Tilly Jane

It was the weekend, all my friends were busy, and I was hankerin' to ski up a forested trail.  But skiing outside of the resorts is normally not something done alone.  Hmmmm........How's a girl supposed to get her backcountry fix?

Have skis, will travel

Luckily, around the Mt. Hood area, ski trails abound - some of them well-used and located in areas relatively safe from avalanches.  One of these such routes is none other than the historic Tilly Jane Ski Trail.

Little snowman in the woods

I'd skied this trail a couple years before, with a Mazamas ski mountaineering class.  I remembered it passed through a ridge, once the site of a massive forest fire.  The old burned out trees opened up for some nice views.  Tilly Jane was also a very popular trail, so chances were good I wouldn't be alone.  Time for a revisit!

Skimpy snow in some places

Driving to the trailhead that morning, I was dismayed by the lack of snow along the roadside.  Once at the parking area, the first thing I did was check out conditions.  The trail was covered - just barely.  A narrow ribbon of icy snow clung to the tread.  Although things didn't look real promising, I strapped on my skis and headed up anyway, hoping coverage would improve higher up.

Signs, signs, everywhere signs.....

The first half mile was a challenge.  I dodged rocks, fallen trees, and even crossed a couple of swampy creeks.  I had to take my skis off and walk a small distance through a couple patches of bare trail.  Finally, I reached the first big trail junction.  Signs were posted on several different trees, some fairly new, and others old and weather-beaten.  Several paths met here, but I was only interested in one - the route to Tilly Jane A-frame cabin.

Burned out forest

From here, the climbing began in earnest.  Snow coverage increased, and finally my trail was totally encased in white.  It was a relief to no longer dodge rocks and bushes.  A short distance later, I reached the edge of the Gnarl Ridge fire limits.

First Mt. Hood sighting

In the fall of 2008, a massive forest fire charred the woods in this area, threatened homes, and a nearby ski area.  Also in peril were the historic Tilly Jane A-frame cabin and the Cloud Cap Inn. Through hard work from brave firefighters, all these structures were spared from destruction.

Skiing selfie

The burned-out forest, although stark and ghostly, was actually quite scenic.  The charred stumps and bleached gray trunks lined an open ridge.  Lack of vegetation here provided some mighty fine views of the adjacent forested hills.

Rear view

I passed a large rock that was just begging me to set my camera on it.  Perfect prop for a few action selfies.

Follow the blue diamonds

Thanks to a well-trod track through the snow, the trail was easy to follow.  But occasional blue diamonds nailed into the trees helped with navigation.

Hood guides me on

The sun began to intermittently peep out of it's cloud cover.  When the woods brightened up, I'd quickly dig out my camera, trying to capture some of the stark gray trees against blue sky.  Cloud-cloaked Mt. Hood appeared above the skyline, guiding my path.

The sun breaks out

Although temps were beginning to warm, the snow remained quite icy.  Sliding along, I began to worry that the ski back down would be treacherous.  I'm not a fan of skiing on ice, especially in a treed slope.

Dead tree peek-a-boo

From the parking area, it's three miles and about 2000 vertical feet of climbing to reach the Tilly Jane cabin.  Well into late morning, I kept climbing short hills, thinking I'd see it at the crest.  But each time I reached the top, there was no cabin in sight. 

My friend the sunburst

I kept leapfrogging a snowshoeing couple with a large dog.  I'd get ahead and then stop to take photos, and they'd pass me by.  Finally I came upon them resting in a large treewell.  The man asked if I knew how far the cabin was.  I told him I thought we were close, but having only been up here once before, I wasn't exactly sure.  The man thanked me and said their dog was tired, so they were heading back down.

Mountain views in the distance

Upon parting with the snowshoers, I began climbing up another big hill.  Huffing and puffing, I decided if I didn't see that darn cabin soon, I was going to stop for lunch anyway.  Then I crested the hill, and up ahead in the woods was the peaked roofline of the Tilly Jane A-frame cabin.  It wasn't a quarter mile from where the other party had turned around.  They were so close!

Tilly Jane A-frame cabin

The Tilly Jane cabin was built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC).  This group also built the nearby historic Guard Station, and the ski trail I'd followed today.  The cabin is managed by the Oregon Nordic Club, and reservations are required to spend the night.

Although I'd reached the cabin over the noon hour, I found it deserted.  There were backpacks and sleeping bags inside, indicating it was occupied for the weekend.  I assumed the group staying here was probably out enjoying the fine day.

Skiing back through the woods

I ate my lunch at a nice sturdy table, enjoying the heat from a small fire smoldering in the wood stove.  Nice to have a warm shelter and dry place to sit.

Cool wispy clouds

I spent about 45 minutes at the cabin, eating, taking photos, and getting my skis ready for the downhill trip.  In that short time, the sun's mighty rays worked their magic on the snowy trail.  When I was ready to ski down, I found much to my delight, that the snow had been transformed from a stiff, icy crust to lovely soft corn.

Oh it was a fun trip downhill!  The sun was warm, the snow perfect.  I whooped and hollered as I zipped through the trees.  What took nearly three hours to climb, was covered in about 15 minutes of descent. 

Ending on one of Cooper Spur's ski runs

The last mile of trail, with it's skimpy snowpack, was just too bare to properly ski on.  I didn't want to scratch and ding my ski bases, so I loaded them onto my backpack and hiked the rest of the way out.  Upon reaching the big junction, I decided to take a different trail back.  I hiked over to the now-closed Cooper Spur Ski area.  Coming out on top of a ski run, I put my boards back on for one final downhill slide.

It was great to get outside on such a lovely winter's day and revisit a scenic and historic part of Mt. Hood.  And it was a great confidence builder for me to complete a solo backcountry ski tour.


Sharing with:  Weekly Top Shot.

Rained Out

 Rain is a four letter word.

Well, at least it is to skiers in the Pacific Northwest.  Nothing scares snowriders from the mountain like the threat of wet stuff.  But it wouldn't be a proper winter in the PNW without a few rain out days. 

Timberline Lodge, covered in snow

Ski areas here are prepared for the occasional soggy day of  "snain."  (Yes, that's what they call it on the snow reports - no self respecting ski area actually wants to admit it's raining.)  To keep their guests dry, resorts hand out dorky plastic bags with arm- and head-holes to slip over jackets.  This year I actually had the pleasure of wearing one of these nifty accessories on an especially wet ski day (sorry, no photos - didn't want to risk drenching my camera.)  And after bombing down Two Bowl, I got a backhanded compliment ("You ski pretty well for wearing a plastic bag") from some smart a$# man.

Snowcat close-up

A couple of weekends ago, my friend Katie and I planned another uphill assault on the Palmer Lift.  Checking weather reports the night before, rain was predicted to start at 4 pm the next day.  No problem - we planned to be done well before any moisture began falling from the sky.  When we met that morning, Katie informed me the forecast had changed - the rain's start time had been moved up to 1 pm.  Although it was cutting things close, we decided to go ahead with our tour, and turn back when things started getting soggy.

I attempt to conquer the big snowball

Katie and I arrived at Timberline Lodge to overcast skies thick with leaden gray clouds.  We hurried to get ready, and hit the trail around 9 am.  To get the farthest distance possible, the plan was to take minimal stops.  But right away I was distracted by a huge snowball on the side of the snowcat track.

Take that, snowball!

Who doesn't love playing with a giant snowball?  Think I can climb it?

Katie laughs at her goofy friend

Katie of course, couldn't do anything but laugh at her goofy friend.  And remind me that we needed to keep moving!

Slogging up the cat track

But once we passed the snowball, my friend and I settled into an uphill rhythm, following the bumpy track made by Timberline's many snowcats.  As we climbed, the mountain, far up ahead, guided us on.  

I get artsy fartsy

Mt. Hood's summit was cloaked in a swirling white lenticular cloud.  Although it didn't stand out much against the white overcast sky, while messing around in photoshop later I accidentally produced this artsy image.  And I kind of like it.  At least you can now see the mountain's features and the cloud stands out a bit better.

Our friend the snowcat at Silcox Hut

We made good time up to the Silcox Hut (a mid-mountain cabin that hosts overnight guests).  The wind was blasting our faces, so Katie and I sought shelter beside its walls, and downed a quick snack.  And I couldn't resist snapping a few more shots of the cool yellow snowcat that ferries visitors back and forth.

Clouds are getting thicker up high

But my friend and I couldn't linger long if we wanted to make the top of Palmer Lift and beat the rain.  So we pulled on another layer and continued our climb into the howling wind.  Up above Silcox Hut, the mountainside is totally exposed to the elements.  Sometimes conditions can be brutal.  I can tell you that day it wasn't much fun.  The wind stung our faces and chilled my hands.  At least the lift wasn't running, and uphill travel was allowed adjacent to the towers.  If visibility got bad, we'd have landmarks to follow.

Lenticular cloud over Hood

Looking back, I noticed a dark gray cloud hanging over the western sky.  It appeared as though rain was falling from it's underside.  Not a good sign.  Nearing the chairlift's halfway unloading point, I began to feel occasional drops strike my jacket.  Katie noticed too, but she was in denial.

Then the rain began to fall in earnest.  Katie looked at her watch.  The time was 11 am.  We both grumbled about the weatherman getting it wrong.  But now the question was, should we continue?

Looking down at the lift houses below

The decision was unanimous.  Neither one of us wanted to be stuck on the mountainside in a driving rainstorm.  Besides getting drenched, we were afraid visibility would quickly shrink.  It's no fun to try and pick your way downhill if you can't see.  Katie and I sadly pulled the climbing skins off our skis, and headed downhill.

A red snowcat is the only colorful thing in this landscape

Instead of enjoying lunch on top of the Palmer, we ate perched on a bench beside the lockers in the Timberline Day Lodge.  Katie loves Kahlua, and I'd packed a small bottle, planning to surprise her at the top.  But instead of enjoying a treat on the mountain, we ended up surreptitiously slipping shots in our hot chocolate.

Ah, skiing the PNW.  Sometimes it gets a little wet.  But although our uphill tour got cut short by r@#$ it was still great to get outside and play on my favorite mountain.


Sharing with:  Our World Tuesday.

(Almost) Spring Skiing

The calendar read March 7th.  Spring was still two full weeks away.

But don't tell that to Mt. Hood......

Sunny day!  Yahoo!

My ski-buddy Kim and I both had Friday off, and the weatherman predicted a warm, sunny day.  Time for a visit to the Hood to partake in some spring skiing! (even though it wasn't quite spring yet).

Ready for our first run

Although a week of constant mid-February snowstorms revived our skimpy snowpack, the weather this season has been more spring- than winter-like.  Another blogger complained that "PNW" (Pacific Northwest) stood for "Pacific No Winter."  But those who prefer their ski days sunny and warm were happy campers.

Cool cloud bank hovers over the valley

Kim and I certainly were smiling.  How can you not when the first ride up brings you views like these?

Looking into Heather Canyon

Due to the low snow, Heather Canyon, Mt. Hood Meadows' Expert area, had been off-limits most of the season.  But the fabulous February refill covered its slopes enough that the ropes were finally dropped.  Kim saw me staring longingly into the canyon and told me to go ahead and take a run (she doesn't do double blacks).  She promised to meet me at the bottom of Shooting Star lift.

Bottom of Heather Canyon

So I happily swished down the slope between Twilight and Moon Bowls.  Although a little icy on top, my ski edges soon found some soft fluff to bite into.  Although the slopes were pretty bumped up, I still had a fun ride down.  Upon hitting the bottom, I stopped to take in the beauty of this stark, snow-covered landscape.  Sitting in the bottom of a massive canyon makes you realize you're merely a speck in this great big ole world.

Riding the  lift out of Heather Canyon

Then it was a quick slide to the lift, and a fun ride up the steep canyon wall.

Approaching the Shooting Star Lift

And during the trip, plenty of photo ops.

Different perspective of the lift line

Passing over the Shooting Star chair gives one a different perspective of lift lines.

Kim waving to me from below

And a wave from Kim, waiting below.

Dramatic views from top of Cascade Lift

Post-lunch, the sun was out in full force.  My friend and I traveled to Cascade Chairlift, the highest place in the ski area.  Fantastic views could be found from every direction.

Gotta be careful!  (photo by Kim)

But lookout for the hazards!  Kim snapped this funny photo with her phone, and was nice enough to share.

Kim tryin' out some demo skis

The  intense solar energy worked it's magic on the snow, and by afternoon, it was lovely soft corn.  An absolute joy to ski through!  Crowds (what little there were) had tapered off, so lines were non-existent.  Kim and I made lap after lap, until our legs were crying for mercy.

Mountain and forest views

These ungroomed wind-blown drifts were probably my favorite run of the day.  It was big fun to slide up and down these small (and large) bumps.  I even caught a tiny bit of air!  (tee-hee!)

Hood is lookin' good

Ahhh..... blue skies, soft snow, no crowds, endless solar energy.  Who doesn't love spring skiing?  (Especially when it arrives early!)


Sharing with:  Weekly Top Shot.

Suddenly Spring

Winters in the Pacific Northwest can be downright dreary.  No, we normally don't get the cold and snow like many northern climates, but the endless gray cloudy days get old.  Combine lack of sunshine, lots of rain, and overall grayness, and the months from November to February can seem long and gloomy indeed.

Our first daffodil!

But then, in early March, something wonderful happens.  First, the daffodils rear their sunny yellow heads out of the cold soil.  Then, bright purple crocuses arrive on the scene.

The neighbor's crocuses about to open

And...the next week all the flowering trees erupt in frilly pink blossoms.  BAM!  Before you know it, everything is in bloom.

Water droplet dangles from a daffodil

Spring really snuck up on me this year.  The week after I spotted our daffodils sprouting flowers, every tree in the neighborhood burst into color.  I swear it all happened overnight.

Raindrops bead on daffodil leaves

There's a flowering pear tree in our front yard.  The tree isn't anything special 11 months out of the year.  But in March it decorates itself with lovely white blooms and pink-tinged buds.

Our floweriing pear tree is in bloom

The neighbors on our cross street also have some nice flowering trees.  This past sunny Saturday morning, I ran over with my camera to capture morning light on the blooms.

More lovely blossoms

Right now these bright yellow flowering trees can be found all over town.  Not sure what they are called (not much of an arborist, sorry!) but I know what I like to photograph.

Bright yellow flowers brighten a neighbor's tree

Our next-door neighbors have a giant weeping willow tree, that dangles over the fence into our yard.

Blossoms cascade down our neighbor's weeping willow

It was chock-full of cute little white flowers. 

Blossom close-up

The flowers began dropping from the tree's branches, decorating the ground below.  Even lying on the sidewalk, they're mighty pretty.

Fallen blooms decorate the sidewalk

Remember the photo of the closed crocus flowers at the beginning of this post?  Well, later that day I was delighted to pass by and discover their petals had opened.  And they were indeed lovely.

The crocuses are open!

Spring in Portland is colorful and glorious.  Bursting onto the scene like a delightful surprise, it's our reward for enduring the long, dark, gray months of winter.


Sharing with:  Our World Tuesday.