Labor Day Escape

Somehow Meg found a way to offload our children--on a holiday weekend even--to two different families for about 30 hours so the two of us could get away for some alone time before the stressful start of school. Although Meg had secured a room at The Resort at the Mountain with the idea that our family of five would stay there, it worked out plenty fine for just the two of us.

After dropping the children off at their friends' houses, we drove the scenic route (read: through the more repressed areas of the city before making it out to the country) to Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. I had visited the lodge a couple of times--and I think watching The Shining a few times counts for something, too--but a visit was on Meg's virtual bucket list, and she had a gift certificate for the lodge, so she wanted to have lunch there with our friends, Susan and Chris. We drove through some rain, though not the downpours we experienced the day before, but it was dry-and-foggy-and-windy at the lodge. We arrived first and had some time to burn, so we walked around the grounds, scouted the best place to eat (the buffet), and tried to stay warm (silly city slickers not prepared for a variety of weather conditions). Chris and Susan arrived not long afterward and we all enjoyed lunch at the buffet. Meg and I had talked about hiking some of the trails at Timberline, but Chris suggested we drive off the mountain and hike along the Salmon River, just a few miles from where Meg and I would be spending the night.

Chris had hiked the area several times and wanted to avoid the trail along the river if it was crowded, which it was, so we backtracked a half a mile or so, parked at the Green Canyon campground, and hiked the Green Canyon Way Trail instead. The trail was a couple of miles long and all utterly uphill. We encountered only one other person (and his dog) the entire hike. Because the trail veered away from the river, the only sounds we could hear were our own voices. Fashion Hiker (Meg) decided to wear her pretty boots on the trail, but unfortunately this led to blisters developing on both of her heels--and Susan's hip was hurting, too, so they stopped to rest before turning around and heading back to the car. Chris and I continued the climb, hopeful to find the summit of Hunchback Mountain--or at least a summit of some kind that would provide a view God's country. After 30 minutes of continued climbing and traversing the most difficult section of the trail, we spied a bluff that appeared to reach out from the mountain, so we left the trail and discovered a peaceful perch from which to soak in the nearly setting-sun that was bathing surrounding trees and hills and mountains that permeated the landscape with its last rays of warmth. We could have stayed longer to etch the memory deeper into our brains, but we soon left so as to not force the ladies from having to wait for us too long at the trail's end. We ran for much of the way down and eventually caught up with the ladies (who, we discovered later, had spied us at various points, but from a lengthy distance). Chris had a premonition that we could pass the ladies without them knowing by scampering down the side of the mountain--off the trail, of course. I followed his lead and enjoyed taking each step through the underbrush and moss-covered-fallen-trees, although my level of comfort was dropping with the disappearing daylight, we kept our trajectory towards the bottom of the mountain, but it took forever before we ran into the trail again; unfortunately, the ladies were not anywhere to be seen, as they had already reached the trail's end--foiled once again.

We parted ways at this time: Meg and I to our room at the resort, and Chris and Susan to who knows where. We cleaned ourselves up, attended to Meg's blossoming blisters, and headed out for a late dinner. Meg left before me and headed for what she thought was the lounge, but it turned out to be a wedding reception (they did invite her to stay; she was certainly dressed for the occasion, and could have totally pulled it off, but she knew I would hate doing something like that--Meg's great). And after peaking in at the fancy-pants restaurant, Meg decided she wanted to dine somewhere more casual, so we walked across the resort to the golf course, ate our meal in a large room all to ourselves, and then played a few games of pool before the place shut down for the evening.

I find it hard to sleep in anymore, regardless of the time I let my head crash into my pillow at night, and this morning was no different. Meg was up before me and asked if I wanted to go for a walk--no, wait: let's go hiking along the Salmon River, she said mid-sentence. I stormed out of bed and got ready for hike number two in as many days. There were a few cars already parked at the trailhead when we arrived around 8:00 a.m., but we discovered that they probably all belonged to people who had spent the previous night camping along the river. We passed only one person on our way up the 3.6 mile trail to the viewpoint, but it was like walking through the mall on our way down, and the parking area was overflowing by the time we left. The hike was pretty flat and gained elevation only at the beginning and the end. Meg was bounding up each hill--a testament to her healthy living--leaving me behind in the dust. The view from the top was gorgeous, and all signs of clouds and rains of the previous day had vanished. I didn't realize that we had hiked nearly 7.5 miles until after we returned to the car and I consulted my guidebook to figure out exactly where we had been. It brings me much happiness to see Meg knock out something like this without batting an eyelash. We made it back to our room at the resort with just enough time to shower and pack up before check-out time. We ate lunch at El Burro Loco (it's great; don't be afraid to stop and eat there sometime) before reuniting with our children and finishing preparations for the start of another school year.