A Galaxy of Stars for the Siskiyou Crest

          For the past few days I was cross-country skiing in the Elkhorn Range of the Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon, but I came home a day early, partly because I had skied all the trails at the Anthony Lakes Nordic Ski center and partly because Mike wasn't feeling well and couldn't ski. So, with a free day in front of me, I decided to hike up Charlie Buck trail in the Applegate today.

          It was a beautiful day for hiking. The sky was blue with lofty clouds. A wind kept me cool though I was sweating with the exertion of hiking that steep trail, and, when I got to the top of the trail, the Siskiyou Crest opened before me with its snowy peaks marching across the skyline. I couldn't get enough of staring at all that mass of mountainous beauty or walking in such spring wonders.

          At the top of the trail, just as I started across the broad open hillside to Baldy Peak, I met a man walking towards me. We chatted a bit, in friendly hiker fashion. He was Asian and lived in Washington, across the river from Portland. He was on his way to hike in Redwoods National Park and had stopped overnight in the Applegate to hike the Charlie Buck trail, which he had found on alltrails.com. He said it had been given a five-star rating, but he was disappointed because he didn't think it was a five-star trail.

          Not a five-star trail?! I spread my arms in an expansive gesture towards the snowy peaks of the Siskiyou Crest overtopping the steep green hills of our trail. "You don't think this is worth five stars?" I asked, incredulous

          He shrugged. "I would give it three stars," he said, "maybe four."

          I was so insulted! Three stars?! Four, maybe? For all of this?

          Then he went on his way, disappointed, and I went on mine, still enthralled by the beauty of the mountains all around me, the gorgeous spring weather, and the joy of walking, climbing, striding, exerting my body in nature. Later I watched two eagles circling and soaring over the canyons beneath me, their white heads and tails and black wings swooping against the sky. Only three stars? Only four?

         I had my five-star day. I'm sorry his didn't top a four.

         I didn't look up ratings for skiing at Anthony Lakes before I went there. I don't know what they might be on various websites, but for me, the skiing was perfect. It snowed the second night I was there, and that morning the sky cleared, creating perfect conditions: a couple of inches of fresh snow and a fiery blue sky behind the forest canopy. The needle-sharp peaks of the Blue Mountains, called Oregon's Alps, jabbed into the sky, glistening with their new snow.

There were no other skiers on the trails; I had the entire trail system to myself. I skied every trail at Anthony Lakes that day, some trails twice, always in that perfect solitude that amplified the beauty of the surroundings. The trails were groomed, so the skiing was free of dangers: no icy spots, no narrow passages, no trees to run into, the roads wide and smooth, the snow fresh, and I began to ski absolutely freely, climbing the hills, then free-falling on the descents, skiing fast, making graceful turns as I descended because everything in such conditions was graceful. The solitude in the forest and in the snow was magnificent. How many stars would I give those three hours of skiing? The entire Milky Way.

          And then someone would come along expecting something more from such a starry rating than, perhaps, he was getting, and instead of enjoying the experience would grumble that this wasn't worth such exuberant ratings.

          Maybe Mr. Asian Man would have enjoyed his hike better if he had opened his eyes to what was there instead of thinking it should have been something else. My five stars might be your three, but I'll take my galaxies of good times without caring how you would rate them.