Mount Hood Gifts
A quick and last-minute list of some Mount Hood gifts for that alpine aficionado in your life:
1. On Mount Hood: A Biography of Oregon’s Perilous Peak — Shameless, I know, but sometimes that’s just the way the world works. If you’re in the Portland metro region, it’s not too late to get a signed copy for Christmas for just $15. You can also find it at Powell’s, Annie Bloom’s, Broadway Books and most other local bookstores. Here’s a list of stores outside of Portland, and you can always find it online at Powell’s, Abe Books, Biblio and Amazon.
2. A donation to Oregon Wild or Bark —
Feeling a little more philanthropic this holiday season? Consider making a donation to some of the great environmental groups that have worked — and are always working — to protect the region’s wild places, including, of course, Mount Hood. (Bark’s mission is more Mount Hood-centric, while Oregon Wild covers the entire state; both have played major roles in protecting Mount Hood and the Mount Hood National Forest.)
And as a bonus: both organizations are all about getting out and exploring the places they protect, so each offers regular outings as well.
On tap on Mount Hood from Oregon Wild at the moment: snowshoeing to Twin Lakes, Lost Creek and White River, all in January. And from Bark (in partnership with Cascadia Wild), a winter tracking snowshoe in the Mount Hood National Forest on Jan. 13.
For more information about either of these groups, visit www.bark-out.org or www.oregonwild.org. Note, too, that all donations to Oregon Wild through December 31, 2012, will be matched dollar-for-dollar by Mountain Rose Herbs.
3. Oregon Department of Geology and Mineral Industries Lidar Map of Mount Hood — DOGAMI released this double-sided, water-resistant map last November. It includes 75 trails around Mount Hood, wilderness areas, roads, campgrounds, information for climbers and hikers, and a geologic overview. Just $6 at Nature of the Northwest.
4. Timberline Lodge Ram’s Head Fire Poker — Fashioned after the larger fireplace tools used at the storied Timberline Lodge, this hand-forged wrought iron poker is classic Timberline through and through. I met Darryl Nelson, the blacksmith behind much of the ironwork that’s been installed at Timberline over the past 30 years or so, and he told me guests regularly try to heist these out of the rooms. Not good. Instead, find them at the Timberline gift shop for $75. The shop also has a nice array of vintage-looking posters and artwork, books, souvenirs and more. Check it out.
Mount Hood Views
Before all the nonstop rain and impenetrable clouds settled over us this week, the recent views of Mount Hood were incredible. A clear day in mid to late autumn is, to me, when the mountain looks just about as good as it gets: new white snow, some fall foliage, deep blue sky, and cold, clear air that seems to sharpen the view just a touch.
That was the view when we headed up to the Portland Japanese Garden for, ridiculously, our first time ever since moving to the area in 1997. Unfortunately, the fall sun was so bright up there that it washed out the mountain in this shot. But it was there. Trust me.
In addition to the view of Hood from the Japanese Garden, there are great vistas of the peak from every side. Below are a few others of mine. Anyone else have a favorite view to share?
Mount Hood from Bull Run Lake
Mount Hood from Gnarl Ridge.
Mount Hood from about 10,000 feet up on its south side.
Picking books
It had been a while since I’d stopped in my favorite book store, Powell’s City of Books, so I dropped in today after a meeting for work. In addition to some browsing, I picked up a couple new books. One, Bruce Cameron’s A Dog’s Purpose, has been repeatedly recommended by some trusted sources. The other, Andrew Krivak’s The Sojourn, I grabbed on impulse after hearing an engaging interview with the author on my way to Powell’s. I considered some of Jim Harrison’s novels too, after reading a profile of him in the latest issue of Outside magazine, but I had to draw the line somewhere.
Before leaving, I of course had to scan Powell’s Oregon section and the mountaineering section. Glad I did.
Last leg: the Sandy River and Lost Lake
Just like that, the chance of any really nice, warm, Indian summer-like weather here in the Pacific Northwest has left us. While that may be a little bit of a drag, it’s also fairly fine. Not only have we so far had a relatively mild and enjoyable autumn, but we also had a warm and sunny stretch near the end of the summer that almost made up for the lingering gray that hung around far too long early in the season.
And from that last leg, we also have the fond and bright and warm recall of a few of those days. One we spent on the banks of the Sandy River with a stunning view of Mount Hood.
Another found us in pure summertime mode, rowing a leaky rental boat around the picturesque Lost Lake — also with an unmatched shot of the mountain — soaking in every bit of the fleeting season, as if storing up the sunshine and winds and refreshing waters for the inevitable days ahead, the cold and drizzly days, when nothing sounds more inviting than rowing a leaky boat around an amazing alpine lake in the middle of the summer.
Camping lesson
The Mount Hood National Forest was host to one hell of a party a few weeks ago.
We’d pitched our tent in a favorite area out near the rushing Sandy River, a place we’ve spent many a night over the past few years. The specific spot that we usually favor was already taken when we rolled up, but no worries. There were a few other options nearby, and the one we landed in boasted a nice view of the mountain through the trees and more shade than the old faithful spot.
This place has been great to us ever since we stumbled on it a few years ago. Because it’s not a campground, but instead a handful of dispersed sites, it’s relatively free of the crowds that flock to the more developed areas. And though you don’t have to hike in to get to it, it’s got a measure of serenity and beauty that almost hints at wilderness. Plus, the river’s just a short jaunt away.
Once we had our camp on in the late afternoon hours, the cars started rolling by. First one. Then another. And another. A Jeep with four young guys in it. A pickup truck rumbling with bass. A little sedan that had no business on such a rough road weighted down with folks.
The party, in the site a couple down from us, kicked off as the first cars pulled up. A car door would slam, some loud greetings would exchange, and then the beverages would crack open. I know how it works. I’ve been to my fair share of those, especially back in the pre-21 days. This was one of those.
It raged throughout the night, as the sun set, the mountain faded, the stars shone. Loud laughter, obnoxious machismo, breaking glass. Because we were a few sites away — and because we remembered what we had been like at that age — it wasn’t so bad. Just different than our normal escapes up there. Louder, mainly. And surprisingly, we just about outlasted the rowdies. By the time we retired from our own quiet campfire, it was pretty close to silent throughout the woods.
The next morning, the same cars we’d watched roll in the night before rolled back out in the early morning sun. My five-year-old daughter and I took a walk down the dusty road to survey the damage. And that’s when I changed from a slightly annoyed but somewhat understanding neighbor into an incredibly disappointed and perturbed curmudgeon. There was trash along the road, broken glass in the bushes. A pair of pants with who knows what on them sat crumpled up under a tree. Toilet paper streamed from the manzanita, camping chairs lay broken and bent on the ground, and the last car to leave loaded up the fire pit with trash, set it ablaze and drove away.
It was not pretty.
It needed to be cleaned up. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew we’d probably be back up for another weekend sometime this summer. I also knew that the Forest Service had been tolerating these unregulated sites, but that they were beginning to rethink that approach. Posted on all the sites in the area, for the first time since we’d camped there three or four years ago, were some unfortunate signs.
After mulling it over at breakfast and not being able to leave it alone, my daughter and I grabbed some plastic bags, headed back over to the trashed site, and cleaned it up. Five garbage bags, two wrecked camping chairs and a couple bucks worth of returnables later, it looked hospitable again. Probably still needed a good rain before I’d pitch my tent there again, but it was on its way.
I’d like to think that when I was that age, I would have been a little more conscientious about the things I did and didn’t do, but to be honest, I’m not sure I would have. Back then, a lot of it was about having new fun and, sometimes, not holding onto any evidence. I understand that. But years later, my perspective has swung over to the other, more adult and responsible side; the side that cannot fathom how anyone could leave a campsite just a few hundred yards away from the Sandy River and with a lovely view of Mount Hood in such littered disarray.
Who knows how many more scenes like that the Forest Service will have to walk up on before they do actually close those beautiful sites to everyone. I consider myself lucky to have found a place like this, to be able to enjoy an escape like this.
It’s easy to take these places for granted. It’s best not to.
The piper
Every now and then, I’ll do a vain little search on the web to see where On Mount Hood pops up, just to see what people might be saying about it or where it’s ending up. So far, I’ve not found it in too many unexpected places. Some bookstore web sites, the Michigan State alumni magazine, the Portland Hikers web site.
But last night, as I was snooping around, I came across someone who’d shared a short passage of the book with his Facebook fans. His name is Brian Kidd, but I’ve never met him, nor did I even know his name until I perused his site a little bit. Instead, I knew him as one of the unique characters who add a little splash of color to Portland here and there.
My daughter and ran into him near Pioneer Courthouse Square during the holiday season back in 2008. He was hard not to notice, because he was wearing a Santa suit, playing Christmas carols on the bagpipes and riding a unicycle.
At the time, I thought, Only in Portland. I wrote a quick blog about it on my (now) old site, and the image stuck with me enough that I mentioned Brian Kidd, aka “The Unipiper,” in my book.
You’ll find him on page 60.
On MOUNT HOOD 