It was exquisite to wake up in a luxurious bed in my teeny-tiny room at Timberline Lodge. After five night of tenting the bed felt absolutely palatial. I had no specific hiking agenda for the day, although I had considered getting in the car and heading down to hike the seven mile Ramona Falls Trail. The for once wisdom got the better of me. Why in the world would I leave this beautiful setting to exhaust myself on another long hike when I could find something much similar right here. So after a leisurely breakfast in my room, I decided to head up to the PCT junction and head south, rather than north as I had the day before.
As I was making my way up the trail, I noticed that the smoke seemed to be moving toward Mt. Hood. I began to worry that it might soon envelop the mountain and when I took the ski lift up the mountain later in the day, the views would be totally obscured. After about a half mile I turned around, retrieved my wallet, and headed toward the Magic Mile Ski Lift. This was actually part of my intended plan for later in the day, riding from the Lodge at 6000 feet to the unloading area at 7000 feet.
Once my feet were back on solid ground after being suspended on the chair lift seat, I had a few choices. The first was not negotiable: I could eventually take the chairlift back down and not walk the two mile road down. I could wander around a while and then ride down, but there wasn’t much to wander around for: no gift shops, no restaurants, very thin air, though a very impressive view.
And then, as you might have guessed, I decided 7000 feet wasn’t high enough. There was the summit of Mount Hood right in front of me. Why not hike just a little bit farther up? Of course I had no idea the summit was nearly a vertical mile above me.
Determined again to get a hike in and gain some more elevation, I spotted a trail – or what passed for one in my mind, heading upward from the chair lift so I started climbing. For a brief few minutes it seemed entirely reasonable. Then the terrain became increasingly perilous and the trail less distinct. At times the soil was loose, the rocks were not particularly stable and often a step forward involved a slide backwards. I managed perhaps about another one-third of a mile before the precariousness of the whole endeavor finally penetrated my brain and this time I actually listen to my anxious gut as well. So I perched on a rock and took some time to experience the view.
And then came the least “glamorous part” of getting back down. I began the descent picking my way through the sliding sand and loose rock wondering briefly how I convinced myself that going up had been a good idea in the first place. I wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that no one else appeared to be following this particular urge to get closer to the top of the mountain.
Reflecting back on this adventure riding down on the lift , I felt pretty good about the decision. I hadn’t made it very far, but I had made it farther than any sensible person would have made it and I did manage to acknowledge the difference between challenging myself and tempting fate.
After my foolhardy climb, I decided it was definitely time to try out the swimming pool and hot tub after what I have been putting my body through the last few day. So after a break and lunch I headed over to the pool deck. It was an unbelievable treat — and probably one of the loveliest pools I have swum in, in a long time. Perfect temperature and no hint of a chemical smell that usually accompanies a disinfected swimming pool. The hot tub was equally wonderful: just the right temperature. After a long swim and soak I was ready to take on the rest of the evening.
For dinner I chose the not-so-pricy Ram’s Head Bar. As an early bird, I managed to snag the best seat in the house. I have learned the hard way that unless you actually ask for what you want—particularly as a single woman dining alone – you will not get it but be seated in a less desirable location. So I asked specifically for the center table overlooking Mount Hood. And I got it.
The choices were certainly more reasonable that in the Cascade Dining room and I settled on a gourmet grilled cheese with avocado dressing. I began to suspect though that the cook had interpreted my request as a blackened grilled cheese…considerably well done. I’m not shy about complaining when something isn’t right, but at this point I decided I would settle in and enjoy the evening rather than create a “take this back to the kitchen and bring me another one “ situation. I was perfectly happy sitting there with my view of Mt. Hood. After all I had survived unstable rocks, a questionable mountain ascent, and a chair lift. A slightly over-toasted grilled cheese didn’t seem worth making an issue. After dinner I headed outside to check on the fire. It continued to rage in the valley, the smoke spreading across the landscape. Another fire was flaring in the south.
I was feeling sad that this was my last night at Timberline. I was grateful for the opportunity to experience this incredible historic lodge, for the surrounding mountains and for this whole Oregon hiking adventure had turned out to such a memorable one. There was the ever present smoke from Oregon fires, the choice to hike a trail called Misery Ridge , the grueling trudge through lava fields, camping in a forest dungeon, my ill-advised attempt to head further up Mt. Hood…But there was also spectacular mountain views, two luxurious night at Timberline Lodge, quiet nights camping in the forest and the satisfaction that at 82 I could still head out on my own and have one hell of a great adventure.
Uniquely Theo 