Jon Bell's Blog

Fans of Mount Hood and the written word have much to be thankful for with the release of three (that I know of) new books this year.

One’s from a true fan of TImberline Lodge who writes about how the lodge and the mountain have taught her valuable life lessons.

Another’s from a hardcore skier who’s skied from the summit of Mount Hood more than 300 times.

And the third is from a seasoned search-and-rescue veteran who’s saved more than a few lives on Hood and who knows some of the best stories from the mountain’s storied and adventurous past.

All are highly recommended.

In Timberline’s Embrace: What an Old Lodge Taught Me About What’s Worth Keeping – Jean L. Waight.

This one came to me randomly about a year ago when Jean Waight, a Bellingham, Washington-based writer reached out to me in search of a blurb for her book all about her many years of escapes to Timberline Lodge. A huge fan of the lodge myself, I was fully on board from the get-go. She captures the lodge’s charm, what it’s like to have the place to yourself late night and how the wildness of the mountain is never far away.

Author Jean Waight on a snowshoe trail near Timberline Lodge that led to a harrowing experience.

Here’s the blurb for her book:

“As a fellow Timberline Lodge enthusiast, I connected with Jean Waight’s intriguing tales of the lodge and her time on the mountain. Timberline is the kind of place where you feel as if you alone are experiencing its singularity and creating new memories just for yourself. And yet at the same time, you want to share Timberline with everyone so they, too, can appreciate its unique grandeur. Waight’s book captures those sentiments and so much more.”

11,239: A Skiing and Snowboarding Guide from the Summit of Mount Hood – Asit Rathod

I’ve heard about Asit Rathod for many years. He’s a bit of a legend when it comes to Mount Hood, skiing from its summit and pioneering the annual solstice party at Illumination Rock.

For many years, there’s been talk of a book – part guidebook, part personal recollections – about the seven major ski descents from Hood’s summit mixed with some of Asit’s wilder stories. This year, the book finally came to fruition – with the help of a good friend and fellow writer of mine, Ben Jacklet, who has long been an advocate for Asit making the book a reality.

Hood skier and writer Asit Rathod (left), photographer Richard Hallman(center) and writer and editor Ben Jacklet (in the Hoodoo shirt) at the release of “11,239” this spring.

Skiing from the top of an 11,000-foot mountain is beyond my comfort zone, but for those who aspire to – or can – pull it off, Asit’s book is the place to start.

Crisis on Mount Hood: Stories from 100 Years of Mountain Rescue – Christopher Van Tilburg 

I’ve interviewed Christopher Van Tilburg, a Hood River-based physician and backcountry adventurer, a few times over the years, including when his book, “The Adrenaline Junkie’s Bucket List: 100 Extreme Outdoor Adventures to Do Before You Die,” came out in 2013. He’s written 12 books, climbed, hiked and skied all over, and works for both Portland Mountain Rescue and the Hood River Crag Rats.

I first tried to buy this latest book at one of my favorite bookstores in the Gorge, Waucoma Bookstore, back during a Father’s Day spent on the mountain, but they were sold out. My son, Spence, and I returned last week and they had them – autographed copies at that – in stock. Stoked to get into it.

Mount Hood is such an iconic mountain, full of so many adventures and stories, personalities and people, history and natural beauty, that someone has to have dedicated a podcast to it by now.

Right?

One would assume. But one would also be wrong.

Until recently, there hasn’t been a podcast focused on Oregon’s tallest and, arguably, most significant peak. But as of just about a year ago, that changed.

In February 2024, Andy Poorman, a Beaverton native who grew up skiing at Mt. Hood Meadows and Skibowl, launched the Mt. Hood Podcast, an entertaining and engaging podcast that’s so far covered everything from the iconic Charlie’s Mountain View and the Meadows avalanche dogs to Mt. Hood weather and renowned French skier and B.A.S.E. jumper Matthias Giraud, who skied off Hood’s 250-foot tall Mississippi Head cliff in 2008.

“I listen to a lot of podcasts when I’m out running or cycling,” says Poorman, who sprinkles a little humor into the podcast with fake ads designed to steer listeners clear of powder days at Skibowl. “I was looking for one about Mount Hood and I couldn’t find one. So I was like, ‘OK, well, I can try this thing.’ So I started it, and it’s been really fun to be able to have an excuse to talk to people. And if you say you’ve got a podcast, people will actually answer your email sometimes.”

Andy Poorman and his aptly-named dog, Govy.

Poorman’s wife bought him a copy of “On Mount Hood” for Christmas last year, which prompted him to reach out to me for the podcast. We chatted for an episode last week, then finished up with a short Q&A to find out more about Poorman, the podcast, his time as a fighter pilot and his affinity for skiing on Mount Hood.

So a podcast on Hood seems like a great idea. How’s it going so far? It’s been a great passion project for me to learn more about the mountain, and it’s nice that I can put that information out there for other people. And I actually have had a couple second-order effects, like I’ve started to work with the Mount Hood Cultural Center & Museum. Just this last weekend I did my first recording of an oral history of one of the long-term residents up there. There are some people who have lived up there a long time who know a lot about the area, and so I’m sitting them down and recording it, and then the museum will have those oral histories in their archives.

You started skiing on Hood pretty early. Yeah, in the fifth grade. I think my parents were trying to get my brother and I out of the house, so they put us on the ski bus. We started skiing every Sunday in the wintertime. And I mean, it hit with me instantly. I started at Meadows and then, you know, kind of bounced around between Meadows and Skibowl depending on where the bus was going.

Are you also a climber or hiker, or is skiing your thing? Skiing’s my thing, so if I need to walk so I can ski, I’m willing to do that, but walking just for walking doesn’t seem fun to me. I’ve got alpine touring gear, so usually I’ll try to go up the mountain on that if I can. But just walking up the mountain and skiing down, I’m getting too old for that. I’ve summited Hood a few times, but it was just more because I was with someone who wanted to go to the top. It’s gotta be pretty good conditions to ski the Old Shoot (near the summit), so typically I’ll just stop at Crater Rock or maybe the Hogsback and just ski down from there.

The podcast has an amazing photo of two F-15s flying past Mt. Hood. Can you share a little about your time as an Air Force pilot and how that photo came about? I went to Oregon State and then went off and did some time in the Air Force. I did two combat tours, one before the second Gulf War when there was a no-fly zone, and then I switched to the F-15E model and went back after the second invasion and was there for three months. It was pretty quiet and we weren’t really doing much. And then there were just lots of deployments all over the place before I got offered a job back in Portland flying the same airplane. The picture for the podcast, there are two F-15s going by Mount Hood. We were coming back from the Boardman Range, and we actually had a camera in the airplane, which is pretty rare, and a little extra gas. So I’m like, ‘Hey, I’ve got an idea.’ So me and another guy are flying formation and the third F-15 was taking our picture. It’s pretty stunning.

Photo courtesy of Andy Poorman

So where can people find the podcast? Just about anywhere. On Apple, it’s on Spotify. It’s pretty much on all of them, but Buzzsprout is where it lives. (Poorman and a friend have also created a website, trailmapvideos.com, where visitors can find video footage of many of the runs at Skibowl and also a link to the Mt. Hood Podcast.)

Anything else you’d want to get out there? Sure. The Mt. Hood Cultural Center & Museum has really lowered their standards and they’ve got me as a guest speaker on February 15 for one of their Social History Happy Hours. We’re going to be talking about the oral histories that we’re doing and the podcast as well. We’re trying to figure out some collaborations to get the word out for everything they’re doing up there.

It’s the night before we are supposed to hit the Timberline Trail, and the forecast is not good.

What a week before had been nothing but sun and blue and calm has all of a sudden whipped into a red flag warning for the western Cascades: dry, fire-prone conditions, no rain in sight and winds gusting up to 50 miles per hour. All the requisite agencies are pleading for people to stay out of the mountains. Prospective hikers are bailing on their trips, sharing their postponements on Facebook.

The four of us – myself, Will Armistead, Chris Gomez and Ryan Odegaard – already had to bail on this trip last year when early snow threatened to derail us. We have the time off now. We’ve done the training we’re going to do. We’re supposed to start at Timberline Lodge and head west, away from the worst winds for the first day.

And so we decide to go.

Despite the bowing trees and bending grass on the way up to the mountain, the unnatural hum of the generators powering the lodge – the power companies had killed the electricity to reduce the risk of fire – and the absolute ghost town that greeted us at Timberline on a day that normally would have been bustling, it was the right decision.

We set out just after 9:30 a.m. It was windy, sure, and there was a bit of tension in the air. But the trail, which runs 42 miles around Mt. Hood and includes some 10,000 feet of elevation gain, starts out easy. The wind was at our backs. And not 45 minutes into it, after we’d first cross paths with a friendly foursome who we’d leapfrog with over the next four days, it was still and peaceful. Red flag warning? Never heard of it.

As can happen on the Timberline Trail though – this was my third time doing it – we ran into other challenges that would pose their own obstacles. Gomez got some kind of stomach bug that chose to ride along with him from the second morning on. Some blisters set in and a few knees ached. The bugs were not insufferable, but they were annoying. The climb up from Ramona Falls to Bald Mountain was crushing; the one up from Cloud Cap to the trail’s high point near Gnarl Ridge just brutal.

Strolling down Gnarl Ridge, a few smiles after a grueling hike up 2,500 feet or more from Cloud Cap.

But along with the struggles comes the glory that accompanies taking in Mt. Hood from all 42 miles of the Timberline Trail: the drop down into Zigzag Canyon, the side slog up to Paradise Park – which reminded me of my old friend, Oliver, and a gorgeous trip we had up there – Ramona Falls, Elk Cove, the coast down Gnarl Ridge, the final relief of the pavement and the cold beers in the lot at Timberline Lodge at the end of day four.

The Timberline Trail. Never the same trail twice. Always an epic adventure.

Day one, leaving the wind behind and descending into Zigzag Canyon. Will and Chris crossing the surprisingly tame Sandy River. The always amazing Ramona Falls. Will takes in Ramona for the first time. Ryan heading over to check the Cairn Basin shelter with some fireweed in bloom. Our camp at Elk Cove. Passing through the old Dollar Lake fire, heading toward the adventurous north side of Hood. Will crossing the Coe. A last group shot at White River, the final major river crossing on the clockwise route around the mountain. Never seen ginger ales go down so fast at Timberline Lodge. Timberline Lodge didn’t offer the burgers and fries that the Timberline Trail deserves, so we capped it off at the Ratskeller in Govy instead.

A lot of people have left their mark on Oregon’s tallest peak over the years, helping to protect its wilderness areas, develop its recreation scene and conserve its history, culture and natural resources.

I was fortunate enough to cross pass with two of those people when writing “On Mount Hood,” and now seems an appropriate time to give them a nod.

The first, Jon Tullis, was Director of Public Affairs for Timberline Lodge when I called to learn more about the lodge more than a decade ago. He was so friendly, informative and helpful, sharing with me some of the great characters who add color to the mountain while also offering up some of his own mountain tales. An East Coast native, Tullis had migrated west after college in 1984, stumbled on Timberline Lodge and, essentially, never left.

Jon Tullis at Timberline Lodge.

He built himself an enviable 37-year career working for Timberline and its operator, R.L.K. and Company, helping guide the lodge and ski area as it evolved. Tullis was there during the 1986 Oregon Episcopal School climbing tragedy; he was instrumental in the ski area’s Still Creek Basin expansion in 2007 – an effort immortalized with the naming of the “Uncle Jon’s Band” ski run in honor of him – and he organized the amazing Mountain Music Festival, which brought live music to the mountain every year.

Timberline’s Mountain Music Fest.

This year, Tullis announced that he’ll be retiring after 37 years in June. He wrote a recap of his Timberline time in the recent issue of “Timberlines,” the newsletter of the Friends of Timberline. Best wishes, Jon, and thanks for the mountain memories. (And for the time we shared a stage at Powell’s in 2013!)

The second big footprint left on Mt. Hood came from Jack Grauer, a World War II veteran who first climbed Mt. Hood in 1947. A longtime member of the Mazamas, Grauer summited the mountain 227 times before he hung up his ice axe in 1994. Along the way, he also compiled one of the essential resources about the mountain, “Mount Hood: A Complete History.”

Jack Grauer

Self-published in multiple editions starting in 1975, Grauer’s book is packed with information and anecdotes about the mountain: native and pioneer history, climbing adventures, little-known facts and so much more.

I met Grauer for lunch back in 2010. He was a sharp and charming 89-year-old at the time and was still printing new copies of his book and binding them himself at his home in Vancouver.

In late January, I received a comment on the post I’d written about that meeting with Grauer. It was from someone who had been a caretaker for him in his later years, and she let me know that . He was 101 years old.

Grauer and his book are important pieces of the Mt. Hood story, and I’m glad I had the chance to meet him and learn from his writing when I did.

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Born as a project to create jobs and stimulate the economy during the Great Depression, Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood has found itself again in the throes of a worldwide crisis.

This time, however, the crisis has brought Timberline to a halt.

The Oregonian reported this week that Timberline has laid off 471 employees as a result of the statewide stay-at-home order prompted by the COVID-19 pandemic.

RLK and Company, which operates the lodge and ski area, filed a notice with the state about the layoffs. The cuts encompass all areas of the operation, from servers and dishwashers to lift operators, groomers and even the hosts at Silcox Hut.

Images from the lodge’s webcams on Saturday depict a ghost town of a resort. (Someone asked on Twitter if the lodge might need a caretaker for the season, a lighthearted reference to “The Shining,” part of which was filmed at the lodge.)

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Here are a couple pictures of the lodge from sunnier times — and here’s to those sunnier times returning to everyone at Timberline and elsewhere as soon as possible.

[image error]From the 2019 Timberline Mountain Music Festival

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Thinking of getting up to Mount Hood for a hike? A night under the stars? A paddle across an alpine lake?

The coronavirus has two words for you: Think again.

[image error]Timberline

Today, the Mt. Hood National Forest announced that it has temporarily closed all campgrounds, day-use sites, trailheads, Sno-Parks, fire lookouts, OHV areas and other developed recreation sites on the Mt. Hood National Forest.”

The reason, of course, is COVID-19 and the effort to contain it. In the Forest Service’s words, the closures aim to “support state and local measures directing people to stay home to save lives.”

The closures will be in effect until at least May 8, 2020.

Until we can get back out there, a few photos from some favorite Mount Hood sites.

[image error]Lost Lake



[image error]Mt. Hood Meadows



[image error]Mazama Trail



[image error]Lost Lake Butte

Not sick as in sweet jumps or killer powder, but sick as in shut down due to the coronavirus.

Today, even as we were in the car on the way up to the mountain, both Mt. Hood Meadows and Timberline announced they were suspending operations for a least a week.

[image error]Mt. Hood, pre-COVID-19.

The ski areas are just the latest in a growing string of business closures as the COVID-19 pandemic grows. (Soon after hearing about Meadows and Timberline, I saw that the famous Powell’s Books has decided to close all five of its Portland locations until March 31.)

Summit Ski Area on Mt. Hood is also closed, as is the ski area at Cooper Spur Mountain Resort on the mountain’s north side. That latter closure isn’t related to COVID-19; it’s a lack of adequate snow.

As of Sunday March 15, at 12:45 p.m., Mt. Hood Skibowl remained open and is the only ski area on the mountain to do so.

With the way things are going, that probably won’t be the case much longer.

It’s been a Christmas or two since I’ve updated this list of great Mount Hood gifts for mountain enthusiasts out there, but here’s the 2019 iteration, complete with some old favorites and some new additions:

  On Mount Hood: A Biography of Oregon’s Perilous Peak — Shameless, I know, but sometimes that’s just the way the world works.  You can  find it at Powell’s, Annie Bloom’s, Broadway Books and most other local bookstores. Here’s a list of stores outside of Portland, and you can always find it online at Powell’s, Abe Books, Biblio and Amazon.

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Code 1244: The 1986 Mount Hood Tragedy — Speaking of great Mount Hood books, this one from Portland-area author Ric Conrad recounts the tragic climb of the mountain by a group of students from the Oregon Episcopal School. You can read more about the book and see some great photos in this post, and buy it on Amazon.   

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A Mount Hood pint glass — One of the coolest Mount Hood gifts in recent years is the Oregon Pint, a hand-blown pint glass from North Drinkware that has Mount Hood molded into its base. At $48, they’re not cheap, but they sure are cool.

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 A Shred Hood membership —

[image error]A former Portland Tribune colleague of mine, Ben Jacklet, co-founded Shred Hood in 2013 as a community news and information site to cover the skiing, snowboarding and backcountry on Mount Hood.

Subscriptions come in a couple different options, including one-time and ongoing. Each has its privileges, including a sweet T-shirt and bottle opener depending on your subscription.

Find out more at Shred Hood.  

 A donation to Oregon Wild or Bark —

[image error]Feeling a little more philanthropic this holiday season? Consider making a donation to some of the environmental groups that have worked — and are always working — to protect the region’s wild places, including, of course, Mount Hood. (Bark’s mission is more Mount Hood-centric, while Oregon Wild covers the entire state; both have played major roles in protecting Mount Hood and the Mount Hood National Forest.)

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For more information about either of these groups, visit www.bark-out.org or www.oregonwild.org.

 Oregon Department of Geology and Mineral Industries Lidar Map of Mount Hood — DOGAMI released this double-sided, water-resistant map a couple years ago. It includes 75 trails around Mount Hood, wilderness areas, roads, campgrounds, information for climbers and hikers, and a geologic overview. Just $6 at Nature of the Northwest. 

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 Timberline Lodge Ram’s Head Fire Poker — Fashioned after the larger fireplace tools used at the storied Timberline Lodge, this hand-forged wrought iron poker is classic Timberline through and through. I met Darryl Nelson, the blacksmith behind much of the ironwork that’s been installed at Timberline over the past 30 years or so, and he told me guests regularly try to heist these out of the rooms. Not good. Instead, find them at the Timberline gift shop for $80. The shop also has a nice array of vintage-looking posters and artwork, books, souvenirs and more. Check it out.

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It’s one of the worst and most heartbreaking climbing accidents ever to happen on Mount Hood.

May 1986. Nine people dead, two adults and seven students from Oregon Episcopal School, a private Portland prep school. All of them had been a part of a climb of Mount Hood through the school’s Basecamp Wilderness Education Program.

A storm descended on the mountain. Some members of the climbing party turned back. Others didn’t and were pinned by the weather, forced to cram into a snow cave for shelter. When rescuers finally found the buried cave three days later, only two students were left alive.

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One of four Bell UH-1 Iroquois helicopters involved in the OES search and rescue mission on May 15, 1986 — the day searchers finally found a buried snow cave and two survivors. Courtesy Ric Conrad/Wright Collection.

It’s a painful story that’s been told in a few different formats over the years, largely in newspaper and magazine stories. A synopsis of it is in On Mount Hood, but no one’s ever attempted to retell the entire story as a standalone book.

Until now.

Portland-area author Ric Conrad, who also wrote Mount Hood: Adventures of the Wy’east Climbers 1930-1942, spent the past four-plus years researching the OES tragedy with his wife, Sheri, poring over records and conducting close to 40 interviews to retrace the dramatic events that unfolded on the flanks of Mount Hood over four days in May 1986.

His new book about the disaster, Code 1244: The 1986 Mount Hood Tragedy, is an exhaustive and gripping dive into the OES disaster: what happened, who was involved, the mistakes that were made and how searchers managed to find a miracle of sorts just as their mission was on the verge of being called off for good. It’s also got new information and never-before-published photographs of the fateful climb and the rescue effort that ensued.

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Some of the photos inside Conrad’s new book. Courtesy Ric Conrad.

Conrad was kind enough to keep interested parties apprised of the progress of his work, from its initial days through its publication earlier this month. He was also up for what I’m going to call an exclusive interview about the book. (We did a similar one back in 2015 for the Wy’east Climbers book.)

Enjoy that here, and then pick up a copy of Code 1244 if you’re someone who wants to know just how the OES tragedy on Mount Hood unfolded.

What motivated you to write about what’s considered one of the saddest and most memorable tragedies on Mount Hood?  If anyone has a touch of gray in their hair, we remember the tragedy, yet scores of questions continued to linger in the halls of our regional climbing clubs. The family members of the missing climbers also had their questions and concerns. There were mysteries here that I wanted solved, answers that could benefit others. The fact that the search and rescue (SAR) volunteers were aging also had to be taken into consideration. If I waited too long to begin this project, the leaders of this large operation might not be around to share their stories. The timing just seemed to be right. 

This story has been told and retold over the years, but never like this. What are some of the biggest revelations or new pieces of information that came from your research and that appeared in the book?  For family and friends of the missing climbers, the two biggest questions were: Why did it take so long to locate the snow cave and why was there so much confusion on Wednesday morning? I believe I was able to provide answers to both of those important queries. 

I was able to outline the perfect storm of miscommunication that occurred on Wednesday morning, May 14, 1986. Equipment malfunctions, two different handwritten logs being kept at the same time, and Air Force military protocols — which prevented certain messages from being transmitted over an open radio channel — all contributed to the agonizing confusion among family members.  

The book clearly explains why it took so long to locate the snow cave. Throughout Tuesday morning, SAR workers were exploring the route the missing climbers had taken during their ascent. A consultant then hiked out of the blizzard and advised authorities that the missing party was holed up in a snow cave — on a completely different glacier. Even though multiple search teams tried in vain to reach the glacier through the storm, they were unable to even see the terrain clearly until the following morning. As the missing climbers didn’t have an altimeter with them, it was anyone’s guess as to what elevation the snow cave had been constructed. Members of the public had no idea how much terrain the searchers had to cover. Differences in snow probing techniques — coarse versus fine—additionally factored into minor delays, which all added up to additional hours spent on the mountain. 

Was it hard, 33 years after the tragedy, to find and interview the people who were involved in it?  Surprisingly, no. I began by interviewing the three members of Portland Mountain Rescue (PMR) who are still serving their organization. They were able to provide me with the contact information of other key rescue personnel, and it sort of snowballed from there. From the families of the missing climbers’ perspective, it began with Frank McGinness, whose son was on the climbing team. Frank put us in touch with a former student at OES, who put us in touch with another member of the climbing team. That man put us in touch with yet another climber and, again, our network of contacts expanded, until my wife and I had interviewed thirty-seven people. 

Who were some of the personalities that stuck out most as you were compiling interviews?  Barry Wright certainly stands out. He was co-chief for PMR at the time. After our first recorded interview, he handed me a duffle bag, filled with primary source material. “I’ve been waiting for you for thirty years,” he remarked. It was an incredible compliment, but also a charge — provide an accurate version of events. I took that responsibility seriously. 

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Author Ric Conrad (right) with Barry Wright, a search and rescue volunteer with Portland Mountain Rescue who was involved in the search for the OES climbers in 1986. Courtesy Ric Conrad.

Were some folks reluctant to talk?  Naturally. For some family members, the tragedy might as well have taken place yesterday, and we certainly understood that. We respected their privacy. Having said that, one father was overjoyed to assist, stating that “No one is talking about my boy anymore. I want him to be remembered.”

Did you try to talk to Brinton Clark, Giles Thompson or Ralph Summers (three of the survivors of the tragedy)?  Yes, all three. Dr. Clark gave a brief interview in 1996, but to my knowledge, she has declined to be interviewed ever since. We learned from Thompson’s mother that he declined to be interviewed. We tracked down Summers and mailed him a packet of information and a request for an interview. We never heard back from him but respect his privacy — his right to keep his memories to himself. 

Similarly, did you reach out to OES? If so, what was their response to you writing this book?  The current headmaster of OES took my wife and I out to lunch, where we had a very frank and open conversation about the topic. I wanted to assure her that I had no agenda here. This was a search and rescue book and, now that it’s published, I am confident I have allayed any fears or reservations the school might have had. I think Tom Stringfield, of Portland Mountain Rescue, says it best. “The death of children is a difficult subject, and the author strikes a good, delicate balance between sensitivity and objectivity.”

Do you feel like you included everything in this book that you could, or did you have to leave a lot out? Oh, this book could have easily ballooned to 800 pages or more. The interviews were so interesting, we could have kept on going, but where do you draw the line? We felt we did a great job of what I call targeted interviewing. We tried to interview at least one member of each of the SAR teams, to obtain a feeling of what it was like to be in their boots, on their specific mission.

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Ed Hall and Mark Kelsey on the summit of Mount Hood. The longtime climbing partners were later involved in the OES search and rescue mission.   Courtesy Ric Conrad/Kelsey Collection.

Can you talk a little about your approach to writing and your style? This book reads very much like a detailed police or incident report; curious if you thought about taking any other approaches and why you ended up going with this one?  I started writing this book as if it was current day, and the witnesses were recalling their experiences. I was jumping back and forth, so many times between these two timelines —2014 and 1986 — that the writing became jumbled and difficult to understand. My wife suggested I try narrative nonfiction, and it was clearly great advice. With narrative non-fiction, as you read the book, it “is” 1986. Everything is in the present tense. I think that style makes it easier for the reader to follow the rescue and recovery operation. 

How did you land on the title? (I know what the code is, but curious about how you ended up with that as the title)?  I kept coming back to the fact that there were two logs being kept in real time. Deputies from the sheriff’s department were maintaining one, while PMR handled the other. Without giving away too much of the story, I always found it amazing that at least one deputy recorded in his log the awful truth of what had been discovered. Somehow, that information was not relayed to PMR leaders who were only a few feet away. That Wednesday morning was the epitome of madness and confusion, and Code 1244 just seemed to encapsulate the entire tragic affair. 

I know you know the mountain really well. Have you climbed it yourself?  Oh, sure, but after reaching the summit three or four times, you recognize it’s just an incredibly small slice of real estate.  The mountain has so much more to offer. You begin to branch out and explore all manner of pockets of terrain: Langille Crags, Illumination Rock, Paradise Park, Cooper Spur, Mississippi Head, the Timberline Trail, etc.  

What do you think is the legacy or lesson of the ’86 tragedy, if there is one?  I think the lesson learned was that even teenagers are simply too young to speak up for themselves and turn around when they feel they should. In 1986, the kids followed their designated leader who — probably suffering from the onset of hypothermia — kept moving the team higher and ever higher. 

What else do you want people to take away from this book? Although people will learn a lot about the search and rescue efforts by reading my book, we can’t overlook the incredible efforts demonstrated by the children themselves. Susan McClave, for example, shared her body heat with a fellow teen suffering from hypothermia. She also held the compass and led the team down from the upper reaches of Triangle Moraine. She barked orders inside the snow cave, ensuring people continued to shift their body positions in order to maintain circulation in their limbs. That’s a seventeen-year-old girl we’re talking about. Incredible presence of mind and strength of will. These kids deserve to be remembered. 

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Courtesy Ric Conrad