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McNeil Point, Mt.
Hood |
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With blue skies in the forecast, I packed some gear and called Bob. We decided that McNeil Point, on Mt. Hood's eastern flank, was as good a place as any to see. Before heading out to the trailhead, a drive by of Bagel Land and Starbucks was a requirement. After breakfast, we set out for the Top Spur trailhead, just off of Lolo Pass road. A 45 minute drive got us to the trailhead where we did not hesitate, quickly grabbing our gear.
Being in a good mood, I spent the time slowly cruising through the woods admiring the way nature quickly recovers from the winters. Also feeling my mind was in tune with my body, the time flew by without notice. It is times like this that I love to be on the trail, when things are truly at one with themselves, within me.
We hit the junction to the Timberline, PCT, and the Skyline Trails. I, stupidly, chose the incorrect trail and started rambling downhill steeply towards the Muddy Fork. I knew I was going the wrong way, but I simply did not care. That is, until Bob suggested we turn around. We started backtracking while I felt a little guilty, since now, we had more elevation gain and more miles than planned ahead of us. We thumped up the trail past the intersection, through many beautiful bear grass fields.
I stopped to think about the direction that my life was heading in. I liked it and wanted more of it. It was a becoming a life that I do not see commonly in society today. Again, I thought of the subject of materialism and it's meaning.
We crested out on the trail for a brief moment above tree line. I took a long look at the Sandy glacier, pondering how large it used to be before 1900, and how hard it would be to climb this time of year.
I strolled without effort, smelling the scent that man cannot reproduce in the pine-tree-air-freshener plants of America.
I came upon a beautiful meadow that was donning a no camping sign. I could see why this sign was here as this would make quite a serene camp.
The few ponds that still held a little seasonal water were teaming with tadpoles. I took a picture for my daughter as she would not forgive me if I hadn't.
After missing the camouflaged trial leading up to the Point, we found it via a little bit of bush whacking. The trail was gentle enough to gain elevation quickly, but not so much to bring on perspiration. Soon, far above the pond below, it looked even more inviting as a campsite.
As soon as the trail steepeded, the public shelter appeared at it's 6100 feet of elevation. It stood there like a proud welcome mat to this beautiful, rugged mountain. From this vantage point, I could spot the route to the actual peek of McNeil Point. After a brief rest, I was off. Bob wanted to rest a bit more before handling the steep climb to the end of the trail.
The word steep did not describe it as the sweat rolled off me in pints. I am sure that the intense panting that I was bringing forth was caused by a lack of acclimatizing. I took a long enough rest to take a shot of the shelter before continuing on.
The valley was stunning with the site of the Muddy Fork's wreckage in it's center. Bald Mountain was clearly visible as well. I stopped again to think about why other people would take the time to do this hike. Was I doing it for the same reason?
Nearing the top of the trail, the trees turned into twisted corpses, a snapshot in time of what was trying to flourish. The simple lack of vegetation again reminded me how good I have it at home while during winter, the wind, snow, and cold would surly cause one to perish here.
I lay in the sun, working on my tan when I heard a shout. Other than my shouting at the ants trying to burry their mandibles into my back's flesh, it was the only sound to be heard. I turned around to see Bob, arms raised in victory. We sat and admired the beauty that this mountain afforded us. I felt truly alive.
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