Buck Prairie Ski

Each rest area situated on the southbound side of Interstate 5 was packed with big rigs. Given how hard it was raining in the valley, we knew the sudden increase in roadside trucks could mean only one thing: snow on the pass, and lots of it. Even though it was barely seven o’clock, it seemed that many decided to wait a bit for the road conditions to improve over Siskiyou Summit, the mountain pass that separates Oregon from California. It was unfortunate for them, but very good news for us.

His and hers. Buying the same brand was an accident.

It had many been years since my skis have sliced through fresh powder. Since the nearest snowy mountain to my home on the coast is up a poorly maintained county road, I don’t often visit while the snow is still fluffy and fresh. It’s crusty and windblown, which makes breaking trail more trouble than it’s worth. For that reason, I usually opt to snowshoe instead.

Neglected dusty boots

Matt and I appreciated the irony of our failed desert trip leading us here as we climbed out of the Rogue Valley, headed east into the hills. It looked a bit like desert, still dry and brown. The valley narrowed into a canyon and suddenly the world was white. The snow was so fresh that the snowbanks on the shoulder of the road were still a pristine white, not a sandy brown.

Helllloooooo Winter!

Expecting to be alone on this Thursday afternoon, we were surprised to see several other vehicles at the snow park at Buck Prairie. We’d gotten a bit of a late start, ran a speed workout, and bought a snow pass before arriving here. As it turned out, arriving in the afternoon was perfect: some wonderfully patient soul had already carved a path through six new inches of fluffy snow. All we had to do was glide along behind.

In the summer, this is a road.

For ninety glorious minutes, I remembered what it was like to ski on good snow; to ski in 25 degree temps with the sun warming my face; and to ski with those postcard perfect trees. I’d forgotten how much faster I can go when conditions are good. It was incredible. Around every turn was a new vista so incredible that it made my heart swell. WINTER, I sighed happily, I MISSED YOU!

Giddy snow grins all around!

Matt and I made loops throughout the snow-covered forest service roads. Some were wide, while other trails took us weaving through the trees. One spot in particular challenged me enough that I was sure I’d crash and my arm would be done.

Our fun off-road adventure. This was the best part of my day.

I convinced myself that it’s probably time to trade in my skinny skis for something with a little more control. My lightweight combination skate/classic skis are made for groomed trails, which were nothing like this. We called it a day when my left wrist began to beg for mercy. I wear a wrist brace to bring some stability, but with very little muscle through that area, the brace makes my hand sore after a while. I had to be careful and not overdo it since I didn’t want this to be my only ski day of the trip!

Me with the view looking toward Mt. McLoughlin, the volcano we climbed last year in August.

The sun was beginning to lower behind the Siskiyou Crest when we arrived back at the car. We had a light snack and then we pointed our car back to Ashland. A dinner of spicy curry helped warm me from the inside, providing the final exclamation point on a perfect day. As we settled in next to the fire that night, I couldn’t wait to do it all again.  I hoped my arm would cooperate and we could do this every day! 

This day's adventures:

Run 6 miles,  47:21, 4@7:25/mi.

Ski 4.75 miles, 1:25, 518 ft. gain.