Highpoint #29: Ohio

 

The Highest Point in Ohio!

I haven’t been on a highpointing road trip since August!  The problem is that I have already highpointed most of the states that are relatively near to me in D.C., so topping out in new states takes a bit more of planned effort.  Looking over the map of the U.S., I saw a swath of “unclimbed” states in the northern Midwest that I might be able to reasonably cover in a 5-day trip.  To heighten the difficulty, I decided to go in December just before Christmas.  The plan?  Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa.  Boy, was I in for an adventure…

The highpoint in Ohio is tellingly named:  Campbell Hill.  Indeed, the highest mountain in all of Ohio is just a hill.  It is located near Bellefontaine, about an hour east of the Indiana border and about an hour northwest of Columbus.  Coming in from the east though, I had a nice leisurely drive across the entire state.  Bucolic views abounded, save for a brief stretch through Columbus where I was treated to a modest skyline and an amazing Reuben sandwich (seriously, check out Katzinger’s Deli).  I was fortunate enough to have cool, calm weather most of the day and only a touch of rain.  The roads were great!

Finding the highpoint was pretty straightforward.  After following the main road out of Columbus for a while, I only needed to leave this road for a mile to drive up to the highpoint.  It was well signed making for a minimal detour, all in all. 

On the way to the summit, I passed through the Ohio Hi-Point Career Center, which is apparently collocated there.  I just followed the signs to the highpoint, and I eventually was able to park my car just short of it on top of the hill.  Being a weekday, the gate to the property was open, so I was free to make my way straight to it. 

It is a pretty small affair, really.  There is a sign in the parking lot proclaiming “Highest Point in Ohio” and giving the elevation.  

This is a Well-Signed Highpoint!

There is a brick column with a stone inlay that also says “Highest Point in Ohio”.  

View of the Summit from the Parking Lot.  Note the Stone Inlay in the Column. 

Walking just past the column along the sidewalk will take you to a third sign that says, you guessed it, “The Highest Point in Ohio”.  This third sign (see top photo) actually says quite a bit more giving some of the history of the site including its use in the Cold War.  

A Close-Up View of the Summit.  

Near the sign are two benches, a flagpole, a stone marker in the ground, and, of course, the official U.S.G.S. benchmark marker marking the true highpoint.  

USGS Marker Marking the Highpoint and Giving the Exact Elevation.  

On the way out, I was sure to stop back at the brick column.  Along its side there were two main compartments.  One was for “Visitor Registration”, and the other was for “Points of Interest”.  

Be Sure to Sign the Register!

The former houses the official summit register along with complimentary certificates.  Seriously.  

They Really Go All Out at this Highpoint.  

The latter includes brochures for things to do in the nearby area.   I took one, but really was I hard pressed to keep moving so that I might make the Indiana highpoint before sunset -- no mean feat given the very short days of winter!

The View from the Top!  Note the Presence of Snow.  

Highpoint #28: New York

Vanity Shot at the Summit of Mt. Marcy

Only a few weeks back from Oregon, and I was already itching to do another highpointing trip.  It’s funny how that works.  The more states that one completes, the more intense the desire is to complete the remaining states.  It’s an incredible fixation that takes me farther and farther afield.  Fortunately, this time around I had my sights on the relatively close state of New York, a state I have grown to know quite well having lived there a couple of times in the past.    

The highpoint of New York is Mt. Marcy, which is an impressive mountain in the heart of the Adirondacks.  Obviously the highest of the 46 high peaks in the surrounding wilderness, it comes in at a commanding 5,344 feet.  The approach involves 3200 feet of elevation gain across a 15-mile round trip hike.  So, all together a hike of moderate difficulty, made more difficult by my attempt to make it a day hike, leaving from Washington, D.C.  Yes, I am a sucker for endurance efforts. 

I was able to leave my place at 5:15am on a quiet Friday morning.  I opted to take a route that avoided tolls and all of the morning traffic of Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York City.  Instead, I headed north to Harrisburg, PA and continued to follow a slant pattern once I entered New York state.  The New York portion of the route was scenic and relaxing, taking me past the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown and onward to Albany.  From there, I had to head a bit farther north into the Adirondacks proper, and turn off on some country roads, eventually making my way towards Lake Placid.  I finally pulled into the parking lot of the Adirondack Loj nearly 9.5 hours later.  I have to say, for an early Friday afternoon, I was impressed with all of the parked cars at the various trailheads alongside the roads leading up to the Loj.  There was opportunity for adventure everywhere, and seemingly hordes of people were embracing those opportunities.  I can only imagine how busy it is on the weekends! 

The parking lot for the Adirondack Loj is not free.  Because I arrived in the afternoon, I paid the reduced fee of $5, and because I was paying by credit card, I had to go into the Loj for the transaction.  I managed to find a parking space in the nearly full parking lot, paid the fee, and inquired about the trailhead for the Mt. Marcy.  Apparently, it was just ahead at the end of the first lot.  So, I grabbed up my gear (a small pack, rain suit, headlamp, GPS, water, food, and poles) and headed off.  I signed in at the register, just minutes before 3pm. 

Hiking Register #1

Bear Country!

The trail begins by heading out to Marcy Dam, which is a major campground area and an excellent launch area for a number of hikes of varying difficulty.  The approach to the dam was pretty straightforward with only a little bit in the way of net elevation gain.  The terrain was boggy, but the going was made easy by a number of boardwalks, terraces, logs for stepping, and rocks for hopping.  

 

One of the Many Boardwalks near the Start

In the couple of miles to the dam, I saw easily dozens of people hiking back to the main parking lot, calling it a day.  I saw no one heading in my direction.  I guess this was a pretty late start by Adirondacks standards. 

Entering the High Peaks Wilderness

When I arrived at the dam, I made my way down to the pedestrian walkway and crossed over the water.  

Pedestrian Bridge across Marcy Dam

View from the Bridge

On the other side, I arrived at a second trailhead replete with a second hiking register.  I signed in there too, and was quickly on my way again. 

 

Hiking Register #2

From here the character of the trail changed a bit.  I was now definitely heading uphill, and rocks were ever plentiful.    Always ensconced by trees, I was walking atop strewn logs to avoid mud, around large rocks, and at times climbing over them. 

Typical Section of the Trail

The number of parties heading down diminished quite a bit.  I started to encounter rangers from time to time though.  The first one asked if I was heading to Phelps, and was worried if I would have enough time to make it to the top of Marcy when I told him I wasn’t.  I assured him that I had a headlamp and was fine with routefinding in the dark, if need be.  The second ranger also expressed concern.  She told me to be careful, because she would be the one coming out to look for me if I had any issues.  Um, okay.  The third ranger was a bit more relaxed.  I guess I was high enough up the mountain at this point, that she wasn’t too concerned about me.  She said that they just had to evacuate someone earlier, so that’s why the rangers were being so cautious.   I was going to say.  Hiking up Marcy was not particularly demanding for me, so I was able to keep a strong pace heading all the way up.  What’s the worst that can happen?  Maybe I fall, hurt myself a little and have to hike or limp down in the dark by headlamp?  Meh, it’s not really a big deal for me.  I guess they see a lot of inexperienced hikers though, so who knows what they get to deal with.

Eventually, the trees opened up a little bit, and I was able to see my first view off into the distance.  It was beautiful!  

First Tree-Free View

Seeing distant peaks at eye level, I knew that I was finally getting close to the summit.  A nearby sign indicated that I was in the final 1.2-mile stretch.  Indeed, I could see the summit off to my right in the distance.  Apparently, the path was going to spiral its way up there along the way.  I was energized to pick up the pace. 

First View of the Summit

I soon came to the final junction, and made a right for the summit.  I came into the alpine zone and began scrambling to a lower peak just shy of the summit.  

Alpine Zone near the Summit

First Pitch of Scrambling

It was easy class 2 rock, that yielded an amazing view once climbed.  The view of the peaks off into the distance was pretty clear and inspiring.  

Summit Looms Closer

Views are Pretty Nice Here

Sadly, I did not tarry long so as to keep pushing for the summit.  One last pitch of class 2 rock, and I was there!  

2nd Pitch of Scrambling

I quickly spotted the summit plaque and did my usual photos with the requisite vanity shot. 

Vanity Shot at Summit Plaque

Detail of Summit Plaque

Clearly the rock holding the plaque rose still higher, so I made my way up it to the summit plateau.  There I searched around for a USGS marker, but I did not see one.  I guess the plaque is sufficient.  Upon the plateau though, I had a full, unobstructed panoramic view for the first time.  It was quite gorgeous, from what I could see.

View from Summit Plateau

Unfortunately, the clouds were pretty low hanging at the time of my summit.  So, in actuality, I had better views from the peak below.

View from the Top:  Note the Clouds

The clouds were a little too dark for my taste given my then current position at the highest point in New York.  I was hearing sounds of thunder on the way up too, but any storm activity was still off in the distance.  Regardless, I figured it best not to stay very long, lest I serve as a lightning rod.  I decided to take what photos I could and make my way down below the treeline as quickly as I could. 

Detail of Boreas Ponds Below

The true scrambling stretches were pretty easy to descend.  Amazingly, I passed someone on the way up at the last junction.  He had a medium-sized pack with a bear can, so I figured he was planning to camp nearby after summiting.  He looked pretty experienced, so I wasn’t worried about him.  I can only imagine what the rangers thought about him climbing the mountain even later than me.  Not to be out done though, I soon encountered a trail runner still on his way up!  He had next to nothing in the way of gear, but he was running up rock at a full clip.  This should be interesting, I thought.  Sure enough, it was.  Maybe an hour later, as I was dutifully making my way down the mountain, I could hear him running in the distance, this time even faster.  I moved to the side and yelled towards him asking if he made it to the summit?  He yelled back that he “tagged it”.  I congratulated him, and he passed by in a whirr.  Seriously, he was just flying down a rockslide like it was a perfectly groomed trail.  I never have seen anyone move that fast down a fairly rugged trail before -- damn!  I was impressed. 

I continued to make my way down as the sun slowly began to set for the day.  The remaining daylight slowly diminished.  The canopy of trees soon blocked out any visible light.  I had to switch over to my trusty headlamp at this point.  No big deal really, as I have been in this position before highpointing Vermont and also Massachusetts (neighboring states, coincidentally).  The only problem was that my batteries were weak, so I had a significantly reduced beam.  Damn!  This would prove to slow me down quite a bit, but the route was still pretty fresh in my mind, so no real worries. 

Getting Dark!

I soon found the crossing point for the river, forded it, and made my way back to the Marcy Dam campground and signed out at the second hiking register.  It was just after 9pm, and I still had more than 2 miles to go to get back to the Adirondack Loj.  I crossed the pedestrian bridge, and started to make my way through the dark of the forest.  My headlamp was really weak at this point, to the point where I was just casting enough light to see the next tree.  Fortunately this was the easiest part of the trail by far, and it was quite well marked.  I often could see a trail marker on a tree and know that I was fine.  Also, all of the boardwalks and terraces made it pretty easy to stay on track.  It was kind of fun to navigate under these conditions, really.  Though next time, I will make sure my batteries are new. 

Adirondack Loj

I eventually made it to the trailhead, signed out, and walked by the Loj.  My ascent of Mt. Marcy was complete, and it was a great success – yay!  I threw my gear in the car, and prepared for the long ride home.  9.5 hours to go – ugh!  Sadly, it would prove to be too much for me.  Even with the spirited assistance of Red Bull, my PED of choice for these kinds of trips, I was feeling really tired on the drive home.  I decided to break up the trip by stopping at a rest area in NY and another one in PA taking a couple hours of sleep each time.  It was just enough to do the trick, and I finally made my way the rest of the way home.  I managed to pull into the garage at almost exactly 10:15 am, making for a 29-hour journey in total.  Without the sleeping, it could have been a legitimate “day” trip, defined as not exceeding 24 hours.  Oh, well.  It was a great bit of fun regardless. 

I have to say, I was pretty inspired by the climb of Mt. Marcy and the surrounding area.  It is one of the ADK46 high peaks.  I might just be tempted to climb the remaining 45 mountains and earn my patch.  Hmm…   :-)

Highpoint #27: Oregon

Me at the True Summit of Mt. Hood!  

With all of my attention towards highpointing in states in the south and along the east coast, it was time to finally head out west to try my hand at some of the more notable peaks on the list.  First though, I needed to improve my skill set a bit.  Spending most of my life in the mid-Atlantic, I did not exactly have a lot of ice axe or rope team experience.  I decided to change that by taking an 8-day mountaineering class on Mt. Rainier and then try out my newly found skills on Mt. Hood.

The class was a mixed bag in terms of experience, but I certainly learned many of the key skills I would need to successfully climb any glaciated peak, having spent quite a bit of time learning how to properly use my ice axe and crampons, how to travel on a rope team, and even how to run protection and do crevasse rescues.  With no viable opportunity for me to summit Rainier, I was especially keen on having a successful summit bid on Mt. Hood immediately afterwards, if I could get it.    Both of my mountaineering guides for the class did their due diligence and recommended that I have a guide for the Mt. Hood attempt.  One of the guides though said that he had easily soloed the mountain in the past, nonetheless, which I took as a suggestion that I might be capable enough to do the same.  So, I forwent having a guide and decided to at least have a go at it on my own. 

I guess I was pretty anxious to do just that.  My class ended on the evening of Friday, July 5^th, and I was already on a train to Portland the very next morning.  I walked directly from the train station there to the car rental agency and found myself sitting in the Timberline Lodge parking lot in full view of the southern face of Mt. Hood, not even 2 hours later.  There would be no summit attempt in the middle of a hot summer afternoon, obviously, but I still thought I could have an early glimpse for what I was in for.  I walked for awhile and took in a closer view of the mountain, and I tried to trace out some of the key features on the upper mountain to figure out the route.  I was simultaneously reading up on the beta on SummitPost to determine the easiest way to the top.  With the upper mountain looking deceptively small from my vantage point, I felt buoyed to give it a try that very night!  I was a man on a mission, you might say. 

Mt. Hood on a Beautiful Summer Afternoon (South Side)

I hung around the parking lot a bit, called my wife to inform her of my intentions, and figured out what gear and provisions I would need.  I eventually left to get dinner, plenty of water, and even take a few establishing photo shots.  Soon enough though, I was back in the parking lot hunkering down for a few hours of sleep before heading off on an alpine start for the top! 

Turn-off Road for Timberline Lodge

Folks with headlamps were soon being dropped off or were otherwise making their way from the climber’s registration center to the climber’s trail, for a similar attempt.  I finally got everything in order, including filling out my permit, and checked in at the registration center by 2:20am.  

Check Out that Flat Screen with Real-Time Updates!

By 2:45 am, I was climbing!

So it begins...

I should say a few words about the registration center, as it is quite impressive!  With no door, it is open 24 hours a day, all year long.  They have quite a bit of warning information available for the would-be climber.  They go so far as to have a flat screen monitor posting real-time weather and avalanche updates.  They have a video camera that records the space for identification purposes, and it is a great chance to demonstrate the gear that you will be taking for your proposed route.  They also have blue bags should nature call, and a bathroom and sink adjacent to take care of any last minute needs.  All of the information, collectively, is quite good at instilling the point that this is a dangerous undertaking, and that one should be prepared accordingly.  I dropped off my form indicating my equipment (much more than I needed, just in case) and proposed route, and I was on my way. 

Apparently my early start was pretty late by Oregonian standards, so I did not encounter anyone for quite some time along the approach.  I dutifully followed the “Climber’s Trail” uphill and then farther uphill.  It was a long trudge in the snow, interrupted a couple of times to dodge some snowcats working in the area, presumably grooming the ski runs.  I made my way up to one of the huts, but I did not see anyone there or a way in.  I continued up farther along a nicely groomed ski run.  I think they prefer that you stay off the ski runs, but at this hour, it really didn’t matter.  The slope was steep, but I opted to forgo crampons, choosing instead to proceed with careful placement of my feet and ice axe.  Slowly and methodically, I made my way to the top of the ski run.  I could finally see some headlamps in the distance ahead of me along the upper mountain as well as a group of headlamps behind me, emerging from one of the huts. 

Headlamp Pierces the Dark Night and Reveals a Nicely Groomed Ski Slope

I made my way farther up to a triangular-shaped moraine.  It was pretty sizable, and it was a great chance to throw on the crampons.  The snow was still hard at this hour, so I definitely wanted more traction, if I could get it.  The smell of sulfur abounded in key spots along and near the moraine.  Other than that, it was pretty chossy.

One of a Handful of Moraines

Finally, the darkness began to lift, and the sun began to make an appearance.  The views were dramatic along certain angles.  Above, I could see the upper mountain much more clearly, making me realize that there was still much more left to my approach.

Upper Mountain at First Light

Beyond though, I could see clouds lying in the valley below, and distant volcanoes at eye-level.  The views are as beautiful as they are addictive, and are quite inspiring to boot.  I could not dwell too long though, as I still had a lot more mountain ahead of me. 

What a View to Start the Day!

I continued farther along the approach, following footsteps in the snow where I could find them, and hopscotching across moraines otherwise.

Eventually, I came around to the very famous Hogsback Ridge, which brought into full view, the path to the summit.  It also brought into full view, some of the surrounding dangers.  I could see rocks strewn about and see the occasional rock fall.  I had my climbing helmet on, but I still needed to be mindful in this section.  I could also see a gaping crevasse that I needed to be careful to avoid, by NOT falling along any part of the remaining approach.  The Hogsback ridge itself was interrupted by a bergschrund which at the time of my visit was impassable, so the route proceeded west to a nearby moraine and went to the summit from there along a fairly steep chute.  

Hogsback Ridge Ahead, Chute to the Left

Looking Back from the Moraine towards the Hogsback

The ridge had some inherent danger, but I actually felt comfortable there.  It was only when I made my way over to that last moraine that I felt the need to pause for the first time.  The chute is very steep and considerably long.  This was going to be a sustained session of climbing with my ice axe to the summit ridge.  If at any time I slipped and fell, I likely would not be able to self-arrest my fall with the ice axe due to the steepness of the chute.  What lied beyond was the rocky moraine and a large crevasse.  Yikes!  To complicate matters, earlier climbers were making their descent from the summit ridge along the same chute, so there was some traffic management to take into account as well. 

The Chute!  Steep and Long.  

After a good 5-10 minutes, I sighed, and decided to press onward.  I really did not want to leave without a summit.  I kicked my steps hard, anchored my ice axe higher and again higher, and made eventual progress up the chute.  It felt slow and interminable, even though I was actually moving at a half decent pace.  Really, that chute just seemed to go on forever.  About 2/3^rd of the way up, I encountered a rope team of 4 people heading down.  Looking face to face with the lead member, I asked what the climbing etiquette was in this situation.  He answered that the downhill team had the “right of way”.  Really?  Ugh.  I quickly anchored out a spot immediately to the right and waited and waited.  This rope team was in no hurry to get down which I would not care about it, if not for the fact that I was precariously hanging out on the edge of a pretty steep slope with no rope whatsoever.  Could you please hurry up, I thought to myself?  They apologized and passed in turn.  It was probably better this way though.  As uncomfortable as I was, some of the folks on that rope team looked really uncomfortable.  It was probably easier for me to move. 

As I reached the final crux, I swear the slope was even steeper – good lord!  I edged out a seat to my right and got situated.  Wow!  For the first time I could see over the top to the other side.  The view was incredible!  It was just as encompassing and panoramic as the south side view I had been having all morning up to this point.  Better yet though, I could see 3 more volcanoes including, the ever lovely Mt. Rainier.

Summit Ridge!  First Look at the North Side!

I did it!  Or so I thought.  A Russian climbing team came up to the summit ridge soon after me, and they were pressing onward.  Huh?  I wasn’t sure if this counted as the summit or not.  They wanted to go on a little farther to a mound of snow that looked visibly higher.  I kindly took a photo of them at this higher vantage point, but I was a bit sheepish to really move any farther along the summit ridge than I had to.  

Russian Climbers at the False Summit

After some deliberation though, I reasoned that if I am trying to highpoint, then I really need to get over to that snow mound and take a self-photo there as well, just to cover my bets.  I eventually managed to do as much. 

I Thought I Was at the Summit Here!

Soon I was joined by a climbing team of skiers, a couple of whom were planning to ski down from the summit ridge, once the snow warmed up a bit in face of the ever rising sun.  To sink my spirits entirely, their leader, Kurt, informed me that the “true summit” was still a bit farther on, maybe a good couple hundred yards in the distance.  Indeed, in the distant view along the knife-edge ridge, I could see a small tripod-like structure that really did mark the true summit.  If one word came to mind, it was “fuck”. 

See that Tripod in the Distance, between the 2 Climbers???

Yes, by continuing with the logic above, for this highpoint to count, I needed to continue along that corniced ridge for a quite a bit of distance, yet.  Everything I did so far was just not enough to count.  The decision to proceed was complicated, of course, by the 2000 foot drop-off to my left and the 700+ feet drop-off to my right.  Cornices and softening snow just made it more interesting.  Climbers call this “spicy”. 

DO NOT FALL!

I let the climbing team pass and deliberated a bit.  Kurt said that I really did all of the hard parts already; this was easy in comparison.  He also advised me to breathe.  Yeah, this was less than easy for me.  I eventually relented, though.  It probably all happened in 5 minutes, but it felt like awhile.  I made my way down a tiny hill along the ridge, and from there it was actually pretty easy to keep walking, with the exposure reduced significantly. 

Whew!  Getting Closer!

I soon found myself among the two climbing parties in front of a tripod structure with a red metal box on top.  This was it!  The red box was the summit register!  I really did make it to the top at this point – yay!

Summit Register

Me at the Summit Register -- I MADE IT!!!

I signed the register and indicated that it was my 27^th highpoint.  I also wrote that I love my wife, Natasha.  I was thinking ahead to the climb down at this point, and I wanted to have that in writing, in case I didn’t make it.  :-)

View from the Top!

I had a few photos taken of me at the summit, and I actually hung out for awhile chatting a little bit with some of the others.  The views were incredible!  The conditions at the top were pretty amazing, too.  I swear there was almost no wind to speak of, and it was starting to get warm out – even at the summit. 

Another View from the Top!

After taking in the enormity of what I just did, I set out for the long climb down.  Traversing the summit ridge was easier on the way back, but I had a seat again once I got back to the chute.  All of a sudden I realized that as hard as it was to climb up that chute, it was going to be even harder to climb down it.  The motions would be the same for me, as I was planning to face inward to the slope on the way down, and re-use many of the hand- and footholds where I could.  Nonetheless, I could not get over the psychological leap it would take to get past those first couple of steps.  It is hard to go from a seated position on top of a wall to a kind of hanging position, with no security to speak of.  At least for me it is. 

The Russians soon made their way back to me.  They had a rope.  Hmm…  In my trusty bag, I had an alpine harness (just in case).  I asked if I could tie in with them, and they obliged me.  Having free soloed all the way to the true summit, I figured it wouldn’t matter what I did after that point to get down.  So, I tied in with the Russians to safely descend the chute.  Sometimes it’s just a psychological barrier, because once I tied in, I had no problem at all descending the chute.  I even did it pretty quickly feeling especially comfortable in my movements and technique.  It still took a long time to reach the moraine though.  That is just one long chute! 

Once I arrived back at the moraine, I untied and thanked my new Russian friends for their assistance!  They said I would have done the same for them.  I would have, too.  I looked above and saw two of the skiers, ski down.  Yikes!  They were in seemingly full-control of their movements though, so all the power to them.  I said goodbye to the Russians and continued to head down on my own, sans rope. 

Heading down Mt. Hood should not be underestimated.  There is over 5000 feet of elevation loss, and that just takes time to get through, even if you are plunge stepping most of the way.  It was a good deal of fun though, with the ski resort slowly coming into fuller view as I descended.  The moraines were less fun going down, so I spent more time descending in snow.  When I made it back to the active ski area, I followed the sign for climbers and made my way well to the left of all the action.  Descending continued on and on, and then farther on still.  I eventually ran out of snow and removed my crampons.  I still had a little bit of a walk yet to the climber’s registration center. 

I eventually signed out at the registration center, cleaned up some in the washroom, and made my way back to my rental car.  It felt so good to get out of those boots and change into sandals and street clothes.  Sigh!  Now I could relax and just enjoy the day.  I tried my hand at a big lunch at the lodge, but it was overpriced and terrible.  Oh, well.  Fine dining and mountaineering never overlap, it would seem. 

All in all, this was an amazing climb!  I would strongly recommend having a guide though.  I saw one of the Timberline Mountain Guides with a group of climbers near the summit.  They confidently navigated their way down the chute after managing a pretty early summit time.  That’s really the right way to do it, but it is pricy ($500+), and you have to know what your plans are well in advance of the climb.  If you are comfortable with an ice axe and deadly exposure, then soloing is a viable alternative.  If you are a highpointer and intend to go all the way to the true summit and sign the register, definitely pick a cloudless day with little to no wind.  There is no reason to make this any more difficult than it already is.  Also, be careful on the descent.  Following the path of gravity (in conditions of reduced visibility) will actually lead you away from the Timberline Lodge and have you fall into a canyon.  You should definitely pack a compass. 

Of the 27 highpoints I have done so far, this is the best one – hands down!! 

Parting View from the Safety of my Plane Seat