#28 - McIntyre Ridge Trail

Because I tend to choose hikes to "Mt. Doom" (my sweetie's pseudo-affectionate name for hikes that he feels will eventually get him killed), he got to choose the hike.

He chose McIntyre Ridge Trail, an 8.1 mile "moderate" hike (1400 ft. elevation gain), about 10 miles east of Sandy in the Mt. Hood National Forest. The trail has two scenic viewpoints.

We turned off Hwy 26 and drove a half mile before coming to a locked gate. Hmm. Not a good sign. We parked next to a parked car with Colorado plates and checked the book. The trail head was three and a half miles (all uphill) away from the gate, adding 7 miles to the hike. We decided we could do it before it got dark.

I'd guestimate we were at the 700ft. elevation when it went from no snow to snow – like stepping into Narnia from the wardrobe.

Feeling all adventure-y, we marched on.

After a mile and a half, we came to an open area. The road continued on, but there was also a trail off to our left. The trailhead was not clearly marked, so we checked the footprints of our Coloradoan trailblazers, who had first continued up the road, then doubled-back and headed up the trail.

Welp, that answered that, we followed their steps. Literally...I stepped directly in their tracks so I didn't waste energy breaking through snow and to keep my shoes as dry for as long as possible.

We kept a good pace for the first two miles, but as the trail got steeper we got slower. The sunshine kept us from being overly cold until we got up closer to 2000ft. About a half mile from the lower viewpoint, we came upon the two Coloradoans heading back down the trail and stopped to chat. They told us that the snow was knee deep at the viewpoint, so they decided to head back, but the view was phenomenal. See for yourself:

The upper viewpoint was only a mile further, but decided the view was fine and it wasn't worth knocking ourselves out. We stomped down an area of snow so we could throw our outer layers on the ground and eat lunch. I popped open the two Fat Tires I'd packed (mmmm, Fatties) and we ate and enjoyed the view, until we couldn't take the cold anymore.

Turning back there cut our 15 mile hike down to 13 miles. The trek back was much quicker, though the last mile was arduous, even without the snow.

I volunteered to drive back, so we hopped in the car where my sweetie took off his wet shoes. The entire toe area of his right sock was covered in blood. He professed that never once during the hike did his right foot hurt. It looked like a nasty cut, but apparently it was just a small cut from early on that problaby bled for most of the hike. I still felt bad, knowing this wouldn't help my reputation as the "Mt. Doom" hiker.

I gave him a 90 minute massage when we got home as recompense. I got breakfast in bed the next morning, so it must have worked!