The skies were clear and the sun was out.  Although this time of year, the sun is far towards the horizon.  Too far to warm me as I tried to work up a sweat, but couldn't.  I donned my mid weight fleece and snowshoes.  The fleece warmed me instantly and the snowshoes kept me from sliding as I tried to gain forward momentum. 

I was only about 4 miles from the lake and wanted to try an assault up Mt. Chinidere after I arrived.  As I started feeling better, I increased my pace to no avail.  The road was scoured with recent snowmobile and Jeep tracks, keeping my pace steady, and for me, rather slow.

The slow speed was all for the best as the views were magnificent.  Mt. Hood dominated the available scenery with it's thick winter coat, promising climbers a good base depth.  I continued following the tracks while musing on the ones showing the Jeep's history of itself getting stuck.  The passengers must of had fun, but I would rather be concentrating on the scenery rather than tire placement.

I rounded the bend right before the final stretch of the road leading to the lake's gate.  I bobbed over the road, observing a huge dip where the Jeep's progress ended.  The occupants were so close, but did not make it to the lake as the snow revealed nothing more than snowmobile tracks.  10 minutes later, I walked right over the gate, not even knowing of it's existence due to the depth of the snow.

I passed the main part of the upper portion of the camping area and almost wept.  I have heard about this lake for so many years and finally made it during the desired season.  Although I felt more tired than I usually would have on such a short hike, I was filled with excitement for the upcoming climb to Chinidere's summit.

I made it down to the lake with only minor sliding.  The snow was not snow.  It is consolidated to something more like ice.  At least, it appeared that way.  I only wore my snowshoes to keep from slipping down into the eight foot crevasses where the snow was peeling down from the ridge and into the lake.

As I made my way around the lake, Chinidere came into view and I drew increasingly motivated.  It was only 1000 feet above me, taunting me.  I got to the main ridge at Chinidere's base and ran out of steam.  The snow was so hard at times, even with snowshoes sporting aggressive crampons, I simply slid back down the hill I was trying to climb up.  At one point, I managed to even bend the front crampon while trying to kick steps.  My body's fatigue, brought on by my oncoming cold, got the best of me as I retreated back to the picnic area for lunch.  With lunch over, I sauntered my way back to the truck, following coyote tracks that were following mine, up.

Home