Mt. Hood Oregon

I Had Better Watch My Reputation

uniquelytheo6 Comments

I woke up the morning of the sixth day eager to break camp and head back up to Mt. Hood and Timberline Lodge. I made short work of breaking camp. Since most of what I had been camping with would need to be cleaned once I got home, there seemed little point in carefully folding and packing everything as I normally would. I pretty much stuffed it all in my car and called that good enough! I still love camping and undoubtedly will do more of it, but I think I have established one important criterion for future trips: no more forest dungeons!

Once everything was packed, I headed out for my hike of the day. I knew I would not be able to get into the Lodge until mid-afternoon, so I had plenty of time. And don’t be shocked — I had chosen another easy hike: the Trillium Lake Trail. I was no longer looking for a hike that would prove my character. I had proved my character several times already and frankly my character was exhausted.

When I got close to the park entrance however I encountered a tent to collect fees for Trillium Lake.  I got into  a verbal altercation with the fee collectors because I was convinced that, as a Golden Age passport holder, I should not have to pay anything extra. This was National Forest Land, after all and I assumed my pass covered tit.  I proceeded to ask the fee collector just what they would do if I drove on ahead and did not pay the fee. But I knew I had lost the battle and  I soon relented and ponied up the fee. I was however so tempted to see what would happen if I did cruise on in, especially since there was a long line of cars now behind me waiting to pony up their fee.

I eventually discovered that the Forest Service and National Park Service sometimes contract with private concessionaires to operate certain facilities and collect fees.

Once I got over being mad about it, I cautiously enjoyed the hike. Cautiously because I was beginning to worry that these easy drama-free hikes were becoming a habit. I could not let that continue. After all, I had a reputation of questionable judgement to maintain that I had work so hard on this trip to establish.

The trail was relatively level, with wonderful views of Mt. Hood, boardwalks crossing wetlands, and compact gravel sections along the shores of this beautiful lake. The rational self thought that this is just what I need but my inner skeptic wasn’t so sure. It was akin to a stroll in the park rather than a hike in the wilderness. There were families out walking, individual fishermen casting their lines, picnickers enjoying the shoreline, and one or two brave paddle-boarders venturing out onto what I assumed was extremely chilly water.

At what I thought was the end of the trail I arrived at a familiar dock area and headed off to find my car. Of course the car was nowhere in sight. Alas, another opportunity to test my not-very-astute navigational skills. I wandered around in circles for a while, trying to look like I knew exactly where I was headed. Eventually I came across another Y in the road and I followed it. Lo and behold, there was another identical dock and with minimal searching I found the car. This whole episode is laughable. Apparently even an easy hike can turn in to an adventure when one’s sense of direction was questionable.

Satisfied with my Trillium  Lake outing, I headed up to Timberline. It was around noon and my room would not be ready until about 1:30. But hanging out in this beautiful, historic hotel was hardly a hardship.  Before long I was ensconced in my “preferred room.”  Having seen pictures of the room, I basically knew what to expect.  But somehow, once I was actually inside it, I was face to face with how small this room actually was. My friend Lorraine had originally planned to join me, and I found myself laughing at the thought of the two of us trying to maneuver around and tripping over  each other. For some reason I had assumed the room in  this pricy hotel would be total luxury.  Well…not exactly.

This old historic building , of course had no central air or heat. Instead , guest are provided with a pop-in screen for the window and a free standing fan. The walls are beautifully wood paneled but not much in the way of sound proofing. I could clearly hear the conversation of the people in the room next door. Finding enough outlets for all my electronic devices was another challenge. Somewhere in the room I was sure there was an outlet behind a piece of furniture which I couldn’t move. All these tech gadgets would now have to take turns .

But the bed was luxurious and I LOVED every bit of it. After five nights of sleeping on a cot in my tent, I was probably predisposed to find most any real bed luxurious. But still it did seem to achieve a level of luxury I hadn’t experience in a long time and now was the most important feature in the room. I parked my self on that bed and enjoyed a quiet afternoon.

Yes, you heard that right: a quiet afternoon. No packing, no hiking uphill, no getting lost. Just me, the bed and a book.

After five nights of camping, I had decided I deserved a little pampering so I had made a reservation for dinner in the main dining room and it turned out to be quite an lovely experience. The setting, the food, and the service were all wonderful. The prices were another matter. With the least expensive entrees in the  $50.00 range, it was a serious departure from my camping meals which typically are all dehydrated backpacker fare –  just add water.  But after five nights of cots, camp food, and forest dungeons I decided it was a splurge worth making. I had an extremely solicitous waiter, a delicious meal, and only minor regrets about a one hundred dollars plus meal (for one). 

After dinner I went back outside to see what was happening with the fires. They were definitely in full swing with smoke flooding the valleys to the east creating a haze ominous landscape. But when I turned and looked south it was an entirely different world. The air was clear, the mountains stretched out layer upon layer. I was reminded that despite the comfort and history surrounding me  at Timberline Lodge, the wildfires were still very much a factor to be considered.  I had spent the day moving from a dark campsites to an historic lodge, from one dock to another, from an argument about a small inconsequential fee to a very expensive dinner. But I reminded myself that something far more serious was taking place out east. The fires offered smoke, uncertainty, and a reminder that nature still is in charge and has the final word.

What Normal People Call a Vacation

uniquelytheo3 Comments

I awoke on day five with a very modest agenda: drive up to Timberline Lodge, get the lay of the land,  and try to determine whether the wildfires were going to interfere with this chapter of my Mt. Hood adventure — or perhaps more importantly would I have to abandon my beloved “forest dungeon.”

The wildfires were a constant back drop to the trip.  Every day brought another question. Where is the Grasshopper fire now? Which way is the wind blowing?  Was the area going to be evacuated as it is 12 miles east of Timberline Lodge in the Mt. Hood Wilderness? Is my campground affected? Clearly not the normal questions I would be asking when planning a vacation day.

As I approached Timberline I discovered this active  fire was still burning steadily sending up plumes of smoke. Thank goodness the wind was keeping it there. The Lodge and the surrounding area were under an alert to be prepared for a possible evacuation and the winds had consistently been blowing east rather than towards the lodge. Clearly no reason to panic I say. But then no one would expect otherwise from me. 

One of the things I basically wanted to do while up there was hike another section of the Pacific Crest Trail.  I had again been thinking about my son Nick and his fiancee heading out from there on the PCT in 2005 and it was a good opportunity to experience more of the trail itself.

Unlike some previous experiences, finding the trail was not in this case a navigational triumph.  There was a sign that essentially said “All Trails This Way.” And then something remarkable happened.  

I had a sane hike!

There were other hikers on the trail, mostly casual day hikers, and naturally I passed every one of them. I definitely did not want anyone to get the impression that I had suddenly become a cautious sensible hiker who had learned from previous experiences. I hadn’t. I still had absolutely no idea what the terrain ahead was going to look like. I simply happened to get lucky.

I hiked north on the PCT for about an hour before turning around at ZIg-Zag Canyon and headed back to the lodge. It was actually a very satisfying little hike and i had completed it with no major orthopedic negotiations. 


But somewhere along the way the thought took hold. Why exactly was I camping in a forest dungeon when I could be staying up here at Timberline Lodge. I deemed this an excellent question. The lodge is historic with its rustic character, massive hand-hewn timbers, carved woodwork, massive stone fireplaces … not the typical feel of a hotel but a grand mountain lodge. From the lodge, the views open across the rugged mountain slope of Mt. Hood and sweeping mountain vistas.

So upon my return from the hike I made what I considered a brilliant decision. I checked to see if there might possibly be a room available for the following night.

There was!

And not just any room. My preferred room was available. By “preferred” of course I mean the least expensive room. At $339.00 a night, it was hardly a bargain, but after several nights of sleeping on a cot, crawling into a tent, and negotiating dirt and tree roots, it certainly seemed like a tremendous value. I took delight in the thought this would be my last night in the forest dungeon.

The campground itself was tucked down a very dark forest road.  It made it feel remote enough to feel isolated bot not remote enough to escape the highway noise. At night when I was hoping for the peaceful sounds of the forest, what I got instead was the steady drone  of truck tires rolling along the highway above. This soundtrack of 18 wheelers was not soothing, or remotely charming .  It was simply annoying especially when I was trying to get to sleep.

But in fairness, the campsite was not that bad. It was spacious. There were no mosquitos or other aggressive members of the insect world and after I resupplied with ice and other necessities, I settled in for a pleasant evening. The only real problem was the ground itself. I had begun to think of the campsite as a “tripping route” thanks to all the roots sticking up everywhere to test my balance and reflexes.

I had a comfortable evening. No drama, no search for shade, no lava, no questionable decisions involving difficult terrain. And that may be why the day felt so strange. It did not feel like a day I normally associate with my vacations. There was no ordeal to conquer, no ridiculous challenge to overcome, no moment when I wondered if I had made a spectacularly bad decision. I simply drove up a mountain, watched a wildfire smoke show, hike a lovely section of the PCT, found a room at Timberline Lodge, and returned to camp.

Perhaps this is what normal people call a vacation. I am not entirely sure I ready for that.

Apparently I still Think This Is a Good Idea! @82

uniquelytheo3 Comments

It had been over two years since I had packed up my camping gear and headed into the wilderness. As someone who loves camping, I was feeling the pull to head out again but had no specific impetus or goal to prompt me to make a specific plan.  Then a close friend mentioned that she would be camping with her daughter near Mt. Hood.  That was all the encouragement I needed. I would take a camping trip in Oregon of my own, meet up with her for some day hikes and then spend a night with her up at  the historic Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood.

Getting ready for the trip brought with it a surprising amount of trepidation. My plan was to spend time in two areas of Oregon — the Three Sisters area near Bend, Oregon and the forests surrounding Mt. Hood. But, there was another question lurking in the back of my mind! At 82, could I still actually enjoy doing this. It wasn’t backpacking and hauling a forty-pound pack around and I would have my car and thus could bring a few “luxuries” which one has to forgo when backpacking. But camping involves a significant amount of physical activity even when my car, Lady Spitfire, is sitting 20 feet away: the tent to put up, gear to haul around, sleeping arrangement to assemble, meals to prepare, and perhaps most notably, the undignified challenges of getting in and out of the tent all the while trying to prevent any flying critters from attempting to become tent-mates. Did I still have the agility to crawl through that little opening without getting stuck somehow half-in and half-out. Would getting out in the chill of the morning be an adventure in itself in order to obtain a hot cup of coffee to jump start my day or a excruciating undertaking. Would camping still be fun?

Then came the time to open the storage bins and then discovering and sorting all the family equipment: re-introducing myself  to my own outdoor equipment; and, wondering if the forests would still be there when I arrived. It was Oregon’s fire season.  Wildfires were raging throughout the state with a major fire burning 12 miles east of Mt. Hood and not wanting my planned adventure interrupted by a wall of flames.

Then came the plot twist.  My friend’s family camping trip was cancelled.  Do I cancel or go anyway. With all the preparation work done I decided to go with one simple rule:. I was going unless conditions reached a Level 3 evacuation for my intended destinations. 

What started out as a trip built partly around meeting a friend suddenly became something entirely different: a six night solo adventure through the mountains and forests of Oregon, with wildfires nearby, an assortment of camping gear I was assuming still worked, and absolutely no guarantee that my original plans would survive the first day.