Spring is here! The opportunities for all kinds of backbreaking manual labor are back!
filler post: I thought I’d put up some pics of work over fall and winter.
Here we are up at Barbara’s ranch house- a log house all around but also this section of panels on the east wall. Sanding the panels is much faster than sanding the huge logs. I was up on the 3rd level of scaffolding sanding under the eaves and along the fascia- ugh.
Looking down at Lukas on the 2nd level. The plastic covering kept the warmth in so the primer and stain could dry; it also provided a useless wall that I pretended would cushion my fall if I fell backwards off the scaffolding, and I couldn’t look down on the garden and lawn, up at the sky and out at the mountains, which lessened my nervous-feet vertigo.Masks are good at stopping sawdust- this one went from white to brown. The dust also turned my hair brown, which it used to be.Finished sanding, ready to prime and stain. We finished the north and west walls before the snows arrived.Now I know why we let the Mexicans do it.
I got one day of skiing in this year, which is one more than usual. Last time I went skiing I think I was on 215cm Kneissl’s made around 1970. The old-timers liked that; the kids laughed. This time I rented the short, shaped skis and yes, I noticed an improvement.
Great day at Lost Trail, on the Idaho/Montana border. I’d said to Una, “Don’t put your ticket on your main zipper, because you’ll have to zip up and it’ll fly up and smack you in the face.” Then I put my ticket on my main zipper.
No visit to Montana is complete without going for a walk with the Hollingsworth’s crazy dog, Fenrir. We call him Finner.
We made it to Bend and I found a woman selling used snowshoes on Facebook marketplace. They rent them at Crater Lake National Park but I figured I could use a couple pairs in Montana, on all the Bitterroot trails that would be closed to regular hiking until the snow melted in May.
It was snowing when we went to bed, but the weather was supposed to clear up the next day. Woke up and it was still cloudy with only a hint of light snow. I figured the road crews would be busy at CL and it would take them a while to get the road to the rim open, so we killed some time in downtown Bend and down along the Deschutes river.
The neighborhoods near downtown in Bend, OR are beautiful. I can see why this town has grown so much. It’s perfect for wealthy liberals who want to get away from the big city in Portland, Seattle and San Francisco, but still live in a solid, ‘blue’ state.
With occasional bursts of clear blue sky on the drive south, I was hopeful, but the ranger at the entrance to CL said that the road to the rim was closed, and they weren’t planning on opening it today. “It’s still pretty around here, but what you see now is about all there is to see. Pretty trees and lots of snow, but no lake.”
She said about half the cars that get to the entrance here were turning around and driving out.
“What about the hiking trail to the rim?”
“You can take the Raven trail but nobody is going up today. There’s two and a half feet of fresh snow- you have to have snowshoes…” -We’ve got snowshoes.
-And there’s a big avalanche danger and really you need to be prepared for that as well with avalanche beacons. Beacons we didn’t have.
There weren’t any cars behind us so I took my time deciding. “Una, should we just do it?”
-I don’t know.
I figured I’d use the pass again in Montana at Glacier and Yellowstone so I bought the one year card and we went in. There were a few cars parked against the big snow wall, and I was hoping some of these folks were planning on snowshoeing to the rim. The sun was coming out and I thought about how beautiful the lake would be today. As we started off, up ahead I saw two snowshoers coming off the trail. They were heading down another road, to the staff lodge, so I ran ahead to talk to them. It was a young couple, both of them rangers.
“Did you guys just come off the Raven Trail?”
-Yep.
-And did you hike up to the rim?
“Oh, God no,” said the girl. We’ve had two and a half feet of snow in 24 hours and there’s no path. And there’s an avalanche warning. We just went up a little ways and turned around.”
I asked about the avalanche zones and the guy didn’t seem to think they were that dangerous. “Just keep a lookout for the blue diamonds on the trees. That marks the trail.”
Then Una came up and we put our snowshoes on at the trailhead. We trudged through knee to waist deep fresh snow for about ten minutes
and then found the path that the two young rangers had blazed. They must have started at a different spot. It’s ten times easier to follow a path already plowed out by a snowshoer in front. We came to a clearing at the base the steep west side of Garfield Peak. Here’s where the rangers’ tracks ended.
As we stood looking at the cliffs above and the giant snowfield below, we heard a rumble. Looking up, we saw the beginning of an avalanche above the rocks, which spilled over onto the snowfield. I said, “Una, get ready to run back into the woods.”
The avalanche stopped far up the hill, but some snowballs rolled all the way down to just 30 yards in front of us. I figure this was a bad place to hang around.
Una and the avalanche (above the little trees) that got started but quickly stopped.
OK, Una. Let’s get out of here.”
I figured we’d trudge around in the woods for a while until we got bored, then call it a day. With all the loose, fresh snow, we wouldn’t be crossing avalanche zones. But we found another path cut through the fresh snow, deeper in the woods, and followed it until we came upon two snowshoers heading down. I asked if they had reached the rim and they said no but it looked doable. They had managed to get most of the way but turned back as the last part was super deep and slow going.
“There’s a guy from Iowa up there plowing through the deep snow, making a path. He seems to be pretty intent on getting up to the lodge.”
I asked about the avalanche zones and the guy said no big deal, so full of positive energy and expectation, Una and I followed the trail blazed by Iowa Slim. I called him that because the distance between steps was huge and I imagined a tall guy with a huge stride.
It was postcard picture perfect through the woods.
When we finally reached Iowa Slim, it turned out he was just a guy of average height who for some reason took huge steps, even though his pace was quite slow.
Turns out he was a first-time snowshoer named Guillermo, originally from Michigan but now working as a doctor in Iowa. This was his big, getaway winter trip in the middle of a busy internship.
moving along at a snail’s pace behind Guillermo, who said, “I’m so tired. I’m gonna be so sore tonight.”
From this point we took turns trailblazing. I understood why G. was so tired. It took a lot of energy to move just a few feet up this hill.
It was hard going but exciting to think that we would be the only ones up on the rim. When we got site of the lake, it was as beautiful as ever.
Una and I were laughing because G. fell back on his rear before snapping this one.
Looking north across Crater Lake. Wizard Island.
We hiked another twenty minutes to get to the closed lodge, had a late lunch on the road, and headed back down the mountain, as the sun began to set behind the hills to the west.
It took about 2 1/2 hours to trudge up, but only 45 minutes to get back down. All in all it was a perfect day.
dwshumway 