Snowshoeing. Finally.

Posted on January 26, 2014 by Maria Langer

More like iceshoeing, if you ask me.

When I decided to spend the winter at my new home in Malaga, WA, I decided to embrace the winter. After all, it was the first real winter I would experience since leaving New Jersey for Arizona in 1997. And, from what I could see, the winter was likely to be about the same as the winters I’d experienced back east — perhaps a little milder but with a little more snow. Perfect for winter sports.

Embracing Winter Sports

Back in my New York and New Jersey days, I did some cross-country skiing — although not enough to ever get good at it. I discovered just how rusty and inexperienced I was when I went cross-country skiing up in the Methow Valley for Christmas. I had a great time, but also learned that I certainly need more practice.

Back in my east coast days, I also did some sledding, tobogganing, and ice skating — but very little of all three in my adult years. (I do vividly remember dislocating my shoulder on a Girl Scout skate outing — the troop leaders were convinced I’d broken my collarbone and the X-rays showed nothing because my shoulder had popped itself back into place before they could get me to the hospital.)

But snowshoeing? That was something that people back east just never did. In fact, whenever I conjured up an image of snowshoes, I saw wooden frames similar to the business end of a tennis racket strapped onto someone’s feet. Was that from cartoons or old movies?

When I moved out here, however, everyone was talking about snowshoeing and I soon realized that it was the winter version of hiking. I love to hike — it’s great exercise and a wonderful way to spend time outdoors with friends and my dog. Surely I’d love to go snowshoeing. I put snowshoes on my Christmas wish list and my brother sent them to me — thanks, Norb! I’d already outfitted myself with all the warm winter clothes I’d need to stay cozy while out in the snow.

But what snow? That was the problem.

Where’s the Snow?

This is my first winter in north central Washington state. I was here for a week last January, just to see what it was like. There was about 4-8 inches of snow on the ground, depending on where I was. No fresh snow fell during that time, but it stayed cold enough to keep the snow from melting.

Everyone told me that it usually starts snowing in December here and that it snows periodically through January and into February. They even said that April snowstorms aren’t unusual. Surely snow must be common — after all, there’s a ski resort right outside of town!

Weatherspark Snow
Here’s what Weatherspark has to say about snowfall averages in Wenatchee.

And things did start off promising. It snowed right around the time I moved into the house I’m caring for this winter — December 1 or thereabouts. There was about 2-3 inches on the ground — not quite enough to get the driveway plowed, but enough to see my truck’s tracks in the snow. I even bought a snow shovel, which I used to push the snow off the pathway so I wouldn’t track it in the house.

But that was it. It got warm enough over time to melt all that snow away. Then very cold and warm and cold and not so cold. It was always cold enough for it to snow out — daytime temperatures hovered around 30°F — there simply wasn’t any moisture in the air.

Or, actually, there was. But it came in the form of Wenatchee’s famous winter fog.

Understand that although I do live in Washington, I don’t live anywhere near Seattle or the ocean. This fog is a completely different from what you might expect in a coastal region. It apparently forms when there’s stagnant air — indeed, we’ve been under an air stagnation advisory for nearly two weeks now. That means no wind. None at all. Air quality isn’t affected — the air is crisp and clean. But a layer of clouds forms over the valley and sometimes dips quite low. More than once, the house I’m living in now (elevation 1200 feet) was in those clouds. Another time, it was above them.

Above the Clouds
The view out my window about a month ago. Have I already shared this? I really love this shot!

For some reason, this year we’re getting lots of that fog but none of the usual snow. And it’s not just Wenatchee, which sits at about 600 feet elevation. It’s also Leavenworth, which is the closest cross-country ski and snowshoeing area. There just isn’t any snow.

Showshoeing at the Fish Hatchery

I set up a snowshoeing outing for my favorite local Meetup group, the Wenatchee Social & Outdoor Adventure Group. It was a free outing at the Leavenworth Fish Hatchery, sponsored by Friends of Northwest Hatcheries. It included a 2-hour walk along hatchery trails, guided by naturalists. Snowshoes would be provided.

Of course, I brought my own. I went with my friend Tim — who seems to know everyone everywhere we go. We got there early and Tim wasted no time chatting with one of the guides while I went to check out the salmon fry in huge tanks in their indoor facility. (I could go into a lot of detail about what they do at this hatchery, but I’ll save it for another blog post — probably one after a springtime visit to the trails.) After a while, another four people joined us. Then a second guide arrived and we were ready to go.

Although there was no snow, our guides insisted that we bring and later put on snowshoes. The trouble was the ice — everywhere the snow had melted into pools had turned into patches of ice. Some of them were quite large. All of them were pretty slippery. One of the guides, Janet, said she didn’t want to be calling any ambulances today. Apparently she’d been calling them periodically over the past few weeks.

The three of the four later arrivals — all of whom traveled from Oregon for the weekend, I might add — came without snowshoes. We stopped at a shed along the way and Janet handed them out. Then we got on the trail along Icicle Creek. When the ice began covering too much of the trail to stay off it, we put on our snowshoes and continued on our way.

Maria on Snowshoes
Tim took this picture of me in the snowiest spot we could find.

This was my first time wearing snowshoes. I didn’t have much trouble putting them on over my big Sorrel snow boots once I figured out how the straps worked. Soon I was crunch-crunch-crunching over the ice with my companions. The sound was deafening as the metal spikes at the bottom of the shoes stabbed through the ice, pushed down mercilessly by the weight of person above them. Whenever the guides wanted to tell us about something along the trail, we all had to stop and stand still just to hear them.

But what I liked most about them was that with them on my feet, I wasn’t going to slip one single inch.

We walked for about two hours stopping here and there along the trail. We learned about the various types of fir and other evergreen trees, including the incorrectly named Douglas Fir, which isn’t a fir at all. We saw tiny birds flittering about the trees over head, bear scratches on tree bark, beaver dams, and water-carved ice floes. We learned about various unusual local plants (like horsetail) and how they were originally used by the native people who once inhabited this area. I soon realized that we were on a very large and complex trail system that would be great to explore on foot in the spring, summer, or fall.

I would have taken pictures along the way, but I managed to leave my phone behind in the Jeep. That just gives me an excuse to come back with my Nikon, long lens, and monopod. Apparently the area is a prime site for bird watching, with plenty of viewing blinds along Icicle Creek. A springtime hike with Penny and my camera should be lots of fun, with plenty of photos to share.

We were back at the Visitor Center by 3 PM and heading back to Wenatchee a while later. I was glad to have had the chance to finally give my snowshoes a try. Tim tells me they’re a lot more fun when there’s a nice deep base of snow. Somehow, however, I suspect I’ll have to wait until next year to experience that.

The Hidden Lake Adventure

Posted on January 5, 2014 by Maria Langer

A short hike with a twist at the end.

I belong to several Meetup groups in the Wenatchee area, including the Weekly Hikes group — which doesn’t actually do hikes weekly. (As a matter of fact most of the Meetup groups I belong to in the Wenatchee area don’t do anything regularly, but I’m working on that in one group.) Len, a member of the Weekly Hikes group who lives up in the Leavenworth area, suggested a hike up to Hidden Lake, near Lake Wenatchee. I suggested it to my friend, Tim, who joined the group. The three of us did the hike on Saturday.

Tim and I drove up to the Park and Ride at “The Y” (where Route 97 breaks away from Route 2) with our two dogs in my Jeep. When Len arrived to meet us, he suggested going in his truck. I had no problem with that. Not only was it new and comfortable, but it would be a lot quieter than my Jeep. It also gave us the added benefit of getting to know each other before the hike. It would be at least a 30 minute drive to the trailhead. So we loaded our stuff and dogs into the truck and headed to Lake Wenatchee.

It was a nice drive with good conversation, mostly about Meetup groups and activities in the area. We all have one thing in common: we’re divorced and interested in meeting people to do things with — and form new, more intimate relationships. Our ages are pretty close, too, so we’re all on pretty much the same page. It was a pleasure to just chat with interesting people about things that matter to all of us.

One thing we talked about a lot was the snow — or lack of it. This is my first full winter in the Wenatchee area, so I really don’t know what to expect. But most folks have been telling me that there’s usually a lot more snow by this time of year, especially up near Leavenworth and Lake Wenatchee. Although we did pass the Tumwater Campground, which was closed for camping but open for cross-country skiing and we did see some people there on skis, conditions looked pretty bad and very icy.

The Wenatchee River, which we drove along for quite some time, looked great. Lots of water rushing through and around icy patches. It was still pretty cold that day — I don’t think it got above freezing in the shade — but I’m sure there was ice and snow melting in the sunlight somewhere upriver. As Len pointed out, we’re going to be in big trouble if we don’t get more snow on the mountains before spring. Yes, there’s a lot more water in Central Washington than there was in Arizona, but it still mostly comes from snowmelt. We don’t get the kind of rain they get on the coast.

We made the turn off Route 2 toward Lake Wenatchee. We passed by several campgrounds that were closed and full of ice but had very little snow. We followed Cedar Brae Road, which wound up along the south shore of Lake Wenatchee. It was quiet and the glimpses I caught of the lake between the tall pine trees and vacation homes showed smooth, glassy water. The pavement ended and the gravel road that continued into the forest had icy patches. The road got narrower and narrower. Then Len made a left turn down a short drive and parked at the Hidden Lake Trailhead.

Hidden Lake Trailhead
Here’s where the trailhead is in relation to Lake Wenatchee. This Google Maps terrain image even shows the trail that winds up to the lake.

We got out and organized our gear. I was warmly dressed in my new Under Armor ColdGear shirt and leggings with a sweatshirt and water proof shell on top and a pair of Under Armor outer layer pants on bottom. I was also wearing thick wool socks and my new Sorel boots, which I’d only worn briefly once so far. And I had a pair of YakTrax Pros in my daypack, just in case I needed more traction. My Buff, which I’d worn as a neck cover, could be pulled up to make a balaclava — which is exactly what I wound up doing. I had some more clothes in my daypack, along with some snacks and my Nikon camera.

While the guys used the pit toilet, I put Penny’s parka on her. I had her boots in my daypack, but because there was no snow, I didn’t think she’d need them. My daypack had enough free space to put her in there if she got so cold that she needed to be carried.

There was no snow. None at all. It was weird. We were at about 2100 feet elevation and it was winter in the mountains but there was no snow.

There were lots of fallen trees, though. As we began the hike up the trail, Len told us about a hike he’d done earlier in the season on the other side of Lake Wenatchee, on Dirty Face Mountain. There had been some heavy wind and he heard a loud crack sound. A tree about 30 feet away broke in two halfway up and came crashing down near him. He said that it happened almost in slow motion so he didn’t really feel any danger, but it was still scary. The situation was serious enough to warrant an article in the Wenatchee World about the danger, especially after two people were killed when a falling tree fell on their vehicle near Stevens Pass.

Dirty Face Peak
This is the best shot I could get of Dirty Face — there were just too many trees in the way!

The forest was full of huge pines that stretched straight up to the sky. The trail was clear — someone with a chainsaw had been busy cutting away any tree trucks that had blocked it. Although we were totally in the shade, the sun shone brightly on the granite rocks of Dirty Face, across the lake. It dominated the landscape on that side, with just enough snow to make it picture postcard perfect — if I could get a shot of it through the trees.

The trail was icy in places, but not icy enough to put on my YakTrax. Penny and Tim’s dog, Banjo, ran ahead of us on the trail, making occasional forays into the forest on either side of the trail. At one point, Banjo stood stubbornly at the base of a tree, looking up. There was a squirrel up there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a squirrel out in the winter time.

Hidden Lake was completely covered with thick ice. A big family with kids was standing near the shore. Banjo wasted no time bringing a stick for the kids to throw and they wasted no time throwing it. Banjo didn’t seem the least bit concerned about running on the ice, but Penny stayed clear — at least in the beginning.

Hidden Lake was frozen. Although it was a bright, sunny day, it was gray over the lake in the shadows of the mountains to the south. I doubt if the lake ever sees the sun this time of year.

Our group of three gathered at a huge fallen log, where Len set up a camp stove and boiled water for hot cocoa. We talked about camping and laughed about eating things while camping — like instant hot cocoa out of semi-clean cups — that we’d never dream of eating at home. The only thing I had to drink cocoa from was the collapsable water bowl I’d brought along for Penny. I gave it a quick rinse and mixed cocoa in it without a second thought. Later, I rinsed it again and filled it with cold water from my pack for Banjo and Penny.

We spent about an hour there at the lake. The family hiked around, then left back down the trail. A couple carrying a baby came up, walked around briefly, and left.

Gaia GPS Hidden Lake
Here’s what Hidden Lake looked like on Gaia GPS with our track shown. This may have been the first time in my life that I walked across a frozen lake.

All the time we were there, we heard rushing water across the lake but had no idea where the sound was coming from. I had the Gaia GPS app on my phone and had loaded it in advance with topo maps of the area. It showed two streams across the lake, but we couldn’t see either one. There was no trail on the other side; the steep hill came right down to the water’s edge. With lots of footprints already on the lake’s icy surface, we decided to explore. Cautiously, at first, we ventured out onto the ice. It looked to be at least four to six inches thick. Slowly, we made our way across the ice, looking at the huge cracks that ran here and there across its surface. Finally, nearly on the other side, we saw the stream that was making all the noise. It wasn’t very big; it must have been the shape of the land around us that magnified the sound.

We packed up and headed back down the trail a little while later. The hike was pretty much uneventful.

At the truck, however, there was a problem: Len’s keyless entry fob would not work.

At first, we thought it might just have a cold battery. He warmed it up in his pocket and in his hand. No joy. It soon became clear that we’d need to summon help. Len has AAA and hiked down the road a bit to get a better cell phone signal so he could call.

Campfire
Len finally got this fire going. We would have made a better fire pit, but the rocks were frozen to the ground.

Although we weren’t cold — yet — Tim and I tried to start a fire for warmth. There was plenty of wood — why isn’t there this much wood when I go camping? Trouble was, it was all frosty wet. We couldn’t even get pine needles to catch. We tried a few times and pretty much gave up. I discovered along the way that my business cards are apparently fireproof. (Note to self: add waterproof matches and fire starter to emergency kit.)

Len to the rescue! When he got back from making his call, he gave it a try, using some toilet paper he had in a plastic bag in his pack as a starter. The dry paper did the trick. Although the fire got off to a slow start, by the time help arrived 90 minutes later, the fire was burning well enough for Penny and I to sit beside it for warmth.

The tow company guy used an inflatable pouch to open a crack in the window. He then inserted a wire device to grab the door lock and pull it up. (Seriously: when you see how easy it is to break into a vehicle with the right tools, you wonder why you bother to lock it at all.) The alarm sounded immediately, but Len shut it down quickly. A short while later, we were on the road, heading back toward Leavenworth and the Y.

The Three Hikers
We posed for a picture before heading out. Left to right: me, Tim, Len. I’m holding Penny and Banjo is on the ground.

Len dropped us off, thanking us for our patience. It wasn’t a big deal to me. The bad key fob had turned a short hike into a little adventure. My gear kept me warm enough and I had plenty to snack on.

Tim and I got back into my Jeep with the dogs and our gear. We made one stop on the way back to Wenatchee: Country Boys BBQ in Cashmere. Great food!

It had been a nice day out with friends. Funny how I’d been afraid of winter when I first decided to spend the winter here. I’m not afraid anymore. With the right gear and friends to spend time with, it’s all good.

A Christmas Ski Trip, Day 3: Skiing and Wine Tasting

Posted on December 30, 2013 by Maria Langer

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I finish up my three-day trip with some more skiing and a stop for some wine and lunch at a favorite winery.

(This story has three other parts: Prelude, Day 1, and Day 2.)

I would have slept better if I weren’t so darn sore. In cross-country skiing the day before, I’d used muscles I forgot I had. Overnight, they started complaining about that, leaving me with aches and pains in my upper arms, shoulders, hips, and lower legs.

Three ibuprofen with my morning coffee certainly helped. After letting Penny out to do her business, I breakfasted on the leftover meat plate from the day before, the remains of that 1-pound Honeycrisp apple, and yogurt.

I showered and packed up at a leisurely pace, putting my “street clothes” in my day pack so I could change somewhere before starting the drive home. I layered up in my ski clothes. Penny and I took a little walk around the area. We met up with our downstairs neighbor and his dog, a border collie and chatted for a while. Then I packed up the Jeep, locked the loft cabin, and headed out with Penny.

At Mazama

We took the same route we’d taken the day before to Mazama: Wolf Creek Road. I really liked the quiet drive through the snow-covered forest of tall pines. I felt as if I could have driven along that road all day. The words for the song “Sleigh Ride” kept coming to my mind. It was indeed a “wonderland of snow.” I honestly didn’t realize how much I missed the snow until I got an opportunity to spend so much time in it.

In Mazama, my first stop was the Mazama Store. I’d bought a fleece sweater there two days before and it was too big. Although I’d wanted it for skiing, my trip was nearly over so I figured I’d just return it and get my money back. If they’d been open the day before, I would have exchanged it for a smaller size. Their loss.

Next, I headed back to the Goats Beard Mountain Supplies shop to see if they had any post-Christmas specials. It was a nice shop with lots of winter and climbing gear — nearby Goat Wall is apparently a popular climbing spot in the summer. But as I expected in a small gear shop in a winter tourist destination, no deals were to be had.

Finally, I wandered over to the Mazama Country Inn for breakfast. (I got into the habit of having two breakfasts most mornings when I was dieting back in 2012. It’s pretty easy to do when you wake up as early as I often do.) Eggs over medium, thick bacon cooked to perfection, and a toasted whole wheat English muffin with orange marmalade. What else could I ask for.?

On the way out, I stopped in the ladies room. I realized it would be a perfect place to change my clothes before heading home.

A Little More Skiing

It was close to 11 AM when I drove the Jeep over to the parking area for the easy ski trails I’d practiced at the day before. I wanted to do a few miles just to work on my balance and get my muscles moving again. Because I was able to park in the sun and there were very few people around, I decided to leave Penny behind. She was curled up in her bed, wearing her winter parka. I left the Jeep unlocked; I figured someone would rescue her if there was a problem. I didn’t expect there to be one. It was much warmer that day than it had been the day before. I figured the Jeep would stay at least 40°F in the sun while I was gone.

Map of Easy Trails
These trails are on mostly flat land near the base of Goat Wall in Mazama.

There were two men with a fire going in a portable fire pit at the trailhead. The fire pit was interesting; it had been built on a sled and even had a rope to pull it with. The menu were there to check ski passes, which I wore proudly. (Hell, how often do I get to wear a ski pass?) I put my skis on and took off in the freshly groomed tracks.

I did a little better without Penny on my back. I realize that the main challenge is feeling the edges of my skis and using them to push off better. Bending my knees more will likely help. I signed up for a three-session cross-country ski class at the local college in Wenatchee for January; I’m sure I’ll get much better after that. It’s a matter of building muscle memory, confidence, and balance. Two trips to Leavenworth with a group and instructor in January should give me plenty of practice.

Ski Trails at Mazama
The easy trails go alongside a snow-covered farm field and offer spectacular views of the north Cascade Mountains. Click here to see a panorama of this spot.

I did about 2-1/2 miles in an hour. Not bad. I can still hike faster.

Back at the Jeep, I let Penny out. She ran around a little while I chatted with the guys at the fire pit and stowed my skis. Then we headed back to the Mazama Country Inn, where I changed my clothes for the drive back. A while later, we were on Route 20, heading back down the Methow Valley toward home.

The Drive Home, with Wine

The drive back down the valley wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the drive up two days before had been. It might have been the weather — it was mostly gray all the way. Or it could have been the fact that there were other cars on the road and they kicked up just enough melted ice and snow to keep my windshield wipers and washer fluid working overtime all the way.

I stopped in Twisp for fuel and to visit the bakery my friend had recommended. It was closed. Feeling like I wanted a snack, I went back into the health food store there and bought some lemon bars. Very rich. I got an eggnog latte — likely the last one of the season — from a drive-thru coffee shop on my way out of town.

It was clearer but still overcast when I reached the Columbia River. At least I could see the hills and mountains around me. The whole place had been socked in on my way north two days before.

By the time I got to Chelan, I was ready for lunch. I decided to stop at Tsillan Cellars Winery. In the summer, I take people there for wine tasting and lunch or dinner. But because I fly them in by helicopter, I can’t drink. Now I was driving. Why not have a wine tasting and follow that up with lunch at Sorrento’s? It would finally give me a chance to see what I’d been missing.

My Burger
It was a great lunch, but I could only eat half of it.

I left Penny in the Jeep and went inside. There was only one other person at the long bar and she kept wandering from the bar to a table near the fireplace in the big tasting room. I had the wine server all to myself. I tasted five red wines and would up buying three bottles. Then I headed over to the restaurant, which had just a few tables occupied. I ordered a blue cheese burger and wound up taking half of it to go. Those lemon bars had spoiled my appetite.

I let Penny out again — poor thing was getting too much downtime, although she didn’t seem to mind — before we headed out on the last leg of our trip.

The weather cleared as we reached Route 97A after the tunnel and followed the Columbia River toward Wenatchee. The afternoon sun shined on the hillsides across the river while thin wisps of cloud drifted by. This is the foggy season in North Central Washington, with temperatures and dewpoints nearly matched almost every day. That afternoon was relatively clear, though and it made for a very pleasant final hour of driving.

River View
The afternoon sunlight really made the hillsides along the Columbia River glow.

I didn’t make any other stops on the way home. I pulled into the garage just as the sun was setting. Penny seemed very happy to be back on her home turf.

It had been a great little trip!

A Christmas Ski Trip, Day 2: Skiing and More Skiing

Posted on December 29, 2013 by Maria Langer

Shaking the rust off.

(This story starts with a Prelude and a summary (with photos) of Day 1.)

Snow and Moon
The sky was mostly clear in the morning, with a half moon hanging high.

Once I set the thermostat down to 60 — thus preventing the rather loud heater from turning on and off all night — I slept like a log. The room was plenty warm and the bed was cozy, with lots of blankets. Penny left her bed empty and, instead, made a sort of nest on the comforter next to me. It was very quiet. I left the curtains wide open so I could see the stars and moonlit terrain when I woke up.

In the morning, I took Penny out for a walk. The fog that had been drifting low over the snow-covered fields the night before was gone. The sky was mostly clear with the last quarter moon hanging high in the sky.

A good day for skiing.

Yes, I bought organic Bulgarian yogurt. I don’t recommend it.

Back in our loft cabin, I made coffee and a breakfast of organic “Bulgarian” yogurt and granola that I’d brought from home. I don’t recommend Bulgarian yogurt; it’s extremely sour. I also cut up the huge Honeycrisp apple I’d bought the day before and stowed it away in my daypack with a bag of almonds for snacking later on.

Outside, the sun’s first light was illuminating the snowy mountains that surrounded the Methow Valley. As I washed up, did the dishes, and waxed my new skis for the first time, I found myself really looking forward to the day ahead of me.

Sunrise
I never get tired of seeing the sun’s first light hit mountains and other landforms, bathing the highest points in a golden glow.

Suiting Up

At about 8:30 AM, Penny and I suited up with our winter gear.

For me, that meant skin-tight leggings made of a fabric that would wick sweat away from my body and what I can only call “snow pants” over them. If you’ve ever been a kid in a cold climate, you know what I’m talking about: nylon pants with a quilted filling. Mine were black with zip pockets, wide legs, and an inner liner near the bottom with elastic that closed around each of my legs. I also layered up on top with another tight wicking fabric undergarment, a fleece sweater, and my bright red waterproof shell. All of these things were new — I had no use for clothes like this when I lived in Arizona, since I seldom went north to the higher elevations where cold winters prevailed. On my feet I wore an ancient pair of thick wool socks — I’d fetched them out of storage before my trip — and a brand new pair of Sorel snow boots that I could also wear with the snowshoes my brother had gotten me for Christmas. I also had a scarf (of course) and a merino wool Buff that I wore as a sort of turtleneck, with the option of turning it into a hat or a balaclava. And thick red ski gloves — did I mention those?

Penny really has trouble with her boots.

Penny’s attire was simpler: she wore her red quilted parka with the fleece lining. I didn’t put on her boots because she can’t really walk in them. Besides, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be doing much walking in the snow anyway.

You might think I was overdressed and I probably was. But the truth of the matter is that I really don’t like to be cold. I made this one-time investment in cold weather gear so I’d be comfortable out on the trail. I was embracing the winter season the only way I knew how.

The Back Road to Mazama

On my way to Mazama on Route 20 the day before, I’d seen a left turn for Wolf Creek Road about halfway between Winthrop and Mazama. The place I was staying was on Wolf Creek Road, but I’d gotten there from Winthrop. Could the same road keep going past my place and eventually meet up with Route 20 on the way to Mazama?

I looked at the topo map I’d saved into Gaia GPS on my iPhone and iPad. It sure looked like it did. And since I’m the kind of person who’d rather explore “shortcuts” than drive the long way around on the beaten path, I decided to give it a try.

Snowy Forest Road
Paved or unpaved? Can you tell? Does it matter? It was a pleasant drive through the woods.

The drive turned out to be very pleasant. About a half mile down the road from where I was staying, a “Pavement Ends” sign announced the end of pavement — it didn’t matter because the roads hadn’t really been plowed in the first place. (In all honesty, I thought all of Wolf Creek Road had been unpaved.) The narrow road, which I could follow from the tire tracks of the few vehicles that had driven it before me, wound through a forest of tall pines, twisting and turning, climbing and descending. After a few slides, I threw the Jeep into four wheel drive and it stabilized. I drove at a steady 20 miles per hour, crunching over snow and long pine needles. Here and there were gated driveways and ungated forest roads turning off into the snowy woods. I realized that I’d need to come back when the snow was gone, possibly with a friend and some camping gear, to explore some of those roads. I really do love exploring back roads with my Jeep.

Within just a few miles, the forest opened up to some fields with homes and snow-covered farm equipment scattered here and there. The tall grass was covered with thick frost — a remnant of the previous evening’s low fog. In some places, I could see clear up the valley, to the towering mountains of the North Cascades.

Frosty Fields
Although the sky was mostly clear, the sun was hidden behind clouds to the southeast, leaving the valley in shadows.

The road turned sharply to the right. A moment later, I was back on Route 20. My morning back road adventure had been less than 5 miles long.

Ski Lesson

It’s important to note here that I’d been cross-country skiing before. Way back in the 1980s, when I first hooked up with the man I’d later marry, we took up cross-country skiing and did trips in the Catskill Mountains of New York State. I clearly remember going out one snowy day on trails near the Mohonk Mountain House near New Paltz. I remember the silence of that afternoon, with the thick wet snow packing up on the bottom of our skis as we cut new trails.

Back then there was only one kind of cross-country skiing — what they now call “classic” — and the skis and shoes were very basic. I still had my set but I left them behind in Arizona when I moved out of my Wickenburg home in May 2013. I didn’t miss them — they were junk — and the crappy plastic shoes had likely been ruined by the mice that often lived in our garage.

New technology had greatly improved both the skis and the boots. I bought a new setup in November. The only thing I miss from my old setup is the blue plastic clips that held the skis and poles together, making them easier to carry and store. I can’t seem to find a set of those anywhere, although I did get a set of ski bones that hold the skis together nicely.

So there I was, in the biggest cross-country ski area in the country, with a brand new cross-country ski setup. But I hadn’t been skiing in at least 20 years.

That’s why I signed up for a lesson.

I showed up early at the Methow Valley Ski School. While I waited for my instructor, I put on my ski boots (for the first time!) and put away my Sorels in the Jeep. Then I fetched Penny and my day pack and settled in to wait on a bench inside where it was nice and warm.

I can’t remember the ski instructor’s name. She was a Swiss woman with an accent very similar to my grandmother’s German accent and almost identical to that of a Swiss couple I was friends with in Wickenburg. The other student was a young Japanese man who didn’t speak English. He was staying with a couple around my age who chatted with me as they dropped him off for his lesson.

Packed Penny
At just 7 pounds, Penny is easily carried in a day pack. In fact, I had to pad the bottom so she could stick her head out.

Needless to say, the lesson was interesting, mostly because of the amount of miming the instructor had to do to communicate with the Japanese guy. We started indoors where we learned how to put on the skis. Even that was different from the old setup. Then I put Penny into the day pack, zipped it so just her head stuck out, slung it over my shoulder, and followed the others outside with my skis and poles. We spent the next hour practicing basic skills on the trails near the ski school shop.

The Japanese guy was pretty funny. He fell a lot and got lots of practice getting up. I only fell once, but I did it spectacularly. I lost my balance coming down a small hill. Because I didn’t want to fall backwards on top of Penny, I purposely fell forward. The backpack shifted up hard and Penny went flying over my head into the snow. We all had a good laugh and it took some time for me to get back up without taking the skis off. Then I got Penny back into the bag and the lesson went on.

One of the things that shocked and pleased me was what “groomed trails” meant. The trails were wide and smooth and had obviously been sort of “raked” over. On either side of the main trail were a pair of cross-country ski tracks, already laid out in the snow at the perfect width. Skiing in these tracks was a real breeze — and a real treat. In my previous cross-country skiing experience, the first person in our group would make the tracks and they were rarely evenly spaced. This alone made the ski pass worth the money I’d spent for it.

Lunch at Jack’s

It was 11:30 by the time the lesson was over and I was hungry for lunch. The ski school folks made some calls and found a cafe down the road, Jack’s Hut at the Freestone Inn, that was open for lunch. I drove over, leaving Penny in the Jeep. The owner was manning the place, which was more of a snack bar than a full-blown restaurant. I sat at the counter where I could watch him work. I had an excellent bowl of chili — probably from a can — with cheese and a chicken quesadilla he made while I looked on.

I was just starting on my quesadilla when the Japanese student and his two American hosts came in. Soon they were seated at the counter with me, enjoying the same food. We chatted a bit about the area, real estate, and skiing. We studied my map and they offered some suggestions for places to go skiing that afternoon.

Mazama Area Map
Here’s a map of the area where I planned to ski. You can download the entire map here.

Then I was done eating and it was time to go. The sun sets early in Washington in the winter time and I was hoping to ski with the sun still on me.

Solo Skiing

Penny and I headed out to the North Cascades Basecamp parking area. I parked and opened my door while I got my things together. Some movement on my left caught my eye and I found myself looking almost eye-to-eye at the biggest black dog I’d ever seen.

The dog was friendly, of course, but quickly frustrated by Penny darting out at him from under the Jeep. I had to snatch her up and put her in the day pack so she’d leave him alone. He wandered off while I chatted with some other skiers who were just getting their skis on when I arrived.

A while later, I was on the Base Camp trail with Penny in the day pack on my back. This particular trail wound through the woods with gentle hills that proved to be quite a challenge for me. I had one fall along the way — fortunately, Penny wasn’t launched out this time. It did take me a minute or two to get back on my skis.

I wasn’t alone on the trail. There were plenty of other skiers, most of whom did not used the classic ski tracks. They were skating on skis. It was wonderful to watch and I was envious of their skill. I decided to visit the local skating rink back home to build up my general skating skills and balance.

Despite the cold — it was between 25°F and 30°F out on the trail — I worked up a nice sweat. Although I never felt uncomfortably warm, I certainly never felt cold, either. It was very pleasant to be outdoors in the winter time, keeping active enough to keep warm, enjoying the steady slush-slush-slush sound of my skies in the tracks as I wound through the woods.

Eventually, the trail went down to a pair of portable bridges across a stream bed. The bridges were designed to be skied over and I had no trouble with the first one. But while I paused to take a photo, I decided that I wanted to practice on easier trails to really get the hang of skiing before I tackled the kind of hilly trail I was on. So after I shot the picture, I crossed back over the bridge and skied back to the Jeep.

This was the first time I’d ever seen a portable bridge. Click here for a large panorama of the area shot with my iPhone.

According to the GPS Track app on my phone, I’d skied about a mile and a half. Not very impressive.

I drove back to the place I’d started the day: the easy trails around the Mazama Store and Ski School. Once again, I got out with my skis and put Penny in the day pack. Then we were off down the trail. It was much later in the day and most of the other skiers were on their way back in. But there were other people going out. Although most of them passed me, I managed to pass someone even slower than I was.

I did another two miles in nearly an hour of skiing. I realized that I hiked faster than I skied. I needed practice!

Sun Mountain

Here’s Penny in her parka.

I let Penny out to take a quick walk before we climbed back into the Jeep with the skis. I steered us down Route 20.

Winthrop was completely deserted. Everything was closed and not a single car was parked in town.

I decided to check out Sun Mountain Lodge, which was about 10 miles from downtown Winthrop. I figured I’d see what the place was like and, if I was hungry later, I’d go back for dinner.

But as I drove us up the long and winding road, I started to rethink that. I’d had a long day; did I really want to make the 20 mile round trip twice in one night? It all depended on what I found at the end of the road.

Along the way, I passed Patterson Lake, a mile and a half long lake that was completely frozen over. There were numerous skaters out on the north end of the lake, including hockey players who were playing on a shoveled-out arena. There was even an ice fisherman sitting alone over a hole. As I drove alongside the lake I realized something I’d never thought about before: this area of Washington was a winter sport destination.

If you’re reading this and know winter sport destinations like those in Colorado and Vermont and Utah, you’re probably saying, “Duh.” But this is completely foreign to me. When I lived in New York and New Jersey, we had winters that were just as cold and often as snowy as the winters here. Back there, we had winter sports, but few people really took them seriously. Sure, the skating pond in town was a gathering place for skaters and some hilly areas had sledders. And many people grabbed their skis and headed to the slopes in the Poconos or Catskills. There was no snowshoeing and very little cross-country skiing or snowmobiling — mostly because there simply weren’t many established trails. These sports were just incidental to where we lived, simply because the weather got cold and snowy for a short time every year.

But in the Methow Valley, winter sports were taken very seriously. Why else would there be 200 km — that’s 160 miles, folks — of groomed cross-country ski trails, all mapped out on paper and signs and a Website and even an iPhone app? Why would there be a shooting range on a biathlon trail? Why else would there be snowshoe-only trails and snowmobile speed limit signs? Why else would ski rental and lesson places be open for business on Christmas day when it was tough to find a restaurant for lunch? Why else would there be dozens of people skating on a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere?

And realizing this made me feel really good about where I’d chosen to make my home. Because not only were they serious about winter sports, but they were equally serious about summer sports like hiking, biking, camping, boating, fishing, and so much more. There was no shortage of outdoor activities in north central Washington state with the perfect weather to enjoy it all.

The sun had gone down behind the mountains and clouds when I finally reached the Sun Mountain Lodge. It sits near the top of a mountain — Sun Mountain? — overlooking the Methow Valley. Ironically, the lodge is only 1-1/2 miles as the crow flies from where I was staying off Wolf Creek Road far below.

I left Penny in the Jeep and went inside. I was still wearing my skiing gear, right down to the boots. But when I got into the cocktail lounge for a hot beverage, I saw that I wasn’t the only one.

Meat Plate at Sun Mountain
The meat plate was enough to feed two as an appetizer. I took my time and enjoyed looking out over the view.

I sat near a window where I could look out over the valley. I had a Spanish Coffee, which I found a bit sweet, and ordered a meat plate that included various sliced meats, cheese, crackers, and very spicy stewed apples. The waiter served it with a knife but not a fork; when I asked for a fork, he brought it but explained that because a restaurant reviewer gave them a bad review for serving it with a fork, they no longer provided forks unless asked. I wondered how I was supposed to eat the stewed apples without a fork. I also wondered whether he was trying to insinuate that I should have known better than to ask for one.

When I finished the Spanish Coffee, I ordered an Irish Coffee, which is more to my taste. I only ate half the meat plate — I was still pretty full from lunch — and took the rest to go.

Day’s End

Christmas Road Grader
What else would you do with your road grader at Christmas time?

Penny was glad to see me when I got back. I let her out for a short walk, then loaded her back up and headed back down the hill.

The ice fisherman was the only one still out on the ice. I could see him clearly in the fading light from the light of his headlamp and another flashlight or lamp near his bucket.

By the time we got back to the main road, it was full dark. I drove slowly and carefully — there were signs all over the place about deer strikes and a friend back in Wenatchee had even warned me about deer at night. Sure enough, I saw one cross the road when I stopped to take a photo of a road grader decorated with Christmas lights.

Back at the loft cabin, I let Penny have a good run. Both of the downstairs units were brightly lit up with families celebrating Christmas away from home. Penny and I went upstairs, where I opened a bottle of wine and settled down with a book.

I was sound asleep by 8 PM.

(continued)

A Christmas Ski Trip, Day 1: The Road Trip

Posted on December 28, 2013 by Maria Langer

There’s nothing like a good little road trip.

(This story starts with a Prelude.)

I watched the weather pretty closely during the week leading up to my trip. We had some freezing rain here and I know they had some sort of weather up around Winthrop. But since I couldn’t change my plans, it didn’t really matter. I decided to bring all my gear — skis, snowshoes, winter hiking boots — so I’d be prepared for anything.

Packing Up, Moving Out

I packed the morning of the trip. There was no rush. I figured I’d leave by 10 AM and since I was up by 7 AM, I had plenty of time to pack.

I remember thinking to myself: I’m on vacation!

I tried to keep packing simple. Really. One bag for my clothes and a laptop. One bag for food, including snacks, a bottle of wine, and Penny’s dog food. Then the odds and ends: Penny’s dog bed, my skis, my ski boots, ski poles, my hiking boots, my snowshoes, my emergency road kit (jumper cables, blanket, water, etc.). I had to stop off at my shed to get my ski stuff and I almost forgot the boots. I also retrieved my daypack from my RV; I’d be using that to carry Penny around on the trails if the snow was too deep for her to walk in.

By the time we were ready to go, the Jeep’s back seat was full. I put Penny on her bed in the front passenger seat, locked up the house, and we hit the road.

It was 9 AM.

I wasn’t in a hurry so I made stops along the way. Caffe Mela for breakfast. (Not the best choice unless your idea of breakfast is a pastry. They do make an excellent eggnog latte, though.) Safeway to pick up a package of bakery cookies for a friend and his coworkers. Stemilt’s Bountiful Fruit store, where I bought 3 apples for the trip, including a 1.15-pound Honeycrisp. (Seriously: where else could you find an apple that big?)

I cut up one of the apples in the Jeep in the parking lot and munched on it as I continued north up route 97A. One more stop at Entiat to visit a friend who had to work that day. I brought the cookies into the construction office where he was overseeing a big park remodeling job. The guys were working on a rock retaining wall down by the river and he was there to inspect the work. The cookies were for him and his co-workers. I spent some time chatting with him and looking at the huge batch of blueprints for the park. Then, after a good Christmas hug, Penny and I hit the road, continuing up 97A.

The Photo Stops

The weather in Wenatchee had been clear with temperatures in the high 20s or possibly low 30s. But as I drove up the west side of the river, I saw low clouds up ahead. That’s a weather phenomena that’s pretty common here in the winter: fog. As the road climbed up toward the tunnel that would lead away from the river and toward Chelan, I stopped for a photo.

Up River Fog
As I climbed away from the river, I could see a fog bank off in the distance.

Tunnel to Chelan
Route 97A passes through this tunnel on the way to Lake Chelan.

I passed through the tunnel and into the hanging valley beyond. The area was familiar to me, yet strange. I’ve flown that way dozens of times in my helicopter, taking people to Tsillan Cellars Winery on the lake. But I very seldom drive that way. I kept expecting to see the lake revealed before me. It wasn’t until I began descending down toward the lake that I finally caught a few glimpses of it. The helicopter ride offers much more dramatic scenery.

There was a thin fog layer right over the water. It was probably about 10-20 feet thick and started at maybe 5 feet off the lake’s surface. To the east a thicker bank of fog hung over the town of Chelan. The sky and water were blue; the snow and ice and clouds were bright white. I could see for miles and miles, all the way uplake to the snow-covered mountains off in the distance.

I stopped for a few more photos, pulling down a street that hadn’t been plowed. My Jeep’s fat tires crunched in the icy snow.

Ducks on a Mission
These ducks were snoozing until I knelt down on the ground to put them in the foreground and the snow-covered mountains in the background. Then they marched toward me; I suspect they thought I was there to feed them.

Fog over Chelan
A layer of fog hung over the town of Chelan.

I drove into town. There were few cars on the road, few people around. Winter in a summer resort area. The road had patches of ice and, more than once, my rear tires spun as I moved away from a stop. Slow and easy; I was re-learning my winter driving skills as I went along.

The fog thickened as I followed the road through town and up toward the airport. At one post, visibility was down to less than 300 feet. Along the road I caught glimpses of the Columbia River far below me. Downriver, the sun was shining through the clouds. Up ahead it was cloudy and gray.

It was marginal VFR at the airport but no one was flying. The thick frost you see on the weeds is from freezing fog, another common weather phenomena here in Central Washington State.

Route 97A descended from the airport and joined up with Route 97 to continue up the Columbia River. It was a completely different day, with low clouds and a dismal winter feeling.

Refueling at Pateros

I didn’t stop until I got to Pateros, where I pulled over to top off the Jeep’s fuel tank. I took a short drive through town, getting as far as the Lake Pateros Motor Inn, where we’d stayed in back in 2008. I’d parked my helicopter on the lawn alongside the hotel in a spot that made it very convenient for the few cherry drying flights I did.

I stopped at the Sweet River Bakery, where my wasband and I had come for breakfast each morning during our 10-day stay. Back then, they made the best apple fritters. I ordered an eggnog latte and got an apple-cranberry fritter to go. I’d have it for breakfast in the morning.

We got back on the road, backtracking down to where route 153 turned west along the Methow River. I passed the farm stand with a cherry orchard I’d dried. It was closed.

A Drive Up the Methow

Along the Methow River
Snow, ice, river, sky, trees dormant for winter. I didn’t realize how much I missed winter scenery until I took this trip.

There was ice on the river — so much ice, in fact, that it looked as if I could walk across it. But as I drove upriver, the ice cleared out at the rapids.

The road climbed gently but persistently along the river. The amount of snow along the way increased as we climbed. Soon, we’d climbed away from the fog bank and the sun began to shine again.

It was a really amazingly beautiful day. I stopped for a few more photos. I wanted to remember this trip and the best way to do that would be to document it with photos to act as visual clues. Besides, it was just too darn pretty to pass up.

That’s another benefit of traveling alone; I don’t have to ask permission to stop so I can get out with my camera.

Red House on the Methow
At first glance, the reflection of the red house on the river was much more obvious than I was able to capture with my camera.

I passed through Methow and noticed a restaurant on the side of the road. I have vague memories of having dinner there and there being live music. But it was closed and quiet that Christmas Eve day.

Everything was quiet. I was just about the only car on the road. No traffic! How many other Christmas travelers could say that?

Carlton was a sign and nothing more.

The road twisted and turned along the river, crossing one bridge after another. I reached the junction of Route 20, where route 153 ended. A right turn would eventually take me to Okanogan — which I’d only been to by helicopter in a fly-by years ago. I continued on to Twisp.

The friend I’d visited at work earlier in the day had told me to stop at Twisp’s bakery and the health food store next door. I was hungry for lunch — it was nearly noon — but I didn’t feel like bakery food. The Grover Street Market had a lunch counter, so I went inside to see what healthy choices they offered. I wound up with a bowl of their Curry Stew, which was more like a soup and served so piping hot that I couldn’t eat it at first. It was tasty, with just enough spice to make it interesting. There was enough for two meals so I took half of it to go.

I didn’t visit the Cinnamon Twisp Bakery. I figured I’d visit it on my way back. (That turned out to be a mistake; it was closed on Thursday.)

I took Penny for a short walk through town. Not much was going on, although there were plenty of parked cars. It was sometime around then that I realized that plowing the roads in Washington was optional. All the side streets in town had a reasonably thick layer of icy snow on them. Not really slick — I think they spread gravel or something on them — but certainly not plowed to pavement. They apparently expect people to know how to drive in this kind of snow cover. And people do.

Of course, there were an awful lot of four wheel drive vehicles around.

Winthrop and Beyond

For some reason, I thought I had 20 or more miles to go before I reached Winthrop. I didn’t. It was just about 10 miles down the road.

I pulled out my driving instructions and followed them to Wolf Creek Road and, eventually, to the Chickadee Cabin Loft where Penny and I were staying. It was an upstairs studio apartment in a four-unit building. Next door was vacant but the two downstairs units, which were much bigger, were occupied. The place was at the end of a road in the woods but on the edge of a clearing. The roads weren’t plowed but the Jeep had no trouble getting us where we needed to go.

The “loft cabin” was nice, with a queen-sized bed, futon, TV with VCR and DVD player (and satellite TV), Internet access, kitchenette, and bathroom. There was even a sliding glass door leading out to a small balcony that overlooked a snow-covered meadow. All this was about 6 miles from town.

I unpacked the food and checked the cabinets. There was coffee and coffee filters and even sugar. All I needed was some milk and maybe some yogurt for breakfast. I’d get that in town.

We climbed back into the Jeep and headed into Winthrop. I wanted to find out what trails, if any, were open to cross-country skiing. I figured there would be some kind of ranger station with information in town.

What I found was the local office of the MVSTA. I parked out front and went inside, leaving Penny behind in the Jeep. I spent the next 20 minutes chatting with the two folks inside about which skiing trails were open and where I could get a lesson. It looked like Mazama was the place to be — 15 miles farther up route 20 was where there was more snow and most of the groomed trails. I bought a 3-day pass — in hindsight, two 1-day passes would have saved me a bit of money — and the woman behind the counter called the Methow Valley Ski School up in Mazama to see if they were still open. It was nearly 3:30 PM on Christmas Eve.

A while later, we were in Mazama and I was arranging for a cross-country ski lesson the following day. I brought in my skis and was told that waxless skis need to be waxed — something honestly I didn’t know. I paid for my lesson and a tube of ski wax.

I stopped in next door at the Mazama Store, a new agey market with lots of organic and overpriced food and other merchandise. (I do tend to tell it like it is.) I paid $7 for a quart of organic yogurt and $3 for a quart of organic milk. I also bought a fleece sweater that I wound up returning two days later. I do have to say one thing about the store, though: It has the largest selection of Lodge cast iron cookware I’ve ever seen under one roof. If Lodge makes it, the Mazama Store sells it.

By that time, it was after 4 PM and the sun was setting somewhere behind the mountains all around me. It would be getting dark soon. I loathe driving in the dark these days and had no reason to stick around Mazama so we headed back.

Along the way, I saw plenty of snow-covered fields with a thin layer of fog drifting over them. Advection fog? Radiation fog? I tried to remember what I’d learned in ground school about fog and came up empty. Fog was rarely an issue where I flew in Arizona; it was certainly an issue here in the winter time.

I stopped briefly in Winthrop to take Penny on a quick walk around town. I was curious to see what was open. There was a hotel with a restaurant in town and I walked up the steps to see if it would be open the next day for Christmas dinner. Closed. No big deal. I knew I’d be able to get Christmas dinner at the nearby Sun Mountain Lodge resort if I wanted to.

It was almost dark when Penny and I returned to our loft cabin. I put away the groceries and heated up some leftover smoked ribs for dinner. (I’d made them the day before on my Traeger just so I’d have something to munch while I was away.) We spent the evening relaxing, reading, watching TV.

A nice rest at the end of a long day.