It was an overcast day in early may at the Columbia River Gorge about 45 miles west of Portland Oregon.  I parked my car at the Wyeth trailhead where it was about 50 degrees.  I was set to do a little day hike as far up the Wyeth trail as possible.  The trail reaches its highest spot at Green Point Mountain about 6.5 miles up the trail at 4700 feet elevation.  Keep in mind the trail cuts back and forth quite a bit due to the steepness of the gorge. 

At about 3,600 feet elevation (soon after you enter the wilderness area) snow begins to cover the whole trail and quickly builds up to about 3 feet within another 400-foot elevation climb.  To make matters worse it was snowing out and had actually been snowing a bit below the snowline, which is unusual for this time of year.  Luckily there were footprints imbedded into the snow that were also along what seemed to be a logical path.   Soon the footprints became fewer and the imprints made much less impact on the harder snow that covered the mountain as the ridge began to flatten out.  I made a habit of looking back to make sure it looked like I could follow prints back down but failed to single out easily recognizable landmarks just in case.  The snow-covered ridge got very flat and I could see a high point in front of me but could not see much else.  I was still probably about 1 mile from Green Point Mountain but it was pretty flat up at 4300 feet and the winds were howling.  I trekked along the ridge just a few hundred feet after picking out a 15-foot high stump for my landmark as to where I can start to follow the footprints.  I sat on the snow to bask in seminal triumph as well as nature’s unique tidings just miles from where my car was parked.   It was like walking into a strangers house without an invitation.  I subsequently hid inside my poncho to protect my map from the wind and snow to estimate where I was in relation to the trail.  Upon exiting from underneath my poncho, like a turtle poking its head out, I noticed the visibility was getting pretty close to zero for a moment. 

I realized right then that I must head back toward the viewpoint of my poorly chosen landmark but I was already disoriented.  I knew this could happen but it just seemed like too late in the year and too low of an elevation. My previous experiences losing a trail have all been quite different:  I have never been on a steep climb where I have become lost but previous experiences were all do to error of judgment on my part.  On Saddle Mountain I spent too much time enjoying the sunset before a relatively short 3.5 mile hike and it just became to dark to follow the trail toward the bottom:  I slept in the woods on a cold but thankfully dry February morning.  In the Trapper Creek wilderness area the trail was just hard to follow on the flatter sections at higher elevations because the vegetation has enough open spots to be confused for the trail (This could also be a result of Elk herds):  I ended up hiking down to the creek and then gingerly following it until I found a creek on the map that looked like it would have an obvious crossing without a huge elevation change.  Then I hiked back up the hill until I found that inviting gap between the trees that turned out to be the trail I had missed so dearly.  I didn't know how easy the trail would be to find which is why I followed the river so long before heading uphill.  I got back just before dusk on day three of my backpacking excursion without much lost time.

This time I am in snow and very steep terrain about 3 hours before it starts to get dark.  I found what I thought was the stump (my landmark) as visibility was better. Then I realized upon closing in that there were a few others that look nearly the same and my fallen tree further down the trail would look the same only when viewed from the stump.  I walked around for a little while coming back to the same spot each time.  I did not find any route that I was comfortably sure would get me to the hikeable portion of the trail.  Finally I decided to head down the mountain in the snow hoping my feet don’t fall upon any “holes” in the snow.  I could tell from my map that the best thing to do would be keeping a valley to my left and ridge to my right and I will stay east of Harphon creek as its life begins beneath snowmelt.  I hopped and scratched my way down the steep side of the mountain as the snow began to thin out and soon there were only a few strong patches remaining.  This made the trail much more difficult as the snow actually was a relatively obstacle-free floor to walk upon.  Now it is all fallen trees and vegetation galore with no give on the mountains steepness.

I began making contingency plans wondering what I’ll do if I encounter a cliff or reach an area I cannot climb out of (believe it or not this can be pretty common in the Columbia river gorge).  If it gets dark as I get to the bottom how will I make it over to my car!  Where will I bed down if I can go no further!  I continued down as quickly and carefully as I could contemplating various scenarios when right in front of my eyes I saw that familiar gap that can only mean a trail.  I picked up the trail just before the sign welcoming hikers to the Mark O. Hatfield wilderness area at about 3600 feet elevation.  For thirty minutes I was caught in a little puzzle created by wilderness creating thoughts that would not have entered my head otherwise.  It adds a dimension to the hike that can make it scary but worthwhile as I came out successfully.  I even had enough time to soak in a couple views as I fell underneath the clouds.  I reached my car realizing what I will change my next hike.  Always bring a compass no matter how sure I am that I will never need it (some people are probably thinking "it's about time you realized that you moron" as they read this).  I also know that I am taking that same hike on a clear day when the view must be amazing with one of our deepest gorges on one side and Mt. Hood and its cascading foothills on the other.

One other pleasant surprise about this hike was that soon after finding the trail I had been hearing an animal scurry down a little ravine about fifty feet below me.  My first thought was that it was a dog just because that was the first thought crossing my mind and I had not seen any large mammals yet in this wilderness.  When I finally saw the creature it was brown and the size of a dog but of course no domestic dog could get there on its own (no people were on the trail as well).  The animal scurried off but it became obvious that it was either a Coyote or a Cougar.  My head tells me that it was more likely to be a Coyote but my reading has told me that they are very rare in steep and heavily forested areas (although Coyotes pretty much do exist everywhere I guess).