Snowshoeing Adventure!

Three years ago, Michael and I bought ourselves snowshoes for Christmas . . . yesterday they made it out of the garage and onto the snow for the first time as we met my cousin Roni and her husband Gary at Trillium Lake, which is very close to Mt. Hood. By the end of our three-hour trek, our snowshoes were pretty thoroughly broken-in and we could finally call ourselves snowshoers.

We got up early, packed up the truck with everything we thought we might need (extra clothes, food, water, Garmin) and headed up to the mountain. I hadn't been that way in years, and I loved passing through the little towns / hamlets that I saw all the time when I was growing up. My stepdad worked for the State of Oregon Highway Dept and from 3rd through middle of 8th grade, our family lived 17 miles from Government Camp on a state workers "comp0und." There were five families living there at a time, and lucky for me, usually two or three of them had kids near my age. That area (Mt. Hood / Government Camp) brings back a lot of good childhood memories.

We saw Wemme and Zigzag and must have passed through Rhododendron, although I don't remember seeing the sign for it. I saw a church my family went to one time, and a restaurant we ate at, and I was happy to see that the person who carves huge sculptures from wood (bears and Bigfoot) still displays them by the side of Highway 26 for all to see.

We followed the signs for Trillium Lake and when we pulled into the parking lot, there were three or four other cars in the very good-sized parking lot. Roni had suggested we get there early, since she'd read online that it was a popular place to play in the snow. I don't even think we'd been there a minute before Roni and Gary pulled in next to us. We'd planned to meet between 9:00a.m. and 9:30a.m. and it was 9:00a.m. on the nose--excellent timing. Just as a side note, if any of you reading this plan to head up to Trillium Lake, there aren't any bathrooms in the parking lot, but if you drive directly across the highway to the "Snowbunny" area, you will find the cleanest outhouses I have ever used . . . Michael said they were "minty fresh" which is a very nice change from how outhouses usually smell.

It only took us a few minutes of adjusting to figure out how our boots attached to our snowshoes, and then only a few stops for minor strap and pole adjustments during our hike. Either Roni or Gary mentioned they'd heard it said that "if you can walk, you can snowshoe," and it's true. Snowshoes are very user-friendly. Once you get used to the fact that your feet have now become much longer than you are used to them being, and also the fact that you can't back up as fast as you can without snowshoes, you are golden.

It was just the four of us, the trees and the snow when we first started out. Our snowshoes made quite a bit of noise as we trekked along, and of course we were all talking too, but I could feel the silence of the forest around us, and I loved that we were for the most part, alone in it. After about two miles of walking, we finally found the lake itself, and again, I was delighted that we were alone with it . . . the lake was shrouded in white and was frozen, at least near the shore. I ventured out onto the ice, and tried to convince myself that the green-tinted ice under my feet was lake I was walking on. It was a bit surreal and I wanted to walk out farther, gingerly testing each step before putting my full weight down, but Michael was worried that I would fall in and he'd have to try to "fish me out" and get me somewhere warm before I froze to death. He's a reasonable man, so I listened to him, but my heart was urging me to stay and dance with the lake a little longer--maybe next time.

After we rested and played at the lake, we got back on the trail and found ourselves in the forest again. We snowshoed along on the left side of the trail, as signs everywhere declared that the right side was reserved for cross-country skiiers, while the left was for everybody else. And we did come across quite a few skiiers, gliding along with a wonderful quiet whooshing sound. It was very different from the "clunk-clunk" our snowshoes made as we tromped along. I think by that time, we all envied the skiiers their chance to rest on the downhill portions of the trail and let their momentum carry them along. I told myself that just meant that we were getting more of a workout, and I felt a little less jealous.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, we came upon an A-frame house in the woods, and marveled at its presence there. I took some pictures, thinking it was such a strange sight to see in the middle of the forest, and then felt a little foolish when we found more of the houses a little way further down the trail. They ended up being little vacation homes that people rent for winter camping. I have to admit that camping during the winter is not something I've ever really considered, but seeing the cozy little structures with snowshoes and sleds piled just outside the front doors has made me reconsider. It would be so much fun to get a group of friends and head off to the forest for a few days to experience a completely different type of camping than I am used to. I just may have to put it on my list of things to do.

The misty rain that had been our companion for the first hour or two of our trek, began to let up as we neared the end of the loop. Right before we found the first A-frame house, Roni had noticed a patch of blue sky directly overhead where there were no trees to block our view. Somewhere toward the middle of our hike, we realized that we were completing the loop in the opposite direction that most people do it: no one was overtaking us on our side of the trail, but we were being passed by big groups of people going the other direction. Once we began the final mile or so of trail, it seemed like there were people (and dogs) everywhere. There were snowshoers but also lots of kids with sleds. Our hike ended with what was by far the most challenging part of the trail for me--a tremendous hill that seemed to climb forever. As I struggled along, wishing I was not so out-of-shape, the sun came out in full force. It turned the end of our hike (and our eventual summit of the massive hill) into a kind of celebration and left me with that delicious sense of accomplishment I always get after some good, hard exercise.

Once we got to the top of the hill, we could see that we were smart to arrive early as the entire parking lot was crammed with vehicles--even a yellow school bus! It was quite a change from the near-empty lot we'd left just a few hours earlier.

Roni suggested heading to Government Camp for some gluten-free pizza, which sounded amazingly good at that point as I think we had all worked up a big appetite on the trail. The Ice Axe restaurant was very, very good and I would highly recommend it to anyone going to or through Government Camp. Our pizzas were loaded with toppings, the service was good and the prices were reasonable for what we got. I was happy to see the note on their menu that they use locally-grown, organic ingredients whenever possible. Michael and I will be back the next time we're up that way, you can be sure.

After lunch, Roni and Gary headed for home, and Michael and I decided to stick around a little longer since the weather was by that time excellent and our friend John was going to check on Flynn. I wanted to see if I could find the compound where I'd lived as a child and see if people were still living there. I had a strange kind of deja vu, driving toward my old home. Every widely curving corner and tree-topped view was familiar to me, although I hadn't been back in years.

We found the compound with no problem, but it looked desolate and sad. There were no cars out front or bikes leaning against the walls as there had been when I was growing up. One of the two duplexes that had been there was completely gone while the one my family had lived in when we'd first moved there was beyond run-down. It looked like it hadn't been painted since we'd lived there, and it was odd how small it looked in comparison with how I remembered it. The other house we'd lived in was no longer there. I remembered my mom saying it had burned down and been rebuilt, and the house there now fit with what she'd said. It was obviously newer than the duplex but looked just as deserted. We took some pictures and I stared hard at the yard where I'd spent many happy hours playing with the neighbor kids. It was difficult to reconcile what I saw now with what I remembered.

After we left the compound, we decided to drive up to Timberline to see if we could get some good pictures of Mt. Hood since it had become such a clear, sunny day. We were not disappointed. The mountain was as snow-covered as I think I have ever seen it, and it loomed large and friendly. There was no shortage of skiiers and snowboarders making good use of such mild weather, and the sun stayed with us as we finally made our way back down Highway 26 to Portland and to home.