We Should Have Brought a Sled: How Not to Hike in the Snow

Nanospikes to the rescue!

Our last adventure was a cakewalk compared to yesterday's snowy escapade on the Green Lakes Trail. We set out in the crisp morning air, armed with gear and trail maps. The permit guy at the trailhead warned us about some snow, but a little snow never scared us… Famous last words.

Half a mile in, we traded dirt for a winter wonderland. At first, it was a novelty – we even donned our spikes and embraced the icy river views. But then the trail vanished, swallowed by a sea of white. We blindly followed footprints, the logic of which quickly deteriorated as we realized we might be following the trailblazing of fellow lost souls.  We scrambled up slopes, slid down others, and lost count of how many times we fell on our butts. 

Log bridge jump-up to snow pile? Are you kidding me?

Anyone seen a trail around here?

Stuck on a sketchy slope, holding a tree branch to keep from sliding into the freezing river below, we decided to ditch the invisible trail and head uphill. It was a desperate move and took us even further away from the trail, but it led us to a surprise meadow that was straight out of a postcard. Seriously, the blue sky and snow-covered peaks looked fake. It was glorious!

View of Broken Top

"Hiking" doesn't even begin to describe the rest of our journey. We trudged through meadows, crossed creeks, and lumbered through soft snow. Eventually, we spotted a reasonably safe way back down to the river and the elusive trail. Ty slid down the slope like a penguin on ice… I followed suit, embracing my inner toddler on a Slip 'N Slide, arms flailing and all. And just like that, we were back on solid ground, with an unforgettable story to tell.

We stumbled upon a sign, nearly buried in snow, announcing the Green Lakes camping area. A glimmer of hope! After all we'd been through, I envisioned pristine alpine lakes awaiting us at the top of the next ridge. The payoff for our epic struggle.

But when we crested the ridge, guess what we found. Freaking Antarctica. No lake in sight, just a frozen expanse of white that blended seamlessly into the horizon. "Oh, I figured that out hours ago," Ty quipped when I voiced my disappointment. Thanks for sharing, Captain Obvious.

We collapsed on the only patch of dirt for miles and dove into a much-needed PB&J break. Quickly realizing our mistake of underestimating our calorie needs, we resigned ourselves to a hungry descent. To add insult to injury, Ty discovered one of his trekking poles had gone AWOL, and my trusty pole decided it was time to retire its locking mechanism. Looks like our gear was staging a mutiny.

With my phone battery gasping its last breath and my Garmin having mysteriously shut down (read: forgot to charge it), we set off back down the mountain. Thankfully, the return route was easier to follow, though we still enjoyed a few unexpected butt slides courtesy of the icy slopes. We even passed a group of young hikers sporting shorts and running shoes. Bless their hearts.

View of Devil's Hill from trail

Nearly 10 miles later, the sight of our little orange car was a beacon of salvation. We kicked off our boots and were promptly swarmed by a cloud of mosquitoes. Too exhausted to swat, we just cursed them under our breath and made a beeline for the car. But the fun wasn't over yet: my phone greeted me with a terrifying "Emergency Notification" about water in the charging port. The snow must've wanted to make a cold call.

We limped into GoodLife Brewing in Bend, where a decadent Snickers Stout and a grown-up grilled cheese (I’m talking fancy cheeses, bacon, and sliced apples here!) magically erased the day's hardships. Ty, my diehard IPA guy, couldn’t get enough of their hoppy Descender IPA and garlicky hummus. Maybe it was the calorie deficit talking, but it was the best darn dinner we’d ever had.

Looking back, our adventure was far from perfect. We lost gear, battled the elements, and made some questionable decisions. But we also discovered hidden beauty, tested our limits, and shared some good laughs. It may not have been the day we planned, but it was a day we'll never forget.

After all, isn't that what adventure is all about? Cheers!

Michelle Eidam is a freelance writer with a thirst for adventure – exploring mountains, trails, breweries, and everything in between.