Peek into the Mountain — reprise
It’s Pickathon time again, and what better way to get in the mindset for this weekend’s festival than to look back to a bit of Pickathon past. From a 2011 post:
The first time I really ever heard The Heartless Bastards, an incredible band formed in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 2003, was at Pickathon 2010. And the first song I ever heard of theirs is one called, simply, The Mountain.
The band, particularly lead singer Erika Wennerstrom, hit me hard, sharing an energy I’d not felt about any band in quite some time. And the song came at just the right time. I’d been finishing up On Mount Hood and culling my notes and research for some quotes to head up each chapter. The opening lines from The Mountain seemed to convey just what I had in mind for the introduction of the book.
Oh you feel and you taste it
And you want to go higher, so what do you do
And so you peek into the mountain
Where your desire goes
I got to write about the Heartless Bastards and The Mountain a little earlier this spring, as part of Tim LaBarge’s Pickathonography book, which looks at five years of the music festival from 2006 through 2010. The piece went along with some fantastic photos of the band that really captured the musical highlights of the entire weekend for me.
Take a peek. (And look forward to their sets at Pickathon 2012 . . .)
Even more Mount Hood favorites
Every now and then, I post up a couple favorite shots of Mount Hood. I did it here and here, and now I thought I’d do it here too.
Hood from White River. Nothing incredibly special about this one, but it is the kind of image that shows just how beautiful a January day on the mountain can be.
This one’s not actually of Mount Hood, but from it: Oliver scanning the horizon and Mount Jefferson from Gnarl Ridge.
A frog, my daughter, and Mount Hood above the Sandy River.
Escaping on the kayak — at home and on Mount Hood
Five little girls descended on our house today after school for an over-the-top tea party — flowered hats, petit fours, raised pinky fingers and all.
Spence and I raided the scones, made like trees and left for the river before anyone could so much as tsk tsk us.
Our plan, other than giving the tea party a mighty wide berth, was to simply cruise the Willamette in the kayak and soak up the sunshine of a late and glorious spring afternoon in Oregon. That’s just what we did as we paddled downriver from George Rogers Park, past rowers and scullers slicing through the calm water, fishermen slowly trolling along, geese, ducks, osprey, and even a bald eagle filling the blue sky.
It was great.
It also got me to thinking about other places I love to take the kayak, especially now that the weather is shifting in our favor. I love having the Willamette so close by, but let’s face it, it’s not Lost Lake up on Mount Hood.
It’s not Trillium Lake up on the south side of Mount Hood either, though Trillium’s crowds these days can sometimes be more than enough to make you want to steer pretty clear of the lake despite its views and chill kayaking.
Some other nice spots for flatwater kayaking, canoeing, or just slow, easy boating up around Mount Hood also include Timothy Lake, Clear Lake, Frog Lake, and Laurance Lake. The entire Mount Hood National Forest, in fact, is full of some great offerings for boaters of all kinds — even, I’m sure, those just looking to get out on the water and a little farther away from a tea party . . .
Climbing Hood — another time
As I’ve mentioned before, everyone around here seems to have their own connection to or story about Mount Hood.
I got to talking with Kim Cooper Findling, an Oregon writer and author of Chance of Sun: An Oregon Memoir and Day Trips from Portland, Oregon, the other day at a local book and author fair, and she shared one of hers with me. In a way, though, it wasn’t entirely hers, but that of Marion May, her grandmother, who climbed Mount Hood in 1938.
(All photos in this post courtesy of Kim Cooper Findling)
Kim said her grandmother, who was born and raised in Portland and lived most of her adult life in Forest Grove, was 28 when she made the haul to the summit of Mount Hood in a group led by her pastor. It was a time of old-school alpenstocks, wool clothing, fedoras, and fixed ropes running up Cooper Spur.
It was also back when a lookout cabin still crowned the summit of Hood. (That’s Marion at the far right, in profile.)
Kim said she’s not climbed the mountain herself. But she’s written about it a bit in her books, and she’s snowshoed high enough on it to be inspired to go the rest of the way someday:
I myself haven’t climbed. The closest was when my husband and I stayed at Timberline years ago. I, being not much of a skier, hauled a pair of snowshoes out to the flanks of the mountain and climbed straight up for a good long while before I got tired and it started to get dark. Even that small experience gave me a sense of the stillness, beauty, steepness, and peace of the mountain. I loved being alone in that stillness. I’ll have to work through my fear of exposure, but climbing Hood is definitely on my list.
Many thanks, Kim, for sharing both your grandmother’s photos and your stories of Mount Hood.
Mount Hood Downhill
Where I grew up — a town in north-central Ohio called Mansfield — we never had to look far for a sledding hill. When the first snows would hit in November, we’d pull our rolled-up sleds out of the garage and grab a few runs right out in the backyard. Then it was a few blocks up the snowy road to the bigger, three-tiered hill next to our school. And if the snow really piled on and stuck around, which it almost always did back then, someone’s mom or dad would take us all over to a golf course called Possum Run. There, we’d huff and puff our way up what seemed like a real mountain of snow, throw down the sleds, hop on, and let it fly all the way back down — over and over and over again.
Here in the Portland area, sledding hills are a little harder to come by. Not necessarily so much for lack of topography as for lack of snow. But if you’re willing to load up the kids and head east for about an hour or so, there’s some fine sledding on Mount Hood to be found.
White River Snow-Park at Mount Hoood
- White River Sno-Park — About 4 miles north of US 26 on Oregon 35 just south of Mt. Hood Meadows, the White River Sno-Park is great for easy, fun sledding with little ones. The closest hill is just a five-minute walk up the snowy road from the parking lot; bigger and better hills are just a little farther along. Because it’s also a popular skiing and snowshoeing spot, White River can be a touch crowded, but it’s expansive enough that there’s room enough for everyone. And with an incredible view of the mountain as backdrop, there’s little to complain about. (It doesn’t cost anything to sled here other than a Sno-Park permit. If you buy a permit from a DMV, they’re $3; most vendors that sell them jack them up to $5.)
- Little John Sno-Park — At 3,700 feet just 30 miles south of Hood River on Oregon 35, this free Sno-Park (free except for the Sno-Park permit) is fairly low in elevation, so if it’s a low snow year, like this year, the pickings can be slim. But when there is snow, the sledding looks like good fun. There’s also an old log warming hut.
- Summit Ski Area — Mount Hood’s oldest ski area is also home to a tubing area. You can’t bring your own sled, but for $20, you get a tube and four hours on the hill; for $25, you can go all day long. Summit is just east of Government Camp. Summit also operates Snow Bunny, a little Sno-Park next door, where you can tube (not sled) for $20 all day; toddlers under five are $10.
- Cooper Spur Mountain Resort — A sleepy but quaint little resort on the beautiful north side of Mount Hood, Cooper Spur is home to a tubing park with a rope tow. Ten bucks for the morning or afternoon, which includes some great views of the north side of Mount Hood on the drive up from Hood River.
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.
On MOUNT HOOD 