Skinning up the ‘Pine

With the first lull in this onslaught of snow, Phill and I pulled out our skins and alpine touring skis for a climb up the flanks of Hood today. We slipped over the snowbank out back at just after noon and pushed through the beginning stretches of the Alpine Trail to the top of neighboring Summit Ski Hill. From there, we climbed steadily along a groomed sliver packed by boarders riding down from Timberline.

Sneaking under an arched pine, bent under the weight of snow, I accidentally brush a branch with my pack and trigger a slingshot.  Phill is behind me and luckily avoids the whiplash and the resulting snow shower.  

We huff along the flats and up the few steep pitches to the ski area boundary of Timberline.  Hugging the shoulder of the groomer, we continue our accent just west of the Jeff Flood lift.  Picking a small knoll to rest our legs, we enjoy conversation and Snickers for a short time.  

Reaching the top of Stormin’ Norman, Phill and I break back into the untouched.  At above tree line, we encounter unabstructed wind and some small drifts.  Traversing some areas, we aim for the Magic Mile lift.  While it isn’t running today, it has a lane or two of groomers that we hope to follow up.  

From here, we can see our destination and to get there is just a matter of heading straight up. I flip back into my high step setting to ease the cry from my legs and we move single file upward.  At midway of Palmer, I am starting to bonk.  I have to repeatedly tell myself to focus on my breath and steps.  Phill takes over the lead, and occasionally I look up at him and the top, otherwise watching the snow at my feet.  

“Let’s do six more towers and break,” Phill calls out over the wind.  Game on.  But I only make it two before I stop to catch three breaths.  Steady and strong, we move along, both of us feeling exhaustion creeping in.  The top of Palmer is right there, and the last pitch looks to flatten a bit, but I know better.  Still, with the finish suddenly so close I feel the surge take over.  And then, just like that, we crest the top.

Taking a knee, I go straight for my skins.  Folding over and tucking them into my pack, I secure my skis before stepping over to Phill for a handshake.  I know success won’t be achieved until we reach the front door of the cabin 4,500 feet below, but we need to savor this sunset and our climb.

Visibility is good and we can see Jefferson and the Three Sisters to the south.  The sun is 15 minutes or so from hitting the horizon when we nuzzle up to the top edge of the snow field.  Just as I am about to drop over, Phill stops me.  He is right, this scene is absolutely worth one more look.  

While we climbed for over three and a half hours, it took us only 29 minutes to get down.  And there at the cabin was Tischer waiting to go for a walk.