Mount Jefferson (OR) - SW Ridge

The SW face of Mount Jefferson, from Three Fingered Jack
(taken when there was much more snow)

Mount Jefferson is simply one of the most spectacular wilderness areas in the Pacific Northwest, if not anywhere. Although it is the second most visited wilderness area in Oregon (behind the Three Sisters Wilderness), its combination of dense vegetation down low and rugged alpine slopes up high makes it one of the more difficult Cascade peaks to access. Other than the Jefferson Park area, located on the north side of the mountain, it also feels pretty secluded. Depending on route, anyone planning to climb and/or ski Mount Jefferson should be prepared both mentally and physically for a tough but rewarding day on the mountain.

The last time I skied Mount Jefferson was last year with my buddy Jonathan, when we attempted the West Rib (trip report, here). Unfortunately, due to forgetting one pair of crampons we were shut down low on the rib once it started to get icy. Luckily we were able to get in some lovely turns on an adjacent snowfield, which provided a great consolation prize. Probably the most memorable part of that tour was the brutal approach, which after leaving the trail led us up Milk Creek and then a steep ridge covered in thick brush. Vowing redemption, we looked forward to a return trip to the rib.

Now a year later and looking for a volcano to get some turns on, we once again turned our attention to Mount Jefferson. Originally planning to attempt the west rib again, we eventually decided on the SW Ridge, since it appeared to have an easier approach and would hopefully get us off the mountain before the forecasted thunderstorms, which were to start sometime after 11am. Furthermore, I’m always looking to get on some new terrain. With a route determined, I started working on logistics, including the usual map work and securing permits for the Pamelia Lake Trailhead. Along with Jonathan and me, Markus, our buddy from Germany would also be joining us.

Leaving Eugene after work on Thursday evening, we made the two-hour drive to the trailhead. When we pulled in we were greeted by a ranger from the forest service -- good thing we had our permits! After exchanging pleasantries we let him know our plan and asked if there was anything we should be aware of. Other than the thunderstorms, he mentioned that we should keep our eyes open for the aftermath of a large avalanche that ran down the SW Ridge and almost made it all the way to Pamelia Lake. After talking with the ranger we made some final gear preparations and went to bed, trying to get in as much sleep before our alarms went off at 2:15am.

The next morning (if you can even call it that) we all climbed from our sleeping bags, threw down a quick breakfast and readied our packs for the day’s adventure. It was 3:15am, when we started down the trail, under headlamps and by ourselves. Over the next 4.5 miles we utilized the trail system, which climbed ~1,700’ -- a nice mellow grade and warm-up. Eventually we reached the bottom of the SW ridge, where we left the comforts of the trail and started the bushwhack up the ridge toward our high point.

Gearing up
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Jonathan loves alpine starts!
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Taking my skis for a walk in the woods
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

The first section off-trail had us hiking up a steep pitch of fairly open forest blanketed in beargrass. All too soon the vegetation thickened, which forced some creative route finding and slowed our pace a bit -- the maps never tell you the full story… As we peered onto the slope just below us and to the south, we saw the avalanche path that the ranger had told us about -- Woah, it was truly a sight to behold! Sure enough it appeared to have started in the lower bowl of the SW ridge and stopped short of the lake. The amount of timber that it took down in its wake was truly jaw-dropping. It also looked like it would provide a sweet descent option once it gets re-covered in snow. As the ridge narrowed up, our approach became a bit more straightforward, but we did have to navigate around some rock bands that blocked our path. Choosing to detour along its northern flank, we were treated to some great views of the Milk Creek drainage, including the West Rib and the snowfield we’d skied the previous season. The rib itself looked like it was a little past its prime, and we were starting to feel pretty good with our tour decision. To this point the approach had also been far less savage, and we were making pretty good time to boot. Speaking of boots, Markus and I had left our shoes back at the trail and were hiking up the ridge in ski boots; therefore, I was pretty happy when we reached the snowline and the terrain transitioned from dirt and rock scrambling to bootpacking up snow-covered slopes. Soon the sun rose above the ridgeline and illuminated the slope in front of us, forcing me to put on my glacier glasses.

Markus, starting off the bushwhack

Overall, the approach was much less of a pain than for the West Rib

First signs of snow

A view of the large avalanche that fell alongside the SW Ridge

Markus, taking in the view and glad he's not below the clouds in the valley.

More route finding

The first good views of Jeffy

Crossing over the snowline

Hmmm, which way now...
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

So close I can almost taste it
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Let there be light!

Riding side saddle

At around 7,800’ we reached a saddle in the ridge, which provided a perfect place for a snack break and was also the dividing point between the upper and lower bowls that we’d be skiing. The slope above us looked really good, but also a bit wind textured. We hoped that it would look a little better up close and that it wouldn’t affect the skiing too much. Up to this point the skies had been almost completely clear, but while we were hanging out, white pillowy clouds started to rise on the southeast side of the ridge. With the threat of impending thunderstorms we decided it was time to wrap up our break and start moving again.

Break time!

The upper bowl of the SW Ridge

The author, feeling the pressure from the incoming clouds.
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Since the slope wasn’t overly steep and we’d had our fill of hiking, we applied our skins and stepped into our bindings. Both Markus and Jon had finished packing up before me and were already part way up the bowl before I got started -- luckily for me, I had a nice skin track to follow up the softening snow. As I made my way up to the middle of the bowl, I found that the wind texture wasn’t bad at all and didn’t look like it would affect our turns. However, the storms that had moved through the area over the previous few weeks had dumped a bit of snow on the mountain, and hadn’t had a chance to go through a series of freeze-thaw cycles. Because of this, the snow was still pretty soft underneath the surface, which made the sun-beat portions of the slope a bit mushy and the shaded areas a bit like breakable crust. All in all, it didn’t feel like it would be too bad, so we hoped for the best and continued up the mountain.

Gaining the upper bowl

Falling in line

The higher we climbed the more the sky became overtaken by clouds. For the time being it looked like the mountain itself was doing a good job of blocking their progress and deflecting them away from the SW ridge. The winds also started to pick up a bit, but was pretty mellow considering we were above treeline and fairly high on the mountain. At about 9,500’ we rejoined the ridge, which provided a pretty spectacular view of the summit pinnacles. The rime covered rock formations beckoned us, but since we didn’t have the proper gear or weather outlook, the summit wouldn’t be in the cards for us on this day. At this point we weren’t feeling pressure to start the descent, so we figured we would continue up until we were stopped by either terrain or weather.

The mountain doing its best to keep the clouds at bay

Nearing the top of the upper bowl

Summit pinnacles now in view

Jon, posing in front of the pinnacles 

Moving on

To ascend higher we first traversed east, which revealed the Waldo Glacier and a whole other skiable face. Since this slope was also more south facing, it had been getting blasted by the sun for longer and was pretty mushy as a consequence. It was also less sheltered from the clouds, which started to fill in the area around us. Knowing that we probably needed to find our highpoint fairly soon, we picked out a rocky bit a couple hundred feet above us. I was leading the charge and put in a series of steep switchbacks, moving up the slope in earnest. When we finally reached the rocks, the visibility had greatly deteriorated. Instead of hanging out and snacking before the descent, as we usually do, we quickly transitioned so we could drop in as soon as possible.

Markus chasing Jon to the other side of the bowl

Marveling at the imposing thunderheads 

Nearing our drop-in point at ~10,000'

With the slope in front of us now completely socked in, I dropped in and was quickly beyond the view of my partners. It was pretty nice having radios which allowed us to communicate and stay relatively connected. I let them know that they could drop in whenever and before long I could see their silhouettes. Markus pulled up next to me while Jonathan skied past and was soon out of view. Although I didn’t know exactly where he had gone, we had decided earlier to follow our skin track back toward the SW ridge, so I assumed he had started heading that way. It wasn’t until Markus had found his tracks, still descending the face we were on, that I knew where he had gone. Once again we had to rely on our radios for communication and eventually we were able to reconnect and get back on course. The conditions made it very disorienting and it was difficult to tell the sky from the slope, let alone direction or distance.

The author drops in for the first turns of the day
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Into the mist

Jonathan feels his way down the hill

Now back in the upper bowl of the SW ridge, the clouds began to dissipate and we were able to maintain better visual contact with each other as well as the terrain around us. Turning my skis downhill, I settled in for my first series of turns down the face, finding snow that was a little more punchy than I had expected. Although it wasn’t the dreaded breakable crust, it did have a firm shell on top of a fairly mushy underbelly. It was at this point that I was questioning my decision to bring my ultralight ski and boot setup, but as Jonathan reminded me later, we spent way more time on the ascent so the payoff was probably worth it -- Oh, the constant struggle to find the perfect gear combination… Once I had dropped a few hundred feet I pulled over and waited for the others, who skied past and held up just below me.

Markus finds a clearing in the upper bowl

Heading below the clouds

Jon, rippin' some turns on the upper bowl.

We ended up dropping about 1500’ on the upper bowl, leapfrogging and taking photos along the way. Based on the concave shape of the bowl (side to side), the snow varied quite a bit depending on which side you were on. In the center where Markus and I were at, it continued to be a little grabby and challenging to ski with style. Where Jonathan was at, on the right side wall, it was pretty sun baked and slushy. Per usual, he was rippin’ it up with some nice looking turns, and kicking off small/benign wet slides along the way.

The author enjoying the improved visibility

Jonathan

Typical Jonathan steeze

Getting low

Markus

The author
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

The author finds some better snow down lower
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Jon, riding the large right wall.

Hugging the ridge

Markus finds his groove

Markus, lower down in the bowl.

The author, with a stormy Black Butte in the background.
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Final turns on the upper bowl

Eventually the slope started to flatten out, and we made our way back over toward the saddle we’d rested at on the way up. As we did so, the sky became more and more clear. In hindsight, I was a little bummed that we didn’t climb higher, but at the same time I was happy we made the wise decision not to, based on the conditions we were dealing with at the time -- better safe than sorry. Next, we traversed below and on the south side of the ridge, entering the lower bowl a few hundred feet down from its high point. With a narrow band of rocks separating us from the lower bowl, we did have to shoulder our skis a short bit before we could drop into it.

Reconnecting at the bottom of the upper bowl

Quick rest break

Markus, in route to the lower bowl.

Enjoying a few more turns before crossing into the lower bowl

Dropping down the east wall of the lower bowl, it started off fairly steep, with narrow snow patches between gravel bars. Eventually, we were able to enter the center of the bowl, where the slope mellowed out a bit and provided some surprisingly good turns. It was also in the section that we encountered the head of the avalanche path that ripped down the mountain toward Pameila Lake. Seeing the carnage up close was pretty impressive, with fields of trees that had been sheared off at their base or uprooted entirely. In some places we were forced to ski over a thick covering of tree debris, which felt pretty surreal.

Jon, in the lower bowl.

Open runway

Markus heads down the lower bowl

Partway down the lower bowl

Regrouping at the base of the lower bowl and the start of the avalanche field

The author enters the destruction path
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Route finding

Markus gives chase

The ever-thickening debris covering

As we continued to descend, the avalanche path became more difficult to navigate, especially once we reached a line of boulders that had been ripped up during the event. Jonathan tried to squeak out a bit more descent, while Markus and I decided to detour into the woods and out of the path of destruction. Within the standing forest we found more aftermath from the avalanche; although, instead of being completely taken out, the trees were simply stripped of their lower branches, allowing an easy hike down the mountain. Keeping radio contact with Jonathan, we decided it would be easiest for us to just meet back up at the trail, where we’d left our shoes.

End of the road

The perimeter of the avalanche wasn't enough to take out these trees but did strip their lower branches. The made the hike down much more straightforward.

The author, deciding where to go next
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Our route transitioned in and out of the avalanche zone on the way down, and even when we were hiking through untouched sections we could see signs of destruction, including piles of logs here and there. Before too long we reached the PCT, just to the north of where the avalanche had crossed it. Since we were so close, I decided to go and check it out and was actually able to hike into the middle of its path -- amazingly it had spared the trail itself. From the center of the avi path, I could see its terminus, just above the lake. Looking up, the avalanche had stripped the forest down to the bare ground.

More carnage down low

The avalanche path just on the other side of those trees

The author, where the avalanche crossed the PCT
(photo by Markus Allgaier)

Looking up the avalanche path, from the PCT.

Looking down the avalanche path, from the PCT. It almost made it to Pameila Lake!

Looking across the avalanche path, from the PCT.

Within a ¼ mile of hiking down the trail we found our shoes, which was a relief after hiking in ski boots for so long. We checked in with Jonathan, who was not far behind and rejoined us not long after we’d transitioned from boots to shoes. Although we were off the mountain, we still had ~5 miles of trail back to the car, which my legs and back were not looking forward to. Since we knew we’d only be delaying the inevitable, we quickly shouldered our packs and started heading down the PCT. Reaching the Milk Creek area, we were able to catch one last glimpse of the mountain - damn she’s a beaut! Although the trail takes you through some truly amazing terrain, I was much too tired to enjoy it and longed for the parking lot. When we finally reached the lot, we dropped our packs next to the car, cracked some beers, and celebrated another amazing day spent on a volcano.

Starting the long hike out

"We done that, up there!"

A last look at the sign before leaving Jeffy Wilderness - A very special place indeed!

Conclusion:
What can I say, Mount Jefferson is a truly magical place, even when it’s beating you down. The SW Ridge, which is one of the easiest ways to the top, is still a backbreaker. Compared to the West Rib (at least what we did of it), the SW Ridge has a much easier approach with less bushwhacking and no drainages to climb in and out of. Although the snow conditions we had weren’t optimal, the skiing was still pretty fun, and of course the views and overall atmosphere were amazing. As with our West Rib attempt, it would have been a bit better with more snow, or at least snow that had gone through a good corn cycle. The one benefit of the new avalanche path is that it should provide a ski run that basically connects the summit to Pamelia Lake -- we’ll have to wait until next season to see how it looks with snow cover.

The tracks from our tour: