National Park After Dark - Adventure, Death & A Mother’s Day Tradition: Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument

Episode Date: May 10, 2026

Every Mother’s Day, hundreds of climbers hike up Mount St. Helens wearing bright and elaborate dresses, a tradition that’s fun and easy to laugh at. However, behind this celebration is the story of Kathy Phibbs, a bold climber who helped create space for women in the mountains. When a winter climb on Washington’s Dragontail Peak goes wrong, a legacy that’s as inspiring as it is heartbreaking is left behind, and a tradition that celebrates the strength of women is carried forward. For a full list of our sources, visit npadpodcast.com/episodes For the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials: Instagram: @‌nationalparkafterdarkTikTok: @‌nationalparkafterdark Support the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page! Thank you to this week’s partners! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's now the month of May, and that means love for your mom is in the air. Countries around the world celebrate mothers, and when you start digging into the traditions, it's really interesting how different cultures choose to honor motherhood and how elaborate some of these celebrations can be. Like Ethiopia, they celebrate their moms for three days straight with lamb feast, singing, and dancing in a festival. Families travel home to reunite after the rainy season, sons bring ingredients, daughters prepare. the meals, and everything centers around honoring mothers. Mothers and daughters even slather their faces in chests with butter, which might sound odd, but is actually a tradition tied to nourishment, care, and beauty, things traditionally associated

with the roles of mothers in the home. India places a strong cultural emphasis on motherhood. They celebrate the return of the Divine Mother Goddess Derja with a 10-day festival where everyone decorates their home, shares gifts, and feasts. The festival is all about celebrating reunions, children and mothers, husbands and wives, and the idea of a mother as both a creator and a protector, someone who nurtures life but will also destroy anything that threatens it. Peru is right behind with a week-long celebration for their mothers. Museums and art galleries let moms in for free, and if your mom has passed, you still

celebrate her by decorating her grave with flowers and balloons. Britain has celebrated mothers for centuries with a festival called Mothering Sunday, where people return to their mother church on the fourth Sunday of Lent and celebrate both the Virgin Mary and their own mothers. Families share a roast lamb feast and all the moms are declared the queen of the feast. Most of the world associates carnations with Mother's Day, but in Britain, children traditionally pick wild violets to bring home. In the United States, a woman named Anna Jarvis lobbied to have a holiday officially declared to celebrate mothers. She started the campaign in memory of her own mom, a Civil War era activist. Anna handed out 500 white carnations at her mom's memorial service, which is how the flower became associated

with Mother's Day. In 1914, Woodrow Wilson made it official. Ironically, Anna quickly grew to hate how commercialized it became. She called it a Hallmark holiday and even tried to abolish the very thing she created. But one woman found a way to re-earned energized the holiday, almost accidentally. On Mother's Day in 1987, Kathy Phibbs skied up Mount St. Helens wearing a red chiffon dress and a white pillbox hat in honor of the women mountaineers who came before her. When a full-color photo of her smiling, her gown rippling in the alpine wind hit the front page at the Seattle Times, the idea stuck. Now, it's a Mother's Day tradition for mountain lovers everywhere. Women and men throw on a dress, climb a mountain, and shout,

happy Mother's Day. Welcome to National Park After Dark. Hello, everyone, and welcome back to National Park After Dark. My name's Danielle. I'm Cassie. Happy Mother's Day. If you're listening on the day that this comes out, it is Mother's Day, because we're releasing a day early. Yeah, usually our episodes come out on Monday, but I decided to have this one come out on Sunday so we could celebrate. Okay. Well, happy mom's day. Moms out there, and my mom especially. Thanks for doing your thing and now I'm here, you know. Thanks for birthing me, keeping me alive. All the things. Giving me a kidney. Yeah, your mom is. My mom's done. Really? The extra. She's done love. She's gotten above and beyond. She truly has. She gave you life.

She saved your life. Yeah. Sustained your life. You know. Yeah. All the things. And I want to personally thank her for doing that because otherwise, I wouldn't have a business. That's true. Or a friend. Do I be another? Well, yes, of course. Of course. Of course. Well, I thought that this would be a fun episode to do for Mother's Day. And it is, we're going to be talking all about this tradition that is on Mount St. Helens that I actually didn't really know about. But I guess this is kind of a big deal. And I wanted to talk about the woman behind it and the history. And we're really going to be diving. This is a girls' girls episode today. And it's tied to Mother's Day and obviously tied to this tradition.

And I just really wanted to cover it. Yay. I'm excited we're doing Mount St. Helens because I think we've only done it one other time before. Yeah. Mount St. Helens is, I feel like this would be a good question for people is where is a place that you have gone that you feel like should be a national park but is not a national park. And Mount St. Helens is the most national park looking place I've ever been that is like very obviously not a national park and is managed by the U.S. Forest Service.

I think that's incorrect. No, it isn't. I looked it up many times. It's not. Mount St. Helens is not a national monument. No. It's a national volcanic monument managed by the U.S. Forest Service. It's not part of the NPS system at all.

Where did I go? Where have I been? That's where you've been. I very vividly remember going into like visitor centers. A visitor center? I know I went with you. And I have the same memory of going into a big, I thought, National Park Site Visitor Center, but it's not.

It's a National Forest Visitor Center. I swear. Look at that. We're shaming that. I just, I'm shocked. What is that thing that you remember things different? that the mandala effect or something. Yeah, but we both remember it differently for some reason.

We both remember the same thing, but it's not true. Right. Yeah. And not just when I was with you, when I've been with Ian and stuff. Like, I just look it up right now. Hold on a minute. I have pictures with Ian in front of this sign. I have a picture with you in front of this sign.

Wait. It's the US Forest Service. I swear, I double check this so many times. Hold on a damn minute. I'm saying, this place feels like a national park and it's not a national park. You're rocking my world right now. I know. Wait, okay, hold on.

All right, hold on. When the heck did we go? Okay, here we are. Here we are. National volcanic monument. You're right. And I think it says US Forest Service on it too somewhere. Let's see.

Not the sign I have and I have a little, oh, there I am standing next to it. It does not say National Forest Service on it. But it also does not say National Park Service on it. Oh, sneaky. This is crazy. I know. When I first picked this episode, I'm like, and it's a National Park Unit. It is not.

It is not. It is not. Okay. I have a little video of Ian and I in front of it. That's cute. Cute. Okay. Well, consider me floored.

Here I am thinking I know my stuff and I don't. So it's okay. I literally went through this exact same process on my own while I was researching this. I'm like, no, it can't be. I'm looking at photos of it. I'm Googling it. I'm finding it on the US Forest Service website. I was actively, I even went to the NPS website and typed in Mount St. Helens to try and I'm like it's got to. Yeah, we got to change this. Yeah. Petition for this to be. I don't really know why it's not a national park. So maybe look into that a little bit more, but then petition for it to be. I mean, it's just, yeah. I don't know. Doing research on Lassen Volcanic National Park, a big reason that they established the park is because of the volcanic landscape and just how unique that is and all that. Come on. And this, and we'll get into it a little bit in this episode, but the reason why it is preserved as a National Volcanic Monument is because scientists wanted to be able to study the area after such a huge eruption occurred there. They wanted to see. see how the landscape would react afterwards without a lot of human involvement there.

So cool. It feels like it should be, but it's not. So we'll go into story. I'm sorry. Shocked. I know. Okay, gone. Okay.

So we'll go back into this tradition. The Mount St. Helen's tradition has become a staple in the outdoor world, growing so popular that by 2014, as many as 971 permits were issued for Mother's Day. alone. Wait a minute. Sorry. I'm having an identity crisis. Yeah. I have to change my thing on our website. It says favorite national park hike. Gasp. And I have one in Harry's Ridge Trail in Mount St. Hale. Because I thought it was a national monument. You know what? No one has called you out and that's been up there for years. Yeah. So everyone else is just as lost as I am. Yeah. Well, now I have to change it because I just called myself out. But nobody's perfect, you know. I never claim to know anything. We're close, but

it's like we know zero things. You guys are just here and believing us. Right. Okay, sorry. Continue. I'll make a mental note to do that. So because by the time this comes out, people will go and check. It'll already be changed. You better do it quick because it's coming out soon. I'm doing it tonight. Yeah. Okay. Sorry.

Go. Where are you going to switch it with? I don't know. I can't even think about that right now because I'm not going to pay attention to you this whole time and I need to. So I'll think about it after. Please pay attention. I like this story a lot. Okay.

Okay. I'll just start again. I'm only one sentence into the story so far. Apologies. The Mount St. Helens tradition has become a staple in the outdoor world, growing so popular that by 2014, as many as 971 permits were issued for Mother's Day alone. Because of that demand and in an effort to keep the mountain safer and the experience more manageable, the U.S. Forest Service, now caps participation at roughly 350 to 500 climbers. Each year, hundreds of people still take on the roughly 12-mile round trip up the worm-floes route, many of them, men and women, wearing skis or some type of snow traction device, and dresses in honor of their moms. Permits often sell out, and what started as a spontaneous tribute, has become one of the most recognizable and unconventional Mother's Day traditions in the outdoor community.

But somewhere along the way, a lot of people forgot why they're climbing a mountain, in a dress in the first place. The woman who started it, Kathy Phibbs. Kathy stood out just as much off the mountain as she did on it. She had an athletic frame, mushroom brown hair, often cut short with an undercut, and a big, easy smile that reached all the way up to her eyes. She brought wit, charisma, and a steady, determined drive into everything that she did. Kathy helped create opportunities for women to get into the mountains, to challenge themselves

and to support each other along the way. As a gay woman, she also built an inclusive community in a time where being openly gay could cost you opportunities, acceptance, and sometimes your safety. She went on to lead women up major feats, including Denali and onto high peaks across the Andes and the Himalayas.

But her biggest impact wasn't just on distant summits. It was in the Cascades where she built a grassroots climbing community that gave women a place to belong. but for as big and beautiful as her life was, it ended just as tragically. And it's a story that deserves to be remembered. Kathy Phibbs came into the world on August 21, 1957 in Washington, D.C. She grew up on the East Coast, but when she reached high school, her father, Philip

Phibbs, became president of the University of Puget Sound and the family moved across the country to Tacoma, Washington. During her senior year, Kathy got an invitation to climb her first real peak, Mount St. Helens. At the time, it was a near-perfect, symmetrical cone of a mountain rising to nearly 10,000 feet, often compared to Mount Fuji. Kathy had also learned about local indigenous stories tied to the mountain, that it had once been a beautiful woman named Lewitt. According to the story, two brothers began fighting over her, and the great spirit turned all three into mountains. Mount St. Helens, Mount Hood, and Mount Adams. Kathy loved the history and the beautiful mountain landscape, and she was all in to climb it.

She couldn't wait to do it. But right before she was supposed to go, a group of university of Puget Sound students were swept off the mountain in an avalanche. Five died. Kathy's dad had to be the one to call their parents and tell them because he worked there. It hit close to home. Kathy's brother had died years earlier, and her father, Philip, could. bear the thought of losing another child. He pulled his permission for her to climb the peak. But Kathy had already made up her mind. She went anyway. I couldn't find much about this ascent.

However, whatever happened that day marked her first true mountain summit and was the spark that fueled a lifetime of love in the mountains. The next year in 1975, Kathy started college at Pona College in Claremont, California, where she met Ross McFarland and became further ingrained in the climbing and mountain community. It wasn't long before she discovered that he also had climbing experience, and as an ambitious, outgoing person, it wasn't long before she was planning climbing trips with him as well. Not long after, she and a group of classmates formed the Cougamonga Rambling Company, which was an outdoor club centered around climbing.

They organized trips together and even applied for grants to fund their mountaineering expeditions. The day after Kathy Phibs graduated from college on May 17th, 1980, was a day that would mark far more than a milestone. It was the eve of one of the most devastating volcanic eruptions in U.S. history. At 8.32 a.m. on May 18th, Mount St. Helens violently erupted. And as Danielle mentioned, when she dove into this extensively in her episode, the man who went down with his mountain back in July, of 2021, this wasn't a sudden, out-of-nowhere disaster. For nearly two months, the mountain had been warning anyone who was paying attention. In late March, a series of earthquakes began rumbling beneath its north flanks. Steam started venting from the summit. By April, the entire north

side of the mountain had begun to bulge outward, swelling by as much as six feet per day as magma pushed up from below. Officials evacuated much of this round. surrounding area, but not everyone left. Then on the morning of May 18th, a magnitude 5.0 earthquake struck. Within seconds, the entire north face of the mountain collapsed in a massive landslide, one of the largest ever recorded. What followed was even more catastrophic. The pressure release triggered a lateral blast, a superheated explosion of gas, ash, and rock that shot sideways out of the mountains at hundreds of miles per hour. Everything in its path was obliterated. Forests were flattened for miles, trees snapped and laid out like matchsticks. The blast leveled nearly everything within six miles

and scorched the landscape as far as 12 miles away. An estimated 10 million trees were knocked down. The collapse also sent a torrent of debris racing down the mountain. Mud flows and avalanches surged through river valleys, burying entire areas under layers of ash, rock, and sediment. Spirit Lake was overwhelmed, and Tootle River Valley was choked with debris. At the same time, a towering column of ash rose more than 12 miles into the sky. Ash fell across the Pacific West like snow and eventually circled the globe. By the time it was over, 57 people were dead. Thousands of animals and millions of fish were killed. Entire. our ecosystems were erased in a matter of minutes. The mountain itself was permanently altered,

its peak, blown apart, losing more than 1,700 feet in elevation, and leaving behind a massive horseshoe-shaped crater. For Kathy, the mountain she had fallen in love with was no longer the same. And for years, it would be completely off limits. I just wanted to stop and say that that Mount St. Helen's episode that you did years ago was one of my favorites that you've covered. So if people are listening and you're like, whoa, I've never heard of this. What happened that day? Danielle dives so much more into, I mean, I think you go like hour by hour what was unfolding and who was affected. And it's a cool episode.

Yeah, I centered it around Harry Truman, who decided to not evacuate for reasons that we get into on that episode. Don't come at me if I say it's a national monument. That's all I'm going to say. I'm nervous. That was five years ago, you feel like what? I feel like you won't. I feel like you probably. I feel like I will.

Really? Knowing me, knowing my shock right now in this moment, I would say. Just know we've grown, we've evolved. We're continuing to grow and evolve as you're listening to this episode. Yes. But yeah, I agree. I really, really love that episode. And I absolutely am in love with Mount St. Helens.

and I would have loved to see it beforehand, but it is so unique and so special afterwards. And I just have so many really special memories there, both with Ian and with you and by myself. I mean, that's where I went to get my photos taken with the dogs after Ian passed away. Like, I really love it there. It's so nice. And it's really cool to see a landscape and an environment rebuild. and regenerate after such a devastating event, like you just outlined. It's almost as if how could anything rebound from this?

And then to see. Here it is in our lifetime. You know, clearly when you study the Earth's history, it rained for a million years straight one time. Did you know that? That one time. That one time for a million years. It rained for a million years.

It's just. God, that's not our timeline. Yeah. Things could be so much worse. It's raining all the time. But yeah, I just, the earth has been through a lot with different events like this and has obviously rebounded because we're here. But to see something like that in your lifetime and to see the mass devastation that follows and just thinking there's no way that I'm going to see this comeback. And you can't, you have, you know, you can see that.

And I think that's why I like visiting. Yeah, I think what's really cool, too, about visiting. And when we went together and you showed me the trail and everything that you really love, what's it called again, the trail? I believe it's called Harry's Ridge. Harry's Ridge, which is so beautiful. Because it overlooked, it goes right up to the overlook where Harry Truman's home was. Yeah. And it's incredible.

The views up there are so cool. But I think what's also really cool seeing that it's rejuven. generated and become what it is after such a devastating thing. But also, there's still remnants of it. I remember when we were looking at a lake from that viewpoint, you could still see all the down trees. Oh, that's Spirit Lake. Yeah, you could see that and you could see on the ridge lines down trees that have just been there since this eruption. And it's really cool. It should be a national park, you would think, but it's not. The U.S. Forest Service is. Two would think, actually.

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Visit Wayfair.ca. Wayfair, every style, every home. So, anyway, getting back into the story, this was obviously a place that Kathy really loved. And when this happened, it was really devastating. a lot of reasons and partially for her was because she could no longer visit. So instead, she focused her sights on other areas. The year after she graduated in 1981, Kathy headed to South America with a small group of climbers trading the familiar ranges of California for the high Andes of Peru and Bolivia.

It was a big leap, straight into thin air, remote terrain, and mountains that rose well above 20,000 feet. During the expedition, the group completed seven. first female ascents, meaning routes that had been climbed before, but not yet by women. One of the most notable was the ridge of the Huaana Poudasi in Bolivia. Instead of taking the standard route, they followed the West Ridge, a narrow, more technical line of rock and ice that required sustained focus and careful movement, with exposure on either side as they climbed higher above the surrounding valleys.

Days started early and ended cold. They moved through glaciated valleys, crossing crevasses, and carrying everything they needed on their backs. At those high altitudes, even simple movement took effort, each step slower and more deliberate. Nights were spent viviact on the mountain, exposed to winds and dropping temperatures. By the time they reached the summit, it marked one of several first female ascents from the trip and a clear shift in the level of climbing Kathy had stepped into, moving beyond local peaks and into high altitude, technical terrain, and some of the most demanding mountain environments in the world. When Kathy returned to the U.S., alongside friends including Annette Fram, she co-founded Women's Climers Northwest, a grassroots climbing group that still exists today. At the time, the climbing world was overwhelmingly male, and there weren't many spaces where women could learn, lead, and take on serious objectives without being sidelined.

or second guest. The group created exactly that, a community where women could climb together, share skills, and gain experience on their own terms. For many of them, including Kathy, it was also a space of belonging within the LGBTQ community, something that wasn't widely visible or accepted in outdoor culture at this time. When groups of women headed into the backcountry loaded with ropes, packs, and gear, it stood out to others. Men would stop them and ask, Are you girls alone? And they'd answer, well, no, we're with each other. Imagine being in a group of your girlfriends and someone's like, are you guys out here alone?

And it's like, do we look like we're alone? Yeah. Adult women. Yeah. Unaccompanied by men. Is that what you are trying to say? It's the same thing that you would say to a child. Are you here alone?

Where's your parent? Where is your guardian? Yeah, your guardian. Yeah. It's like, no, we're not alone. Who needs them? Who needs them? Yeah. It's like, we're out here with each other. We're very strong, capable women. We can do this.

Her friend Ross says one time he was out doing some serious rock climbing with Kathy, belaying her as she worked her way up on a steep rock face. One of the other male climbers mistook her for a man until she called down to Ross. When the guy heard her voice, he said, holy shit, that's a chick. And back in those days, it was pretty uncommon for women. to get into climbing and much less common for them to be lead climbers. So this was just an example of how she would be out here and men were constantly astonished that she was there. But Kathy was fearless. Lots of her friends called her a force of nature. They remembered her telling climbing stories,

explaining every handhold using her whole body, stuffing ginger snaps in her mouth between tails. In 1988, Fibbs led a successful women's climb of the 20,320-foot peak, Denali in Alaska. And then the very next year, she climbed the 23,448-foot Mount Pooarami in the Himalayas. She was a serious athlete, but just as much a thoughtful teacher who loved getting beginners out onto the rock and helping them feel steady and unfamiliar terrain. On one trip to a crag in California, she and Ross McFarland were leading a group when they missed their turn and drifted off route. The terrain became less defined and the group started to slow as uncertainty set in. Kathy moved ahead, keeping just enough distance and began calling back that she'd found Karen's marking the way up. Her voice stayed calm and steady, giving everyone something to follow as they continued upward.

As it turned out, she had actually been building those Karens herself, stacking small piles of rocks as she went so the group would feel more comfortable and they eventually led them back to safety. She's like, yeah, it's this way, no worries. She's like, look at that, right on track. Right there. Knew it all along. And they eventually got their bearings. Except also they say not to do that because you could lead other people off path. But I think this is, it wasn't like.

most people wouldn't be in this location anyway. They were off. They were off track. But in the early days, Kathy wasn't typically making much money living as a mountaineer. To pay the bills and save for her next climb, she worked as a window washer and a chimney sweep, jobs that kept her a pie.

She wore harnesses and got to climb a little bit, but it wasn't really what she wanted to do. She later joked that success in climbing might not have mattered quite as much if her window washing career had been more. fulfilling. That started to shift when she was hired by Woods Women, a Minnesota-based outdoor organization founded in the 1970s that focused on teaching women wilderness skills, leadership, and self-reliance at a time when most outdoor education spaces were still heavily male-dominated.

The organization was part of a broader movement aimed at getting more women into the outdoors in meaningful, leadership-driven ways, not just as participants, but as instructors and decision makers. Kathy was brought on to establish a Northwest branch and was named as its director, a role that put her in a position to lead trips, teach technical skills, and build a community of women in the mountains. It was one of the first times she was able to turn her passion for climbing into something that could financially actually support her. But Kathy recognized that she was only able to make all these incredible gains because of the women climbers who came before her. She was hyper-conscious of the legacy of women mountaineers that made it possible for her to even have this freedom to climb the world.

She loved reading histories about men and women who'd made first a sense. She loved to hate the macho ones about how tough the Victorian-era explorers had been. But she adored the stories about women mountaineers, summiting peaks in full Victorian dress, petticoats, feather hats, parasols, and all. Phibbs is quoted saying, people think of it as a new phenomenon and it's not at all. The big mountaineer clubs in the Olympics in the 1920s were as much as 50% women. And to honor these pioneers, Kathy Vibs created a Victorian alter ego and began writing in the voice of someone that she called Miss Dish.

A character who showed up in newsletters and writings circulating through the women's climbing community she was helping build, especially around groups like women's climbers Northwest and her work with Woodswomen. That's very Bridgeton of her. Yeah. She's like, this is my Victorian alter ego who has big opinions about the climbing world and educate you in a way. And she made it like fun. It wasn't gossip.

Like what is it in Bridgetton? I've never watched Bridgeton. What? Why did you say yeah then? Do you know what I'm talking about? I know what Bridgeton is. And it's Victorian. Yeah, but the whole thing is for most of the seasons, there was this anonymous person.

What the hell are they called? They had a pen name that they would go by that hid their true identity. And they were the town gossip. They would write about all the town gossip and put it in a newsletter. And everyone would eat it up. Oh. You didn't know this? No.

I've never seen it. Sorry. Lady Whistledown. Lady Whistledown. A mistish. A misdish. Mistish was, came before Lady Whistledown. Well, technically, yes.

But if we're looking at chronologically, Lady Whistledown would have come before. But the person who concocted Lady Whistledown came after. Maybe inspired by? Maybe, perhaps. Stories like this. And speaking of, I know we're going to move on from the victory. Victorian era, begrudgingly.

But I have been dying to do a story on Isabella Bird. I've heard that name before. Well, the first time I got introduced to her, I saw her name kind of here and there around Rocky Mountain National Park as I was out, like, lived in the area. And, you know, she was like, I saw her name a lot. And then we went to a restaurant during one of our group trips out there. called something Bird or like Isabella Bert. Maybe it was her full name. I don't know. But it was, and they were selling her books in the restaurant. Do you remember this? Yeah, vaguely. So that restaurant

is named after her. She is this explorer. She was born in Scotland, I believe. Or she was born in America and died in Scotland. Either way, there's a Scotland tie. But she was given orders by the doctor to go and seek different places for her for health purposes as they did and she traveled the world and she was one of the first women to hike long's peak she was with a man oh okay but she she was actually with like her supposed lover like that's kind of spicy skinless yes yes um but yeah she was she and she wrote prolifically as well she was one of the first travel writers really. Interesting.

Yeah, she's super cool. She's super cool. You should do a story on her. That would be fun. But it just reminds me of like she has been here there and everywhere and she was quoted as saying like she'll she physically feels sick if she's in one place for too long. And I don't know if she was talking about like truly bodily sick or like an illness or mentally.

Or a mental thing. But I'm like, I get it. It's like I feel you. Speaking to my soul. Yeah. But anyhow. It just reminded. me of the Victorian era and climbing mountains and

like you whistle down the whole thing. Yeah, full circle. Well, going back into Miss Dish, she was basically this character that accompanied Kathy on her mountaineering outings, but she wrote about it offering commentary in a more refined perspective. So instead of it being like a diary of Kathy being like,

I did this and this and this, it was Miss Dish would talk about these places instead. Kathy described her as the most astonishing little old lady dressed in a white pillbox hat with a fishnet veil, a red chiffon shift, a gold cape, rhinestone butterfly wing glacier goggles, a mink stole, whatever that is, spotless white tennis shoes and an ice axe slash umbrella. I'm pretty sure, well, of course, it's made of mink, but I'm pretty sure a stole is those things that you warmed your hands in. Oh, okay. But I'm not. I don't know what that is. 100% sure.

But that's what Ms. Dish would wear. She really committed to Describing this character up. Yeah, for sure. For sure. A stole is a long, narrow scarf-like garment or shawl draped over the shoulders worn either as a formal fashion accessory or is a religious or academic vestment.

In fashion, it is a dressy wrap made of luxury fabrics like silk or fur. Oh, gotcha. Okay. Now we know. Now we know. I just had to envision her. And if I saw her in my mind warming her hands, I would have had it all wrong. So I needed to know. But now you know. Well, for Ross, he described Mistish as a high society lady alpinist who was determined to teach young climbers like Kathy how things ought to be done in the mountains. Through this character, Kathy found a gentle way to critique climbing culture weaving in reminders about respecting the alpine. environment, showing consideration for wildlife and other climbers, and above all, fostering a sense of safety and sisterhood in the mountains. She leaned fully into the voice, writing with humor, flair, and a bit of theatrics with it. So she made her, like, dramatic and fun and talking about how to have fun in the mountains and be women in the mountains. And everyone knew it was her behind Miss Dish. They knew Miss Dish wasn't a real person. I don't know if everyone knew she was

was the one writing about her, but they knew that she was like this fictional character that was well, well, yeah, of course. I just didn't know if it was well known that she was the person behind. I think for the most part, yeah. Okay. One of Miss Dish's biggest gripes was the attitude of many mountaineers at the time who talked about attacking and conquering mountains. Instead, Kathy created a climbing community that took more of a merry, relaxed and respectful approach. to visiting the natural world. After Miss Dish came along, Kathy's expedition started taking on a totally different vibe.

The group packed delicious gourmet food to enjoy at the summit. They also started hiking in flamboyant costumes. They brought along pink flamingos to stake at the top of the mountain. And sure, this made the trip more fun, but there was actually a pretty serious message behind all these tutus and glitter that were involved. Her good friend, Kristen Lane, said, about all of these expeditions in doing this, said, we wanted to say, yes, we're women, and we're going to make fun of what you think we should be,

and we're going to be strong in pearls, we're going to be strong in a dress. I love that because I love looking like a pink girly girl and also doing rugged shit in the mountains. Finally, seven years after the 1980 eruption, Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument, began reopening to the public. The monument itself had been established in 1982 by the U.S. Congress and is managed, as we mentioned before, but I wrote this later in here. God, I don't even want to hear it. It's managed by the U.S. Forest Service as a protection research area covering roughly 110,000 acres of land surrounding the volcano. Instead of rebuilding what had been destroyed, the decision was made to leave the landscape largely untouched so scientists could study how ecosystems recover after a massive natural disaster.

Because of that, access was tightly controlled in the early years, and by the late 1980s, a permit system was introduced to allow limited climbing while protecting the fragile recovering terrain. As bona fide dirtbaggers, Kathy Phibs and her crew weren't exactly eager to pay for permits, and it just so happened that the last day for free permits to go to Mount St. Helens, fell on Mother's Day. So Kathy and the women climbers Northwest started inviting everyone they knew for a climb up the mountain they hadn't been able to touch since the eruption. Friends invited friends, partners came along too. It wasn't exclusive. Everyone was welcome with one condition. You had to wear a dress. And people showed up. Decked out in the chiffon lace and whatever they could piece together,

they made their way up the mountain. What could have been a one-off turned into something bigger. The summit felt like a party, joyful, a little chaotic, and completely unforgettable. A color photo of Kathy made the front page of the Seattle Times, and afterward, no one really questioned whether it would happen again. The next year, they did it again. Then again, two years after, turned into five, five turned into ten. And just like that, a tradition.

was born. Then in 1990, Kathy Phibbs, along with her alter ego Miss Dish, dreamed up another ambitious climb, this time to honor the centennial of the first recorded female ascent of Mount Rainier, a 14,410 foot peak, and the highest mountain in the Cascade Range. What they were commemorating wasn't just a climb, but a moment in history when women first proved they belonged on one of the most formidable mountains in the country. And here's the story. And here's the story. story of that original ascent. On August 10th, 1890, a 22-year-old Tacoma schoolteacher named Fay Fuehler set out for the summit of Mount Rainier, becoming the first known woman to stand on top of it. But getting there wasn't guaranteed. She began the climb with four men and another woman, Edith Corbett,

but early on, Edith became ill and had to turn back. Fay kept going. For 12 straight hours, she climbed, refusing help from the men despite wearing a dress and petticoats, steadying herself with a long walking stick as she moved higher up the mountain. She knew turning around wasn't just her decision, it would mean one of the men would have to leave the summit attempt to escort her back, and she wasn't willing to be the reason for that, so she kept pushing. By 4.30 that afternoon, they reached the summit. Standing at the top, Faye took in the view and later described it as a heavenly moment. Words cannot describe the scenery and beauty.

How could they speak for the soul? That night, she and the others camped inside the mountains volcanic crater. Even then, she understood with the climate, not just for her, but for others. She believed more women would follow, predicting that a good many women would one day make that same journey to the summit. And a good many women did follow Faye's example, including Alma Wagon, a Minnesota girl who followed her love of wilderness, west climbing numerous peaks on the Olympic Peninsula and across Alaska. Eventually, her experience got her job as the first woman to serve as a Mount Rainier climbing guide.

She told the magazine, There were places to climb and I wanted to teach other women the joy of climbing. And in the early 1900s, lots of women wanted to learn. Over half the founding members of the climbing club known as Mountaineers were women. Anna Louise Strong was another Washington. Outdoorswoman. Before she came west, she was a journalist covering socialism in the 1920s Soviet Union. She found her way to California and helped start several outdoor camps. She and a well-known mountaineer started cooperative campers, now known as the Washington Alpine Club. Women worked as

fire lookouts. They wrote hiking guides. They lobbied Congress for wilderness protections. They started even more outdoor clubs. Their contributions to making the mountain ranges of the Pacific crest available to generations of women show that women have always been a part of the American naturalist tradition. And Kathy was a part of that long and esteemed legacy. She wanted nothing more than to celebrate her mountaineering four mothers. On the anniversary of Phase Ascent of Mount Rainier, she led 33 women, including an amputee, all dressed to the nines in pearls and hats and flowing gowns up to the top of Renier. Quite literally, fall. and Faye Fueler's footsteps.

I just love, I wish I could have seen, I wish I could have been part of one of these groups, but I wasn't born yet, but I would have loved to just seen these women doing this. Yeah, you need to get in a women's club. I know. You really do. Can someone invite me into a women's club? I don't know where to go. But she's desperate to be a part of one.

I'm desperate, but I also want to come off as like, cool and not desperate, but just know I'm desperate. Just know she wants nothing more. To be accepted by a bunch of badass women, yeah. Well, you do, at least in the past, you've done stuff with like dirt biking women's groups, right? Yeah. And I'm just saying something like on a more routine basis. Yeah.

I think. A group of women to commit to hanging out with me often. Quarterly. Were you about to say quarterly? Quarterly is attainable. It's better than not at all. It's true. And you travel a lot.

Like, I don't think you could commit to a weekly thing. Yeah, probably not weekly. It's a lot. Monthly. Maybe monthly. Every other month? Quarterly. So you got to start somewhere.

Yeah. I'll take what I can get. I'll take what I can get. Well, going back to Kathy and all of, I mean, she had women's groups and it sounds so cool. It was only a few months after that centennial climb of Mount Rainier that Kathy Phibbs and her friend Hope Barnes set out on a winter adventure to ice climb the northwest face of Dragon Peak, a rugged 8,8,840-foot summit in central Washington's Stewart Range, part of

the eastern cascades near Levensworth, known for its steep granite walls, heavy winter snowfall, and serious alpine roots. Their objective was a line called the triple coular, a narrow series of snow and icefield gullies that funnel up the mountain's face and demand precise technical climbing. The trip was meant to be a celebration. Hope had just finished her doctoral dissertation, and the two of them wanted to mark the moment in the mountains. They knew what they were getting into. The route was technical with steep snow, ice, and sections of exposed rock, but both women were highly experienced. Hope had competed in the Olympics twice as a rower and was also a seasoned climber and backcountry skier. Before leaving, they shared a detailed itinerary with family and friends, outlining where they were going and when they expected to return.

Monday, January 28, 1990, with a note not to worry unless it was Tuesday. Kathy parked the truck at Bridge Creek Campground, and from there, the two set out into the mountains. excited to be there but fully aware of the terrain they were stepping into. Kathy, known for her caution and safety first mindset, approach climbing with intention. She even joked about being an old goat, using trekking poles long before they were common, determined to protect her knees so she could keep moving in the mountains for years to come. They planned to take their time on the route, building in an extra day for their itinerary

to move carefully and deliberately through the climb. But Tuesday came and went, and there was no word from Kathy or Hope. By Wednesday morning, January 30th, concern had turned into alarm, and the local sheriff received a call reporting that two experienced climbers were overdue on Dragon Tail Peak. Search and rescue teams were mobilized almost immediately, with both ground crews and helicopters sent towards the mountain. But conditions had shifted overnight. A winter storm moved in, bringing strong winds, low visibility, and fresh snow.

that blanketed the upper slopes. The helicopter teams made passes over the mountain, but were only able to see the lower portion of the coulars with no sign of the climbers. Early the next day, Thursday, January 31st, a team of eight search and rescue members set out on foot, making their way towards the base of the triple coulars. As they approached the route, they began scanning the debris-filled runout below the face, where snow, ice and rock from above naturally funneled down. It didn't take long before they found Kathy, and she was deceased. Her body was located near the base of the climb in a crawling position, a short distance uphill, about 300 feet above, they found hope, seated on top of their coiled ropes. Around them, pieces of gear were scattered across the slope, partially buried in snow.

From there, the search team began to piece together what had happened in the mountain. They deciphered that Hope had led a pitch, properly placing her tools for protection. She was bringing Kathy up to her when something went terribly wrong. Investigators suspected that an avalanche or falling ice swept Hope off the mountain. They also theorized that she could have possibly had a misstep and fell, but either way, the weight of her plummeting body dragged Kathy off the mountainside too. They both crashed onto the snow and the rock below. Hope hit her head, crushing her helmet, and ended up just below where Kathy landed.

Kathy likely called out to her, but there was probably no response because it seemed like she would have been unconscious. Kathy was badly injured in the fall with a broken femur and several ribs, but she still managed to drag herself down towards her friend, leaving a trail of blood in the snow behind her. When she reached Hope, she gathered their rope and worked to get her into a seated position, propping her up against her pack and keeping her off the snow and slow the effects of hypothermia. After that, Kathy tried to make her way down the mountain for help, but she couldn't get far. She only got about 300 yards.

Both women ultimately died from hypothermia, made worse by the injuries they had sustained in the fall. After her death, Kathy's friend Kristen Lane said, She died trying, I know she died trying to save herself and her friend. Kathy had always referred to the Cascades as her beloved, and after she was gone, the people who knew her held on to the idea that this is where she chose to remain. Lauren Smith, a friend of both Kathy and Hope, reflected on who they were as climbers and as people, saying, Hope and Kathy both were outstanding climbers and had very good judgment. One of the first things people do when there are climbing deaths is make judgments about how dangerous climbing is. There's no place they would have rather died.

I'm sad they died, but they were people who really loved the mountains. Both of these women were just 33 years old. Holy moly. They're so young. When you list their accomplishments, it's a lengthy resume for each of them. Yeah. Doctorates, climbing feats. It feels like they've lived three lives.

But they've just done such incredible. incredible things. And now they're both part of a long lineage of fierce, joyful, and deeply committed women mountaineers of the Pacific Northwest. Long after Kathy Phib's death, the Mother's Day tradition she started lives on at Mount St. Helens. Every year, hundreds of climbers make the trek up the mountain. Most of them show up in dresses. We're talking everything from polka dots and florals to bridesmaid gowns, mini skirts, old school frocks, even a few feather boas and wigs. People layer them over their usual climbing gear, so you'll see stiff boots, backpacks, ice axes, and then a dress blowing in the wind. The whole thing is part tribute,

part party. On the way up, you pass groups laughing, taking photos, and cheering each other on. And somewhere along the climb, there's always at least one confused hiker who didn't get the memo, stopping to ask, what's with all the dresses? At its core, it's simple. People, climb to honor their moms, whether that's calling home from the summit, raising a toast, or just taking a moment to think about the people who got them there in the first place. By the time they reach the top, it feels less like a summit and more like a celebration, a colorful, windy, slightly ridiculous gathering on the side of a volcano. But the slightly ridiculous, fun tradition is so much more than that. It's a tribute not only just to moms, but to women. And that's why it's

important not to lose the memory of Kathy Phibbs, aka Miss Dish, and her skis in a red chiffon dress and white pillbox hat smiling into the sunshine on the top of Mount St. Helens. Nor should we forget any of the women who made first a sense of mountains. It's only because of the Cathies and the Fay Fuelers and the Alma wagons that women have a place in the world of mountaineering today. So this Mother's Day, wherever you are, put on your kitschiest gown and your sparkleous hat and climb to the top of that mountain. It's an American tradition. And that's my Mother's Day story.

Very nice. Very sad ending. Didn't see it coming. I thought it was going to be wholesome from start to finish. But yeah, I had no knowledge of this tradition before this. Me either. I stumbled across it when I was looking at. looking for things. And then I saw Mother's Days coming up and I was like, wow, what a

perfect timing. What a cool way. What a cool way to celebrate too. I know this. So you're releasing this a day early, you said. So this is only going to work for one day. For one day. But it would be really cool if anyone out there or I guess in the past, if you have participated and have photos. We would love to see them. Yeah, that would be super cool. I just, I, I don't think I've ever been out hiking for Mother's Day, let alone. Because it's, correct me if I'm wrong, but it's any mountain, right? It originated on Mount St. Helens, but it's not just a Mount St. Helens specific tradition. It feels like this is a Mount St. Helens, this is a tradition that happens on Mount St. Helens

specifically, but it would be fun if people just did that in all mountains on Mother's Day. I think that that would be awesome. Yeah, I think it would be more, yeah, everyone would have at least gotten maybe the memo in Mount St. Helens. But if you're doing it, you know, like in the whites here, people are, what the heck is happening here? It's like, oh, you didn't know about the Mount St. Helens saying, let me tell you. And then you can really spread the word. And really start a Mother's Day tradition around the world or around the country. Well, thanks so much for sharing that.

That was really lovely. I'm glad I know about it now. And I really want to see people's pictures. What would you wear? It would have to be pink. I think I would want like one of those feathery boas that you like throw on. Oh, I remember feather boas. Oh, yeah.

I sure do. I think I would want one of those and I would want some type of Victorian style hat with a lot of feathers. Fake feathers. Fake. Guy Bradley would be rolling. It is great. Yeah. The plume hunting phase.

No, all fake. But yeah, I think I would. I would want to be really bright, I think. Yeah. What would you wear? I don't know. I definitely a Victorian-style gown. I could see you in a full gown.

Like, corset. I love a high neck. There's something about a high neck. I love. It's going to be awful to hike in, but you will look great. Beauty is pain, as they say. Yeah, definitely a black. I'm seeing like, yeah, some lace.

situation, gown, definitely a high neck. I don't need sparkles or feather boas or anything. We'll leave that to you. You got that handled. We'll have both. It will have a balance. Yep, as always. And, you know, I said I wouldn't think about it, but I have been thinking about it in the background of my favorite hike now because I'm stressed. Have you decided on a hike yet? I don't want to overthink it is the thing, because it should just be from the heart. You know, it should be your first. What is yours, actually? On the website.

I think mine's not a national park. Mine is, I did in the White Mountains for Anconia Notch. Didn't our prompt say favorite national park hike? I don't think so. Oh, then I'm not changing it. And I just stressed out for nothing. I think it just said favorite hike. Oh, really?

I think so. We wrote it. I don't know why I'm asking. I mean, it's years ago now, but. I'm pretty sure. About us. Let's see. Okay.

It does say favorite hike. Okay. You're good. Okay. Phew. Now I won't change it. I'm standing by it, 10 toes down. Wow.

Standing on business. Oh yeah. Yours is Franconia Ridge Loop. I was going to say, I guess a runner up then would be, and I don't think it's a boring answer, but it's just a very popular hike. But I think it's popular for good reason. And it's the Paradise Loop in. Mount Rainier. It is so stunningly beautiful. And I've done it several times. Yeah. And it's probably

the hike that made me, like when I originally went out to Washington years ago and did the camper van like National Park camping extravaganza trip. I think after hiking that or at least visiting Mount Rainier, I was like, oh, I'm moving here at some point. my life. I have to live in this area. It's like this is incredible. It's just so beautiful, especially during wildflower season. And it's just, it hasn't all. I still haven't been to Mount Rainier. Really? I've seen it from a distance, but I've never been physically in the park. But you've been to the other Washington parks? I've been to North Cascades and I've been to Olympic. Okay. Well, let's get you there. Let's get you. National Park Mount St. Helen. volcanic monument Yeah

Okay well yeah Good goal for this I don't know what to say this year But soon Yeah You should go Sometimes wait we didn't go when you were with You came to see me

We just went to Mount St. Helens If I would have known I'd have taken you to both Okay well thank you everyone So much for listening Go either Call your mom Hug your mom

say a prayer to your mom for anyone who's missing their mom thinking of you or anyone who's like a mom. Give them love. Yeah. And we'll see you next week. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye. Bye.

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