Because of her raw beauty, her overwhelming majesty, it is sometimes easy to forget Mount Hood is also a cruel,forbidding, unforgiving mistress.

Jared Townsley, an experienced climber, lost his life on the wicked mountain when he fell into the White River Canyon at the 9,000-foot level during his descent.

Townsley, 32, of Tigard, was victim No. 101 for Mount Hood – since record
keeping began in 1883.

The Feb. 7 tragedy claimed the climber who had summited Mount Hood a
dozen times, including a half-dozen solo efforts, according to his father Gregg
Townsley.

“It was very windy and icy,” Clackamas County incident commander Scott
Meyers told The Oregonian on that day. “Once you get sliding on ice, it’s hard
to self arrest.”

Welches realtor and mountaineer Dale Crockatt, 54, is familiar with the
canyon area.

“The doors to climb open and shut quickly,” Crockatt told The Mountain Times.
“Conditions are always changing. You only summit about one of three climbs
because of that.”

The day before Townsley’s tragedy, Megan Coker, 35, of Portland, was
plucked off the mountain after a 300-foot fall on glacial ice near Crater Rock.
Coker had summited with six other climbers and had descended to the 9,500-
foot level. She suffered leg and rib injuries and was taken to Legacy
Emmanuel Medical Center where she is expected to make a full recovery.
She told authorities she is already looking forward to the day she can go
climbing again.

Crockatt knows all about the mountain and the attraction, conquering it first
at the age of 16, then more than a hundred times since.

“I quit counting,” he said.

He tried to explain the reason they climb – besides the old homily “because
it’s there.”

“It’s like a runner’s high,” Crockatt said. “There’s no better feeling in the
world. There’s a certain serenity up there you don’t get anywhere else.”
Crockatt climbs, despite the inherent danger.

“Oddly, danger is not really a factor,” he said. “You have a certain fear, but
the desire is so great the danger is reduced. But you must have ultimate
respect for the mountain and nature. There’s a time to climb, and a time to
turn back.”

But the mountain is always calling.

“The mountain talks to me,” he said, shrugging, suggesting it wasn’t always
up to him. “It says ‘Now, get your butt up here.’”

Townsley was the first person to die climbing Mount Hood since Robert Wiebe,
58, who fell on Coe Glacier in June, 2010.

Taylur DeWolf, 17, of Sandy, was the last person to lose her life after a fatal
snowboarding accident last month at Skibowl.

Records began in 1883 when a soldier – name unknown – disappeared after
expressing a “great curiosity” about climbing the mountain.

Crockatt had his own brush with death in June, 1991.

He was climbing the mountain with his skis, intending to ski down – the way
he now chooses to climb.

He fell into the Bergschrund, a crevasse that forms an ice wall on its sides.
“I had climbed across it (the Bergschrund) a half-hour before,” he said. “I
simply walked across the crevasse on a snow bridge.”

He reached the Pearly Gates at the 10,800-foot level and started his ski
descent. Conditions had changed. The trip down turned icy, and to stay safe
he side-slipped, pushing snow ahead of his path.

Then came the Bergschrund crevasse.

“I was side-slipping across (the snow bridge) when I heard this explosion,” he
said. “At first I thought it was a jet overhead. Everything happened in like a
nanosecond.”

Fracture lines spread out beside him. A sheet of ice broke past him.
“This is huge,” he said to himself. “I’m OK. I’m still on top. I’m all right.”

Suddenly the bridge gave way and he plummeted 25 feet into the crevasse.

He sank into 5 feet of snow. A block of ice “the size of a pool table” impacted
next to him, just off his shoulder. Then another hunk of ice landed on top of
the first one, leaving the climber in a bent over position, unable to move.

“I was pinned, my chest on my knees, with a bloody nose,” he said. “I started
pounding at the snow and ice to get some space so I could reach my phone.”

Two weeks earlier Crockatt had bought a $500 Motorola cell phone – one of
the first of its kind. Unfortunately, it was strapped on his side and he couldn’t
reach it.

“But the avalanche didn’t come, so I started laughing,” he said. “I’m alive and
I’m not hurt, was what mattered.”

A lot of maneuvering and digging provided enough room to reach the phone.
A few interrupted calls later he made contact with Timberline, ski patrol was
notified and a rescue was only moments away.

But Crockatt continued climbing, and skiing down.

And she whispers to him.

And he still listens.