Skiing at Donner Pass: Mushrooms on the Mountain

     One day, skiing ahead of our excursion, two of our group, Jennifer and Kate, met a couple of young skiers on the trail. Jennifer told them about our Sierra Club group, all over 50 years old and the oldest 80. When they met again at the top of the pass, the two young people were taking some mushrooms for a little psychedelic boost to their ski adventure. They said, "Oh, here are some mushrooms for Diana!" to honor my elder position among the skiers.

    That evening, sitting around the stove with me and others, Jennifer told about meeting the skiers and, with a flourish, presented me with the mushrooms. She had overheard me talking about psychedelics with Maricel and Beverly the evening before, so she was pleased to be giving me such a suitable gift.

                                    photo by Debra Gibson

    But Jennifer had missed the main drift of that conversation, which was the part psychedelics had played in my two-year bout with what was diagnosed as schizophrenia. Explaining that reference to Jennifer led to a rendition of the whole story, from so long ago, to everyone sitting around the stove. 

   Afterward, when people expressed gratitude that I would talk so openly about that experience, I told them that when the two-year episode had come to an end, I had thought, "If we are ever going to overcome the stigma of mental illness, we have to talk about it," and so I have never hidden that part of my life. And it's true that today we talk more openly about mental illness than we did in the '70s. 

    And the reason I was talking about psychedelics with Maricel and Beverly, a psychotherapist, in the first place was as part of a discussion about the therapeutic use of psychedelics. As always in discussions of that topic, I raised a cautionary voice: If, as it seems by my experience, some individuals are particularly sensitive to such substances, we should be particularly careful in advocating their use. 

    "So what will you do with the mushrooms?" someone asked, puzzled why I would want them.

    Well, I did offer them to anyone who wanted to actually eat them, but when no one reached for them, I said I would put them in a little jar on a shelf in my house. Then, I said, when someone picked up the jar and said, "What's this?" I could tell a story about skiing on Donner Pass, Jennifer's chance meeting with the young skiers, and all the fascinating, intelligent, broad-minded, and community-oriented fellow lovers of snow I had met.

Sierra Club Trip on Donner Pass: The Lodge and the Lodgers

    One of the best things about Sierra Club trips is the many interesting people you meet. They are passionate about the environment, and, in my experience (on three Sierra Club trips), they are cheerful contributors to a communal experience. 

    On the Donner Pass trip, we stayed at the delightful, rustic, 100-year-old Hutchinson Lodge.

                                                        photo by Debra Gibson

It is unstaffed, but everything ran smoothly because there was always someone to do what was needed—help our cooks, who were also snowshoe and ski co-leaders, with meals (the food was terrific!),

Nora and Jane, two of our cooks 
photo by Jeannette Sivertsen, the third cook

keep the fires going in the two wood-burning stoves, 

Mike, keeping the stove going.
                        photo by Jeannette Sivertsen

pull a sled loaded with supplies (or firewood!) up the snowy hill to the lodge,

and anything else that was needed. With only one water heater, our leaders suggested three-minute showers. I didn't hear that anyone ran out of hot water during a shower. 

    Besides being considerate and helpful, Sierra Club outings people are so interesting! Five of the twenty-one of us were originally from different countries—Argentina, Iran, Israel, the Czech Republic, and Hong Kong. Careers ranged widely—a psychiatrist, a personal development consultant, a doctor, tech people, and other interesting occupations. Discussions ranged from books to personal backgrounds to tales of outdoor adventures. 

Mark Chang leading a discussion about protecting winer wildlands

    Leaders of Sierra Club outings always tell participants about environmental issues pertinent to the area. Mark told us about grassroots organizations and alliances dedicated to protection of winter wildlands "for quality human-powered winter recreation"—i.e., no over-snow vehicles (OSVs). In fact, our snowshoers ran into some snowmobilers on a frozen lake they had snowshoed to. Although there are places in the Donner Pass area open to OSV use, this lake, Mark thought, was not one and the snowmobilers probably recreating illegally.

    Before we went out on the first day, Mark talked to us about backcountry ski equipment and safety. The best way to avoid avalanche danger, he said, was to stay out of avalanche territory at dangerous times. The best way not to get lost, he said, was to use a GPS. "Don't depend on following your tracks to get home," he told us. "There are tracks everywhere." In the Cascades of southern Oregon, where I usually ski, I am always confident I can follow my tracks back to the trailhead, but Donner Pass is a very popular area for skiing and snowshoeing ("It's a zoo on the weekends," Mark said), and, yes, there were tracks everywhere. I was glad enough to follow Mark and his GPS every day back to the Hutchinson Lodge, where I was glad, too, for good cooks, a warm fire, good companionship, and a comfortable bunk bed to tumble into for a well-earned, long night's sleep.

Next week: Mushrooms on the Mountain

Backcountry Skiing on Donner Pass: The Skiing

    Four days of backcountry skiing with Mark Chang, I thought last week as I was skiing with him on Donner Pass, was about comparable to hiking 800 miles for my 80th birthday. It was that challenging.

    And so much fun! 

    I had signed up for this Sierra Club trip—Tahoe Ski and Snowshoe Backcountry Adventure, led by Mark Chang—after extensive conversation with him in December about my experience and equipment. It sounded like I could do it. 

    It was not namby-pamby. It was not on groomed trails with set tracks. It was up steep icy hills, with herring-bone steps that tested the strength of my thighs. It was a lot of downhill challenges.

I'm in front. It's steeper than it looks. Photo by Mark Chang

Four to six miles a day. Tight turns on narrow trails through the woods. Creek crossings on snow-bridges. Swift glides over snow-frozen lakes. I fell plenty of times, but Jane, Mark's skiing co-leader, told me I hadn't fallen any more than anyone else. Everyone fell.

Jane and me                     Photo by Mark Chang

    And those gorgeous views of Sierra peaks, snow as far as you could see.

                                                                                Photo by Mark Chang

           The second day we skied up to and over a pass on our way to Peter Grubb hut. Besides the steep climbs, we had one long, steep, dangerous, icy traverse. At the end of it, we stopped for lunch and discussed plans. Mark suggested that instead of going to the hut, we turn uphill to a flat below Castle Peak, then return to the lodge on the Pacific Crest Trail. One of the skiers protested. "It's only ten minutes to the hut," she said, pleadingly. 

    "Ten minutes for you," Mark said. "An hour for Diana."

The second day's skiers, below Castle Peak.     Photo by Mark Chang

    What made it all so glorious? The whoop-de-whoop ups and downs on the Pacific Crest Trail and its serene glides through the forest? Doing better and better herring-bone steps? The views of high Sierra peaks beyond us or of dark blue, white-trimmed Donner Lake below us? Swooping down wide hills, making graceful (or not so graceful) turns?

                                Photo by Mark Chang

Just simply being outdoors in the snow and the incomparable beauties of deep winter on the mountain? Meeting every challenge, one way or another, and coming home exhilarated every afternoon? Just being able to ski in the backcountry? 

    All of it.

    One by one, skiers dropped out to join the snowshoers. On the fourth and last day, Mark said the skiing group would be himself, Jane, and three others—Jennifer and Kate, the two best skiers in the group—and me. I was aghast. What was I thinking to be skiing with those four? But Mark and Jane had skied with me for three days. If they thought I could do it, I wasn't going to take myself out. 

Jennifer, Kate, Mark, me, Jane             photo by Jennifer Halter Baceda

    What a glorious day! I kept up (well enough), and the skiing was magnificent, challenging and beautiful. We stopped, amazed, in front of wind sculptures.

Jennifer, me, Kate, Jane                             Photo by Mark Chang

We stopped next to a group of trees to listen to the tapping rhythms of a woodpecker. We followed bear paw prints, Mama Bear's and Baby Bear's.

                                    photo by Jennifer Halter Baceda

We skied over the smooth surfaces of lakes, down wide hills, up hills and down, on snow bridges across creeks, and, finally, we took off our skis to walk through dank echoing tunnels under the freeway.

          Photo by Jennifer Halter Baceda

    Every afternoon I came back to the lodge more exhilarated than tired. Every morning I clipped my boots into my skis, ready to go again. I came home with blisters on my heels, a bruise on my hip, chapped lips, and a heart full of gratitude—to Mark Chang for leading this trip and to all the companions with whom I shared his backcountry adventure on Donner Pass. 

(from left) Mark, me, and the other skiers.    Photo by Jane Uptegrove

    

Next week: Backcountry Skiing on Donner Pass: The Lodge and the Lodgers