Local's Guide to Mt. Hood

Parlez-Vous "Bro"? Part Deux

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:00:00 -0800

boot pack n. A series of steps kicked into a slope resulting in a makeshift staircase. Commonly seen in the A-zone at Mt Hood Meadows. See also: Stairway to Heaven

bro deal n. When professional skiers and the like are offered equipment for free or at steep discounts, it’s called a “pro deal.” In mountain parlance, it translates to “bro deal.”

bro tilt n. First exposed in Skiing magazine’s September 2009 issue, this disturbing syndrome afflicts those donning both beanies and sunglasses. Upon doing so the wearer must decide whether to position the sunglass frame either behind their ears and underneath the beanie, or on the outside of their hat. When proceeding with latter option there is a tendency—nay, a blatant desire—by young male skiers to tilt the frames upward, at which point bam: you have “bro tilt.” Like damage inflicted to ski resorts by the western pine beetle, instances of this unfortunate trend appear to be confined to sun-soaked Rocky Mountain towns like Jackson Hole and Crested Butte. To be safe, report any sightings to us immediately.

cat track n. A flat surface created by a snowplow to facilitate skiers’ mobility around the mountain.

corduroy n. Snow that has been freshly groomed and thus bears an uncommon likeness to the timeless sartorial pattern. See also: groomers

core shot n. Damage to the bottom of a ski or a snowboard that penetrates the base, exposing the core. If this happens, you did something either really stupid or really cool. Though it was probably stupid.

epic adj. 1. Proper description of outstanding skiing conditions 2. Used to characterize anything that, due to extraordinary circumstances, becomes noteworthy: skiing out of bounds, a trip to the bathroom, and so on. See also: winter 2007–08 on Mount Hood

first chair n. The proud act of being the first person to sit in the chairlift when it starts running in the morning. See also: last chair

gaper gap n. When the top of your goggles doesn’t sit flush with the edge of your helmet. Your forehead will be cold, and you’ll also look like a tool.

lunch tray n. A shortened version of a snowboard meant for performing tricks. Kind of like a disco stick for boarders, only its use is limited to terrain parks.

Multorpor n. A lodge and a chairlift at Ski Bowl East. A combination of the words Multnomah, Oregon, and Portland. Note: Pronounced mul-tour-pour, not multi-pour

quiver n. A collection of skis or boards in one’s possession.

rock skis n. A pair of skis, usually on their last leg, that’s used early in the season, when the snowpack may be thin and rocks are guaranteed to damage the skis’ surface.

rollin’ up the windows n. A skier’s death spiral. When inexperienced skiers are airborne, they sometimes flap their arms in a circular motion in the hopes of maintaining control. Note: If you see this, don’t blink. A good wipeout is imminent.

sick bird n. A hard-core bro. This guy taunts death by hucking cliffs and skiing out of bounds. At night he watches ski porn.

ski porn n. Films about skiing and snowboarding. Purveyors of this eye candy abound—Matchstick Productions, Meathead Films, Teton Gravity Research—but Warren Miller is the Hugh Hefner of the genre. Often viewed in mountain towns where the ratio of men to women is 10 to 1 or worse. To see local bros gettin’ down, check out How the Northwest Was Won.

skootch leg n. An imaginary affliction in which snowboarders develop a swollen thigh due to the amount of pressure put on the rear leg while hopping through flat terrain. Note: To see an illustration, Google “cross-country snowboarding.”

steeze v. To ski with grace and style. Example: James Bond in the Spy Who Loved Me. Anyone who can shoot a ne’er-do-well spy with a ski pole while skiing backwards is steezin’ big time.

Texas tote n. A technique employed by tourists to carry their ski equipment. They loop one pole strap to the tips of the skis and the other around the tails, and transport their goods suitcase-style. Note: Try to avoid both the act itself and the use of this phrase. See also: Arkansas attaché case

white room n. Where skiers and boarders are taken when surrounded by pluming snow.

Add your favorite broriffic terms in the comment section below!

The Big Melt

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 11:00:00 -0800

Image: Jessica Keirn

EACH SUMMER, 100,000 skiers and snowboarders journey to Mount Hood’s Timberline Lodge ski resort to plumb the powdery snowfields that linger above 6,000 feet. After all, the resort is home to the only year-round lift-accessible skiing in the country. But it’s a limited-time offer: according to Andrew Fountain, a Portland State University geology professor, “Our children could see summer skiing on Hood go away.”

Mount Hood’s 12 glaciers have shrunk a collective 40 percent since 1901, when a geologist from Johns Hopkins University first documented them. And since the mid-1970s, temps on Hood have warmed by about one degree every summer. “That’s a rate of warming that exceeds what can be explained by natural [causes],” says Fountain, who has been studying Hood’s glaciers since the mid-’80s. If drastic measures aren’t taken to curb global climate change, he believes the mountain could see entirely snow-free summers in 200 years—max. “We’re beginning to see it already,” he says. “It’s harder to keep snowpack there in the summer.”

Eliot Glacier has retreated by about 2,200 feet and has thinned by some 200 feet—and it’s one of the lucky ones. Shielded by an insulating layer of rock deposited by Hood’s eroding north wall, it’s lost only 20 percent of its mass. Smaller, more exposed glaciers on south-facing slopes—like White River and Newton Clark— have lost as much as 60 percent of their mass.

However, glaciers on Hood (as well as other Cascade peaks like Rainier) are faring better than those in Colorado, the Sierra Nevada, and Glacier National Park, most likely because of the mountain’s proximity to the ocean. The moist air in the Pacific Northwest means our peaks still get walloped with snow.

But change is already at hand. Remember the debris-choked floods that washed out Highway 35 in 2006? Fountain points to glaciers as the culprit. “When a glacier retreats, it leaves incredibly steep valley walls that are subject to collapse.”

Animals like pikas—those cute, cuddly cousins of rabbits—that live at higher elevations, where glaciers feed water to alpine ecosystems during the summer, are also at risk. As the ice disappears, they’re running out of places to call home.

If that tug on the heartstrings doesn’t convince you to shrink your carbon footprint, an appeal to your stomach might: Eliot Glacier provides a significant portion of the water that irrigates the Hood River Valley’s renowned apple and pear orchards. Once the source of that water disappears, the crops may begin to wither away, too.

Portland’s own water source—the rain-fed Bull Run Watershed—remains healthy, though. Good for us; bad for Hood. “If it was affected,” Fountain says, “we’d have a lot more people interested in what’s going on up there.”

The Inside Track at Mt. Hood Meadows

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:00:00 -0800

Image: Jessica Keirn

Huge bowls, rugged backcountry canyons, an army of snowcats grooming pitch-perfect runs—all blanketed under more than 400 inches of powder a year. Welcome to Mt Hood Meadows. With terrain this good, you can’t afford to stand around gaping, wondering where to go. You need a plan. So we tapped Jeremy Riss, the mountain’s ski-school manager, for some solid advice on our local volcano’s biggest ski area. Consider the following a just-between-us cheat sheet to your best day on the hill.

1. RISS’S FAVORITE RUN Lord’s Chute: a narrow, 40- to 45-degree, fir-lined gash that holds deep snow. It’s located skier’s right of God’s Wall. Get there by entering the last control gate to the skier’s left of Park Place terrain park. Traverse skier’s right until you reach the rocky outcropping above the Heather Canyon Runout.

2. LIFT TICKET On busy days, lines at the Mt Hood Express can run 40 people deep. But if the Stadium lift, a creaky two-seater, is running, you can bypass the traffic jam and either attack hidden runs in Private Reserve or drop down long, arcing, groomed paths like Tamarack to the Hood River Express lift.

3. CANYONEERING Once ski patrol gives the green light to venture into the double-diamond terrain of Heather Canyon (usually by 11 a.m.), plunge down marquee shots like A-Zone and Silver Bowl. Then stick skier’s left and aim for the large clump of trees on the ridge. Here (after a few minutes of hiking), you can survey Clark Canyon and find Accordion Bowl, a steep, seldom-skied face bordered by outstanding tree skiing.

4. COLD FRONT When storms howl, exposed ridge-runs like Catacombs, Texas Trail, and Boulevard become wind-scoured skating rinks, and the ride up Cascade Express—if it’s open—feels like a meat locker. If frostbite isn’t on your agenda, head toward the wind-sheltered Hood River Express chair (affectionately called “Herm,” after the nearby Hood River Meadows parking lot), where temps can be 10 to 15 degrees warmer.

5. PROVING GROUNDS S&R Cliffs, a remote section of glades at the base of Heather Canyon, opened just last year. Technical tree runs, snow-loaded gullies, burly near-vertical terrain, and cliff drops are the norm. Take note: runs here end with a long, flat ski (especially challenging for boarders) on the trail back to the Herm chair. But, as Riss says, “That means a lot less people track it out.”

6. LUNCH BREAK Come noon, the main lodge’s cafeteria is full up with ravenous skiers. Sidestep the mob by darting upstairs to Cantina for oversize nachos and meaty tacos. Skiers on the move can drop into Renaissance Café at the base of the Herm lift and pick up fresh turkey sandwiches.

7. POWDER DAY The big, pillowy, snow-swollen slopes visible from the Mt Hood Express lift—1 Bowl, 2 Bowl, 3 Bowl, 4 Bowl, 5 Bowl—are a siren for powder hounds. But unless you grab first chair, expect those bowls to be plundered before your butt leaves the lift. A better shot at scoring untracked snow lies down Tillicum Trail. This rolling, groomed trail accesses less-trafficked (but just as worthy) targets like O Ring, 3-D, and Rock Garden. An added bonus: these north-facing slopes stay shaded from the sun, keeping the snow nice and fluffy.

8. LOW LIGHT Fighting pea-soup fog is just part of the Northwest skiing experience. But the well-spaced pines constituting the Jefferson Glade offer some much-needed contrast during a whiteout. For a more challenging run, experts can hunt for looked-over powder inside the Fright Trees (aka “Far Right”), a steep pitch located skier’s right of the Herm lift.

9. GROOMSMAN From the Cascade Express lift, hit Arena. A long, moderately steep pitch, this is the spot for intermediate skiers to rip wide-open, arching S-turns on a nicely groomed trail. Link it up with Ridge Run and take a hard left on Beaver Tail (both blues), and you can shoot nearly 2,000 vertical feet to the base area.

10. MELT ALERT Check the thermometer before setting off down HRM Face and Willow. The low altitude (about 5,000 feet) means that on warm days, the snow in this mellow, designated slow zone can quickly turn into ski-snarling mush.

Lore of the Mountain

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:00:00 -0800

Image: George Henderson

Each year, some 10,000 people attempt to summit Mount Hood—and since 1896, more than 130 people have perished in the process. For the men and women who pit themselves against this peak, risk is part of the allure. But their desire is also stoked by the stories of those who challenged the mountain long before. Here are five of Hood’s most unforgettable tales.

The Paper Chase In 1854, Thomas J. Dryer, owner and editor of the Weekly Oregonian, trumpeted himself as the first person to ascend Mount Hood’s 11,249-foot apex. But three years later, Dryer’s own employee, Henry Lewis Pittock, climbed to the top and found many of his boss’s claims—such as the presence of volcanic vents on the summit—to be untrue. In an account printed in a rival paper, a member of Pittock’s team surmised that Dryer stood about 350 feet shy of the true summit. Pittock topped his old boss again in 1860, when he seized control of what would become the modern-day Oregonian.

A Ridge Too Far By 1939, only one mountaineering route on Mount Hood had yet to be conquered: Yocum Ridge, a gnarly pinnacle of crumbling rock that guards the volcano’s west flank. Theorizing that a thick wall of winter ice would stabilize the rock, Jim Mount, a member of the elite Wy’East Climbers club, tried the route that winter. Although Mount displayed incredible skill (at one point, he used only a mound of ice to support a belay rope), he could not complete the climb. But his winter-ice theory inspired others to follow, and finally, Fred Beckey—a living legend credited with hundreds of first ascents—crested Yocum Ridge in 1959.

Beast of the East On a bitterly cold day in March 1971, Sylvain Saudan, a 34-year-old Swiss climbing guide, arrived on the summit via helicopter. He was armed with a pair of 210-centimeter skis and a plan to ski Hood’s eastern cliffs. No one had ever attempted such a feat. Just after 4 p.m., Saudan pointed his skis down the 50-degree, crevasse-riddled chute, aiming for the Newton Clark Glacier 3,000 feet below. Despite triggering a large avalanche near the top, Saudan clung to the icy slope using his unusual “seal turn” technique, whereby he leaned so far back on his skis, his shoulders skimmed the mountain behind him. A photographer for a ski magazine was on hand to shoot the deed, but found he had placed himself out of sight. Saudan’s act of daring lives on only in words.

Black Hawk Down One of the mountain’s most horrific events unfolded on May 30, 2002. Caught in a web of ropes, nine climbers were swept inside the Bergschrund, a crevasse located 800 feet below the summit’s south face. Three of them were killed. An Air Force Reserve Pave Hawk helicopter—a modified version of a Black Hawk—was dispatched to aid rescuers. While hoisting a survivor into the air, the hovering copter began to stall. An alert crew member on board released the line, saving the climber’s life. But seconds later, as KGW’s cameras beamed the scene to live TV, the craft careened into the mountainside and tumbled 1,000 feet down the slope. Tossed from the helicopter as it fell, the six crew members survived.

The Lost Trio In the face of hurricane-force winds and whiteout conditions, three climbers—Kelly James, Brian Hall, and Jerry Cooke—reached Hood’s summit in December 2006. The three men were seasoned mountaineers, but the extreme conditions, which besieged the mountain for more than a week, were unforgiving. On December 10, James, injured and huddled in a snow cave about 300 feet below the summit, managed to reach his wife by cell phone for a haunting last goodbye. The story became a national sensation, though to this day no one knows exactly what went wrong. James’s body was discovered seven days later, his bare hand extended to reveal a ring engraved with his initials—an apparent final signal to his family. The bodies of Hall and Cooke remain lost on Hood’s slopes.

Mt. Hood

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:00:00 -0800

According to Multnomah tribal legend, the mountain we call “Hood” was once a chief who was filled with so much jealousy over a woman that, enraged, he turned into a volcano.

Today the 11,249-foot-tall mound of rock and ice gurgles with a molten core just 60 miles east of Portland, its perfect, A-shaped peak rising like a child’s drawing above the city’s skyline. Generations of Portlanders have grown up sledding, skiing, and tossing snowballs on its slopes. City zoning laws protect our views of it. In short, we feel possessive. Only the gods could imagine what we might feel if we were to lose Hood to another city. (Fortunately, it’s not going anywhere.)

Crafting a guide to such an icon is no easy task. But we’ve worked hard to highlight 23 essential experiences, from a doughnut shop whose sweets will rev you up on your way to the mountain to a three-story alpine palace that’s yours for the relaxing. We dish up details on the secret stashes of fresh powder at Mt Hood Meadows and recount unforgettable tales of alpine adventure. You’ll even learn about the mountain’s storied canines.

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Image: Lana Young

The White River Trail is bathed in sunlight beneath Mount Hood’s summit.

White River / moderate / snowshoe

Hikers aiming to fill their camera frames with Mount Hood summit shots won’t do better than the White River Trail: the entire path wanders under the watchful eye of the volcano’s massive cinder cone. Perched on Hood’s southern flank, White River is often soaked in sun. Atop Boy Scout Ridge, at some 5,000 feet, the peak’s yawning crevasses, towering seracs, and blue-green glacial ice appear close enough to touch.
Round trip: 5 miles. Distance from downtown: 63 miles. Map: Mt Hood Ski and Snowshoe Trails —Christopher Van Tilburg

Devil’s Half Acre / moderate / cross-country skiing

Seek out this hidden gem when Trillium Lake’s trails are jammed with skiers. The path was first blazed in 1845 by legendary Cascade mountain man Samuel Barlow, who hoped to spare Oregon Trail travelers a sketchy barge ride down the swift-moving Columbia River. After a quick descent, the pioneer-era road traverses a corridor of tall pines that gives way to an expansive meadow at the base of a softly sloping knoll. Use this backcountry bunny hill to practice telemark turns, or as a secluded listening post for the rat-a-tat-tats of wintering pileated woodpeckers.
Round trip: 3 miles. Distance from downtown: 59 miles. Map: Green Trails No. 462 —CVT

Glade Trail / difficult / cross-country skiing

The historic Glade Trail links the alpine hamlet of Government Camp to the mighty Timberline Lodge. Following the path of a bygone tramway line (from which a Portland city bus was suspended during the 1950s), the wide swath rises 2,000 feet over 3.5 miles. Meander past dense groves of Douglas fir and western red cedar before you emerge near Timberline’s Blossom Chairlift. Warm your bones at the lodge’s Ram’s Head Bar and mark your calendar for the annual “Ski the Glade” event in March, when the trail is groomed for a day of retro-themed skiing. (Check mthoodmuseum.org for the date.)
Round trip: 7 miles. Distance from downtown: 56 miles. Map: Green Trails No. 462 —CVT

Crosstown Trail System / easy / snowshoe

Government Camp’s rolling Crosstown Trail fits the bill for novice outdoorsmen and families in need of a short, no-hassle day trip. True, you won’t wander far from civilization, but stands of giant salal, hibernating rhododendron bushes, and subalpine pines filter the highway noise well enough to maintain the Narnia-in-winter vibe. And should your budding snowshoer tire of the fairy tale in favor of hot cider, a multitude of side trails leading back to town will let you bail out pronto.
Round trip: 3 miles. Distance from downtown: 55 miles. Map: Green Trails No. 461 —CVT

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Image: Steve Rollins

Backcountry bliss along the Tilly Jane Trail

Teacup Lake / easy / cross-country skiing

Considered One of the most well-maintained groomed trail systems in the state, Teacup Lake’s ski trails are dutifully tended to by the Oregon Nordic Club. A burly PistenBully 170 snowcat lays down the velvety track twice a week, leaving a classic kick-and-glide path as well as an ample skate lane in its wake. Stop in on a weekend; the Ray Garey day-use cabin will probably have a fire stoked.
20 miles of trails. Distance from downtown: 67 miles. Map: Green Trails No. 462; Mt Hood Ski Snowshoe Trails —CVT

Tilly Jane / difficult / snowshoe

This challenging outing leaps some 2,000 feet up Pollalie Ridge to command sweeping views of the Hood River Valley. At the 5,500-foot mark, the Tilly Jane shelter—an old A-frame climber’s hut that survived last year’s devastating Gnarl Ridge fire unscathed—makes a welcome spot to drop your pack and sip a thermos of hot tea. If your quads aren’t protesting too much, continue another mile to Cloud Cap Inn. Built in 1889 by Portland luminary William Ladd, the large log cabin is maintained today by the storied Crag Rats Mountain Rescue unit. Ask nicely and they might give you a tour of the inside.
Round trip: 5 miles. Distance from downtown: 88 miles. Map: Green Trails No. 462 —CVT

White River West Sno-Park / sledding

Not even Clark Griswold could hurt himself on this small sno-park’s mild slopes. It’s the perfect place to take future powderphiles who are still learning how to lace up their Sorels. The hills are short, gentle, and only minutes away from a steaming cup of cocoa in Government Camp. Marshmallows on top, of course. 4 miles north of Hwy 26 on OR 35 —Kasey Cordell

Little John Sno-Park / sledding

Little John’s low elevation (about 3,200 feet) means it doesn’t get as much snow as other sledding areas, but when the skies dump powder, this is prime tubing turf. Nestled within earshot of Culvert Creek, the area boasts two shriek-inducing hills—one that’s 600 feet long—making the trek to the top a long one, but oh-so-worth-it for that hair-blowing blast back down. Plus, the Forest Service maintains a warming hut with a fire pit—just the thing you’ll need when one of those rides ends in a wipeout (and trust us, one of them will).
31 miles south of Hood River on OR 35 —KC

Snow Bunny Lodge / sledding

Established in 1952 just up the road from Summit Ski Area, Snow Bunny Lodge drew more than 25,000 visitors each winter in its 1970s-era heyday. Traffic has diminished since Summit’s lodge was demolished in 1992. But that’s good: there’s less wait time between runs now. These days, Snow Bunny is open only on weekends and holidays (when rented sliders are the only kind allowed), but you’re free to visit and use your own gear on the lodge’s slopes anytime.
3 miles east of Government Camp on Hwy 26 —KC

Shine On

In search of the mythical Overlook Hotel

Almost 30 years after The Shining opened in theaters, Stanley Kubrick’s creepy film about an ill-fated family wintering in an isolated, snowbound hotel remains timelessly scary. But for some, it’s also the source of timeless confusion.

Many fans believe the film was shot at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood. “We get inquiries from all over the world regarding The Shining,” says Jon Tullis, Timberline’s spokesman, of the intense curiosity surrounding the lodge’s role in the movie. At one time, room 217—a key location in the Stephen King novel that the movie is based on—was even rumored to be Timberline’s most-requested room (this despite the fact that Timberline’s operator convinced Kubrick to use a nonexistent room 237 in the film).

It’s a classic case of mistaken identity. The movie uses aerial shots of Timberline Lodge’s exterior to establish the setting of the fictitious Overlook Hotel. (If you watch closely in the opening sequences, you’ll see framed photos of Timberline, too.) But that’s where Oregon’s connection to the film ends.

The hotel that inspired King to write The Shining—the Stanley Hotel—is in Estes Park, Colorado (also the location of 1997’s television remake). And while Tullis says Kubrick sent crew members to scout Timberline in the late 1970s, all of the movie’s major scenes were shot at expansive studios in England. Each room in the film is a set based on rooms in dozens of hotels across the country. The Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park was the model for the Overlook’s grand lounge, for instance. Even the close-up shots of Timberline’s exterior, along with that spooky maze where Jack Nicholson’s character finally receives his frozen comeuppance, were elaborate sets, with tons of smashed Styrofoam and dairy salt standing in for the tidal waves of snow that entomb Timberline each winter.

In short, the haunted Overlook Hotel, as seen on film, doesn’t exist anywhere. And maybe that’s a good thing. As Kubrick liked to say—“Real is good. But interesting is better.” —BB

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STAY

Image: Peter Frick-Wright

Cascade Huts

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These three recently opened metal-frame cabins set along Forest Service roads in the White River Valley and along Barlow Ridge now accommodate local winter backcountry outings. Hardcore skiers and snowshoers can trek in for a quick overnight stay at one of the cabins or link them up for extended outings. Each hut is outfitted with eight pine bunks, sleeping bags and pads, lanterns, a propane stove and heater, and basic kitchen utensils, but you’ll need to haul in your own food and water—small pittance for a few nights of deep, snowy solitude. —BB
From $150. 866-430-4559; cascadehuts.com

Mt Hood Bed & Breakfast

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The grounds of the Mt Hood Bed & Breakfast include a working ranch with cattle and quarter horses, ponds, and apple orchards. Four quaint rooms feature warm, pine-toned interiors and stunning views of the mountains, and the 42 acres of snow-blanketed fields and trails offer plenty of cross-country skiing and snowshoeing adventures. Hit the trails early in the morning and proprietors Mike and Jackie Rice will have a hot country breakfast waiting for you when you return. —Rachel Ritchie
Rooms from $155. 8885 Cooper Spur Rd, Parkdale; 541-352-6885; mthoodbnb.com

Timberline Lodge

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Completed in 1937 as the Northwest’s high-water mark for Works Progress Administration projects, Timberline earned a visit from Franklin Roosevelt himself for its dedication. Since 1955, the lodge has been managed and lovingly cared for by the Kohnstamm family. Inside, the soaring public spaces feature brawny beams of Douglas fir, wrought-iron detailing, towering stone fireplaces, and two bigger-than-life murals by Oregon’s greatest early-century painter, C.S. Price. Overnight options include hostel-style bunks and large corner rooms, but the hospitality really shines in the eight “fireplace guest rooms.” Each is uniquely decorated with detailed paintings of regional flora, handcrafted rugs, rustic woodsy furnishings, and a large stone hearth. Whatever room you book, make sure you visit the giant heated outdoor pool and hot tub, where you can watch fat snowflakes fall into the steaming water with a glass of hot buttered rum in hand. It puts all other après-ski scenes to shame. —RR
Rooms from $115. Timberline Road; 503-272-3134; timberlinelodge.com

The Tails of Hood

Tracing the lineage of Mount Hood's most notable canines

Image: George Henderson

RANGER. Adopted as a puppy in 1925 by the owner of the Government Camp Hotel, Ranger would cower in fear at the sight of automobiles. But on the mountain, the dog’s toughness was legendary: the sure-footed Australian shepherd mix stood atop Mount Hood an alleged 500 times. Ranger made one last climb in 1938 before ascending to the big peaks in the sky in 1939. In tribute, members of the Wy’East Climbers, who seldom made the trip to the top without the dog, laid their friend to rest on the mountain’s summit.

BRUNO. When Timberline Lodge opened in 1937, a pair of Saint Bernards—Lady and Bruel—greeted guests. By the 1950s, the mammoth mutts were considered Timberline’s official mascots. After one of their successors, a Bernard named Bruno, earned stardom in a ’60s ad campaign, the name stuck. Bruno the Eighth—the current hound—is owned by the Wy’East Day Lodge’s gift shop manager. The 2-year-old, 120-pound pooch can usually be found, belly up, beneath the register. If he looks a little tired, remember: Timberline gets about two million visitors a year. That’s a lot of palms to sniff.

VELVET. This black Labrador mix rose to fame in February 2007. While Velvet was roped together with her owner, Matty Bryant, and two other climbers, the whole team fell 500 feet down a ledge during a snowstorm. That night, as winds raged around the climbers’ impromptu bivouac, Velvet took turns lying on each of them. Rescuers credited the dog’s body heat with keeping the trio alive. After an appearance on Good Morning America, Velvet headlined a local fundraiser that generated $52,000 for teams like Portland Mountain Rescue. It was held at—where else?—the Lucky Lab. —BB

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Image: Twenty Four Seven, Inc.

The Mule Deer Cabin redefines alpine style.

Mule Deer Cabin

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Now here’s our idea of the ultimate mountain getaway. Designed by local branding company Twenty Four Seven, this slick 3,400-square-foot, three-story palace (which sleeps up to 21 people) is loaded with a stylish mix of low-slung sofas, antler chandeliers, a retro-cool indoor-outdoor fireplace, 500-thread-count linens, European-style walk-in showers—oh, and a full bar. Plus there are enough mule-deer knickknacks here and there for a Where’s Waldo? book. Expect to pony up some cash, though—nights here run $850. Business types take note: the Mule Deer is retreat-ready with a remote-control four-foot-by-six-foot projector screen. —Kelly O’Connor
503-622-1142; muledeercabin.com

Mt Hood Inn

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The setup is simple, the décor is outdated, and the lift tickets are discounted—the Mt Hood Inn gives you everything you need and nothing you don’t. The things you need include covered parking, downstairs ski lockers, and an on-site ski tuning room. Toss in the fact that you can take a free shuttle to Mt Hood Skibowl and stumble home from the Ice Axe Grill right next door, and you’ll realize that this is the best deal on the mountain. —RR
Rooms from $159. 87450 E Government Camp Loop, Government Camp; 503-272-3205; mthoodinn.com

The Swedish Stuga

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This inviting little cabin has charm to spare. Red clapboard walls rise out of the snow against a thickly forested backdrop. Nearby, a stream trickles. A handsome flagstone patio leads guests inside, where large windows let natural light bounce off gleaming hardwood floors made from reclaimed Douglas firs. Tuck into a sunny nook with a book (the cabin has a great selection), or gaze at the forest canopy while soaking in an antique claw-foot tub. Skiing at Timberline is just up the road, but with 24 acres of ski trails right outside the door, the Swedish Stuga can be your own private resort for the weekend. —KO
$179 per night. 503-421-3087; swedishstuga.com

The Resort at the Mountain

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Nestled on the western slope of Mount Hood, just 15 minutes from Government Camp, the 300-acre Resort at the Mountain offers all the trappings of opulence: elegant modern furnishings; an upscale restaurant that serves fresh, local cuisine; and a lavish 3,500-square-foot spa where you can pamper yourself with hot stone massages, Himalayan-salt body wraps, and holistic facial treatments. —RR
Rooms from $129. 68010 East Fairway Ave, Welches; 503-622-3101; theresort.com

Vision Quest

Preserving Portland's Mount Hood vistas

Rising like a rocket ship ready to launch, the sleek First Interstate Center (now known as the Wells Fargo Center) signaled Portland’s bold new future upon its completion in 1972. Designed by Los Angeles architect Charles Luckman, it stood 541 feet tall, loftier than any other building in the state.

Yet many Portlanders regarded the mass of white marble not as an iconic addition to a modern big-city skyline, but as a threat to the region’s beloved civic symbol: Mount Hood. As visiting architecture critic Ada Louise Huxtable put it in a New York Times column: “Against the suave schlock of California architectural imports, Mount Hood doesn’t stand a chance.”

But coincidentally, a new citizens advisory committee (for the first time made up of more ordinary Joes than downtown power brokers) was at work on a new blueprint for the city, outlining plans for future features like the transit mall and Pioneer Courthouse Square. To their to-do list they added: protect key vistas of Mount Hood.

“People didn’t call it ‘livability,’ and they didn’t worry about ‘the nature deficit’ back then,” says Valerie Hope, then a half-time city staffer serving on the committee. “They just wanted to preserve the quality of life and things that mattered.”

The committee proposed two protected views—from Washington Park’s Rose Garden and from the Sunset Highway’s Vista Tunnel. Along these two corridors, new buildings would be barred from interfering with the sight lines of the mountain.

But in the late ’70s, the desire for postcard views ran headfirst into hopes for new housing, recalls retired city planner Rod O’Hiser. As the Portland City Council was about to vote the corridors into downtown’s zoning laws, a developer proposed a high-rise apartment at SW Broadway and Market Street, squarely in the path of the view from the Vista Tunnel.

The council’s vote? “Aye” to the corridor from Washington Park; “nay” to views near the Vista Tunnel. Luckily, the era’s spiking interest rates killed the original apartment-tower plans, but in 1984 another skyscraper rose to block the view: the 509-foot KOIN Center.

In 1991, the city set aside two more perspectives of Mount Hood—from the Vista Avenue Viaduct near Goose Hollow and from Oregon Health & Science University. And so, today, three invisible wedges of building-free space stretch through the city, forever assuring that Mount Hood remains nestled in—rather than blocked by—the growing skyline. —Randy Gragg

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EAT

Image: Michael Novak

Joe’s Donuts

Like a tailgate party before the big game, a wintry day on Hood is best primed at this Sandy landmark. But instead of brats and beer, think sugar and carbs. For the true Joe’s experience, drop in before dawn on a Saturday. The little red-and-white-checkered building will have a line out the door. Fresh coffee flows like a newly tapped oil well, and the glaze on the just-from-the-fryer apple fritters and maple bars glistens like new-fallen snow.
39230 SE Pioneer Blvd, Sandy; 503-668-7215 —BB

Charlie’s Mountain View

Once the lifts shut down, off-duty ski patrollers and other assorted mountain folk gather here by the dozen. The place definitely feels local, but the vibe is friendly. You might even score a beer on the house: next winter, Charlie’s will once again start selling its sought-after lapel pins. Once purchased, this little doodad earns you a free drink for every drink you buy—for the next five years. OK, it’s only one drink per day, but it still sounds better than any mug club we’ve heard of. —BB
Government Camp Loop; 503-272-3333; charliesmountainview.com

Huckleberry Inn

A few simple rooms upstairs can be rented for the night, and there’s a separate space for steak-house dinners. But most people just take a seat in one of the inn’s Formica booths and order breakfast or a slice of huckleberry pie, served any hour of the day or night. Thick pancakes, fresh-baked cinnamon rolls, and crisp chicken-fried steak all arrive in a hurry. Too heavy a fare for the morning ski runs? Nah. Think “lower center of gravity.”
Government Camp Loop; 503-272-3325; huckleberry-inn.com —BB

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Image: Larry Gloth

Warming Hut, Mt Hood Skibowl

The carved benches inside this sturdy hut perched on the slopes of Skibowl seem to have grown into place. Old photos trace the hill’s ski heritage to the late 1930s, and a big stone fireplace dominates the back wall. Occasionally, old-timers play accordions by the flames, adding an alpine ambience. If you’re hungry, go for the goulah. Piping hot with chunks of potatoes and onion, it’s chicken soup for the skier’s soul.
Mt Hood Skibowl; skibowl.com -BB

Ice Axe Grill

This little brew-pub is about as close as Government Camp comes to haute cuisine. The rockfish tacos sprinkled with a fresh cilantro cream sauce would pass muster in San Diego. Salads are studded with goodies like peppered bacon and kalamata olives. And the beer? It’s crafted on-site by the Mt Hood Brewing Company. And there’s a reason every bar on the mountain keeps these micro-suds on tap.
87304 E Government Camp Loop; 503-272-3172; iceaxegrill.com —BB

Blue Ox Bar

In a cavelike alcove off one of Timberline Lodge’s side halls sits the Blue Ox Bar. Any smaller and it’d have to be a closet. Still, the place breathes with history. The bar is lined with striking tile murals of Paul Bunyan and his trusty ox, hand-laid by WPA artist Virginia Darcy back when the lodge first opened in 1937. Restored in 1974 by Darcy herself, the murals glow like a Tiffany lamp even today. When you hoist a brew before this backdrop, you’ll feel like a part of the tall tale, your exploits permanently etched into the mountain’s fabled lore.
Timberline Road; 503-272-4457; timberlinelodge.com —BB

Parlez-Vous "Bro"?

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:00:00 -0800

avy savvy adj. Educated in “snow safety,” aka the fine art of guessing where avalanches might occur. Note: “He was avy savvy” is often whispered during eulogies for avalanche victims.

blower n. Cold, dry, light snow that plumes like a hydroplane rooster tail when skied.

bluebird n. A bright, sunny day. Basically, any day of skiing in Bend.

boilerplate adj. Used to describe thin or otherwise suspect snow conditions. Note: Using this term makes you feel hip. Don’t overdo it, though.

bomber n. 1. Any piece of equipment strong enough to survive the end of days. 2. Hard, icy snow conditions. See also: bombproof

brolingo n. A dialect that makes excessive use of the word “bro.” See also: bro-brah, bromance. Note: Try to avoid.

Cascade concrete n. Eskimos apparently have several words for snow. Oregonians get the job done with these two. See also: Sierra cement

corn snow n. Spring snow condition in which surface snow becomes granular due to repeated cycles of melting and freezing. Usually found in the late morning, this kind of snow is highly prized by skiers.

death cookies n. Patches of ice hidden under a thin layer of snow.

disco sticks n. Short slalom or twin-tip skis used to make extremely tight radius turns.

doggin’ it n. Something fun to yell while skiing through powder, as opposed to “Yeah!”

dust on crust n. Slope condition after snowfall of roughly .01 to 2 inches blankets an otherwise icy slope.

face shot n. The instance of snow hitting one’s face as one skis through it.

free refills n. When it’s snowing hard enough to cover up your tracks.

freshies n. If you’re skiing new-fallen, untracked snow, you’re getting them.

gaper n. Skiers who pause to marvel at their surroundings, often with an open mouth. The license plate on their car will probably be from Texas or Nebraska.

hero turns n. What that guy who plows down steep and deep terrain like the Silver Surfer himself is doing. Note: You probably can’t ski like this.

huck v. To launch oneself off a cliff.

jibber n. The baggy-pants kids flashing Monster drinks and Motorola Razrs while bouncing off rails in the terrain park? Those are all jibbers.

junk show n. If your walk to the lift includes multiple backpacks, a fanny pack, an extra jacket, a sweater, two pairs of children’s skis, bottled water, and an open trail map, congratulations, you are an example of a junk show.

knuckle dragger n. A derogatory term for a snowboarder. Skiers over the age of, say, 35, think this term is funny.

Kodak courage n. A questionable mind-set wherein someone decides to ski above his or her actual ability level when being photographed.

liftie n. A chairlift attendant. Also a man (occasionally a woman) of extremes: either a 17-year-old kid who’s in it for the free pass or a crusty ski bum who’s still “livin’ the dream, brother.”

pinhead n. A thousand-year-old term for an avid telemark skier. See also: knee basher

poach v. To clandestinely ski snow that has been deemed off-limits by ski patrol. See also: ducking rope

red coats n. A derogatory term for ski patrollers.

shit circus n. Think Mt Hood Meadows on President’s Day. See also: junk show

shreddin’ the gnar v. Modern equivalent of hot doggin’. See also: gnar buckets

thank you n. Seldom-used phrase on any mountain. Try it on ski patrollers and lift operators, especially if they’re working on Christmas.

yard sale n. A trail of ski equipment (poles, hat, goggles, skis, teeth, so on) left by a skier who has taken a bad fall.

Add your most broriffic terms in the comments below!