Snowflakes, are like the butterflies of winter – each a unique marvel all its own, lighting upon the earth with a magic so grand we all transform into children again.
For years I have been waiting out the long winters to once again breathe the wild air of mountain adventures. In many places in Washington snow is a novelty. Only the mountains have any familiarity with its passing. And although snowflakes still bring out the childlike wonder in me, I do not make fast friends with the frigid temps that give them life. So, backpacking in a world covered in their glory has never been an option. But, I know a gal who knew of a place high above the mud and muck of our seemingly incessant sodden winter weather that housed a cozy hut whose shelter and warmth opened up a magical passageway to a world of white and winsome winter adventures that I never knew existed.
So me and a few of mine and a bunch of other beautiful peeps tried on some snowshoes for size and went adventuring.
The Mt. Tahoma Trails are a winter wonderland for snowshoers and cross country skiers alike. Their wide birth and kindly tended passages open up a world of wonder for winter adventurers of all ages. Three cozy huts and a sweet yurt are spread out over several miles providing winter accommodations for those with reservations but are open to the public for day use as well. There are pit toilets or out houses at all four destinations and solar power, while it lasts, as well as gas stoves for cooking and warmth. Bruni’s hut sleeps fourteen for 15 dollars per person per night. We rented out the whole place. But, if you only grab a few spots – be ready to share the hideaway with strangers. Even if no one ends up sleeping next to you it is likely that day-trippers will stop in for a visit to warm up and have a look-see.
Nine kiddos, ranging from 8-15 years old, rose before the sun to hit this white-washed wonderland of a trail by 9 a.m., kicking off the new year in some new kicks. My contribution of children was only at %25 as my big girls were heading back to college the next day and my youngest, who realized she had left her snow boots behind (once we got to the trailhead), was headed back to the nearest town to pick up some replacements with her sweet dad.There were quite a few minor adjustments.And more than one pit-stop.But all of the kids were troopers.Trekking through the snow in their new skids and loaded down with winter packs.There was one glorious descent where sleds were a must.And then we broke through the trees and Rainier graced us with its presence bold and brilliant.With Bruni’s Hut off in the distance.These six were the first to arrive. We were able to park at the upper lot so our hike was only about 3 miles – but it was all up. 1250 feet to be exact. And from small to tall they all killed it.And so did we:)While we all explored the cabin and the snow covered wonderland, my girl and her dad were making the climb. Two hours after our arrival – they graced us with their presence, wearing new boots, and we were complete.So we set aside our new shoes and got cozy with the place.From where we stood you could see Rainier (left), Adams (the white cap just to the right of that dark center peak camouflaged in the clouds) and Helens (far right behind the jagged remnants of a tree) all in one spread.
Down the backside of the hut sits this Special Place, built in honor of Judy Scavone, a conversationalist who inspired its creation. Colorful prayer flags encircle a lovely little area adorned with an eclectic collection of rare and odd trinkets all recorded in a book inside the meditation gazebo along with the story of Judy and her inspirations.Us bigs and the big boys chatted it up in the cozy gazebo.While the little girls explored.And Rainier sat off in the distance with its snow cap on.And the sweet sun kissed down on us all.Just up the hill on the way back to the hut sat a wall of ice.Adventurers that had gone before us began the construction of this mighty fortress and the boys spent hours upon hours adding to its fortifications.Just outside the hut’s front door sat an epic sledding hill.Where we all spent hours…Lining up.And piling up for one rolling raucous rides after another.Once Rainier began to blush.And the special place mirrored it’s pink glow.We snagged front row seats to watch the spectacle of the sun’s farewell.Its golden rays lit up the vivid renderings of heaven-bound pleas and exaltations.As we stood transfixed.Captivated.Memorized by its magnificence.It was a grand finale of epic proportions.Filling us with an awe,And wonder so grand…It had us dipping and giggling along in its effervescent glow.At one point I stood back to capture the silhouettes of these fine humans layered upon the sea of colors pouring out of the setting sun and I was overwhelmed by the fragility and mastery of them all.Just three girls who became wives and then mothers – making them something even more.And these three. Brilliant boy-ish hearts wrapped up in manly forms, shouldering the lives of their wives and children on brave shoulders.A handful of lovely souls finding their way through this beautiful world.Up here with the mountains by our side and the soft after-glow of the departing sun I think we all felt special, bearing witness to such profound beauty – in the lives mingling around us and the and the grand mastery of the earth’s revelations.
Back in the cozy confines of our humble abode we rustled up some grub.And went bananas…in a grammatical sort of way.Finishing off the brilliant day with shenanigans of all kinds.When the sun rose the next morning it was hard not to imagine that the set and rise were competing for perfection.The celebration of a new day exploded in a cloud of color all around us.And so we rose just as we had drifted off the night before – with grateful hearts and a radiating reverence for the master of it all.As the sun continued to ascend the sky changed from perfect pinks to brilliant hues of blue.And everything was smiley faces and hearts.The kids set out to the snow first thing.Collecting all those magical molds of flakes into balls and blocks of all shapes and sizes.Our little community of Eskimos were hard at work/play.There’s not a video game in the world that can compete with this gig.Or a reading nook that compare with this one.With no agenda, we all just did what fit our fancy.Dani took off to follow her fella’s impressions in the untouched snow, making their way down one steep slope and up another – to that little white knoll off to the left.The Hendies ventured off this way.And then Mikey and I took the scenic, slightly less steep, 40year old route to that little white knoll as well.We set off the main down the main path with Mt Saint Helen’s flat top sitting off in the distance.And then dipped into the untended snow crunching our webbed impressions into its perfection.We sloped down a bit and then up to the tip top.Looking back at our sweet hut from afar.By the time we had made our way back the clouds had gathered a bit.But, the day still held all kinds of hopes. The girls decided to gather snow.And made snow-cream:)An icey sweet treat for these sweet cheeks.And then it was back to the slopes.And the mountains echoed with the giggles it evoked.The best belly rolls.Even the eskimos stepped away from their icey dwelling to whip down the hill a few times.And when we ran out of sleds, well – we improvised!Baggin’ it!All the live long day we mingled outside.Straight chillin’.And grinning.We had hopes of yet another pastel tapestry in the sky but as we lingered, the day faded behind a wall of clouds like a whisper.So we mustered up some orange hues of our own.And cuddled around a fire in that special place for a bit.After just a couple days in the hut, the kids had meshed together like a little band of Lost Boys.We ate dinner and played more games.Gramming until we were cross-eyed and sleepy. And then the whole hut drifted off to sleep.Day 3 we woke up to strong winds and freezing rain. The mountain give-th and the mountain take-th away:)But, all things must come to an end so we put on our snowshoes and our best faces.And headed on our way.The down-hill trod through the rain wasn’t bad once we hit the trees and we were back to the our cars in under 2 hours still feeling the afterglow of our marvelous mountain adventure together.
Our Dirt Paths 