My alarm was set for 5:33 AM - what’s up Larry Legend - but I beat it to the punch and wake up at 5:28. I take a quick shower and gather my gear and head down to the lobby. Jim greets me and darts downstairs to grab my coffee. He returns shortly with two small cups and lids that don’t quite fit. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a Starbucks Pike Place Keurig cup but no matter, it’s time to head to the mountain.
I get the directions to Powder House ski rental in Bend and I'm off right at 6:15. About 45 minutes in I arrive at the outskirts of the Mt Hood National Forest and good god is it breathtaking. I roll my windows down and take in the fresh mountain air. At this point I find myself vacillating back and forth about how it must have been for natives to live off this land for thousands of years and what the first European settlers must have thought when they saw this landscape.
On the former point, I later learn that the Peoples of the Lower Colombia settled this area and were skilled hunters and fishermen. The rivers teemed with salmon and the forests were filled with elk, deer, and bear as well as nuts, seeds, roots, berries, and other food. The bountiful natural resources allowed them to establish permanent settlements and there were relatively few conflicts between tribes over territory. They were expert canoe builders and navigators, famous for their extended trading routes that reached as far as the Great Plains. It seems like there are few places better for living off the land.
On the latter point, Lewis and Clark were the first Europeans to extensively describe the area in their famous expedition of 1803-1806. The first volcano they spotted was Mt Hood, whose majestic snow-capped cone is just coming into view. Of Mt St. Helens, Meriwether Lewis wrote that it was “the most noble looking object of its kind in nature.” It seems they were equally entranced by the scenery and certainly more poetic.
I continue driving through the dense forest until I come to the High Desert of the Columbia Plateau. Here the views are expansive, with flat plains of alfalfa and hay backdropped by mountain peaks. The speed limit is 55 but most people seem to take that as a suggestion. It’s another 2 hours of pretty straight and uneventful road and I pull into the Powder House at 9:15. I peruse their wares and settle on a pair of Volkl M5 Mantras. My buddy James, who involuntarily serves as my skiing consigliere, lets me know that they are a perfect ski for all conditions. Wunderbar.
Let Er Rip
I chuck the planks in the back of the Mazda and I’m off to Mt Bachelor. Sun’s out, windows down, Jerry Jeff Walker blasting. About a half hour later I pull into the parking lot for the Sunrise Lodge. It’s the smaller of the two base lodges but I decided on it because it’s on the Eastern side of the hill. I’m hoping the East facing runs have had some time to soften up with sun exposure and plan to start over here. As I get geared up I hear the speakers at the bottom of the Sunrise Chair cranking “Only Wanna Be With You” by Hootie and the Blowfish. Fuck yeah, this is going to be a good day. I slide down to the lift and at 10:30 I’m on my first ride up the hill.
I get to the top and see the Summit lift spinning up to the top of the volcanic cone. It’s calling my name. I hop on and a few minutes later I’m at the top of Mt Bachelor, 9,065’ feet into the clearest sky you could imagine. On my way up I noticed that there weren’t very many people taking this lift, which I found peculiar. I soon found out why. I traversed over to the eastward facing side and drop in against 15 mph winds. The snow has most certainly not softened up. It’s hard. It’s crunchy. It’s less than ideal.
I look around and I don’t see another soul. Best not get too fancy, let’s take this nice and easy. I matriculate down the hill at a slow and steady pace and about halfway down the top section the snow starts to soften up a bit. I stop and look around for the Cloudchaser lift, Mt Bachelor’s most recent addition, which opened during the 2016-17 season. This lift is actually the reason I wanted to come to Mt. Bachelor after watching a short YouTube doc on its construction.
I don’t see it, it must be farther East. I keep heading right and drop below the tree line. It has to be over here somewhere. I continue making my way down the mountain until I get to a cat track headed back to the left. Did I overshoot it? I start making my way across the cat track, wondering if I’ll see Cloudchaser or another lift. And I keep making my way. And come to a hill. And another hill. And ridiculous stretches of flat spots. Where the hell am I??
After 15 minutes of full body cross country exertion I finally get to a run with a bit of downhill slope. I strip off my gloves and remove my jacket for a few minutes to cool down. That was a damn workout. I take a few swigs of water and head down the run. Very quickly I get to the bottom of a lift. The Cloudchaser lift. Damn, I did overshoot it. I look at my SkiTracks app and I overshot it by A LOT. It’s pretty hilarious looking at the map how far east I went. I went so far east I actually started going south. Oh well, I’m back on a lift and ready to get back to some gravity assisted plank sliding.
I take a couple spins off Cloudchaser then make my way over to the west side of the mountain. The terrain should be more challenging over here and it’s already noon so hopefully the snow has softened up. I make it to the top and start down and it’s full on Cap’n Crunch. It’s a slog but I make it down, knees chattering all the way. She’ll need a little longer to fully ripen, let’s head back to the summit to see if that’s loosened up. I ride the Summit chair to the zeinth and drop into one of the bowls. Still pretty hard. It got softer a bit farther down the hill but the top section was a drag. I ride Summit up again and bomb down the groomed section. Let’s try one more time off the top if the East side is ready to plow.
I head around to the other side of the peak and drop in headed east. It’s better than in the morning but still bangs me up a bit. My only focus is to make sure I don’t go too far right and have to take that damn cat track again. I see on the map that there is a run that cuts across and gives you a good route to Cloudchaser. I’m making my way down, trying to work my way back to the left and keeping an eye out for the cut-across run. I’m going going going and then…. Cat track.
Cot dammit.
I wasn’t quite as far afield as the first time (see run #10 above - I'm an idiot) but it’s still at 10 minute slog that has me sweating bullets by the end. What a pain in the ass. You’d think I would have learned but noooope.
Oh well. It’s 1:30 and the sun is irradiating the West side of the mountain, let’s go give that another go. I head down to the main lodge and grab a quick granola bar and hot tea and I’m back at it. The Pine Martin chair is playing “Friend of the Devil” by the Grateful Dead and I realize I might as well play some tunes while I’m out here. I’m by myself, who the hell am I going to bother. I pull out my phone and turn on Friend of the Devil Spotify radio and stick the phone in the chest pocket of my jacket. Now we’re vibin.
A few minutes later and I’m back at the top of the West side. I follow some Australian themed runs, Outback-Downunder-Kangaroo-Boomerang, because crikey why the hell not! I get to the bottom of the Northwest chair and have a decision to make. I want to hit the Summit one more time and come around the front side, which is an enormous wide-open bowl that looks spectacular. I also want to ride this West side again. The dilemma is that the Summit chair closes at 3 and it’s 2:15 now. Will I be able to ride the rest of this lift, make it down, up again, then across to the Summit lift in 45 minutes? I probably could, but I didn’t want to miss out on that Summit run so I decide to play it safe and head back to the top.
I make it to the Summit chair at 2:35 and up I go. I come around the front side of the peak, towards the west and the shining sun. I make my way over to a spur running down from the top and it’s a bit too rocky to drop in. I slide down a bit and find a nice spot to enter the bowl. The drop in point was nice but the snow is not. Or should I say ice. It is a reptilian layer of ice scales. It feels like I'm skiing down a slate roof, my pistons firing full force. I have to make a few stops to catch my breath, which makes sense because the views are breathtaking (sorry). I've got the entire side of the mountain to myself and it's spectacular. I snap a few photos and check the time. It’s ten to 3. If I can get down to Summit in 10 minutes I can take one more ride to the top.
I take a deep breath, map my line, and shred. I get to the lift at 2:55 and my legs are burning. What a run. I strip off my gear to get some air. I’m about halfway up the lift before I see one more group get on the lift behind me. Not quite the last Summit chair of the day but I’ll take it. I slide off the chair and head towards the East side that has been riding better today. I make sure I have eyes on Cloudchaser the whole way down because I’m not doing that cat track again. The run is outstanding, the snow has really softened even at the top for a smooth ride all the way down.
I get to Cloudchaser at 3:15, which closes at 3:30. Looks like my last ride up the Chaser. That ain’t no problem, I still haven’t ridden the trails off the Skyliner lift, the only non-bunny hill lift I haven’t hit. I cut across to that area and cruise down some groomies to the bottom. Back up and the end of the day is nigh. I make my way back over to the base of the Sunrise Lift and look at my SkiTracks app. 29,917 ft of vertical. Fuck it, let’s get to 30k. It’s 3:40 and I get my ass on the Sunrise chair for one more run.
Grateful
As I get off the lift the song I was listening to ends and fades into Ripple.
Alright, I’m gonna need a minute. I veer off to the left and find myself at the base of the main cone of the volcano, just above the treeline without another person in sight. I stop and take it all in.
I look up to the peak of Mt Bachelor and realize how god damn lucky I am.
I look across to the peaks of the Three Sisters and feel an immense sense of gratitude.
I look ahead to the wide open piste in front of me and a rush of memories of skiing with the old man washes over me.
It’s a surreal moment and any words I can conjure will certainly fall short. Big Daddy was the most graceful fat fucker you have ever seen on a pair of skis. What I would give to have him here to strap on the planks and carve up the mountain with me. I love him and and I miss him.
There is a road, no simple highway, between the dawn and the dark of night.
The song ends and I wipe away a few tears, take a swig of water, pour a little out for dad, and get ready for my last run of the day. My phone starts blasting Voodoo Child and I let er rip.
Well I stand up next to a mountain…
I make it to the bottom and check my SkiTracks. 30,715’. Hell yes. Mt Bachelor is the 6th largest ski resort in the US and I skied damn near all of it. Feels good. And I feel sore.
When I poked my head into the Sunrise Lodge earlier this morning I remember it being more of a buffeteria than a bar so maybe I’ll just grab a beer in Bend. Deschutes is there isn’t it? I look it up and indeed it is. Excellent.
Après
I peel off my gear and let my dogs air out for a few minutes before heading back to Bend. Sun’s out, windows down, The Band blasting. It’s about 30 minutes to the Powder House, where I drop off my shred sticks and make my way downtown. I find a parking spot on the main drag and waltz up to Deschutes Brewery only to find that they are temporarily closed. An older gentleman looking to get his growler filled walks up and shares in my disappointment. I look to see if there are any other breweries in town and I’m in luck - Bend Brewing Company is just a few blocks away towards the Deschutes River.
They seat me at an outdoor table right next to an open area where folks are playing cornhole and engaging in general revelry. It’s 56 degrees and sunny and I don’t have a care in the world. The waiter asks how the skiing was and when I tell him about my big day he brings me a pitcher of water. Hydration is essential. I order a Tropic Pines IPA and a half dozen wings, both of which are exceptional. The wings would hold their own against any place in Buffalo, they’re that good. I finish my brew, snag a Bend Brewing t-shirt on my way out and it’s back to the Mazda.
Wait a second. What’s the date? 4/20? Hmmmmm….
I’ve seen some dispensaries here and there during my Oregon travels but hadn’t checked if they’re medical or recreational. After a quick Googlin I find that it’s recreational and there’s a dispensary two blocks away. Rad. I waltz over there and if you can imagine pot day is a popular day at the pot shop. I put my name on the waiting list and about 15 minutes later they call me. I purchase 3 pre-rolls and a lighter and I’m outta there. Don’t want to make any of these electric lettuce connoisseurs wait any longer than they have to.
Back to the car and I’m off to my old friend Mt. Hood, about 2 hours of easy driving through the High Desert. As I get closer the ‘cano comes into view and what a view it is. Just gorgeous. It’s a short drive through the forest and up a mountain road to the Timberline Lodge. The main reason I chose to stay here is that it was the setting for the outdoor shots in The Shining. When I read that I booked a room faster than Jack Torrance turning into a psychopathic maniac. I love that film and it scares the crap out of me every time I watch it. Can’t wait to stay here.
Timberline
I grab my bags and walk up the main entrance. The front door is plastered with signs informing folks that there is no access to the lodge unless you are a hotel guest, ya know Covid and everything. I am in the club so I saunter right up to the door and give it a tug. Locked. What the hell? I stand there a few seconds looking confused and then hear a disembodied tinny voice
“Do you have a room here?”
“Uh yeah...”
*Click*
It sounded like the click of the pantry door when Jack is mysteriously freed from his captivity. Very spooky. I love it.
I walk into the hexagonal main atrium and see the absolutely massive stone chimney in the center. I later learn that it weighs 800,000 pounds. I couldn't find a Wikipedia article on heaviest chimneys so I'll just go ahead and assume it's up there. It has enormous fireplaces on three of the sides and I can’t imagine what kind of rip-roarin fires they get going during the winter. I look around and it seems the entire place is made of wood, stone, and wrought iron. It’s marvelous.
I make my way to the check-in desk and Sharon behind the counter informs me that they keep the front doors locked and a closed circuit TV/radio system allows them to unlock the door for hotel guests. Just announce myself and my room number when I get to the door and they’ll unlock it for me. This place is wild. I get assigned to room 316 and she hands me a hilariously large key. I can’t remember the last time I stayed at a hotel with actual keys. It adds to the vibe.
I make my way up to my room and drop off my bags. I study the Emergency Escape Plan on the back of the door harder than I ever have at a hotel. Because, ya know, ghosts. Also it’s probably 90% wood and could go up like a tinderbox. Speaking of which, on the Emergency Escape Plan they let you know if you have to leave your room in the case of a fire TAKE YOUR ROOM KEY. For the love of god don’t forget your room key.
I head down to the Cascade Dining Room and stand by the “please wait to be seated” sign and quickly learn that customer service is not the strong suit of the Timberline. Case in point: during my meal a woman at the next table tells her waiter she’d like to return a steak claiming that it’s undercooked. The waiter tells her that she’s wrong and explains the doneness she ordered and shows her that’s exactly how they cooked it. She pushes back but he doesn’t budge. Her original tone was pushy and entitled but now she’s completely flabbergasted.
Flummoxed.
Bewildered.
Discombobulated.
He agrees to take it back but not before she admits that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It was the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen at a restaurant in my life.
Timberline Lodge: we don’t give a shit about your Yelp review.
I love this place so much.
After standing at the host podium for what seems like forever but was probably closer to 5 minutes, the bartender sees that nobody else is going to do it so he walks around the bar and seats me. This place feels like you’re staying at a friend’s cabin, there is little to no schmoozing from the employees - they are just there to hang out at the cabin with you. I dig it.
Henry the waiter comes around and I order the Timberline Pinot Noir and a cup of the venison lentil soup to start. He brings out my wine and it tastes much more tart than I would expect from a Pinot. Or maybe that’s because I just brushed my teeth. Classy.
I settle on the duck for my meal, which arrives on top of a bed of taglieatelle and a red sauce that’s out of this world. The duck is a little overcooked for my liking, but I should have specified that my preferred preparation is “cooked as little as the chef feels comfortable getting away with.” It’s still quite tasty and I wash it down with a St Bartholomew Cabernet.
The restaurant is in the process of closing down for the night and I ask Henry if there is a bar in the lodge to grab a nightcap. He says no but the restaurant bar can fix me up something and I’m free to wander the grounds with it. Good enough for me, I order a rye Old Fashioned.
You want to make it a double?
Absolutely.
A few minutes later my drink arrives in a pint glass and I have to say I don’t think I’ve ever had a cocktail in a pint glass. At least at a place that serves cocktails as opposed to \$3 wells. I take a sip and it’s without a doubt the worst Old Fashioned I’ve ever had. I think there’s 7-Up in it. I’m glad I just charged it to the room and didn’t see the price because that likely would have upset me. I just imagine that I’m hanging out at a friend’s cabin drinking a Seagrams & 7.
I take the drink and start perusing the lodge. It’s a sort of combination hotel and museum so there are plenty of exhibits, plaques, and memorabilia everywhere. As I’m walking around reading about the hotel I remember the pot that I purchased in Oregon. It’s still 4/20 and a left handed cigarette would certainly add to the spookiness and silliness of this place.
I venture out to the car and take a toke of some High Desert Sour Sage under a cloudless starry night. Beautiful. I wander back into the hotel in a state of mind that is more appropriate for the fanciful old-timey charm of the Timberline Lodge.
I continue walking around the joint, taking in the history of the place. It was built in the '30s as part of the Works Progress Administration with furnishings supplied by local artisans. FDR dedicated the hotel on 28-September 1937, proclaiming that “those who follow us to Timberline Lodge on their holidays and vacations will represent the enjoyment of new opportunities for play in every season of the year.” You said it, Frank.
They have some model rooms decorated with luggage, gear, and clothing that you would have seen in the late 1930s. I read about the history of the ski patrol, with some antique rescue sleds and first aid gear. There’s a great exhibit about the construction of the lodge, complete with some tools that the construction crews used to build the place. I read that the 6 hexagonal pillars in the main atrium were all shaped by a man named Henry Steiner and his son John (one of 13 children). I walk out to look at the pillars and they are absolutely massive. They are each single pieces of timber, supporting the roof 30’ above and probably 4’ in diameter. Henry and John completed the pillars in 2 weeks using only hand tools. I still don’t believe that could possibly be true.
I wander around and see the rec room with the coolest looking wooden ping pong table, a shuffleboard table, and an assortment of puzzes, board games, and various other knickknacks. I take a quick look at the sauna and the pool/hot tub area and my beverage is dwindling. Time to head to bed. I return to my room and open the window to let in some crisp mountain air and call it a night just before the clock strikes 12. Hopefully I get to see a ghost.