Even as a toddler, autumn found me camping in the mountains. Without the effluent haze of civilization, the dark reds and browns of the mountain rock seem even more majestic against the azure skies. The first dusting of snow refreshes the air as well as the eyes. The crisp wind rustles through the red and gold of the lower story maples creating flashy skirts for the towering evergreens.My reverence for the mountains in the fall runs deep to my core. I need this retreat, as much as I need to breathe. Most years find me hiking the alpine trails alone. Once camped, leaning against rocks slowly giving up their warmth, I watch the alpen glow fade to the light of innumerable stars and toast another year.
Scott Lake camp site
Other years I have shared my sanctuary with close friends. This year the friendship was as necessary as the pilgrimage. Two close friends agreed to go with me even knowing that along with potentially camping in snow/slush covered mud, they would become my outlet for verbalizing a couple months of pent up stress. Plan A was a favorite campsite for mine on Scott Lake. The short hike in is rewarded with an unrivaled cascade mountain view. If our campsite was taken, Plan B was a bit longer hike into nearly Hand Lake. It’s 80 year old, lean-to provides shelter eliminating the necessity of hauling the weight of tents. Plan C was a rustic cabin at a nearby resort and a drive to the mountains for a day hike. The resort is known for its hot spring fed swim pools and vast gardens tucked into the woods along the McKenzie River.
pool side gardens
Ma Nature was instrumental in our choice of Plan C. The end of summer with a predicted deluge swayed us toward the cozy warmth of a cabin. She also determined our decision with a lightening caused forest fire. When we tried, we found access to the two lakes was blocked. We were not allowed to even hike into them. 
Friendship, wine, good food, an ancient cedar tree and morning coffee were all shared on our little deck overlooking the river.
Nonna, Jackie and me