Illumination Point, 9,500 ft., on southwestern face of Mt. Hood

In 1885, to pass the Fourth of July, a group comprising the Oregon Alpine Club made it their sworn duty to “illuminate” Mt. Hood with “red fire,” which I presume was a kind of flare powder. The try of 1885 failed since their “system of clock work and acids” was tampered with by an avalanche, causing the whole load of explosive powders to ignite during the daylight hours. These early installation artists, it seems, desired to witness Mt. Hood burning devil-red from the vantage of Portland, which is why they took pains with the clocks and the acids. A proto time bomb.

The following year the undeterred group elected to set the massive chemical fire themselves, with a fuse, after hauling several hundred pounds of powder to ‘Illumination Point’ — a familiar landmark for modern-day climbers of the standard South Route.

At 11:30 a.m., bare rocks were found to the west of the summit, in what was considered a good location, and at an altitude of about ten thousand feet.

They used horses to haul their supplies, then toboggans, then rucksacks.

The ‘illumination party’: C. F. ADAMS.     O. C. YOCUM.     J. M. KEENE.
C. H. GOVE.     N. W. DURHAM.     W. G. STEEL.     J. M. BRECK, JR.

Upon reaching the ‘bare rocks’ they finally allowed themselves to drink in the magnificent magnificence of the prevailing view:

As if Nature was not even yet satisfied with such dazzling beauty, suddenly the smoke that had gathered far below us, shutting out the great Columbia, was drawn aside and the waters of that river seemed, through the thin smoke remaining, like a stream of molten gold, visible in an unbroken line, winding from the mountain to the sea a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. Then, too, as we looked, just beneath the setting sun, the Pacific ocean came to view, while the sun was setting in the mouth of the Columbia, reflecting its ruddy glare in the ocean and river at one and the same time. To the right could be seen Cape Disappointment, while to the left Point Adams showed with equal clearness. So closed the day and the night came on.

So it did. For our heros, the evening’s deep magnificence was soon punctuated with pink blushes of firework lights from spots across the horizon. They “applied the match” to their own firework:

Soon after the red fire and rockets at Portland were noticed, others were seen at Prineville, seventy-five miles to the southeast, and also at Vancouver, W. T. These were watched with the most intense interest, until the time arrived to make our own novel show. The red fire was placed in a narrow ridge about ten feet long, and at right angles with Portland. Holding my watch before me, promptly at 11:30 we applied the match with the result as shown by the following account in the Oregonian of the next day:

“The celebration closed with the illumination of Mount Hood, the grandest and most unique event of the day. Precisely at 11:30, the time appointed, just as the fireworks display was over, a bright red light shone away up in the clouds above the eastern horizon, which was greeted with cheers from the thousands congregated on the bridge, wharves, roofs, boats on the river and on the hills back of town, and with vigorous and long-continued whistling from every steamboat on the river.

Footnote: The original account of the Illumination of Mt. Hood can be read in theThe Mountains of Oregon by W.G. Steel, published 1890, Portland, OR. The complete text of this book, which includes a wonderful description of an early bivouac climb on Mt. Rainier, can be read because of Project Gutenberg’s efforts here: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36746/36746-h/36746-h.htm