Groundhog Day Adventure

I really wanted to do a bunch of snowshoe trips this season.  However, despite good intentions my snowshoes have only tasted the white stuff twice thus far.  It's been a weird winter - after a week of snowstorms in early January, the precip pipeline went dry for the rest of the month.  February brought a few small snow events in the mountains, but nothing with huge accumulations.

Snowshoeing is so much better with fresh snow.  Here in the Pacific NW our snow is wet, and it doesn't take much to get packed down and icy.  When conditions are like this, you might as well ditch the snowshoes, don microspikes, and turn things into a hike.  Since icy trails didn't appeal to me, my snowshoes sat idle all of January.  Until a promising forecast the first week of February caught my attention.

Near the trailhead

The mountain snow report on February 2nd looked good - promising several inches of the white stuff.  Although I'd traveled up to Mt Hood for skiing the day before and planned another ski trip for the 3rd, I couldn't pass up the rare chance to showshoe on fresh powder.  So early that morning found me in my car once again heading up the icy roads to Mt. Hood, destination Barlow Pass Trailhead.

Wilderness area sign

Barlow Pass is on the old Barlow Road, an alternative route of the Oregon Trail.  Pioneers not wishing to brave the harrowing journey rafting down the Columbia River often chose to lead their wagons over the imposing Cascade Mountains and follow this road.  Barlow Pass has the distinction of being at the crest of the Cascades, a milestone in the pioneer's travel.  In modern days, the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) passes through here, one of several trails hikers can now explore.  (In keeping with the area's past history, there's also a path to the grave of an unknown pioneer woman)

Branches loaded with heavy snow

There were only two other vehicles at the trailhead.  A man with skis emerged from one and promptly took off down one of the trails.  Strapping on my snowshoes, I stomped through the new-fallen snow with delight.  There was a good four inches on the ground and it was light, fluffy powder.  Yeah!  Conditions couldn't have been better.

Everything is white

My plan for the day was to take the PCT southbound for about 2 miles until it intersected with the trail to Upper Twin Lake.  I'd then take this 1.5-ish mile trail to Upper Twin Lake.  A trek I'd done before, it topped out at 7.5 miles round-trip.  

Bunny tracks

Although there was already a set of ski tracks through the snow, I broke my own trail beside them.  Good backcountry etiquette dictates that snowshoers stay out of skier's tracks.  Snowshoes mess up the ski tracks which can be hazardous for cross country skiers.  (I realize that many snowshoers either don't know this or don't care because in some high use areas ski tracks are routinely obliterated by snowshoers)

Nothing to see on Tri-County Ridge

The new snow was plastered on the trunks of trees and covered their branches.  It was quite beautiful, necessitating frequent photo stops.  Besides ski tracks, the only other thing marring this lovely white carpet was a set of animal prints leading off through the forest (probably a bunny, I guessed).

Flocked trees

About a mile southbound on the PCT I'd heard of a side trail branching off that led hikers uphill to a fabulous view of Mt. Hood.  The place was either called Ghost Ridge or Tri-County Ridge, depending on which hiking website you were viewing.  Upon reaching this junction, I noticed the set of ski tracks heading uphill towards the ridge.  Should I venture up there too?  It was a foggy, overcast day so chances of any type of view were nil.  In the end, curiosity got the better of me, so I turned and went up the ridge. 

Looking out over the frozen forest

After a hard climb of nearly 3/4 of a mile I emerged into a clearing.  Heavily snow-flocked trees appeared like ghosts through the thick fog.  Every direction I looked was obscured by a curtain of white.  I'd heard on a clear day views here were stupendous, but right now there was absolutely nothing to see.  I'd huffed and puffed up here for naught. 

Finally the Twin Lakes trail!

At least the journey back downhill to the PCT was much easier.  And once reconnecting with the PCT, I commenced breaking my own trail, as the ski tracks had ended at the uphill path to the ridge.  After a very long half mile (those trail stretchers were at it again!) I finally reached the junction with the Upper Twin Lakes Trail.

Woodpeckers were busy

This new trail took me downhill through more untracked snow.  It was a joy to be able to walk wherever I wanted without worrying about messing up skier tracks.  I passed an old tree full of woodpecker holes that was interesting.  Then I made my way through a large clearing, where at another trail junction, I picked up my skier friend's tracks once again.

Bird Butte summit - high point of my trek

From here the trail switchbacked steeply uphill to the summit of Bird Butte.  At 4,560 feet this was the high point of my trek.  I paused for a photo with the sign for posterity (and also for my 2022 hiking challenge blog page).

Upper Twin Lake was socked in

It was all downhill from here to the lake.  A quick shuffle through the trees and I arrived at the snowy shore.  With the overcast skies there wasn't much to see.  But I snapped a few pics before settling down to a quick lunch break.

Lunchtime view (or lack thereof)

After lunch I donned my backpack and set out once again, retracing my path through the snow.  On the uphill to Bird Butte I met a couple of skiers coming down who thanked me for not walking in their tracks.  However, clomping my way back through the meadow to the place where I had broken a lone path through the snow, I was disappointed to see the skiers had made their tracks right through my snowshoe path.  Guess it doesn't work both ways?

Backcountry etiquette - separate tracks for skis and snowshoes

The boots I use for snowshoeing tend to rub in the heels if I do too much uphill hiking.  I know this, and usually take preventative measures beforehand to ensure blisters don't form.  But today I forgot all about doing this, and as a result, my feet reminded me of my oversight about halfway back.  Although I know very well you're supposed to stop and apply moleskin or some other bandage to prevent further damage and discomfort, I didn't want to take the time to do this.  It would've required not only removing my boots and socks, but also my snowshoes.  This would burn too much time, I reasoned.  I'm almost back, I can make it!

Snowy PCT sign

Onward I limped, reaching the PCT once again.  Only two miles to go!  But, boy were they long miles.  My heels hurt with every step, even more so when I had to plow through snow or go uphill.  But I gritted my teeth and carried on.  By now temperatures had risen to above freezing and the morning's nice fluffy powder had transformed to heavy, wet snow.  

Finally reaching the car, I gratefully pulled off my boots and discovered (surprise!) huge, tender blisters on both heels.  (That's what you get for not stopping and taking care of things.)  The man who had started skiing at the same time as I did this morning finished his journey within five minutes of me.  We chatted at our vehicles for a moment before I bid him goodbye.

The return trip seemed endless

Although this happened to be Groundhog Day, I highly doubt there were any groundhogs in the forest.  Even if there were, with the day's overcast conditions there's no way one would've seen his shadow.  As a lover of snow and cold, I'm probably the only person wishing for a sunny Groundhog Day, because I want 6 more weeks of winter.  Sadly not this year!