Snowed Out

With a title like that one would suspect that in fact the ski season isn't over just yet. The thing about the change of seasons here in the rustic Pacific NW is that. . .well. . .just because the snow isn't good enough for skiing doesn't mean that there still isn't any snow on the ground or in my case this weekend. . .on the roads.

My Sunday morning started with great ambition. I was looking forward to spending some time in the woods again (without two wooden boards strapped to an uncomfortable pair of plastic boots). The prospect of getting in a good hike was nearly overwhelming. So much that i actually woke up at the sound of my first alarm, packed up some goodies, headed to Noah's for a bagel (wholewheat with honey almond schmear) and hit the road. The night before i settled on the first hike my guide book opened up to, the Lower Lewis River hike in the Mount St. Helens area. As i wound through the backwood roads of SW Washington signs began popping stating the closure of a few roads and popular hikes, lucky me i thought, mine wasn't one of them. Oh contraire monfraire (sp?). The Yota and i were crusing along when all of a sudden, a 4 foot wall of snow, where a road should be, appeared. What started out with the expecation of a 7 mile, multi 100+ foot waterfall hike turned into little more than a Sunday drive. A beautiful Sunday drive, as you are about to see, but basically just a Sunday drive. I turned the Yota southward and headed toward the Columbia River Gorge to make my way back to Portland. Just as i turned the truck south i caught a glimpse of the once hot headed Mount St. Helens.

Mount St. Helens and her blown lid. Coming this summer: pictures from the crater rim.

Another

I was not to be completely denied of some trail time. As i pulled into Stevenson, WA i decided i was going to take the quick jaunt up to the top of Beacon Rock, the 2nd largest monolith in the world (or something like that). Once fated to become little more than gravel the state of Oregon fought to claim this chunk of rock. Washington being the grade school aged child that it is, said, "not it's our rock" and made it a national or state or county or town park. It's a cool, short, little hike that runs around the outside of the rock with a network of bridges and scaffolding. I think it's about a 1.5 mile one way trip. After sitting in the truck for two hours i was ready to stretch my legs. The grade was quite mellow and before i knew it was basically jogging up the rock, stopping occasionally to get the standard gorge photo. Apparently it was get your fat ass out and hike day, which i totallly support until i get near the "summit" and can't find a place to stand because everyone is doubled over. I stopped, took two long breathes and headed back do to my truck. The other downside of "get your fat ass out and hike day" is that most of the people on the trail don't hike often, thus don't know trail etiquette. Instead of stepping aside for faster hikers they just mosey along. A couple of times i had to skip over the switchbacks and handrails to get ahead of them. I was happy i made the stop, yet another "hike" under the belt. I rejoined the Yota and we made the trip back to Stumptown with enough time for a bike ride, a couple slices of Hot Lips pizza, and some yard work.

Blah sunspots. This is the rigging that makes the trail up to the top of Beacon Rock.

Looking back toward Portland through the Columbia River Gorge.

Another view looking across the gorge.

That's it. My next post will probably resemble the epic, still unfinished post from Todd's visit in November. I'm headed to Panama to avoid the hippies, hoochies (maybe) and Brodies. Peace and Hawaiian Tropic grease.