Brownies Helped Keep Climbers Alive in Snow Cave

Four climbers stranded by a blizzard on Mt. Hood were well-equipped and had plenty of “killer brownies” to eat during 40 hours in an 18-inch-high snow cave.

“The brownies were the best,” said Shawn Corrigan, 36, of Bend. “But what helped us survive was being prepared with quality equipment and knowing how to use it.”

Jubilant and physically fit, the four climbers walked into the arms of rescuers last Tuesday after discovering they had spent two nights within sight of the Palmer chairlift and 1,000 feet below the hut where rescuers spent Monday night.

The weather was clear and winds were light when the four began their trek about 5 a.m. on Easter. Colette Owens, 31, and Robert Sheley, 34, both of Portland, Michael Whelan, 34, of Bend and Corrigan followed the popular south side route to the 11,235-foot summit.

The four have climbed and hiked together before. Owens is a nurse and Sheley is a radiologist at Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital in Portland. Whelan and Corrigan are house builders.

“We knew the weather was going to change, but it wasn’t supposed to until late afternoon,” Whelan said in the lilting brogue of his native Ireland.

By 9:30 a.m., the team reached the Hogsback, the place where the technical part begins. Whelan and Corrigan roped together and went for the summit, completing the final two pitches and reaching the top about 11:30 a.m.

Then the weather changed--and fast.

The two spent little time at the top and figured Owens and Sheley would not make the attempt.

“The storm had beaten us,” Whelan said.

As the four climbed down, the temperature dropped and snow squalls blinded them. They decided to dig in.

It was 4 p.m. Sunday. They activated the mountain locater unit rented from the Mountain Store in Portland, but didn’t realize it was malfunctioning, with the signal carrying only 20 feet.

It took the climbers about 30 minutes to dig a cave between two layers of thick ice. They had to slither into the cave and lie side by side in a space roughly 18 inches high and 5 to 6 feet wide. The four were packed in so tightly that only one could move at a time.

“It was a tight snow cave,” Owens said. “Cozy . . . but you had to crawl on your stomach.”

That night, they woke up feeling short of breath. The entrance to the cave was shut tight by drifting snow.

Owens, the smallest member of the group, was able to change position and punch a new hole in the entrance. The group set up hourly watches to keep the opening clear.

The storm raged all day Monday and into the night, with winds in excess of 70 mph and a wind chill dropping well below zero. Thirty to 40 inches of snow fell while they were in the cave.

The four talked, slept and made sure their snowy refuge remained secure. Inside the cave it was quiet. To check the weather, one of them had to look out of the opening.

Kent Romney of Portland Mountain Rescue said the four did everything right: They had extra food--chocolate, cheese, bread, lemon drops and the brownies Owens had baked the day before. They had sleeping bags, waterproof shells called bivvy sacks, and water. They carried not only a locater unit but also avalanche transceivers.

Although considered one of the easier routes to the summit, the south side route has been the scene of more fatal accidents on the mountain than all others. Eight people from the Oregon Episcopal School died on the route in May 1986. Other climbing parties have succumbed to bad weather there in 1927, 1938 and 1969.

Tuesday morning, the sky cleared and Corrigan ventured outside. Through the mist of blowing snow and clouds, he thought he could see bamboo wands with small red flags in the distance and realized it was the Palmer chairlift.

“I was so excited, I starting jumping up and down,” Corrigan said.

They walked to the chairlift, where three searchers heard them and then saw them.

The overdue climbers then shared their remaining food with their rescuers before jumping into a waiting Sno-Cat for the trip down the mountain and home.