MT HOOD SKI BOWL: Gettin' hairy on Tom Dick

I’d heard the rumors about Mt. Hood Ski Bowl. That somewhere above Hwy. 26, on the opposite side of the road from the lower slopes of Portland’s iconic volcano, short but steep terrain awaited those willing to take a chance on lower-elevation snow conditions. Like most drivers on their way to Hood’s other resorts farther up the highway, I’d never bothered to investigate. “Not today,” I’d mutter on my way through the tiny hamlet of Government Camp, with nary a glance sideways at the shimmering, rock-strewn ridgeline above and behind the thick, roadside evergreens.

Well as of March 26, you can consider me a Ski Bowl convert. So much so that I may never bypass “the Bowl” again.

It was the third day of our meandering road trip from Sun Valley to Seattle—a sort of metaphorical scavenger hunt behind the wheel of a borrowed cop car with Budweiser skis riveted to its hood. Our stated mission: to deliver Joaquin (the car’s name) from pick-up to drop-off with as many major and minor incidents as possible, and to document the sport of skiing at all times. With about six inches of fresh snow already on the surrounding slopes, and angry-looking clouds overhead, we drove Joaquin upward past the town of Zigzag in hot pursuit of a little “mandatory” fresh-powder field research.

As if on cue, Joaquin’s studded rear wheels spun out on the partially sanded highway just past the entrance to Ski Bowl. It was only going to get worse higher up. The mental debate spilled over into conversation: do we really want to put on chains? A surprisingly quick U-Turn in the middle of the highway brought us back to the safe harbor of a well-plowed parking lot and a base area that looked more like the headquarters for summer camp than a serious ski area.

Not that we cared—or felt out of place. Outside of Sun Valley, ski areas in the Pacific Northwest are shy on, shall we say, accoutrements. We quickly made the acquaintance of Hans, the mountain operator, who in turn quickly made Joaquin’s acquaintance. (Joaquin has a way of upstaging whoever’s around, including his occupants.) Joaquin quickly became acquainted with a couple of Mt. Hood Ski Bowl stickers. Then it was off to find out whether Ski Bowl would prove a major or minor incident over the course of our journey.

Attractively steep aspects rim the upper half of Ski Bowl, but we were immediately drawn to Tom Dick Peak. From the Upper Bowl chairlift, a creaky double that grants access to the area’s expert terrain, the peak spreads skyward to looker’s right and then spills back to the valley floor in a cliffy bowl. You could say that Tom Dick looks hairy, but I’ll spare you the imagery. Alright, Tom Dick looked hairy—it did—as well as mostly untracked. We immediately took the short hike to the peak once we reached the top of the double.

Just like that, the sun came out and the snow stopped falling. Ten minutes later we were on top of a small cornice with a rather large view. Beyond the signed boundary was another impressive ridgeline with even taller cliffs. Off in the distance was the summit of Mt. Hood, all but its base obscured by massive clouds. And beneath us was The Chutes, a 500-vertical-foot run of steep snow and rock on par with most expert slopes in the Pacific Northwest.

Perhaps the powder was drier higher up the highway, but up here on Tom Dick we had no reason to complain. Snow easily blew up onto our jackets with each turn. A quick straightline between two rocks brought me to the mid-section and then it was turn after turn of goodness to the forest below.

Soon the slope was tracked out so we sought refuge in the trees of Outback, nearer the chairlift. On this Sunday we could have skied fresh snow all day long in protected nooks and crannies where it seemed only one or two other skiers had been before us and, apparently satisfied, had long since called it a day.

When we got back to Joaquin we noticed the Ski Bowl sticker on him read “Do it under the lights.” The area’s marketing campaign focuses on Ski Bowl’s massive night-skiing terrain, but I think they’re short-changing the daytime hours. When conditions are right, Ski Bowl qualifies as a "major incident."