Every once in a while, an adventure is so epic that I don’t really know where to begin when it comes to describing it. This rare situation describes the backcountry ski outing I just took to Washington State’s Hidden Lake Lookout. In three short days, partners Zach, Greg, and myself squeezed about as much adventure, or adversity, into the trip as one typically experiences in about six days. Or even six months.
Where to begin? Chronologically, it seems it would begin at the unexpected road closure. Beyond that, things happened so fast, and so regularly, to each of us, that more will be ‘forgotten’ than told. Let’s see what comes to mind here. Hmmm.
Thinking… Okay, details worth mentioning. Gear failures – breakages, sub-par performances, unexpected issues – I lost track. Weather – driving winds and snow. Logistical issues. Dehydration. A snow cave / unplanned bivouac 300 vertical feet from the Hidden Lake Lookout hut, whose elevation is 6,900 feet. Isolation from computers, the internet, and cell phones. Retreating from an ice couloir. One of the more beautiful places one could hope to visit, with 360 degree mountain vistas (Oh yeah, there’s also a lake to gaze upon – a definite afterthought in my view!). Three slightly gonked knees. An awesome, well cared-for hut. One ski trapped beneath a downed tree, complete with resultant ejected rider. Wind loaded, and wind scoured ski slopes, both with their own hazards. Tricky snowpack analysis and management. A once-in-nearly-four-hundred-year lunar event. Tranquility and peace in remoteness. Breaking the myth.
Let’s start with that last one. I’ve seen several photos of the Hidden Lake Lookout hut, done up with yellow candlelight on the inside, and a serene exterior background including the appropriate panoramic view, all of which goes a long way towards creating a sense of tranquility. In my experience, and in talking with several others who’ve experienced similar, as well as a quick perusal of the Lookout’s register, this sort of calm tranquility is somewhat rare. The first day of winter 2010 truth is more like this – rime blasted. Wind scoured. Cold. Forbidding. And yeah, exquisitely serene and beautiful in its own rugged way. Be prepared, not for meandering, bored clouds lazily filling the valleys below, but for howling winds. Very low visibility at times. Quick to arrive snowstorms and weather patterns. Lightning. This place defines wild, and I can see why it’s popular. Personally, I can’t wait for a return trip.
The first day of winter truth - rime blasted. Nobody is on the roof pretending to be Santa Claus, either. Believe it.
