News from Jules | 03.27.2023 | Keep the Faith
Every time the doubt creeps in and I think that I don’t have everything I need right now, I realize I’m not paying attention. For instance, there’s a six-mile hike with nearly 800 feet of elevation gain accessible right out my back door that someone told me about soon after I arrived. Just up the forest service road, she said.
In a four-wheel drive vehicle, my mind heard and quickly filed away the tip as “unfeasible” (or more appropriately labeled “assumptions,” but we’ll get to that).
Arriving in Central Oregon on March 1 after packing up and abruptly leaving Portland on a day’s notice, I thought I was staying ahead of the weather and that I would be back the following weekend to kick off my third season with Mazamas’ Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP).
Sure enough, a big storm rolled in the day after I arrived at my new housesitting gig. I made a big cup of hot chocolate to sit and watch the snow cover the huge Ponderosa Pines outside the equally large picture windows, per my new snow day tradition that started while traveling last fall, delighted by flurries along the way in Philadelphia, in Denver, in Taos, in Flagstaff.
But, it didn’t stop.
The next day I made hot chocolate again. Apparently, this wasn’t like a quick snowstorm in the city at sea level. I was now at about 3,500 feet of elevation. This was mountain weather.
On the eighth day of pretty much nonstop snow, I was still looking out the windows and sipping hot chocolate—not only questioning this perhaps naïve new tradition but wondering what I had gotten myself into?
I’ve driven in the snow a lot, but I wasn’t totally confident here, driving around the rolling hills and slick roads deep in the forest or traveling the 15 miles into town—nonetheless my cute little front-wheel drive Volkswagen Rabbit safely hopping over the mountain pass for the weekend’s first training hike.
I knew I needed to stay put.
With a deep sigh that Friday night, I packed up for a solo adventure instead. Bummed to miss the group trek and meeting all of the new students, I was buoyed by a clear weather forecast finally and a chance to get outside more than to shovel the driveway.
I set out for Black Butte, the only nearby trailhead I knew about for elevation training. I arrived with no problem because the road was plowed, but the trailhead parking lot was not. I was a stone’s throw from the trailhead. It was so tempting to just park on the side of the road, but I knew that I’d be gone all day and that wasn’t good “outdoorsmanship.”
Strike Two. I was so close.
With a deeper sigh, I turned the car around and drove into Sisters, Ore. to reboot. I treated myself to a green tea at a cute, new-to-me coffee shop while looking up nearby options on the AllTrails app. I wasn’t defeated, but I was discouraged.
As I gazed out the window through the midday sun of what had turned into a gorgeous bluebird day, seeing the mountain range in the distance, my heart ached:
I had come to be close to the mountains. Not just nearby but close enough to train and touch the top. How could I get to the top, if I couldn’t even get to the bottom?
I found and completed the simplest option that day: an easy six-mile loop at the nearby mountain bike trail system with an accessible parking lot. Only 200 feet of elevation to the viewpoint felt like a joke, but the view was not: All seven mountains set against the aquamarine sky like a happy family photo.
I was sweaty from going off trail, scrambling up the rock face to the highest point with my weighted backpack still on. I took my shirt off to bask in my sports bra and hydrate as I sketched the Three Sisters Mountains—Faith, Hope & Charity.
The hike wasn’t going to tone my legs that day, but it did feed my soul.
A reminder of the exact virtues I need right now: faith, hope, and charity.
Last week, while I was talking to a neighboring homeowner about a new housesitting opportunity in May—when I’m hoping to attempt Mt. Hood again—I mentioned my training challenges.
“Oh my gosh, why aren’t you doing Fivemile Butte? You can walk there from your house!,” she exclaimed. “Once you get to the gate, it’s just up the service road.”
“Really??”
The same trail that was recommended to me three weeks ago. I still couldn’t imagine what they were talking about, but this time I decided to explore instead of assume.
Sure enough, a couple of hours, six miles, and some 800 feet of elevation later, I was standing on the top with burning quads and hamstrings, looking out at the snow-covered forest far below, Black Butte across the way, and another stunning view of all seven mountains in the Central Cascades.
Right in my backyard, all this time.
No driving or doubt required.
May you keep the faith this week.
Love,
Jules