The Hut

Justin is a New York city native. For most of his life, 'going outside' was merely a necessary step between two destinations. His formative years were spent in cities and since joining Eddie Bauer, his strong fondness of First Ascent has been primarily about color. "It's all about the color" is his oft repeated phrase as he mixes and matches tees with Micro Therms and, yes, shoes. His First Ascent apparel looks great, but has yet to withstand any real functional test.




Justin had never camped before, so one of our co workers, Mitch, decided to gently introduce Justin to the art of camping.



Mitch has not only summited Mount Rainier, he has also hiked the entire "Wonderland Trail" encircling it. This summer he spent a week in the back country hiking a remote trail in the northern cascades. Mitch spends his weekends as a Nordic ski patroller, assisting other cross country skiers in the back country.



To Mitch, "getting outside" is the destination. Mitch also has carefully selected First Ascent pieces, but relies more on his early Eddie Bauer gear, some of it dating back to the 70's. (And some of no doubt purchased from a small windfall he received when Van Halen had to use Mitch’s REI membership number to buy thousands of dollars of climbing gear, but that’s another story).



Mitch has been with Eddie Bauer for some 35 years. Justin joined Bauer just over a year ago. Tried and true along with the latest and greatest.





Mitch's idea of a 'gentle' introduction for a first time camping experience?



A mid February hike.

With full packs.

On the snow in the mountains using snowshoes.

At night with headlamps.

We arrived at the trailhead well after sunset Friday night. Mitch had on his Ski Patrol parka, Justin suited head to toe in First Ascent.



Putting on snowshoes for the first time is admittedly cumbersome. Justin did fine after some coaching from Mitch. (Mitch to Justin, "Uh, they’ll probably work better if the front part faces forward").

We headed out into gloomy darkness, headlamps painting wavering patterns on the snowy trail.



Our destination was a warming hut used by cross country skiers. Picture an old trappers cabin high on a snowy slope in the trees. The only fixture was a Franklin Stove – no power, no water, about the size of two corporate cubicles. It was dark and cold when we arrived, but Mitch started a fire in the old stove and before too long it was tolerable as the temperature began to rise from the low 40’s. A few candles and a couple of scotch’s later, the temperature inside was approaching 70 while it began to snow outside and drop to the low 30’s.

Even with no power or water, compared to a tent, this was a palace. All to ourselves. Until the door burst open and two snowboarders with headlamps walked in and sat down. One had a bulging parka and politely asked if we would, perhaps, want a beer. From this parka he produced a considerable supply. Scott and Adam live at the pass and live for getting outside. Scott was an ‘arborist/woodsman’ and had met Mitch earlier in the year. Both were interested in stocking the hut with firewood this summer for the next winter. A plan was hatched between the two. Scott the renegade anti authority but good natured snowboarder, Mitch the ski patroller and voice of authority. All sharing beverages in a small hut on a snowy hill in the dead of a mid winter night. Wonderful.



Scott regaled us with a story of ‘floppy the fish’ a 26” trout of some sort he was able to snag out of a backcountry lake nearby earlier in the Spring. According to Scott, Floppy had behavioral traits of a Killer Whale, repeatedly breaching in this remote lake. He had pictures of Floppy. If not over 2 feet long, it was very close.

Scott’s buddy Adam had a date and was eager to get his ski runs in before the date was to appear at the lodge later that night. Adam was in a hurry, Scott was enjoying the moment, but it was a fun visit. Then they were off, and disappeared into the foggy night to conclude their adventure.



The hut was again ours and the three of us sat together for a while, chatting, but again the door burst open. Morgan, the cross country ski instructor. Armed with a finicky headlamp, he too was winding up his nightly adventure and was taking a few solitary runs after his Friday night routine of teaching 7 year olds how to cross country ski. He had a story about the warming hut from the end of the previous year. After the ski slopes close for the season, the backcountry becomes a temporary haven for snowmobile riders. They use the warming hut for parties and Morgan had stumbled into one. Normally snowmobile riders and skiers tend to look at life differently, but Morgan doesn’t see it that way. While he had planned to have a solitary evening enjoying his single serving of soup, he certainly wasn’t disappointed walking into an energetic group with an abundance of beer and bratwurst. Eager to show the skier they really weren’t terrible people with their noisy machines, they shared freely with their excess they had brought along. Morgan had a great time that night. After some time, Morgan too disappeared into the night.



And so we heard stories of the little hut. Our palace for the evening.



Morning arrived, the fire was stoked and coffee appeared from the stove (Starbucks Via rocks!). Mitch abandoned us shortly after first light for a ski patrol meeting and Justin and I gathered our gear for the snowshoe back to the truck.

The morning was quiet and beautiful. Fog and sun battling in a tug of war with the trees silhouetted in the crossfire. No sounds save for the crunching of snow beneath snowshoes and the occasional whistling of a Raven’s wings. Nice.



Mitch orchestrated and led a great little trip. Justin enjoyed his first night in the woods, and I was glad just to be a part of it. Thanks, guys.