TILLY JANE-GNARL RIDGE
Mount Hood Wilderness, Oregon
~14 miles, ~ 3000 feet
For those who know me, it’s no secret
that the tortured, windswept, barren high alpine is my favorite type of
landscape in the world. Some people need beaches. I need mountains. Treeless, lonely… no shelter from sun, rain or wind,
no dissembling, no escape, no misconceptions.
One of my favorite places in the world: the northern face of Mount Hood, near Cooper Spur. It
is a sun-bright, scoured landscape dominated by ever-changing vistas of Hood,
an area like a homecoming or pilgrimage for me. The north side of Hood
possesses some quality, some aspect of release for me: I am simply able to let
go and the brain-chatter settles. Maybe it’s just oxygen deprivation or
sunstroke, who knows. Regardless, it is a place I love, a place I ground myself
in.
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| The North Face of Hood. One of my favorite places |
Andy and I are in the process of getting
our house up for sale. Yup, that’s stressful. Marut, the Queen of Impromptu and
Not-Sweating-The-Small-Stuff, coerces
me to toss house projects aside for a day or so, to participate in a much-needed
overnighter. Backpacking therapy. On a previous recon/semi-lost exploration
near Cooper Spur/Gnarl Ridge, I discovered a great spot for an overnighter, so
naturally I decide to drag us there. It’s gonna be a hoof to get to, though. The
Cloud Cap Road remains closed, which means Marut and I are gonna have to work
for the payoff, nearly 3000 vertical feet of sweat in 4 miles just to reach the
Timberline Trail.
Before this, I’ve only explored the
Tilly Jane trail as a winter snowshoe. The Gnarl Ridge fire torched the area in
2008…during the winter this means the contrast of burned, silver snags and
white snow. For summer it means silvered snags, views, and flowers galore.
Also, an unrelenting sun. The pug crapped out on us about 2 miles in.
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| Life returning in the burn |
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| Crapped out dog. Marut is a good chair |
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| I love the contrast of wildflowers & silvered snags |
No matter. We stopped to take in the
sun, vistas of Rainer, Adams & Helens, to water and rest the dog. Marut was
feeling sluggish (most likely due to the fact that she’s the craziest
work-a-holic I know); I’m generally crabby anytime the weather hits above 75°,
so taking it slow and steady was a good choice.
It took us about 2 hours to hit the
A-frame at Tilly Jane. I love old historical buildings.
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| Arriving at the A-Frame (Tilly Jane snowshoe, 2010) |
Beyond the A-frame, the Tilly Jane trail
continues to gain elevation, flirting with the edge of Pollalie Canyon. Andy
and I had previously tried to follow it on a snowshoeing adventure, but deep
snow, new (to us) territory and a steep incline turned us around. Heat, steeps and
concern about crapping out the dog again (who was doing just fine now that she
had soaked in a creek), meant it took us about an hour to reach the Timberline
Trail. From here, well, the world simply opens up.
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| creek break |
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| pug & lupine |
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| taking in the views on the Timberline Trail |
I kept trying to convince Marut that the
area I had in mind was just around the next bend. Like many backpacking
adventures, though, distances become relative. Truth is, last time I was up here
I was playing a game of lost and found, delighting in discoveries, basking in my own element
and enjoying a day where I was completely stuck in my own head. It would seem that
when you’re trying to re-arrive at a place you found while *lost*, memories and
distance don’t always coincide.
The amount of snow also surprised me. I
knew that we were traversing some of the highest sections of the Timberline
Trail, but the very hot weather we’ve been having combined with the treeless
exposure led me to expect much, much less snow. As it was, traversing giant
snowfields became par for the afternoon course.
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| "I swear, Marut, it's just around the next bend" |
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| oh, look, another snowfield |
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| the scrubby little flowers were cute though |
But when we arrived….aaaaah. The little
knoll I remembered was lovely as ever, framed by the edge of Gnarl Ridge and
the looming vista of Hood’s Newton-Clark glacier. A seasonal stream provided us
with fresh water and tiny, scrubby flowers in miniature peppered the landscape
with spots of color. We spent the afternoon setting up camp, hunting for shade
(a premium commodity in the high alpine) and watching the world change color.
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| Dog, Hood. Hood, Dog. |
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| scrubby adorableness |
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| Hood looms large |
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| camp chores in the knoll |
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| hello camera |
Eastern Oregon and Washington are also
on fire.
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| Mount Jefferson & the Warm Springs fire beyond the edge of Gnarl Ridge |
The most eventful part of the trip was
the wind- with nothing thwarting its path, wind is king of the elements above
6500’. It picked up early in the evening
and proceeded to roar and rage through the canyons, down the mountain, and
across the little knoll. I got up a few times to answer the call of nature, *attempt*
some night photography, and make sure the tent was still staked & properly
guyed out.
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| trying to capture stars in wind is really difficult |
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| Those aren't city lights in the distance- that's the moon. And wildfires. |
At 4am, I woke to a particularly intense
freight train of a gust barreling down the side of the hill, thought “wow, that’s
a big one.” The tent then promptly collapsed on my head.
Any idea how difficult it is to untangle
yourself from a trekking pole tent while the wind is still slamming against
you? To sum it up mildly, the tent essentially becomes a giant sail. With one
hand, I’m attempting to hold the tent semi-vertical (my hand grappling with the
pole through the mesh because: A) I’m blind without glasses so I have to put my
glasses on. This is easier done with two hands and a tent that is not bashing
me with every wind gust. B) I also have to put on a headlamp because, oh yeah,
it’s DARK outside. C) I have to actually unzip
the tent to get out. Tent doors are very uncooperative when they are not taut. D)
I have to put shoes on which is hard to do one handed. Also difficult to do
while I’m now getting slapped in the face by an unzipped tent door and the
unstaked vestibule. E) I then have to manage to unzip the fly, crawl out and
not get tangled up in the whole mess.
Marut
slept through the whole thing.
(I may have to start referencing posts as
“Marut slept through this ___ or that ____” because it is simply inconceivable to me how
she does it. All I can figure is the woman has some major Zen-Buddhist-Goddess-One-with-Nature
thing going on because when she puts in ear plugs, it is lights freaking out.
[Insert jealousy here]).
‘Twas not a restful night of sleep. Ah,
backpacking.
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| the dog doing her crazy snow toboggan thing |
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| Cooper Spur is the high ridge to the left |
Heading home the next morning, little had
changed- the wind was still en-force, the sun still merciless, the mountain and
wide spread spaces still our constant companions. Nothing short of magnificent.
