Mt. Hood

Leaving Chemawa behind, we set out east towards our next destination. It was meant to be about a three-hour drive, leaving us with just enough time to meet with the site coordinator and sleep for an hour or two before beginning to set-up equipment. Thanks to a little good-fashioned luck, we were able to dispense entirely with the trifling little drive and replace it with a much more satisfying seven-or-eight-hour version.

Our plan seemed foolproof, with a map, two GPSes… or whatever the plural of GPS is. 1 GPS, 2 GPS? 1 GPS, 2 GPSs? No matter. Now, where was I? Oh, that’s right. I had no idea.

Neither did anyone else. The map indicated that we should go through Mt. Hood state park and come out on the other side, with little indication of how on earth one accomplished that fact. 1 GPS pooped out almost immediately, due to poor reception (thanks, Verizon!). The other GPS calculated a hundred different ways to get off of the mountain, every single one of which involved driving so far straight up the side of the rock that our vans eventually could move no further forward due to the sheer amount of snow they were pushing through.

Notable highlights included a 10-miles long dirt path that became less and less like a road with each of its many, many twists and turns; it eventually terminated in a spider-like formation of other roads. We followed each and every single one of those roads, dead-ending each time thanks to downed trees, colossal snow drifts, lakes, or the road simply crumbling away to wet, snowy nothingness.

We also had the pleasure of abandoning our cars a couple of times and hacking our way through the forests in pursuit of far-off little lights. We hoped those little twinkles would turn out to be campfires lit by professional cartographers on vacation, or will-o-the-wisps who would playfully lure us to our dooms off a cliff or into a bottomless cave. Either way looked better than just driving around.

Each light eventually turned out to campfires lit by non-cartographers, who gave us conflicting information. Luckily, all of it turned out to be false, so we don’t feel pressured to pick favorites from amongst them.

After exhausting each of the spider legs, we began to run low on supplies. Specifically, we ran out of any use from the GPS, which conked out completely; we ran out of water, which was sorely missed by the people who had just spent ALL DAY speaking to a large crowd and moved directly from there to their cars; and we ran out of gasoline in the blue van.

Personally, I also began to run low on patience for my new van. Yes, I’m awfully glad I wasn’t driving the Bumblebox, but any other vehicle on earth would have handled better on Mt. Hood. Yes, that includes jetskis, thanks for asking. The primary problem was the turning radius. To make a U-turn requires more than five car widths – a fact I later verified by trying to U-turn across five lanes of traffic and still hitting the curb. But that’s another story. These dirt paths going up the side of Mt. Hood are (to use math) less big than a five-lane highway. Turning around required outside assistance and way more time than either of the other vehicles needed.

So, we hit upon a three-fold plan. First, we would return down the endless, worthless little dirt path and try to find our way out from farther that way. Secondly, Marlin was to turn his car off and coast for as many miles as possible, so we might maybe someday find him again. Finally, my plan was to try to turn around at least once, because I was pointed the wrong way. This time, no one would wait for me because Marlin’s van was already rolling a tiny bit, and he wasn’t about to put on the brakes. The only aspect the plan didn’t cover was how we’d escape the mountain once we made it through the path, but that was clearly a problem for a future date.

To reduce a long story to a medium-length one, Marlin drove his van ON EMPTY for nearly an hour – apparently going on nothing but Don’s prayers. We found our way back to a town we’d already been through, and coasted in neutral for several blocks before we found an open gas station. I turned the car around eventually and made it safely and carefully down the mountain, only to drive into a phone pole at the gas station. We found our new hotel and were tucked into bed by 4 AM, ready for a new day and a new ceremony to start at 6:30 AM.

It was the end of the first day.