Mount Hood is large and imposing and for those driving up, presents itself at nearly every corner. This 11,000 foot tall volcano can be distracting as it takes up more and more space in your windshield. The payoff is arriving at the historic Timberline Lodge perched into the mountain just below the tree line providing an unobstructed view of the summit. The 6,000 foot high parking lot provides a spectacular view looking the other directon as well, including the next southernmost mountain in the Cascades – Mount Jefferson.
My first visit here was at age seven. Santa brought me a pair of wooden skis with bindings that looked more appropriate for making a martini than securing my feet. Santa must have been busy that night because he forgot my boots. I had to wear my cousin’s rubber rain boots that were two sizes too big for me. A bunch of us piled into the car and headed up to Hood. There were a million people up there celebrating Christmas week. It was a foggy, grey day. As my cousins eagerly snapped on their boots, I stood there looking like I’d stepped into a couple of inflatable rafts. Dad and I walked up the bunny hill where he helped me “fasten” on my new skis. Within seconds I was on my ass, where I would remain for the good part of the morning. I spent the day listening to my Dad and Aunt yell “bend your knees!” or “use the inside edge!” which meant nothing to me. I just wanted to go inside and drink hot chocolate.
My next view of Timberline Lodge was on the big screen when it played the role of the Overlook Hotel in The Shining (the exterior part at least). I didn’t remember seeing a maze up there (I probably would have snowplowed right into it), nor did I remember the lobby being large enough to store a Boeing 747. In spite of those differences, seeing it again made me want to return.
A few years ago my Dad and I spent a “guy’s weekend” in the Portland area. In a very tongue and cheek manner, we came up with a rough script for “Sideways 2.” In this sequel, Miles and Jack find themselves bumming around the Oregon wine country. The story opens with Jack standing on the tarmac at the Gresham airport. Miles’ small airplane lands, he emerges – pops a Rolaid, eyes his surroundings, then shouts down to his buddy: “Really Jack – the celery capital of the world?”
From our hotel in Gresham, Dad and I drove east along the Columbia River. This is the best route to the mountain from the Portland area because the lush green terrain gets noticeably drier and more eastern-Oregon-like the farther east you drive. We stopped in the hillside city of Hood River where we enjoyed a local ale while watching kite boarders down on water. It was a clear sunny October day, so the drive up the mountain was beautiful. We reached the parking lot and found views extending forever. It was my first visit since seeing The Shining. A modern ski lodge sat where the maze was supposed to be, and the interior was much smaller. I made a promise to myself to bring Donna back next time.
Making good on my promise, I brought Donna and Chris – and we spent the night. So on this visit, we stayed in the lodge. The charm of days gone by was evident in every little nook and cranny. The place was built back in 1937 as one of FDR’s work programs and they utilized local timber and stone. By the middle of the century the place fell into disrepair and became a haven for gambling and hookers. Private investors leased it from the government and restored it to it’s former glory – adding advanced ski lifts and creating downhill runs that would make Mount Hood the premier winter play land of the Portland area.
From our room’s paned window we looked at the summit. We took a small hike then followed the aroma of baking pizza crust to the Blue Ox – a windowless bar reminiscent of a speakeasy. Evidently built as a storage room, it became a bar once prohibition ended. We enjoyed pizza and ale in this cozy place. Later we climbed the stairs to the second hallway deck and sat next to the giant picture window. The glowing rays of the setting sun colored the partially snow capped mountain as we sipped Moscow Mules that tasted better than ever. Because of the view? Yes – also because Chris bought them for us.
