Trapped on Mount Hood | Search and Rescue | 3
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Join Wondery Plus and Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app to listen to Against the Odds early and ad-free. This episode of Against the Odds contains explicit language. Please be advised. High school student Molly Shula struggles to walk on the ice-encrusted slope that stretches out in front of her. The roaring wind blasts her eardrums and knocks her off balance.

Ahead of her, climbing consultant Ralph Summers is barely visible through the driving snow, even though he's only a few feet away. He turns and waves for her to follow him to the edge of a steep drop-off. Molly swallows her fear and trudges forward,

She has to get down off this mountain and save her friends. Just a few steps behind her is the snow cave that served as her shelter for the last 12 hours. Her fellow climbers are still huddled inside, nine classmates and two faculty members from Oregon Episcopal School. Their group started an ascent of Mount Hood more than 24 hours ago.

But just before they reached the summit, they were hit by a vicious storm. Summers dug out the snow cave as an emergency shelter, and they took refuge inside, hoping the storm would pass. But as the night wore on, the storm didn't let up. By morning, it was clear. If someone didn't leave to get help, they were all going to die. Molly volunteered to join Summers and attempt the dangerous descent.

As she inches closer to Summers, he pulls her towards the edge of the steep precipice and points down. We need to get down there, Molly. From what I can tell, this isn't a straight drop, just a very steep slope.

We're gonna have to slide down until the terrain levels out. When it does, we'll get up and hike from there." Molly feels her heart race as she stares over the edge, but she turns to Summers and nods. "Okay, let's do it." Summers sits down and Molly scoots up behind him. She wraps her legs and arms around him. "Just hold on as tight as you can. Are you ready?"

Ready. Summers jerks forward and Molly squeezes as hard as she can as they plunge over the edge. They slide down the face of the slope at blazing speed. Molly can barely see through the heavy snowfall. At any moment, she's convinced they could slam into a boulder or fly off a cliff. She feels like ice is tearing through her snow pants.

Molly grips Summers tighter and screams, but can barely hear her own voice above the sound of the wind. And then she feels their movement begin to slow. They've reached level ground. When they come to a stop, Molly pulls herself up to her feet and looks around. The sky is white with haze, and the visibility is as bad as ever.

but there's a path ahead that doesn't look too steep. Summers turns to her. "Are you hurt?" "No, I think I'm okay." He nods and then starts walking. Molly shivers and sets off after him. She wonders how he can possibly know which direction to go in. They're still in the middle of a whiteout. Everything is covered in snow.

There are no shadows, no visible terrain, just white in all directions. She and Summers could easily get lost and freeze to death or slip off the edge of a cliff. But these are the risks they have to take if they want to save the others. Molly follows Summers into the whiteout, aware that each stride brings her one step closer to safety or death.

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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. On May 12, 1986, a climbing group from Oregon Episcopal School was stranded high on Mount Hood when they were caught in the middle of a blizzard. Trapped by the storm and unsure of their location, the climbers took shelter in a snow cave.

But as their bodies were wracked by the brutal cold, they knew they wouldn't be able to remain there for long. In the meantime, teams of highly trained rescuers launched a search for the missing school group. While the rescuers worked their way up Mount Hood, Ralph Summers and Molly Shula were desperate to find their way down. All the while, the storm continued to rage, threatening the lives of everyone on the mountain.

This is episode three, "Search and Rescue." Barry Wright points to a map of Mount Hood tacked to the wall of the ski patrol office at Timberline Resort. Search and rescue workers crowd around him, dressed in thick parkas and climbing helmets.

Wright runs his finger along a line on the map, drawn in red pencil. "All right, this is the route you'll start along. When you get here, to the top of Palmer chairlifts, you'll split up. Team one, you head right for the summit." Wright is one of the most experienced members of Portland Mountain Rescue, a volunteer organization that's leading the search for the missing climbers. He's 38 years old and has climbed Mount Hood 24 times.

Because he knows the mountain so well, he'll stay here at base operations to coordinate the rescue effort. Wright's already been up most of the night, preparing. He knows that in conditions this bad, they have to find the climbers as quickly as possible. Anyone trapped near the summit could freeze to death in a matter of hours. He looks at the Team 1 leader, a paramedic and military veteran named Rick Harder.

Wright doesn't know Harder well, but he's got a great reputation, and Wright likes the look of determination on his face. Harder nods and leads his team out. A second four-man rescue team follows.

As soon as they're gone, Wright turns to his fellow Portland Mountain Rescue coordinator, Dave McClure. How soon do you think our next teams will be ready? They're ready now, but we've only got the one snowcat. We can only send them up two at a time.

Wright grits his teeth in frustration. A snowcat is a truck-sized vehicle with treads instead of wheels, like a tank's. It's great for hauling people and equipment across snow and ice, but it's slow moving. He knows it will take their one snowcat at least an hour to drop off the first teams and come back. Wright has led countless mountain rescues, but this one feels more personal than most.

He has two young daughters himself and can't imagine the anguish the parents of these missing kids must be feeling. He owes it to them to do everything he can to make sure this rescue operation runs smoothly, quickly, and successfully. As McClure starts debriefing rescue teams three and four, Wright goes back to the map of Mount Hood.

He wants to triple check their search routes to make absolutely sure he's maximizing their chances of finding the missing climbers. Rick Harder steps forward into the snow and braces himself against the powerful gusts of frigid wind. A snowcat dropped off Harder and his team at an elevation of 8,500 feet.

Now they're proceeding on foot, following what they think is the path the missing climbers took on their ascent. But it's slow going. They're lugging heavy medical supplies and sleeping bags to use if they find the missing climbers.

And the wind is blowing so hard, it keeps knocking Harder and his men off their feet. The windward side of their red parkas and helmets are coated in a thick white frost. Rick! Harder looks back and sees Ed Hall waving for him to stop. Hall is Harder's longtime friend and climbing companion. He lives on Mount Hood's southwestern slope and knows the mountain better than anyone.

"Rick, I don't think we can go any higher. I've never seen it like this. These are 60 mile an hour winds. My radio's freezing up. Just tuck it under your jacket. We gotta get to those kids. Let's rope up and push on." Parter uncoils the neon orange rope around his shoulders and tosses one end of it to haul.

One by one, the men hitch the rope to their belts so they're all connected at the waist. It's a safety precaution to prevent any one of them from a sudden uncontrolled slide or falling into a hidden crevasse. The four men continue their ascent,

but the wind is relentless. Another gust hits him like a freight train, throwing him backwards onto the snowy ground. He hears his men crying out as the full force of the raging storm knocks them over. Harder pulls himself to his knees and assesses their situation.

He pulls his watch-like altimeter from his pocket and checks it. 9,700 feet. More than 1,500 feet of elevation to go until they reach the summit. He grits his teeth. They'll never make it in these winds. Harder turns back to his men. "All right, Ed, you were right. We've gone as high as we can go. Let's head east. At least our backs will be to the wind."

- Harder pulls his radio from his jacket. - This is Harder, come in. Don't bring the next team up here. It's too dangerous in these conditions. - Harder shoves his radio back in his jacket and leads his team eastward. He hopes there's still a chance they might find the missing climbers. It's possible that this is the direction they took as they descended, but he knows the chances of that are slim.

He just hopes that by ordering this tactical retreat, he isn't dooming the climbers to die in this storm. Giles Thompson wraps his shaking arms around his knees and rocks back and forth. He's sitting inside the snow cave near the opening of the narrow tunnel that leads outside where the storm continues to rage. A tiny slice of dim morning light peeks into the darkness from outside.

Giles looks around the crowded cave at his fellow climbers. Nearly all of them are shaking violently from the cold. He tries to get a better look at the leader of their group, Father Tom Goeman. He's barely said a word since Molly Shula and Ralph Summers left the cave about an hour ago to get help. Giles looks back at the mouth of the cave. Snow is starting to fill the entrance again, and he knows it must be cleared away.

If it isn't, the snow will freeze into impenetrable ice, and they'll be buried alive in this cramped and frigid space. Giles picks up an ice axe. One of the other kids lost their only shovel, so it's the only tool he has to clear the entrance. He's about to start chipping when he hears movement behind him.

He turns and sees two of his classmates, Allison Litzenberger and Eric Sandvik. Allison nods towards the ice axe. "Maybe we can help. We gotta go out there to pee. We'll make the tunnel wider with our shoulders as we crawl out." Giles nods. "Good idea. I'll be right behind you." After Allison and Eric squeeze their way outside, Giles wriggles into the tunnel.

He sucks his body in as much as he can. The tunnel has narrowed since he last tried to pull himself through it. He rolls onto his back and with his arms tight against his chest, scrapes the blade of the axe against the ceiling and walls of the tunnel.

Icy shavings rain down on his face. Giles scrapes as fast as he can. He can feel the wind outside blowing frost onto his head as he hacks away faster and faster. He stops for a moment to review his progress. Is the cave getting any wider? It's hard for him to tell. Hey, Giles, we're coming back in. Giles rotates onto his stomach so he can push himself back into the chamber.

He's stunned by what he sees. While he was scraping the walls, more snow accumulated at the cave entrance, constricting the passageway with solid ice. The tunnel opening is now almost completely closed. Giles sees Eric's boot push through the opening. "Hold on, Eric. Let me get rid of this ice." He grips his axe and chops away at the icy wall, closing in around the entrance. But it barely does anything.

The ice is too hard. Eric, get ready. I'm going to try to pull you in. Do it. It's freezing out here. Giles kneels inside the cave, reaching down the tunnel to grab Eric's boot with both hands. He pulls as hard as he can.

Suddenly, Giles slams backward onto the cold, hard floor of the cave. He looks down the tunnel to grab Eric's boot again. And then he realizes something. He's holding the boot in his hands. Giles lies inside the cave and gasps for breath. He closes his eyes, totally overcome with exhaustion. Eric and Allison are now stuck outside.

Giles and the others are stuck in here, and there is nothing that anyone can do about it. Molly Shula steps slowly and carefully through deep powder snow. She tries to follow in Ralph Summers' steps, but her ski goggles keep fogging up, and she's having trouble seeing. She takes off the goggles and squints up ahead, and then she freezes in horror.

Summers is nowhere to be seen. Ralph? Molly's heart pounds. She's in the middle of another whiteout, and now she's alone and disoriented. If she moves too far in the wrong direction, she fears she'll be lost on the mountainside. Molly pauses for a moment and tries to get her bearings. She estimates that it's been about an hour since she left the cave.

A few minutes ago, things were looking up. She and Summers walked past a tree, a sign that they had made it below 6,000 feet and closer to civilization. Molly felt hopeful, but now that hope has evaporated. Just then, she spies something in the snow in front of her. She gasps with relief as she realizes it's one of Summers' footprints. Ralph? Ralph, where are you?

Molly, is that you? A wave of relief washes over her. Molly trudges forward in the direction of the voice until she sees a dim silhouette in the endless white. It's Summers, standing under a snow-covered tree next to a towering canyon wall.

He looks happy to see her. You found me, Molly. Thank God. I can't walk as fast as you. I'm really sorry. I was watching for you, but I had to keep moving to stay warm. Come on, let's go. Molly stays close behind Summers as they set off again through the howling wind and snow. After just a few minutes, Summers stops and surveys their surroundings. All right, I'm pretty sure we're in Little Zigzag Canyon.

If we stay in here, it's going to be a long time before we see any signs of civilization. Let's climb out and head east. Are you sure? Everything looks the same right now. What if we're not where you think we are? I don't know, Molly. If that's the case, we'll just have to figure it out. Molly follows Summers towards a steep, snowy incline dotted with large boulders.

As they start making their way up, she feels a sense of trepidation growing. Summers is smart and competent, but there's a good chance that he's just guessing at the root. And if they keep changing directions, how are they going to retrace their path and lead rescuers back to the snow cave? Rick Harder grunts as he thrusts his shovel into a pile of snow.

Despite their efforts to escape the relentless wind, the cold has become unbearable for Harder and his team of rescuers. They desperately need to add layers of clothing, but they can't do it out in the open, where powerful gusts could blow the clothes right out of their hands. So the four of them have spent the last 45 minutes digging a bolt hole, a small burrow in the snow big enough to serve as a changing room for a single person.

Harder stops for a moment to catch his breath. He leans closer to his friend, Ed Hall, who's visibly shivering as he wields his shovel. I tell you, Ed, this is a fucking survival situation. I know that. Dig. Harder checks his watch. They've only been out here for two and a half hours, and they're struggling. The storm is beyond anything he's ever seen.

They need to get changed quickly and continue their journey east as soon as possible. He hopes the conditions will be less harsh in that direction. If they aren't, or the storm intensifies further, they could be stranded up here. Harder shutters to think that his team of rescuers might need to be rescued themselves.

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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Rick Harder helps Ed Hall climb out of the bolt hole. He's the last member of Team One to use the shelter to change into warmer clothing. They're now all wearing every layer they brought with them up the mountain. Harder looks at his tactical watch and winces. It's 9.30 a.m.,

They've wasted an hour just digging the bolt hole and putting on more layers. And as Harder looks around, he can see that everyone is still shivering in the icy wind. He makes a decision and shouts to his team over the gale. We've been up here over two hours. Still no sign of those kids. And our radios are freezing up. The storm's kicking our asses, guys. I say we get back to base, then come back up when there's a break in the weather.

Hold on! Let me scrape this ice off my goggles.

Harder watches as Hall tucks the glove under his arm. But just then, they're pummeled by another gust of wind. Hall is knocked off his feet. Harder watches in horror as the glove flies out from under Hall's arm and into the air like a bird.

In less than a second, it disappears into the white void. Hall sits in the snow and stares at his hand, which is now covered only by his inner glove, a thin layer of polypropylene. He looks up at Harder. His mouth is open, but no sound comes out. In these conditions, an exposed hand is a serious problem.

Let's move!

The team should have brought more gloves, but they were focused on carrying emergency supplies for the missing climbers. Harder shakes it off and picks up the pace. All that matters is that they get to the shelter of Silcox Hut as fast as possible before Ed Hall loses his hand to frostbite. Barry Wright grips his handheld radio. Harder, do you read me? Harder!

Damn it! Wright puts down the radio and looks out the window at the brutal storm that shows no signs of letting up. He's sitting comfortably inside the base operations office in Timberline Resort, but his men are out there in the thick of it. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. The plan for finding the missing students is coming apart at the seams. There are now four teams of rescuers on the mountain.

All of them are having issues with their radios. And even when the radios work, their voices are drowned out by the ferocious wind. Wright has been tasked with coordinating this rescue. How can he possibly do that if he can't communicate with his teams? Wright sees fellow search and rescue coordinator, Dave McClure, sitting at a nearby desk, hanging up the phone. McClure smiles as he turns to Wright.

Alright Barry, it's confirmed. Six more search and rescue volunteers are on their way here. That's great! We need all the help we can get. Any idea where Harder and his guys are now? Hard to say. We've lost contact again. They're being blown around like rag dolls up there, Dave. Space, this is Steve Glenn. Do you read me? Bright picks up his radio again. Steve Glenn is the leader of Team Two.

Wright is eager for an update. Copy that, Steve. Where are you? We're back in the snow cap, up at the top of Palmer Snowfield. Driver came back to get us. Our windshield just got blown out by the storm. Wright rubs his eyes and grips the handset a little tighter. Did I hear you right? Your windshield is gone? And I'm afraid our driver is not dressed for these conditions, so we've got a bit of a problem here.

Just get everyone to hunker down in the back, Steve, and await further instruction. Wright turns to McClure. Dave, if our guys are getting beat down like this, how do you think those kids are handling it? McClure shakes his head. Wright knows they have to accelerate their rescue efforts if they stand any chance of saving the lives of the missing students. But how can they when this storm keeps slowing them to a crawl?

Ralph Summers stops walking and plants his feet so the wind won't knock him over. He shouts over his shoulder to Molly Shula, his eyes fixed on a welcome sight. Molly, hurry up! You gotta check this out! When Molly arrives, she brings her hands to her mouth and gasps. Just a few yards away, stretching high up into the haze, is a gray metal ski lift tower.

Summers and Molly have reached civilization at last. They've been hiking for hours, and Summers privately wondered if they would survive the journey down the mountain. Now he knows they will. Summers and Molly march past the ski lift tower. Summers is sure they should reach the road that leads back to Timberline Lodge in just a few minutes. But then he sees another man-made object emerging from the snowy mist up ahead.

It's a wooden sign. When he sees what's written on it, his heart sinks. Oh no. What's wrong? This is the Texas chairlift. We're two miles east of where I thought we were. This will take us down to the Mount Hood Meadows Resort.

Molly puts her face in her hands. But if we're two miles off course, how are we going to retrace our steps back to the cave? Summers can tell that she's reached her limits. He takes her arm. It's okay, Molly. Let's get down to the resort first, and then we'll figure it out. He begins to walk forward with Molly's arm locked in his. He looks up at the cables that stretch from the chairlift tower to the next one.

All we need to do is follow those cables downhill, Molly. Eventually we'll reach the resort. Then we'll send help to everyone in the cave. Summers increases his pace. He knows that with each hour that passes, the other climbers back in the snow cave will grow hungrier, thirstier, weaker, and colder.

He and Molly have to get back to civilization as fast as possible if the rest of their group stands any chance of surviving this ordeal. Frank McGinnis grips the steering wheel as his car skids on the icy road.

He turns to his friend, John Bridges, who's sitting in the passenger seat. "Sorry, John, I didn't bring snow chains. I just wanted to get to the mountain fast." "I get it, Frank. Let's just concentrate so we can get there in one piece." Frank nods and focuses intently on the road ahead.

He's on his way to Timberline Resort, the base of operations for the rescue effort. Frank's son Patrick is one of the missing students. Frank eyes the clock on his dashboard. It's 9:00 a.m. Patrick has been missing for 11 hours now. It's a horrifying thought. So Frank tries to visualize something positive. What will it feel like when Pat's rescued?

When his son is brought down the mountain to safety, Frank wants to be there to greet him and hold him tight and tell him he loves him. Frank's friend John snaps him out of his reverie. Looks like we turn here. Thanks, John. John keeps the books for Frank's wood finishing business. Frank is grateful he came along. He's a calming presence, which Frank needs right now.

He turns left off the highway onto Timberline Road and begins to drive up an incline. The road is even icier now than before. Dense snow falls onto the windshield. Frank flicks the wipers on, but it doesn't do much to improve the visibility. A feeling of dread washes over him as he imagines his son fighting to stay alive in these frightening conditions. He passes a green sign.

Timberline Lodge is just six miles away. Frank will reach the mountain in a few minutes. Still, he wishes he could get there faster. Ralph Summers winces at the bright overhead lights as he steps inside the headquarters of the Mount Hood Meadows Ski School. Molly Shula enters behind him, and they both take a step forward as the door closes with a creak.

Summers exhales. Somehow, they made it. Inside the office, a handful of young employees are happily chatting away, listening to music as they sort their equipment. The clanging of the skis and poles sounds unnaturally loud to Summers. He knows he needs to get someone's attention, but suddenly, he feels too fatigued to speak or move. And then, one of the employees spots him,

Her eyes go wide. One by one, the employees stop what they're doing and quietly stare at Summers and Molly. Summers turns to Molly. Under the bright lights, he can see that hardened chunks of ice line her face and hair. For the first time since they left the snow cave, Summers notices how cold and tired she looks. He wonders if he looks the same.

He brings his hand to his face and feels icicles in his beard. A young employee with a nose ring steps forward. Hey, you guys all right? Summers clears his throat. My name is Ralph Summers. This is Molly Shula. We're with the Oregon Episcopal School Climbing Party. The kid with the nose ring looks around at the other ski school employees and back at Summers and Molly.

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Sheriff's Deputy Ed Krebs takes a deep breath when he sees the crowd that's waiting for him.

There are over a dozen reporters standing in a covered area just outside Timberline Resort's day lodge. The sheriff's office has put Krebs in charge of giving updates to the media and families of the missing climbers. And for once, he has some good news to share with them. As he approaches the reporters, many of them thrust microphones under his chin. He sees news cameras ready to record his every word.

Krebs swallows hard as he takes his position in front of the group. Good morning. Let me just start by saying at this point, we do have a location on the students and adults who are with them.

Everybody is all right. They're cold, they're in a snow cave, but I feel confident in telling you that everybody is in good medical condition. How do you know this? We know this because two of the climbers, one adult and one student, were able to hike down to Mount Hood Meadows Ski Resort, about two miles east of here. I spoke directly with the adult just a few minutes ago. You said you had the location of the missing climbers? Well, uh...

The storm up there has prevented our rescue teams from finding the others, but I'm confident that they will be found as soon as there's a break in the weather. But we have the area pinpointed.

Krebs points to a reporter. How do you know that you pinpointed it? Because of the people that came down. They gave us the location. They said the climbers are dug in off White River Glacier. How far up the mountain? Krebs pauses for a moment, looking upward as he mentally replays the conversation he had with Summers.

I'm guessing at around 9,000 feet, but I can't tell you for sure. I'd have to go back and check the maps to give you an exact location. Krebs scans the faces of the reporters and others in the crowd. They look confused. Okay, that's all for now. I'll be back as soon as I have more information. Thank you. Krebs walks away as the reporter shouts questions at his back.

He feels a tightness in his stomach. He essentially just promised that everyone in the snow cave is okay. Krebs doesn't actually know that for a fact, but it's what he wants to believe. He also said they knew the location of the snow cave, then admitted he didn't know how high up they were. Now, he needs to speak to Ralph Summers again as soon as possible.

He wants to make sure that he hasn't just given false hope to the families of the missing climbers. Frank McGinnis barges out the wooden front doors of Timberline Lodge and strides through the parking lot. The last 12 hours have been frustrating as he's struggled to get clear answers on the whereabouts of his son. Now, he's exploding with rage.

A sheriff's deputy just told reporters that they knew the exact location of the missing climbers, then backtracked and said they didn't know. How could that be possible? Frank is tired of sitting around and waiting for others to rescue Pact. He's ready to take matters into his own hands.

He wants his son back, and he wants him back now. He stomps through the driving snow toward the mountain. When he hears rapid footsteps behind him, he turns to see his friend, John Bridges. Come on, Frank. Where are you going? I'm done waiting, John. My boy's been out there since last night. I'm going up.

Frank passes the lodge's covered swimming pool and strives towards the snow-covered ski slopes. But then he stops and looks up. Mount Hood is right in front of him, but he can't see it.

There's nothing visible except sheets of swirling snow. Bridges finally catches up to Frank. Come back inside, Frank. This isn't safe. I don't care. Pat's up there. Frank balls his fists and walks straight into the raging storm. His legs sink into the snow all the way to his knees. He curses but pushes onward.

Wind batters him from every direction. Shards of ice pelt his face like pieces of broken glass. Frank begins to shiver uncontrollably. He realizes that he's wearing street clothes under a down jacket. He remembers that Patrick's little brother is at home. He's going to need his dad, and so will Patrick when he's rescued.

Frank stops walking and squints up into the howling white void. Patrick is up there, somewhere. All Frank can do right now is pray for his safe return. Rick Carter staggers towards a small wood and stone shack that used to serve as a chairlift terminal. After nearly three brutal hours since their decision to retreat, he and his team have finally reached Silcox Hutte,

Once inside, they'll wait for a snowcat to pick them up and drive them the rest of the way down the mountain to Timberline Lodge. Harder turns to his three teammates. They look exhausted, with their parkas and goggles thoroughly coated in snow and ice. Harder finds a wide crack in the side of the hut and steps through it into the dark interior. His teammates follow. There's a squeaking sound at his feet.

Harder looks down at the dirt floor and sees several mice scatter. Silcox Hut may not be the cleanest or coziest shelter, but right now, he's just happy to be out of the storm. Harder turns to his friend Ed Hall, the man who lost his glove. "How's the hand, Ed?" "A little pale, but I can feel it." Harder nods, relieved. "Alright guys, it's 12:40 p.m. The snowcat should be here in an hour."

Let's fire up the climbers' stove and thaw ourselves out. He puts his ski mask on the floor and chuckles. It's frozen so solid that it stands up by itself. Harder rubs his hands together over the small stove as the wheels in his head continue to turn. He's eager for the storm to subside so he can take another shot at bringing the lost climbers to safety.

Search and rescue coordinator Barry Wright paces back and forth in the base operations center at Timberline Resort. He's anxiously awaiting the arrival of Ralph Summers so he can question him about the location of the snow cave. The climbers have been holed up in their cave for about 15 hours now. The sooner his team can get clear guidance on their whereabouts, the better. The office door swings open and a thin man staggers in.

Ralph, I know you're exhausted, so we'll make this quick.

What can you tell us about the location of the snow cave? Well, I think it's in White River Canyon on the east side, above a 50 degree slope, near a crevasse that I'd estimate is around 30 feet deep and 5 feet across. It's probably at an elevation of around 7,200 feet, but...

I don't know for sure. Why don't you know for sure? Didn't you have an altimeter? No, we didn't take one.

Wright takes a step back. Other rescue workers ask Summers questions, but Wright's mind lingers on what Summers just told him. He opens his mouth to say something, then stops. He knows that Summers has been through a lot, and yet, Wright wants to give him a lecture. If Father Gohmann's group had an altimeter, the rescue teams could limit their search to one specific elevation.

Now, they'll have to continue searching a vast area, thousands of feet up and down the mountain. Wright is overcome with a cold realization. The chance that they'll be able to pull off a quick rescue just got a whole lot slimmer. Giles Thompson draws his knees up towards his chest and shivers on the cold, wet floor of the snow cave.

He's been fighting to keep the cave entrance open so that Eric Sandvik and Allison Litzenberger could re-enter through it. But now, he knows that fight is lost. It's been hours since he last heard from Eric or Allison. The cave entrance has continued to shrink. Giles lifts his head to look at it. When the cave was first dug out, the entrance tunnel was large enough for a grown man to crawl through.

Now, it's like looking through a telescope. It's almost pitch black in the cave. Giles lowers his head as his teeth chatter. Every part of his body hurts. He just wants his suffering to end. He hears the sound of the others shivering, but it's gotten quieter as the hours have passed. He doesn't want to look.

He can't be sure that everyone in the cave is still alive. Giles, are you awake? Giles recognizes the voice, though it's raspy and weak. It's his fellow sophomore, Brenton Clark. Yeah, I'm awake, Brenton. How are you? I'm cold. Me too. Giles, what are we going to do?

Giles listens to the wind as he squeezes his knees tighter to his chest. We're going to save our strength so we can stay alive. Giles lowers his head to the floor of the cave. As he closes his eyes, he can't help but wonder if he will ever open them again. This is episode three 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 coordinating producer is Matt Gant. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauerbeckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis. For Wondery. For Wondery.

The missiles are coming.

What am I supposed to do? Featuring incredible performances from Tracy Letts, Mary Lou Henner, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, Paul Edelstein, and many, many more, Incoming is a hilariously thrilling podcast that will leave you wondering, how would you spend your last few minutes on Earth? You can binge Incoming exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery+, and the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.