Three Sisters Hut to Hut: Sunshine, Rainbows, and a Ton of Snow

Daylight was just beginning to peek through the curtains when Matt threw them open. Despite a western view, the sky was already bright with light. And sunshine! Few clouds hung in the air as we ate a quick breakfast, packed our bags, and headed out for some Dutch Bros.

Oh what an adventure it would be!

Excitement grew as we pointed our car west from Bend. Sunshine lit up the mountains and with some lingering bits of moisture in the air, a great rainbow appeared. One of the brightest I've ever seen, it grew from one rainbow to two and both ends seemed to land at appropriate places on the horizon to mark the start and finish points of our planned trip.

 

When we arrived at the snow park to drop off the car, I even considered bringing along my sunglasses. What a gorgeous day it was turning out to be!

When we arrived to check in with the outfitter, they asked if we had downloaded the topo maps to our phones. If you've been reading this blog long enough, you know that Matt and I are old school. We have phones, those cheap pay-as-you-go kind, and the most sophisticated thing they do is text on the nine digit numeric keypad. "We're map and compass people," I told him.

As is often the case, they then ask where we live and where we play. Most recently, it's been California and I know that makes us sound like the greenest, most unprepared coastal wimps in the world. Everywhere I've visited since we moved to California I've encountered people who find out where we live and then snicker under their breath when we take on something hard, as if to say, "oh, you're in for a surprise." Alaskans are the worst, followed closely by Oregonians apparently?

"Would you be offended if we sent you with a GPS unit?" he asked. Okay, fine. We were even presented with a set of spare batteries too. Insert eye roll. I really do know how to read a map, I promise. ;)

Accompanying us in the shuttle van and on our trip was a group of snowshoe hikers from Portland. We chatted a bit with them. They seemed confident in their abilities while Matt and I sort of cowered in the back seat hoping we'd brought enough layers. Surely the route wasn't as hard to find as the guy who offered us his personal GPS unit made it seem.

All of that fair weather optimism began to unravel as we passed through Bend and the shuttle bus carried us skyward toward Mt. Bachelor. First the sun disappeared. Then it began snowing. Then the snow blew across the road, creating puffy drifts that the van whooshed through with ease.

Then the world turned to this.

From the very first step, gliding through the snow was a virtual impossibility. We would end up breaking trail pretty much the entire day. The heavens did have mercy on us in that the first few miles were within the trails of a snow park so at least there were some tracks beneath that six or eight inches of new powder. At least it wasn't that bad. The trees were like something out of a painting, all weighed down with heavy flocking, just begging for me to take their photo.

Just as I settled into the slower pace and became comfortably warm in my cozy Adventure Hat and Gore-tex hood, we hit the end of the snow park. From here, we'd be following a map and some yellow canvas flags. On an ordinary snow winter, there's probably something of a trail leading between the three huts on our journey, but not today. Once we left the snow park, breaking trail was much more strenuous. The slightest incline sent my heart rate skyrocketing and I unzipped all the possible zippers on my coat to keep from overheating. Was I even moving forward? I couldn't tell for sure. My Garmin watch gave no indication we were moving at all.

After what seemed like hours, we finally crested the hill we'd spent most of the morning climbing. At the top, Matt met another skier. We chatted a bit with him before we realizing he was one of the owners of the outfitter company, coming to check on two skiers from sea level California. Sigh. I brushed off his lack of faith in our abilities when I realized that this meant there would be a broken trail to follow!

Wind was still blowing the falling snow down sideways but having tracks made the downhill portions more fun. We eventually hit a forest so dense that reprieve from the wind came.

Some five hours into our strenuous ski day, I finally reached my exhaustion point. I fell six times within a mile. It was bad. I'm a terrible skier when I'm trudging through a foot of new snow but I'm even worse when I'm tired. One particular spill was taken at the bottom of the hill. Both skis stopped, I kept going. Splat, straight into the snow, nose first.

Like this (source)

Behind me, Matt called to ask if I was okay. I was stuck. Face first, buried shoulder deep in the snow. The sound I was making could have been laughing or crying. I couldn't tell either. Turns out, I was laughing so hard I was crying. It was the textbook perfect fall: face in the snow, poles askew, and feet up in the air behind (or above?) me.

A different crash. I spent a lot of that last hour looking like this.

After half a dozen crashes, I decided to take the last downhill on foot. My foot sank in two feet, finally hinting at an answer to the question we had been asking all day: "How deep do you think the snow is?"

Then I could smell smoke. According to the map, once we hit a snowmobile trail, we were almost there. I've been on a lot of cabin trips, but I was never happier to arrive at our night's dwelling as I was than this night.

The first of two identical huts on our trip, this one was buried in at least eight feet of snow. A maze of shoveled areas led to the firewood and outhouse.

We took our time exploring the contents of the hut. When we originally booked our stay, we read about how food, firewood, and sleeping bags were provided. We didn't realize how extensive these collections would be until we arrived.

Rice and bean taco bowl with salsa and chips, none of which I had to pack in myself!

The first night had cans of taco fixings for dinner and pancakes, eggs, and milk for breakfast. There appeared to even be special consideration for those who might be gluten or dairy sensitive. Compared to our previous trips to Alaska's DNR and BLM cabins where we had to trudge around in the snow cutting our own downed trees, this felt like glamping!!!!

Really now: How luxurious is that?!

Several hours later, our trip companions arrived. They appeared to be quite a bit more haggard than we were. Also runners/hikers, they spent much of the night telling us about their favorite races and backpacking spots. In general, I like my solitude so I did a lot of listening instead of giving away too many of my favorite places. :)

Armed with a brand new book, I tucked into one of the loft beds early hoping to read for awhile before nodding off.  Not ten minutes later, my eyelids grew heavy and I dozed for a solid ten hours before stirring again.