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Christmas
in Oregon Despite the buffeting of our small twin engine plane and the dense snow sweeping past the windows, as the blizzard gathered strength, we dozed. We were on the last leg of the journey from Herefordshire to Oregon, USA, had been travelling for 20 hours and were looking forward to a warm bed. A four hour stopover in San Francisco had allowed us time to stretch our legs and eat bowls of clam chowder before the final stage of the journey which would take us to Roberts Field airport at Redmond then a short drive to Sunriver. Sunriver is a residential area situated off Route 97 just south of Bend and on the edge of the Deschutes National Forest. In the distance lies the Cascade Mountain range with mountains named Broken Top, Mount Jefferson and Three Fingered Jack. Mount Bachelor, at just over 9,000 feet, was where we had come to ski and to celebrate an all American Christmas. Oregon is a spectacular state with pine-rimmed lakes and forests full of deer, rivers teeming with salmon and snow-clad mountains. The Cascades were first formed during the Ice Age as volcanic activity deposited layers of lava, but Mount Bachelor is one of the youngest of the Cascade Mountains and may only be resting, as hot spots have been detected indicating that the interior may still be warm. This is hard to imagine as several feet of snow cover the slopes and weigh down the branches of the trees. We had rented a bungalow big enough for six of us complete with king size beds and hot tub. The homes at Sunriver are designed to be sympathetic with the surroundings. Timber framed, clad in wood and painted in fawns, greens and greys, they blend into the forest. Some are enormous, some second homes and many rented out for holidays. So it was exciting to emerge after a good sleep to see families arriving for the Christmas break with parcels, bags of food and Christmas trees and skis tied to the tops of cars. Children and dogs raced around in the deep snow, wild with excitement as parents unloaded everything needed for the holiday. At the centre of Sunriver is the Lodge, a hotel, restaurant and bar built from stone and pine logs in the traditional way. Not one but two huge Christmas trees stood in the foyer reaching high into the roof and deep leather chairs surrounded the roaring log fires. It is a magical place to visit after a long cold day on the slopes; warm, sparkling and full of Christmas spirit. The restaurant will provide a takeaway Christmas dinner with all the trimmings for those who do not want to go to the trouble of cooking and, for the children, there is an 'elf tuck in' on Christmas Eve, with the promise of the visit of Santa if they are good. At 7.30am the shuttle bus took us from the Lodge to the Mount Bachelor Ski Resort, where we were to learn how to ski again after a thirty-year break. The slopes were almost empty compared with European ski resorts or the well-known Aspen or Whistler Resorts. We started off gently with a short snowshoe walk in the forest. Falling over was easy, but struggling in four feet of soft snow made getting up almost impossible. After lunch of steak sandwiches and hot chocolate, we tried a little gentle tubing. Just sit in the rubber ring and let yourself go. What could be easier? No one mentioned that enormous speeds could be reached on the ice and that when a bump was hit the tube was launched into the air to crash down again further down the slope. The time
had come to get down to business and sign on for the cross-country lesson.
For the rest of the week we spent more time lying on the snow than crossing
it, falling over in all directions like ninepins. We soon became weary
as we practised round and around the same circuit called Dutchman's Flat
but, a week later and eventually able to complete the circuit without
falling over, we decided it was time to move on to downhill skiing. On Boxing Day we celebrated my daughter's birthday with a dog sleigh ride. We were wrapped in layers of blankets, two to a sledge, with the driver standing or running behind. The steady pace of the dogs as they pulled us through the forest, their breath steaming in the still cold air and the sound of them panting was both soothing and exhilarating but, as time wore on, we become colder and colder and discomfort began to overwhelm us. The dog team had taken part in the annual Iditerod, an arduous race across Alaska lasting days on end, and we were grateful that we were able to return home to a warm fire. Returning home, the wildness of Oregon was far removed from the gentle countryside of rural Herefordshire but the lure of wide empty spaces is always there. One day we will return to listen for the call of the coyote and watch the snow fall on the Cascades. First
published in VISA issue 77 (Feb 2008) |