Dave had many adventures in the wilderness. As the third and youngest boy in the Pugh family, I generally learned about Dave’s escapades in the recounting rather than from experiencing them with him. Here are just three of the many hiking and climbing stories which I associate with Dave.
#1. In 1960 our family drove around the country (10,000 miles in the station wagon) to visit friends and relations, see national parks, the Pacific Ocean and the vastness of the continental United States. While visiting Yosemite National Park, we took a six-day mule trip in the High Sierra. One of the camps we stayed at was Vogelsang. We arrived at the camp early in the afternoon. Twelve-year old Dave, his older brother Ted (by two years) and Ted’s friend Bryson decided to climb Vogelsang Peak, which towers over the camp. (I stayed at the camp, age 9, and enjoyed superb trout fishing in Vogelsang Lake.)
The climb went well for a while. More than halfway up the peak, the three boys clung their way up a steep rockslide. Then they had to work their way around a huge overhanging boulder. The rock face was maybe 50-60 degrees, and they had only a small fissure on which to support their sneakered feet. Below them, the slide fell off over a big cliff.
The three climbers had no choice. The slide was too steep to retreat. Ted traversed around the boulder with adolescent bravado. Dave and Bryson hesitated. One by one they made it across, slowly, but safely. They decided they had had enough adventure for one afternoon. They started back down to camp by another very steep route. The boys did not tell their parents about the rockslide or the degree of danger.
Years later, when I asked Dave about the climb on Vogelsang Peak, he said he “was scared shitless.”
#2. Two summers later, Dave and Ted and I hiked with our father in the Presidential Range of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. We stayed at the Lake of the Clouds hut for two nights. I had just spent seven weeks at a camp with a robust hiking program, so I could keep up with my older brothers for once. We had good weather and enjoyed the expansive views because much of the trail is above timberline.
The last day, we hiked back to the car at Crawford Notch on the Edmunds Trail. To pass the time on a seemingly endless four-mile dirt road, we played soccer with an empty soda can. We kicked it back and forth to each other, emulating Pelé. This was the one occasion when we three brothers shared an overnight hike together.
There is a photo of the three Pugh brothers on this hike in the Photos section of this web page. Two other hikers appear to have joined us for the photo.
#3. I will let Dave tell this story in his own words. This account is excerpted from “A 17-Year-Old Makes an Unauthorized Ascent of Mount Rainier”. This article was published in the Summer/Fall 2019 issue of Appalachia Journal.
The title refers to the strict rule at Paradise Inn that employees were not allowed to climb Mount Rainer. This rule irked Dave. Part of his article describes the medical evacuation of a man in the climbing party who failed to disclose that he was diabetic.
Dave’s article:
In the summer of 1965, I got a job as a dishwasher at Paradise Inn, located approximately 9,000 feet and eight miles below the summit of Mt. Rainier in central Washington. Over the course of nine weeks, on my days off, I climbed up and down much of the mountain and its surrounding ranges like a two-footed goat.
The product of a massive volcanic eruption at least two million years ago, at least ten Native American tribes lived in the lower reaches of Mt. Rainier. The mountain had various meanings to them, including “breast of the milk-white waters” and “running like thunder through the skies.” In the summer, they climbed the slopes as the snowpack receded, and retreated as winter returned.
Mt. Rainier supports over 35 square miles of ice, including 26 officially named glaciers. It boasts the largest single-peak glacier system in the Lower 48. Like streamers from a maypole, six major glaciers radiate from the summit at 14,410 ft. (4,392 meters).
Rainier is not entirely stable. Steep walls on the north side cause avalanches regularly, creating dangerous climbing conditions. The volcanic rock (cleavers) that separate the glaciers is rotten and can give way. In 1961 a steam explosion ripped open a hole near Gibraltar Rock, at 12,000 ft., showering the glacier below with volcanic rock. Late in the summer of 1965 I would pass through this area.
In the fall and winter, the heaviest snowfalls on Mt. Rainier occur between 5,000 and 10,000 feet. Paradise holds the world’s record for the largest accumulated snowfall in a year. The record was set in 1971-1972 when 1,122 inches (93 ft.) of snow fell. When I arrived in late June, the only access to Paradise Inn was through huge snow tunnels; the roof of the inn did not appear for two weeks. […]
In the last week of August, I resigned my position and forfeited a week of pay. Once that was done, I walked over to the office of Mt. Rainier Mountain Guide Service and told the guides in the office that I was no longer a Paradise employee - and signed up for the next trip to the summit on August 26-27. They knew about the climbing I had been doing on my days off. I was aware that climbing with guides increased the chances of summiting and raised the level of safety for the whole climbing party. […]
After an early dinner and an entertaining mountain story from Bob [a guide], we tried to get some shut-eye before we woke up at 2 am for an alpine start. We learned that it was important to make the climb to the summit before the intense sun began to melt the snow on the glaciers. I put on my crampons, a headlamp, a harness, an ice-ax, and was roped with three other climbers, led by Bob. I felt like a miner who had been dropped on a hulking black mountain. […]
As we neared the top of Gibraltar Rock, one of the middle-aged adults on my rope stumbled on a rock, fell and didn’t make an attempt to arrest himself with his ice-axe. He had been climbing very slowly until then. We plodded on at an uneven pace, for he could not take more than five or six steps without a rest. He would stop and stare ahead or at his feet, glassy eyed. He wouldn’t explain what was going on. […]
The ill man’s condition was not improving. Gary [a guide] told the rest of the party that they could climb to the summit but should come back down quickly because clouds were closing in. At 9 am, three of us made it to the true summit (14,410 ft.), which is 17 ft. higher than the rim of the East Crater. For the first time, we saw Mt. Baker in northern Washington (10, 778 ft.). The other climbers in our group had turned back due to high winds and fatigue. […]
Late that afternoon, I climbed down to Paradise. As I was unpacking in my bunk and telling my friends about my two-day adventure on the mountain, I received a visit from the manager of the Paradise Inn. He told me that I had violated the Inn’s employee rules and regulations by climbing Rainier, and that I was fired.
I was prepared with my response: “You can’t fire me, I already quit. And I’m a damn good climber, just ask Bob and Gary.”
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