Scottish Lakes High Camp is a wonderful retreat at 5,000 feet just over the pass on the eastern side of Washington, deep in tall alpine fir and snow. It's a very fine place to get away from what I call "sillyization," with a Finnish style sauna, and cozy cabins heated by wood stoves, and there's no sense in planning elaborate meals either, unless you can pull it off on two propane burners. Strictly soup and cheese, and that's enough, with heaps of serenity all around. There life is just so sweet with little effort, just the honest basics, all the rest provided by nature and gracious hosts, who'll keep you stocked with firewood and kindling, even a mint on your pillow. You get there from US 2, leave your car in a gated parking lot, and Don comes roaring down the mountain in a huge ol' Chevy to ferry you up 4 miles to mid mountain, and then the adventures begin. From mid mountain you travel by snow mobile with all your gear bungied under a tarp on a sled towed behind. It was my first snowmobile ride, but it couldn't compare to the ride back down 2 days later, with Sarah as a pilot, who is getting more expert since her first drive about Thanksgiving time -- we are talking downhill, big bumps, bat outta hell, throttle wide open wowie rides! When I got home from that one, I found the last boiled egg nestled in the butter tub. That was my second snowmobile ride. And not my last, I have to get back up there -- it is such a treat to step out the door onto perfect trackless snow without having to hump gear up those extra 3,000 feet on foot. All day snowshoe trips with views, yes, or a morning trip, an afternoon nap, and another trip in the late afternoon to catch the sunset and clouds. Ahhhhhhhhhh.
Scottish Lakes High Camp is a wonderful retreat at 5,000 feet just over the pass on the eastern side of Washington, deep in tall alpine fir and snow. It's a very fine place to get away from what I call "sillyization," with a Finnish style sauna, and cozy cabins heated by wood stoves, and there's no sense in planning elaborate meals either, unless you can pull it off on two propane burners. Strictly soup and cheese, and that's enough, with heaps of serenity all around. There life is just so sweet with little effort, just the honest basics, all the rest provided by nature and gracious hosts, who'll keep you stocked with firewood and kindling, even a mint on your pillow. You get there from US 2, leave your car in a gated parking lot, and Don comes roaring down the mountain in a huge ol' Chevy to ferry you up 4 miles to mid mountain, and then the adventures begin. From mid mountain you travel by snow mobile with all your gear bungied under a tarp on a sled towed behind. It was my first snowmobile ride, but it couldn't compare to the ride back down 2 days later, with Sarah as a pilot, who is getting more expert since her first drive about Thanksgiving time -- we are talking downhill, big bumps, bat outta hell, throttle wide open wowie rides! When I got home from that one, I found the last boiled egg nestled in the butter tub. That was my second snowmobile ride. And not my last, I have to get back up there -- it is such a treat to step out the door onto perfect trackless snow without having to hump gear up those extra 3,000 feet on foot. All day snowshoe trips with views, yes, or a morning trip, an afternoon nap, and another trip in the late afternoon to catch the sunset and clouds. Ahhhhhhhhhh.
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