Christmas Vacation

On Dec. 7 I began work at the Ravalli Republic, a five-day-a-week newspaper in Hamilton, Mont. I cover the sorts of things I've always covered: county commissioners, city councils, growth, taxes, budgets and everything else in between.

The start my tenure as "staff reporter" at the Republic marks the end of 18 months of unemployment which saw our travel to some 26 countries on six continents and address changes that pinned us to four states. The only real downside to my new job is the commute -- it's 45 miles from Missoula to Hamilton.

(Christmas Eve on the commute to Hamilton. The sun rises at about 8:40 a.m.)



It's probably not fair, really, to call it a commute. A lot of people come here from around the country every year just to see the sights that stand along the road. On my Wal-Mart road atlas, there's dotted blue lines along that section of U.S. 93 -- it's a "scenic corridor." So no, it's not a commute in Houston or Atlanta, that's for sure.

Since Dec. 7 we've had our share of winter weather here. That first week of work it never got above 12 degrees and was as cold as minus 17. After 45 minutes of driving 60 miles per hour you could still see vapor coming out of the tailpipe, and there was a ring of frost and ice around the back of the car where tailpipe vapor had frozen. After the cold we had a foot of snow over three days, then two days of freezing rain, then two days of drizzle, some more snow, and now it's cold again -- it was 3 degrees with a windchill of minus 14 this morning. The Clark Fork and the Bitterroot rivers are freezing over again, and it's getting hard to tell what color cars on the road are. I accidentally brushed against the car yesterday and came away with my side slicked with mud, sand, frozen slush and grime. It's hard to wash your car when it's 8 degrees.

On Wednesday we woke up to snow and I drove Laura to the "Missoula International Airport." Not only were no international flights departing, but I did not even see a plane on the tarmac. In terms of airport activity, it's even sleeper than Asheville Regional Airport was.

Laura went back to Atlanta for the holidays, leaving me and the plott hound to guard the homestead. Most people would be sad to be left alone in a city where they had no friends for a major holiday. I looked at it as an opportunity to get to work on some major projects.

On Christmas Eve I got off work early and the plott hound and I hiked up Mount Sentinel to get a look at our first objective: Stuart Peak. Stuart was a summit I got turned back from in October due to deep snow and recent bear tracks.

(Stuart from Sentinel, Christmas Eve)



While up on Sentinel we took in the view of downtown Missoula.

(Grizzly Stadium, downtown Missoula, Christmas Eve)



On the way back we stopped by the Clark Fork. After a brief thaw last week, this major river is icing over again.

(Clark Fork backed by Mt. Jumbo)



CHRISTMAS DAY

Two factors impact skiing right now -- the lack of snow at low elevations and the lack of daylight at any elevation. Just a few inches of snow covers the ground at valley level, and the sun comes up well after 8 a.m. and sets well before 5 p.m.

The hike to Stuart Peak began with about 4 miles of this:



The hike leaves from the Rattlesnake National Recreation Area trailhead about 4 miles north of downtown and heads due north into the adjacent wilderness area. After about three hours



I was up into decent snow and put my skis on. After six hours I was within sight of the summit but still too far away to make an attempt.







I had a snack, stripped my skins off, and made nice turns in settled powder down to 6,000 feet. From there it was combat skiing in low snow and tall brush, and then a long, long hike in twilight and then darkness.

BOXING DAY

Up early again, I headed south this time, into the Bitterroot. While there is a good network of developed trailheads in the mountains here, most stop at canyon mouths. One that does not is St. Mary's Road, which goes to nearly 7,000 feet on the way up St. Mary's Peak, which sits at about 9,400 feet. (It's important to get perspective here. Treeline is generally around 7,000 to 8,000. At 9,000 feet and higher you find permanent snowfields on north faces).

St. Mary's Road was plowed at the base, but had slick ice for a mile starting at 4,000 feet -- so slick when I got out of the truck to scope the conditions I could not stand up. I parked the truck in the first pullout and walked up the road and past the plowed section.

Three hours later I was here:



Here I saw some of the largest surface hoar crystals I'd ever seen. These were more than a centimeter in diameter.



I made it to the end of the road and climbed for another 45 minutes before I hit my cutoff time and had to turn around.

(Trapper Peak above the inversion)



(A look across the valley at the Sapphire Mountains)



I had a few dozen good turns before the snow surface became a melange of crusts. I idled down the mountain road with the truck in low range and four wheel drive and made it home about 5 p.m.

SUNDAY, DEC. 27

Eager for an easier day, I drove up to Lookout Pass, on the Idaho-Montana border. This pass, at 4,800 feet, sees heavy snow at lower elevations. There was about 3 feet at the pass and 4.5 feet at 6,000 feet.

Here's where the sun sits at 12:45 p.m. Mountain Standard Time:



I found very good skiing on light-density snow and edged in a couple of runs. Here's the view from the summit, looking down at Lookout Pass Ski Area and across at the St. Regis Basin:



And here's where the run ends, at Interstate 90:



Laura's gone for another week. My project list, meanwhile, continues to grow.

Oregon

Well, I am no longer unemployed. I have a job as a reporter at the Ravalli Republic in Hamilton. I got the good news two weeks ago, but the job was not to start until Dec. 7. So, to fill the time, I decided to go skiing in Oregon.

I left Missoula the day after Thanksgiving at 9 a.m., drove over Lookout Pass in light snow, and stopped in Spokane for gas and groceries before cutting southwest across Washington to Umatilla, the Columbia River Gorge, and finally a narrow forest road where I camped at the snowline.

Saturday: good morning Mt. Adams!



I took a shortcut up to Mt. Hood Meadows, only the road was unplowed and I had to turn around just 5 miles short of the highway. An unfortunate 60-mile detour ensued.

Up on Mt. Hood I picked up a Sno-park pass and visited various trailheads before settling on White Salmon.



I climbed for 5 hours in and out of fog.



Suddenly I heard voices and car doors slamming. I looked up and I was at Timberline Lodge. I climbed up the south face of Hood for another hour before dropping in. Some good snow, some bad snow. Nice views all around.



Back to the truck by sunset.



I slept in the truck in a Sno-park.

Sunday: Coffee in Government Camp.



I checked out Summit and Mt. Hood Ski Bowl, both areas I'd been interested in, but with a forecast of clear skies and calm winds I decided to climb Hood. Hood's a simple climb, but a rather monotonuous one, too. The view is unchanged for about the first 4 hours. I skinned above the Palmer Snowfield and kept going.



Lunchtime.



At the caldera rim, at about 10,200 feet, I decided I was getting over my head.

The summit proper. It's all ice axes and crampons from here on up.



A long, long ski down. Drove to Redmond, got groceries, and camped in the truck near Sisters.

Monday: Coffee in Sisters then skiing on Santiam Pass. Not much to ski up here within an easy walk of the road, and no refreeze overnight meant manky snow. I got in two runs on a black butte next to Hoodoo ski area.





I drove down to Bend and walked around a while. We had thought about moving to Bend, so it was interesting to have a look. It reminded me of some cities in Colorado: clean, livable, unaffordable and highly masterplanned -- much of the city felt like a golf course community. Drove up toward Bachelor and slept in the truck in a Sno-park.

Tuesday: Five cars in the lot at Bachelor but I skinned up Tumalo. Nice.



Drove down to Willamette Pass and slept in a Sno-park. I was exhausted and fell asleep at 9.

Tuesday: I was woken up at 2 by the sounds of an engine turning over. I looked out the window and there was a truck parked 20 feet from mine cranking but not catching. Weird? A trap? Drunk? I piled my clothes on and went outside. The truck was still there but the driver was gone. It was an ODOT Dodge Ram. In the morning it was still there.

I drove to Willamette Pass ski area and was surprised to see it closed: weekends only in the early season. With few options, I decided to drive to Crater Lake National Park.



I climbed a peak adjacent to the rim lodge. In firm snow it was easier to boot than skin.

Well, Crater Lake: it speaks for itself.



A 2-hour climb. On the run down I ran into every conceivable form of snow, including 20 turns of deep recrystalized powder that made the trip.



I drove back to Bend, and back to Sistes where I camped in the forest. I was awoken in the night by something crunching on the snow but when I looked out there was nothing there.

Wednesday: After coffee I went back up Santiam, this time plunking down $42 to ski at Hoodoo.



There was, quite literally, almost no one there.



Not a bad little mountain, complete with everyone's favorite ski run.



It was a cold day and I knocked off 15 minutes early for the drive to Bend, where I stopped at Trader Joe's to stock up on groceries and then made the drive to Pendleton. I took back roads and kept having to check my maps and it made for a long night. Slept in the truck in a rest area off I-84. Not as bad as it sounds.

Friday: up at 6 and coffee in Pendleton, then drove to Ski Bluewood, near Dayton, Wa.



Bluewood is a smallish area but has good snow and great tree skiing. A cold, cold day.



I skied until the lift closed then drove to Lewiston, Id. I meant to have my first hot meal of the trip but that city's screwy series of overpasses, bridges and intersections thwarted all attempts to get to Taco Time, so it was another night of sandwiches and chips in the truck. Slept in the truck at a rest area east of town.

Saturday: Woke to an inch of fluffy snow. The drive to Montana is 170 miles of this:



Hardly a town, a home or a gas station. Just three hours of wilderness driving.

At Lolo Pass it was 12 and snowing sideways. I made a run on the Montana Shot but there was not quite enough snow to really turn. So I decamped, packed and was in Missoula 45 minutes later.



Nice trip.