It’s a small section of the Pacific Crest Trail that most hikers, especially thru hikers, hustle past.
But in winter, especially when tromping through fresh, deep powder snow on snowshoes, it’s a fantasia-like stop-and-enjoy-the-sights wonderland, a brief section of the trail that’s too alluring to simply scurry by.
We didn’t travel too far — less than two miles each way. But, given the conditions, it was a workout for the legs and, even more, the eyes. Tree branches were showered with clinging snow, sometimes as thick as vanilla frosting covering a chocolate cake. Other times the layers of heavy, wet snow had trees, especially limber hemlocks, folded over in huge curls, with some in the shape of large question marks.
It’s accurately said that snowshoeing is winter’s invitation to peaceful rambling.
Our peaceful rambling began off Highway 62, a few miles north from Crater Lake National Park’s South Entrance where the PCT crosses the road. In less snowy times there’s a well-signed, spacious parking area with a porta-potty. From there the southbound PCT intersects with the trail to Union Peak and, further along, the Pumice Flat Trail, which heads east to another Highway 62 parking area-trailhead and west to Stuart Falls.
From our roadside parking area we followed the PCT north toward Annie Creek with a goal of reaching the junction with the Dutton Creek Trail. Another snowshoer had gone before us but, because others and I have hiked the trail in summer, it was quickly obvious the impromptu route veered off PCT. Instead of laboriously pounding first tracks, our group’s leaders wisely followed the set path. After some meandering, blue diamonds hammered high onto tall lodgepole pines appeared, showing those before us had regained the PCT.
The others continued on while I struggled with uncooperative snowshoes. It wasn’t until Gary Vequist retreated to assist me that, with his considerable help, we finally managed to tighten them enough to prevent them from flopping off.
The others — Cheryl Hatcher, Heather Berg, Diane Miller, Bernie Kero and Caroline McNeely — were out of sight as Gary and I followed their tracks.
Gary and I paused when another woman, traveling solo with a large bulldog, one with a menacing don’t-try-anything frown, appeared. She apologized for the wiggle-waggle tracks from the Highway 62 starting point, but we thanked her for having stomped out a path. She had snowshoed to the Annie Springs junction where, winded from the effort, she decided to turn around.
We continued along the mostly steady uphill climb, soon passing the Annie Creek junction and gradually gaining enough elevation and openings to see some of the peaks surrounding Crater Lake.
After hard-earned huffing and puffing, we rejoined the others before stopping for lunch. Our goal had been Dutton Creek, where a summertime backcountry campground is used by PCT hikers and equestrians. We talked about continuing the relatively short distance, which includes a steep, zigzag downhill to the creek — and steady climb on the way back. And, with blue skies mushing into a thick mesh of clouds and a sprinkling of snowflakes, we decided to not challenge the weather.
The five women charged ahead, becoming distant figures with their blue, red and dark jackets appearing like colored ink spots in contrast with the milky snow.
Following the now easy-to-follow trail, we occasionally paused, sometimes to catch our breath because we were tired, but more often to appreciate the sights. I prefer cross-country skiing, but snowshoeing generates a more relaxed, subtle take-in-the-view sense of serenity.
For human chionophiles — the word usually applies to animals and plants that thrive in snow and cold weather — snowshoeing is a relaxing, sometimes physically invigorating recreation that implies and expresses nature. Humans can be that way, too.
