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.