SnowCamp XXX. Year of an event? Arctic adult video?

Original date: Saturday, January 10, 2026

It was 30 years ago that a very young boy, so young that he was not even a goat yet, got an idea.

Why only hike in the fall, summer, and occasionally spring? What about the winter? And so two other friends and I created SnowCamp. It is now an annual three-day weekend that spans three decades.

As the name suggests, this is a camping experience. And those experiences take many forms. From tents to snow caves to shelters built out of sticks and rocks. Over time that turned into a pop-up tent trailer, RVs, forest service cabins, vacation rentals, and even a national park lodge.

I remember most vividly an unheated garden shed in the Methow Valley. It’s amazing what you can tolerate with enough fire wood and copious amounts of beer and whiskey.

Likewise, this is also a snow experience. With a focus on finding the best snowshoeing there is. That has taken us to every corner of Washington, with dips south into Oregon and pushes east into Idaho. All the while experiencing everything Mother Nature could throw at us.

Rain, snow, sleet, ice. Or too much snow. And no snow at all. Even one recent year when it was so cold it wasn’t safe to go outside (the high was -6 the entire weekend sans wind chill)

The group has always varied in size, from a low of 4 to a high of 10+, with 6 being the average. We are all tied together through college, professional connections, and friends of friends. But there is one common thread. He unabashedly considers himself the hub of the wheel from which all the spokes radiate.

But snow camp has evolved to the point of becoming a DeLorean time machine. Remember the end of the first Back to the Future movie? Why do you need a hub-and-spoke wheel if you don’t need a road?

This year’s location was Wallowa State Park in Northeast Oregon at the edge of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. I’ve done some of my most memorable hiking in this region. The best backpacking you will never hear of. Home to incredible granite peaks rising to 9,000 ft and mirror-like mountain lakes.

This trip we are staying on the edge of that great wilderness and enjoying the trails near and around Lake Wallowa. Campgrounds are all closed for the winter, and the only thing available are two heated yurts, which are actually built more like cabins. Perfect.

Just enough cold and just enough snow to make this look and feel like a real old school SnowCamp. I recall some trips that were nothing but miserable freezing rain and wind. This is one of the nicer outings weather-wise.

In the past, we had a full decade of Dutch oven cooking over coals or a roaring fire. It was nice to get a little back to basics for the big 30th.

Dutch cooking has to it a certain rustic charm. And our Chef Mike has always been something of a master. Not because it always turned out great. But he is always trying something different. This beef stew was exceptional.

This year, we are clearly located in a valley with very steep walls just near the shore of a large lake. As such, there is not a lot of sun, and that cold air sinks like a rock. Good thing we brought enough wood.

A sure sign the food is done is when you lift the lid, and everything is enveloped in a giant fog of stewy steam. Mike hit his mark. Dinner time!

I’m still not sure why we never cleaned off the snow from the picnic table. But in the end, I liked it. The same as having snow at Christmas. It makes it a true SnowCamp.

Although the yurts all had a little heater, you still needed to keep your coat on for the most part. Warm food was also nice to bring the temperature up a few degrees. But it sure beats the old days of trying to sleep in a tent, a snow cave, or a garden shed.

But all of our activities brought in a little friend. This red fox just kept hanging out. I’m sure with all the food smell in the air he was looking for a little treat from us. But we, being experienced outdoorsmen, do not feed the wildlife. Although in a state park, I’m sure he’s been getting more than he should during the summertime.

And as if we needed proof that there was an expectation of food from us, our little red friend took a nice little dump on our cutting board. Message received and fully understood. Amazing how the wildlife can talk to you without words.

There also seems to be a lot of mule deer that hang out at the park. Don’t know if so much during the warm season, but they were sure accustomed to people.

There were probably a good 20 of them or so. A lot of little bucks and a few spikes. I’m pretty sure these guys aren’t so nice and passive during the fall rut.

But a few of them got a little too close for my liking. After all, the first mountain goat fatality in the United States was in Washington State. So why shouldn’t we also host the first 2-year mule deer buck fatality?

But wait a minute. Didn’t I say something about hiking? We usually try to go for a hike on arrival day, with the big one on the middle day of SnowCamp weekend. But some of the guys had a 9-hour drive one way. That’s when we stop counting miles and start counting beers.

There have been snow camps where we’ve logged 25 miles. But that was all on bare trail because there was no snow that year (on the slopes of Mount Rainier of all places). And then we had a year as I mentioned before where we put in zero miles because of the fear of freezing to death. So we can’t really equate miles to the quality of any given SnowCamp weekend.

Not quite enough snow for snowshoes. And everything was extremely dry, so no ice, which means no traction devices either. Just a nice walk in the woods during the wintertime.

Obviously, we saw only a few people out on the trail. Wallowa State Park isn’t near much. Just a few small towns. Towns that don’t draw tourism during the darkness of winter.

Since trail conditions aren’t reported during this time of year we just took our chances. The goal was not so much miles but to spend some solid hours out in the solitude. Talk about the old times. Talk about the times to come.

We split into two parties for a while. My group wanted to try to get a little elevation gain and explore the Chief Joseph Mountain trail. No possibility of making it to the top. But some views did come our way.

That low winter sun made everything cold, shadowy, and blue. You can actually feel the temperature in the air, and it stings the nose just a little bit. Temps felt just right. Cold enough. Crisp and clean. The way it should be.

Not a sound outside of our heavy breathing. And steady streams of profanities when we had to tear our way through fresh winter deadfall across the trail. Come spring, the trail crew will be getting busy with the chainsaws.

For some reason I have always liked hiking in the snow. It tends to make everything nice and level. No stubbing your toes on rocks. No roots to trip over. And you see so many interesting things as the forest sleeps.

Sometimes I like to fan out so I’ll have the trail to myself. It’s a good time to think. Especially since SnowCamp is always the first or second weekend of January, so it’s a brand new year. Lots to ponder. Goals to make. Milestones to meet. And fingers to cross.

When you’ve spent this much time with a good group of people, you don’t have to hike with them in lockstep constantly to appreciate who they are and the positive effects they have on you. With this group, even when you’re alone on the trail, you are never ever really alone.

We came across a bridge that was out. So we backtracked and caught up with the other half of the team. They hit some massive deadfalls with no way around (at least until spring). The light was starting to get thin, and the sun was dropping fast.

So we decided to save further exploration for another day. And when someone my age saves something for another day, it’s the same as saying I’m never going to do it and just forget about it.

The backtrack to the yurt felt quick and uneventful. The gain for the day was pretty subtle, miles good, and company above par. So XXX goes down as a win in my book.

A little physical exercise in the cold made the yurt feel a lot cozier than it actually was. But it was perfect for playing cards. And with those wooden walls and exposed rafters, took on the feeling of a one of those small New England fishing village churches dedicated to sailors lost at sea. Or something like that.

That low winter sun went to bed early. Everything was so amazingly quiet. You could almost hear the forest sleeping. But just wait till summer, when this place is flooded with thousands of people and all the noise they bring.

One bonus of Snow Camp is that it always falls right around my birthday. And the guys never let me forget it. This one was a tough one. This birthday is the one where I realize I’m no longer counting up. I’m counting down. Bittersweet, just as it should be. Though more on the bitter side.

And so we bring SnowCamp 30 to a close. Not quite sure how many of these we have left. But I know there will be at least six more. Why is that? Because that’s how many slots are left of the sacred chalice of SnowCamp, which we have been using to record the event since the early 2000s.

It’s an old aluminum cocktail shaker that I pulled from a Goodwill box on Nancy’s parents’ front porch so many years ago. But no one has really started talking about the elephant in the room.

 

Is a cocktail shaker from the 1950s going to be an urn in the 2030s? If so, who will be the first to donate? There always has to be a first.

 

GoodBoy Out!

 

And Patrick still sucks even though this post has nothing to do with Glacier Park.