"Getting There Was Most of the Fun."
My friend had never been backcountry skiing before. We decided a quick trip to the Olympics would be a fine introduction to a world void of lift lines, crowded parking lots and one-piece Bogner suits. A world where “high-speed quads” are simply strong leg muscles. A world where shovels are for digging pits, not for building kickers. A world where men are men, and the women are beautiful.
The forecast over the weekend called for more than a foot of snow in the Olympics and an avy rating of considerable to high. However Hurricane Ridge, just up the hill from Port Angeles, would expose us to almost no avalanche danger as long as we stayed on the ridge and restrained ourselves from dropping off the side (you wouldn’t believe how tempting that was with almost 2 feet of freshiez!).
On Saturday, the plan was hatched to catch the first ferry out of Seattle at 6 AM on Sunday, get to Port Angeles by 9 and have a chance to be first up the hill when the gate opens. After an uneventful session of gym climbing Saturday afternoon, we rolled up to El Camino, in Fremont, for “just one Margarita” (we needed to get up by 5 the next morning, so we had to get to bed early). Well…5 hours later and 6 margaritas down we finally staggered into the street. We should’ve known better – if you’re looking for the best drink in town, El Camino’s margaritas are hard to beat. It was at that time I remember thinking, in a tequila induced haze, the 8 o’clock ferry seems like a much better idea. Keeping a long story short, we missed that one too and finally started across the water around 10:30 am. We were both hung over, and my partner was feeling sick. She couldn’t look at water without getting nauseous, so she sat with her jacket over her head slumped like a sack of potatoes in the seat next to me. Ahhh…good times.
Poulsbo first, then across the bridge to Sequim, and a few minutes later we rolled into Port Angeles. Turning left at the light we headed up the hill…almost there.
“Good afternoon sir, the road is now closed due to icy conditions and a full parking lot. I’m sorry.”
“Really…?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Shit.”
Now what? It was 2 PM and we hadn’t even seen the snow.
“Let’s just stay out here and try again tomorrow…” I thought. We were both on vacation, had nowhere to be the next day, and it was supposed to clear up the next day. Trying to save money (we spent a bunch on drinks the night before), we decided to stay in the back of my pickup at a trailhead near the park entrance…it couldn’t get that cold could it? We spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the climbing shops in town, walking the dog out on the spit, going to “happy hour” at Costco (the burrito samples are hard to beat) and catching a not-so-late showing of “The Last Samurai”. I thought it would be a stretch to see Tom Cruise wielding a samurai sword, but it turned out to be one of the best movies I’d seen in awhile. At one point during the movie I nearly had to restrain my friend from smacking the guy in front of us. During one particularly exciting battle scene she was doing her best to “air guitar” the karate action. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, the people behind may have mistaken her for someone having a seizure.
After the movie we headed for trailhead parking lot, but by the time we got there the snow had started to fall in earnest. Since we hadn’t planned on staying the night we didn’t bring any sleeping bags. “No problem,” I thought. I’d slept in cold places before…I’ll just put on all my clothes – because, y’know…how cold could it get? I found out the hard way. The hours…just…crawled…by. I’d wake up shivering every 1/2 hour like clockwork. For some unknown reason, my partner was acting less than agreeable…well actually she was pretty friggin’ cranky. At one time I was told to quit shivering because it was keeping her awake. I couldn’t do much else but laugh In hindsight her manner was attributed to a condition common to women at the end of the month, but I’m gonna quit talking about it now before she springs an attack on me with her patented seizure style karate. Continuing the cycle of shivering and warming up just enough to fall asleep, only to wake up shivering again, we rolled out of the parking lot to find some coffee by 9.
One breakfast and one binding problem later, we finally hit the trail by noon. Out of the parking lot the weather absolutely sucked. My lips were blue, my face hurt from the wind, my partner couldn’t warm up, the visibility was horrible and we were both tired from two nights of crappy sleep. She had never skinned before, but the trail was flat and tracks were straight. As we neared Hurricane Hill, the sun finally broke through the clouds and graced us with some of the best views I’d ever seen. We could see across the water to Victoria, and deep into the Olympic mountain range. The skies were the deepest blue, and the new fallen snow was pure and untouched. After the events of the last couple of days, this was a nice way to finish the trip. We stopped short of Hurricane Hill and managed to nurse a few turns on the way back out. We soon returned to the parking lot and the comfort of the heated visitors center. Back to Port Angeles, through Sequim, across the bridge, through Poulsbo and onto the ferry at Kingston. Before I knew it I could see the lights of Seattle appear across the water in front of me.
We didn’t set any speed records. We didn’t ski any big slopes, nor did we climb any big peaks. What I got from this trip, though, was a reminder: it’s not the destination that counts, but rather the journey. I’ve climbed some big mountains, but it’s not the summits I remember. I remember the people I was with and the memories we made on the way up. As the year draws to an end I’m going to remember everyone who has blessed me with their friendship and has been a part of my life over the last 12 months.
Happy New Year’s CC.com: May the next year only be better than your last., and not as good as the one following.
