Personal Website for TED HENRY
Every once in a while there is a rare day that is so exquisitely good that it is never forgotten. This is about one of those days.
During a late-season elk bow hunt high in the snow-covered Cascades, my two partners and I discovered a small lake that never sees the winter sun and seldom any wind due to the surrounding cliffs. We found a lake surface so smooth that one had to take baby steps for fear of doing the splits. And boy was the ice solid. Tiny bubbles frozen into the ice showed the ice was at least a foot thick. Free ice like this is rare, especially in the PNW with lots of snow combined with numerous freezing and thawing cycles that invariably screw up the surface. With the hunting being poor, the highlight of the day was running down the bank to see how far we could slide on our backs and stomachs. It was a hoot. Suddenly I realized I should hurry home and bring Holly to this place the next morning while the conditions were so good. She had taken figure skating lessons in high school, so this would be perfect for her. It was a lot of driving to make the long trip home over miles of packed snow and get Holly geared up for a surprise adventure the next day. If you had known Holly, you would know that she liked snow, road trips, adventures, and relished a good surprise.
Arriving home late in the day, I told her we were going on a snow adventure early in the morning and that she needed to gather her warmest ski clothes. But I wouldn’t tell her what was up. I went up in the attic to stuff her ice skates into a backpack so that she would not know skating was in the plan.
Arriving at our parking spot, it was hard to not get charged up. The weak sun had just come up over the ridge, the temperature was about 10 degrees, there was not a breath of wind, and everything was coated with a brilliant layer of powder. While getting the gear ready, I realized she was no longer in sight. It’s not like she could go anywhere without leaving tracks, so it was a bit puzzling. Coming around the front of the truck, I found her in the road making a series of snow angels. So typical. I got the sled out (my usual tool for dragging elk quarters through snow) and strapped on the backpack that also contained lunch, a gas stove, etc. I hoped we could pack down a sled run on the way in for the return through the powder. I picked a route up the hill that I hoped would be about the right pitch for the run back out. She liked hiking in the soft powdery snow but still didn’t know what was up. Topping the hill, she finally saw the lake and squealed with delight. I showed her how to run down the bank, flop down, and slide a long ways on the ice. When the novelty was starting to wear off, I pushed her down in the snow, yanked off one of her snow boots, and pitched it out onto the ice. The look she gave me said, “OK buster, you are about to be in big trouble.” Then I pulled a skate out of the pack, and with a big grin that said “gimme,” all thoughts about the boot vanished.
Soon enough she was rocketing around the lake perimeter, first forwards and then backwards. Eventually she got into her repertoire of spins. Meanwhile, I pulled the sled into the lake center and set up the white gas stove on a piece of plywood to keep it from melting into the ice. Lunch was hot dogs split down the middle and fried with a slice of bread on top to hold the heat in. Then all one had to do was pinch the bread to lift the dog from the pan, squirt on some mustard, and lunch was served. She didn’t even have to stop skating to eat. Sometimes simple food is the best. Hot chocolate and cookies rounded out the meal.
By the time she tired of skating, it was time to think about heading out. Nightfall comes quick in that canyon and we still had to get back to the truck. I put on the backpack which had come up the hill in the sled and then we both got on the sled. Following our tracks out worked, but the pitch was a little too steep. I was okay with it until it looked like we were going to hit a tree, so I grabbed the edge of the sled and rolled us over into the powder. Once back aboard I took a shallower angle on the hill which would put us on the road uphill from where the truck was parked. That was not a problem because we could cruise down the road using one side of the tire ruts. Good thing I brought goggles because we ate a lot of snow while blasting through the drifts. We were ready for it though. Holly was impervious to the conditions in her red one-piece snowsuit. The ride out was like magic, totally quiet except for the hissing of the sled’s passage. The last of the feeble sun rays lit up the snowflakes we kicked into the air into a rare, brilliantly white scene. Once on the road we made great speed back to the truck by staying in the tire tracks. In fact, Holly made it clear she wanted more of that by staying seated in the sled. It would be dark soon and there wasn’t enough time to hike back up the hill, so I gave her a boost to get her up to speed to head on down the road. I knew that the road grade would eventually flatten, bringing her to a stop. When I caught up with her, I pulled over and asked, “Hey, Little Red Riding Hood (remember she is wearing a red suit), would you like a ride?” Smiling, she answered, “Are you the big bad wolf?” I said if she played her cards right that I could be. Ha ha! Before I could get the window up, a cloud of snow exploded through the open window. Yep, that was vintage Holly. I survived an onslaught of snow in the face on our very first date, which was my first lesson that anytime water or snow was around, trouble would soon arrive.
Once down off the two-track and back on the main forest service road, Holly announced that she was hungry. Knowing she was not likely hiding any snowballs, I offered carrot sticks. Ha, ha! Then I told her not to worry; I had the food situation under control. There was a popular diner in the vicinity of Naches, and it served breakfast all day. It was perfect. The waitress knew we were not locals like the other customers, and with Highway 410 over Mt. Rainier being closed for the winter and Naches being on a dead-end road for the winter, she asked what we had been up to. Meaning, what were a couple of tourists doing here anyway? When I told her about sledding and ice skating at the lake, she said it was real pretty in the summer but had never thought of going there in the winter. I could see she was getting excited. She excused herself for a moment to use the phone, where a serious conversation ensued. Guessing what that was about, I suggested that if she was going to hike up to the lake that she should bring a sled. Getting back to the road would be four times faster. Okay, she went back to the phone. When she returned the second time, she offered, with a big smile, that she felt a case of one-day flu coming on.
The drive home was excellent with packed snow all the way over the mountains as far as North Bend. I have always liked driving in snow. There was no hurry to unpack so we went directly to bed. It had been a great day. As usual, she rammed that cold butt of hers into me, which is why I had an extra pillow to use as a barrier until she warmed up. The next morning was very mellow, where we sat quietly on the couch in the sun reading the Sunday paper. Simple pleasures are sometimes the best.