad could it be up on Mount Hood? Frank picks up the phone to call his friend, Dave Buck.
Dave has climbed Mount Hood several times. He's also an amateur pilot who gets regular weather reports from his aviation service. Hello? Hey Dave, it's Frank McGinnis. Frank explains what he knows about the situation and describes his conversation with the headmaster's wife. She says I shouldn't worry, but I gotta tell you Dave, I am worried. I'm seeing lightning out there.
What if it's worse up on the mountain? Wait a minute, you're telling me Pat's on Mount Hood right now? Yeah, with a bunch of other kids and a teacher. What the hell are they doing there? I just got a forecast from flight service. This is a massive storm. Mount Hood is going to be totally socked in for another 48 hours. Frank's stomach lurches. The situation is far worse than he feared. How are they equipped?
I have no idea. Well, if they have a snow shovel, they can dig in, build a snow cave. If they have the right equipment, they should be in pretty good shape. Frank thanks Dave for the information and hangs up. He sinks back into his couch, feeling helpless. He hoped that his conversation with Dave would ease his mind. Instead, he's more worried than ever.
Ralph Summers scrambles back towards Patrick McGinnis and Susan McClave, clutching an ice axe. The two students are hanging onto a steep, icy slope where they fell just a few minutes ago. As Summers gets closer, he can see that Susan is fully alert, but Pat is barely conscious.
He calls down and tries to get his attention. Hey Pat, you still with us? Pat looks vaguely in Summer's direction. He speaks slowly and with great effort. Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm gonna climb down below you, Pat. You've gotta use this axe to help yourself up. I'll be right behind you, so I can catch you in case you fall, alright?
"Alright. Susan, you'll have to hang on just a little longer, okay? I'll get you next." Susan nods. Summers gets on his hands and knees and crawls down to where Pat is. He hands the teenager the axe, then positions himself beneath him. "Okay, Pat, you can do this. Let's go!" Summers pushes Pat's rear end with his shoulder as Pat uses the ice axe to slowly pull his way up to level ground.
Once Pat is safe, Summers climbs down and helps Susan do the same. Summers grabs Pat by his hands and pulls him to his feet, then helps him stagger back towards the rest of the climbing party. They're huddled together, trying to stay warm as the snow whips around them. Summers can't see more than a few inches in front of his face.
He looks at Gomen. Look, a compass isn't much help in a whiteout like this. I know what direction we need to go in, but I can't see the trail or the ridgeline. I don't want to lead us over a cliff. Gomen stares back at him. There are icicles in his beard. Maybe we should dig in, at least until the storm passes. You mean build a snow cave? Yeah, we can do it. We have a snow shovel.
Summers knows it will start getting dark soon, which will only make it colder and even harder to see. He looks at Gomen and nods. Yeah, you're right. Let's dig in. Summers walks over to a nearby pile of gear with the climbing party placed on a tarp. He picks up the long, black snow shovel and walks off in search of an ideal location for a snow cave.
He needs a solid mound of snow that he can hollow out to create a chamber that will shelter them from the elements. And he needs to hurry. The storm is going from very bad to potentially lethal. This is episode one 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. Wondery.
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