My cousin, Andrea, and I decided earlier this summer that we ought to climb the South Sister and that's just what we did on the 2nd Saturday of September. I drove over from Eugene with a friend of mine and she came down from Portland with 5 other friends on Friday nite. Upon arriving, I found the campground to be more packed than I had ever seen it! Apparently a lot of other people had the same idea! So we managed to make a camp site and we got our rest.
We woke up in the morning, rolled up the tents, made some breakfast, and packed for the hike. A little before 10:30 AM we all began the journey in high spirits. Soon, the hike whipped us into shape as the first mile and a half was a "grueling, viewless" uphill climb through the trees. But we pressed on and before too long we came out of the tree line and got our first glimpse of the Sister looming in the distance. Views of Broken Top, Mt. Bachelor and Moraine Lake met us and that helped to rejuvenate our spirits.
We made our way across a large mountain meadow and to the bulk of our climb. Loose rock, dust, and steep slopes were our campanions for the rest of the journey. We made it to Lewis Glacier and our friends, Brian and Dave, decided to jump into an icy glacial pool. After a lightning quick dip in the sub-zero waters, they both admitted that it was indeed a chilly experience, but one that was worthwhile as it cooled them off for the rest of the hike. The rest of the party left a bit sooner than I did which meant that I was to go solo for a spell.
After the respite at the glacier, I trudged on toward the goal. It was a 2,000 foot climb in a mile's distance to the South Sister's summit. Trekking along, the Sister was testing my absolute physical and mental limits. For nearly an hour and a half it was a never-ending cycle of trying to eek out approximately 10 steps before having to break to regain my energy. In the midst of one of these momentary pauses, I looked around at the view that spread out behind me and in the quiet breeze a thought crossed my mind: "The silence. The stillness. The magnitude."
I made it to the summit and the view of a dazzling white glacier that pierced my vision in the 4 o'clock sunlight was a magnificent sight. I rejoined my friends; some of us ate lunch while others took naps. A few of us walked around the rim of the mountain to the north side and were met by a majestic view of the Oregon Cascade peaks. Like kids waiting in line for the vending machine, the mountains stood in a row with the Middle and North Sisters at the front, followed by Mt. Washington, Mt. Jefferson and a hazy Mt. Hood.
After a photo shoot with the mountain peaks, we began our descent. The loose, rocky trail guided us back to the campsite while the sun made haste toward the western horizon. By the time we reached the mountain meadow, a full moon rose out of the east to watch over us. Our final mile and a half through the "grueling, viewless" trees was lit by small flashlights while we communicated to each other to watch out for stumps, rocks and roots.
We lost contact with part of our party for a time and we even got off the trail for a few steps. But in the end, we all made it back to camp with everyone accounted for. And seeing as how nobody wanted to set up the tents again in the dark, we all agreed to part ways and go home.