I’m not going to buff it up; this was a journey of solitude that would have been better enjoyed with capable (human) company.  I only add this because the question of why may arise for some readers.  Gregarious does not describe me.  I do count a solid group of lifetime and local friends, but they have spouses & family, variable fitness, and differing opinions of fun…  Additionally, travel to see family on the east coast has long been foresworn as torture (the holiday travel part).  So that leaves me on the island of misfit toys, as it were, when it comes to these holidays.   That said, Solstice is a special time and I wanted to be in a special place.  Winter has a brutal clarifying nature that I enjoy: the cold justice of indecision can be painful or deadly; shadows play long all day; a frigid desert of rarified air renders an intense texture to snow; and starscapes stay long for the fortunate.  Snow Peak Cabin seemed like a good place.  It is in the Kettle Range between Tonasket and Spokane near Sherman pass.  These mountains have a softness that reminds me of a loftier version of my former winter playground near Lake Placid in the High peaks region of the Adirondacks.     I thought the journey in would be academic, being a rental and all, but the distances were conflicting and route references disparate.  Even 17.5’ maps did not show the more direct west route around Sherman.  I was able to get detail from recent travelers, but the last 1.5 miles were through an unmarked burn causing some navigation anxieties.    An overnight in Republic (7 hour drive from B-ham) allowed an early start on a short day.  It was 11 degrees at the pass.  The Snow Park had not yet been plowed.  Dave, from the FS encouraged me to park down there thus saving a ticket; he said they’ll plow eventually.  I was towing a home-made pulk with a light pack on my back, a total of 91 lbs for 6 days.  It worked well as long as there was a level tread.  The trouble started on some of the thin traverses around 6500’.  I dumped the secondary pack here because it kept rolling downslope; this required me taking off the tow pack (pulk was clipped to it) and skis to wallow around in the snow every 200m.   This took precious energy & time when conditions became blizzard-like in the upper exposed elevations.  I endeavored to get my poor hound under cover at the cabin and go back for the primary load later.     The trail was easily drifted-over by same winds past mile 3; I had a faint track to follow from the outgoing group, but it was gone by the last mile.  Blue diamonds lightly marked the first 3.5 miles, but they must have run low because there were none for the 1.5 miles; this is an open burned-over area where there are few indications of a trail, so markers would have been real helpful in the blowing snow conditions.  At one point I strayed into snow-covered talus and snapped a ski pole.  There was precious little time to waste in a twenties wind and poor visibility, but a field repair was necessary. Additionally Bodhran was exhibiting his alarming “I’m ready to cash in” nesting behavior, pawing out a bed in a drift and being reluctant to move on.  I knew he had reached his limit.  Being disoriented and my gut urging me to continue along a spur ridge, I took a quick compass reading that over-ruled that errant sense. I roused Bodhran back into action and we proceeded without much certainty on the flank of Snow Peak.  Finally I sighted the cabin within the last 1/8th of a mile.     After tucking Bodhran into his blanket in the warm interior I pushed back out to retrieve the last load.  I had not planned to ski with sixty pounds on my back, but this now needed to be done.  It took an additional 2 hours RT. The downhill sections were the most difficult, trying hard just not to injure myself in a runaway crash.    So, what to say about the cabin, that backcountry winter home?  Quite a refuge for sure, nicely built structurally and aesthetically.  Lotsa love in this place.  The updated woodstove installed this summer was central; it was efficient and lent a cozy ambiance with the glass door.  It even had a fine porch that I was able to enjoy for the one sunrise I was treated to.  A solar panel provided some lighting for the interior.  Any forays beyond the 3’ perimeter of the cabin required skis because of 3-4’ drifted ramparts and deep brushy hollows.  Fortunately there was a firm track to the privy.   Wallowing   Gut deep snow and cold Darkness and moonlight, mousetrack on frost shows the way.  DJI    There was precious little clearing during the 6 days.  I estimated a total of six inches of new snow and about 30 minutes of direct sunshine for the whole stay.  Like a fireman on duty, I never knew when a parting of strafing stratus would call me to jump into ski boots and gaiters to chase our burning orb and companion moon.    Part of each day was spent skiing to locate the trail proper for the 2 miles from the cabin.  Because of the ongoing drifting it was near futility; though I ended up memorizing the route by becoming so familiar with the terrain.  A “whoomfing” snowpack kept me from venturing onto higher open slopes.  That was a new experience!  Other daily chores: clearing drift from porch; shoveling a path to the wood shed; restacking wood that had been buried by spindrift; collecting rounds for splitting/finer kindling work; melting snow on the woodstove.  All was not toil though; much time was spent writing, reading, siesta, and drinking tea.  Each evening I would revive the fire, and enjoy some warm mulled wine while sitting on the porch as the short Solstice day came to an end.   Cabin   Pulsing orange lit stove Heat-ping of released sunshine Toes and paws rejoice.  DJI   Darkness reigned both in quantity and quality.  Hoar-frosted trees moaned  & whistled in a substantial wind, and snow squeaked underfoot.   Bodhran & I ventured out each night to visit with as many stars as we could find.  A lunar eclipse graced Solstice , though I experienced it only as a darkening of the cloud cover for a few hours around midnight.  I did briefly behold the chromatic quiver of Sirius in Canis Major and the celestial complex of Orion on Thursday night.  Some moonlight and star photos on other nights turned out nicely.    “To know the Dark”   To know the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark.  Go without sight, And find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, And is traveled by dark feet and wings.                                                   ~Wendell Berry    There was great comfort sitting with the murmur of the winter wind next to a glowing stove, a twitchy dreaming dog in the radius of warmth.  Winter   A moonlit ski track Solstice cold and solitude Warmth comes from within.  DJI   On the last night I awakened to my growling dog and footsteps on the porch; the visitor slid back the steel bolt opened the door, exclaimed how bummed he was it was occupied, and how warm and roomy it was.  Here is the part where I would like to describe how graciously I welcomed this pilgrim, it being xmas eve and all.  Well, I was sleepy and irritated at the rude imposition.  Charity was the last thing on my mind.  I did not welcome him in, asking only what his plan was.  He got the message and said he was prepared to sleep outside, then setting up a bivy on the porch.  I felt guilty, making me more annoyed at his lack of consideration.  I got over it, Bodhran stopped growling, and we went back to sleep.  The pilgrim snow-boarder slept-in as I busied about with the usual dawn photography rounds.   He casually declined offers of coffee and warm water, quickly packing and departing on snowshoes.  My final thought on the matter- If yure gonna go a beggin’ for backcountry lodging, it generally goes over best during waking hours.  In hindsight, I probably should have softened on the principle of the matter and invited him in.   I prepared to depart a few hours later.  The pulk was packed with the weigh distributed more flatly; a counter-weighting rock on the uphill side made for much better performance on the outbound trip.  The duct-taped pole held up fine for the 5 miles out.   Despite the solitary nature of my holiday sojourn, the encounter with winter (not usually afforded in W. WA) was wonderful.  Here is a parting Solstice thought:   We may be turning the corner into winter, but it is ultimately toward the light.   Happy New Year.     Slideshow & video can be found at http://www.vimeo.com/18391958

Snow Peak Cabin is straight out of a dream. (Reserve at www.recreation.gov) I went on Labor Day weekend, by myself, my very first overnight backpacking trip and was spoiled by this amazing little cabin. A new wood stove was flown in just a week ago and kept me toasty warm. There was tons of wood. The website says you have to chop your own wood, but the pieces are the perfect size already, so you don’t need to chop it. The night sky was so thick with stars, it felt like if you scrambled to the top of Snow Peak you could reach up and touch them. There’s a thermometer in the cabin that said it was 31 degrees throughout the night and early morning. And it was crazy windy at night and even shook the cabin; I was so glad I wasn’t tenting it. I heard from a local that the cabin is owned by mice, but didn’t see or hear any, so that was a relief. The only wildlife I saw were lots of little shrews and some hawks. Supposedly, the elusive lynx lives in that area, but I wasn’t lucky enough to see one, or even a black bear. The cabin is at 6400ft and the weather varied incredibly. The hike in was perfect (sunny, breezy, puffy passing clouds in the blue sky); the hike out was feisty (cold, windy, cloudy, hailing). I was surprised to find a tiny spring along the trail a quarter mile from the cabin this late in the summer (with at least a dozen blue butterflies); and even more surprised to find a piped trough-like thing of water closer to the cabin. From Republic, follow hwy 20 east a few miles, which becomes the Sherman Pass Scenic Byway. At milepost 309, turn right onto Hall Creek Road 99, go about 3 miles, then turn left onto Forest Road 2050100 (Snow Peak Road 100) and drive about 4 miles until you reach trailhead. The road is in excellent condition. (This is summer access. In the winter, you have to go in from the north, on the Sherman Pass trail, which is longer and harder.) Snow Peak Trail #10 goes 2.7 miles east, 600ft elevation gain, and then connects to the Kettle Crest Trail #13 (which is also part of the Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail). To get to the cabin, turn right and go south for 0.5 miles. (Trail area map: www.fs.fed.us/r6/colville/2007-recreation/trails/trail-maps/sher_edds.jpg) The trail winds up and up through the site of the 1988 fire started by lightning on White Mountain on the south end of the Kettle Range. The views are incredible the whole way. On a clear day, you can see west to the Cascades, east into Idaho, and north into Canada. It took me 4 hours in, 2 hours out, but I am a REALLY slow hiker. Even though it was a holiday weekend, I only saw one small group of four people and two dogs, and a two forest service people who must have been doing some trail maintenance.

We reserved a night at the fabled Snow Peak Cabin for a nice winter excursion into the mountains via snowshoe. Snow Peak Cabin is off of the Kettle Crest Trail south of Sherman Pass (about 5 miles from the parking lot) and is reservable online. It features a three burner propane stove and ample propane for the season, a small mountain of wood ready for the fireplace, and kitchen pots, pans, utensils galore. It also has sleeping pads and cots, folding camp chairs, and a new LED Solar lighting system. All in all, pretty cush digs for a foggy and chilly weekend. The trail south was well traveled (we took a right at the first junction onto the Sherman Loop trail) and easily traversed. Where the loop trail meets up again with the Kettle Crest Trail about 3 miles south from the TH, all the traffic for at least the two previous weeks had taken the left and the loop back to the TH, leaving us with an unbroken trail south (to the right at the junction) with only intermittent flags and marks on trees to guide us through about 24 inches of crunchy powder. It took us a few hours of trail scouting to make the last 1/3 of the trip a our packs and snowshoes made for slow going. After following the hillside and crossing the saddle on the W side of Snow Peak, we could see the cabin off in the distance and made in there about 30 min before twilight. The register showed that we were the first visitors in over two weeks (accounting for the lack of broken trail and frozen cabin). We soon had a roaring fire and good food and settled down for a relaxing evening in the mtns. The next a.m., we took a quick sledding trip up the open field below the Snow Peak summit and then packed up for the trip back home. Having broken the trail the previous day, the return trip took half the time. For anyone considering this adventure, reservations can be hard to come by for weekends, so plan ahead. The hike is mildly strenuous but most people will have no problem with it. The cabin has lots of items already there, like shovels and axes and a plethora of well used but effective pots and pans. Feel free to bring along a "gift" for future users such as a bottle of dish soap, a game or crossword book, perhaps some extra knives and forks. Enjoy - its a great place for a winter excursion!