We drove up to Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood, about an hour or so from Portland. Patrícia kept asking where the snow was. Everything is green and beautiful and warm. I said, "wait, we have a lot more 'up' to go." And so we went, up and up and up. And it got colder and colder. Only in the last few miles did the snow start.
Finally, there it was, enshrouded in clouds, Timberline Lodge, a 70 year old public works project built to give people jobs. And now it is a comfortable and attractive historic monument that you can sleep, eat, relax, and play in. Our cute little room had a nice new bathroom, and the original furniture and art designed and custom made when the lodge was built.
We ate at the "world famous" Cascade Dining room and were treated very well as newlyweds. Free champagne and special table service. It started with hot fresh rosemary bread with olive oil and balsamic, a mini tasting of cold fillet mignon, the most incredible crawfish bisque, and a lingon berry granita (like a slushy). She had a prawn and scallop pasta as an entree and I had lamb chops of course. To go with it, we had a fantastic wine that was not expensive(big surprise considering the cost of the dinner.) Everything was fantastic, but the crawfish bisque left us craving more and more.The next morning, I looked out the window and saw the hordes of snow boarders and skiers, walking to the lift, about 100 meters from our window. We ran over to the rental shop, got skis, boots, and poles and hit the slopes for her first lesson. It was sunny and surprisingly warm and we stripped off a lot of the clothes we had just put on.
The lift line was crazy with snowboarders and the only runs open were intermediate or expert. There was no way Patrícia could make it since she had never been on skis before so we hiked up a bit for her private lessons (with me). She was scared to death and I had to ski backwards in front of her, holding on. She learned fast and did well and we went over to the lift and bought really expensive tickets for the few hours they would be open. In the summer the snow gets too soft in the afternoon and you can't ski.
We got on the lift without incident, getting off was almost a scene. She had her poles under her leg as we rode up and when she took them out when we were about to get off, she got her skis and poles all tangled. I managed to help her just in the nick of time. And then she promptly fell getting off the lift like I knew she would. I think it is a right of passage.
Perched at the top of the intermediate slope, in the warm summer morning, she looked great, like a real skier. I was proud that she had the nerve to get that far. She, however, was horrified with the prospect of moving from that spot. With no small amount of coaxing, she started down, going much much faster than on the practice slope below. A few screams, but she did great for her first time. She made long smooth turns and only fell a few times. I was so proud.
She could not ski for long before her muscles gave out and I went to the very top to the expert runs while she waited below. I love skiing. It was fast and scary and great. My muscles on the other hand didn't like it so much. I just couldn't ski for very long. My thighs were on fire.
We had some clam chowder and drove back down to the hot summer temperatures of Vancouver. A very memorable day and a half.
