I guess one ski trip a week into Broken Top just wasn’t enough for me. With a high pressure system off the coast of Oregon forecast to leave tomorrow I figured today was my last chance at bluebird skiing so I wanted to be out in the shiny, pristine grandeur of the Cascades for a long time. My friends, Loren and Sheri, opted to go with me. A big fog bank moved in just as we were driving up into the mountains so we considered doing a shorter ski at Swampy Lakes. Fortunately Sheri had her mind set on a long ski into Broken Top so we acquiesced, though reluctantly. Wouldn’t you know it that by the time we started to ski the fog disappeared into the ether and we were blanketed with azure skies for the next six hours.

 

Sheri set a faster pace than last weekend’s trip so I had to focus on breathing and pushing myself to keep up. Loren was challenged too but she managed to keep up a non-stop conversation with Sheri for the entire two-hour ski into the bowl of Broken Top. Since I’m prone to dominating conversations, a trait I don’t much like about myself, I thought this was a clever solution on their part. Just keep me skiing so fast that I can’t get enough wind to support my chattering.

 

Once we gained the lower reaches of the bowl we were drawn by the windless and cloudless skies to push on. We climbed for another half hour far up into the bowl. The shattered rim of Broken Top surrounded us on three sides with a sky so pure it flirted with being purple. We all agreed that Broken Top is the most majestic of the volcanic mountains in Central Oregon even though it isn’t as high as the Three Sisters, Mt. Jefferson, and the others. It just has so much character.  About half way up the main bowl it got to steep and slippery for my skies (which have negative fish scales for smoother gliding) so I stayed behind while Sheri and Loren ascended another quarter mile toward the mountain’s walls. I took some photos and was soon rejoined by my companions. We sat in the wide open spaces of the bowl on some wind carved snow benches and ate lunch.

 

 

We never slowed down for the trip back to the car and though we were out for five and a half hours, about the same amount of time as my last trip to Broken Top, we covered an extra mile and a half of terrain. This speedier pace tired me out this time and I was glad for the hot bath and hot meal once I got home. I’d been planning to go see a movie later but a storm blew in by 5:30 and as dark and blustering snow settled on my little cottage in Bend it somehow seemed much more appealing to stay home next to my crackling fire, stretched out in my recliner, a good book and some tea for company.