Middle & North Sister: Part 1

All rigged up for a 11:30am alpine start

The meat and potatoes of my Cascade corn crusade were finally on the table. After a warm-up on Shasta and a little recovery resort riding around Bend, I was itching for a couple of full value days out in the cascades.

I left Bend late and headed toward Sisters, that strange seam where the Oregon desert meets the old volcanic glaciers. Everything out there feels transitional—sagebrush giving way to firs, brown dirt giving way to rotting snow, a place switching identities as fast as the weather.

Thanks to a huge snow year, the approach was kinder than expected. I only stamped around in approach shoes for fifteen minutes before hitting continuous snow straight to camp. The burn zone was eerie and beautiful at the same time—charred trees, long shadows, North Sister looming dead ahead with South Sister floating off to the side like a second opinion.

Moving through the burn. North sister center with South sister on the left

Oregon showing a golden ratio between snow bridge stability and available creek water.

Not my initial intention with an 11:30 start and an expedition pack but let’s see…

Yep, this campsite will work.

Snow bridges were still holding on, water trickling through the cracks. It all felt like the mountains were offering this narrow spring window: stable enough to move, just fragile enough to keep you honest.

An 11:30 a.m. start and an expedition-sized pack weren’t part of the initial plan, but that’s spring volcano skiing—you go with the flow. When I finally reached the moraine between North and Middle Sister, I knew I’d found my camp. Flat, protected enough, and close to the line. A perfect day except for the heat. I hiked the last stretch in a T-shirt, which earned me the worst sunburn of my life.

Still, I somehow convinced myself Middle Sister was still on the chopping block for the day. Moving up the flat glacier felt incredible; solo movement in the mountains has its own rhythm. You move fast, but nothing feels rushed. Every sound becomes part of the story—skins gliding, wind rolling across the ice, your own breath filling the gaps.

At the main col, reality hit. The north-facing snow was a mess: wind-hammered, rimed on, and only getting firmer with the late afternoon cooling. Everything about it screamed bad skiing. But the sunk cost fallacy had me in a headlock—I hadn’t come all this way to bail.

Nearing the summit of Middle, looking at North

On the summit of Middle, looking at South

Near the summit, the views of North Sister and South Sister were unreal—three volcanoes cosmically aligned like Orion's Belt. After a minute of self-care and some semi-scientific snow assessment, I decided on the east face direct line I’d been eyeing all day. Big, exposed, steeper than it looks & with a cliff band at the bottom waiting to punish bad decisions.

I was nervous about wet instabilities that late in the day, but the cooling temps had started to glaze the surface with a thin crust: reverse corn. A rare phenomenon that I've only encountered a few times.

I milked the fall line until the snow forced me into the exit, eventually skiing out onto the Hayden Glacier—classic spring volcano skiing, smooth and forgiving. I even wrote my name in the snow near camp in case things got crowded.

Flat light does not do this face justice, a few hundred feet below the summit on the E face

Nearing the steepest bit, just above the cliffs. Great turns were had

Oh yea! Fired up having made some good turns in the crux

Milking the fall line til I’m forced to follow the snow

A fairly accurate representation of my line on the east face of Middle Sister

Ending up on the Hayden glacier, the exit back to camp was quintessential volcano corn skiing.

I wrote my name in the snow in case camp got crowded.

Dinner should have been the end of the day, but my body had other plans. Sunburn, dehydration, or maybe the chicken risotto I was gifted on Denali in 2023— I was wrecked. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t keep food or water down. A tough way to start into the most difficult climb of my trip, only a few mere hours from now.

Maybe it was the chicken risotto I was gifted at 14k camp in 2023 that made me sick, who knows.

The humble abode

Part 2: North Sister