Snow, solitude? Try Priest Lake
Since our move from Oregon to Washington several months ago, I just haven’t felt much like an overnight trip.
It takes a while to settle into a new place and with so much to do around the house, planning a weekend getaway was out of the question. Besides, the guilt of all of the unfinished work and unpacking at home wouldn’t allow me to enjoy a vacation.
However, we realized winter was passing us by and we’d only been cross-country skiing once. Our main objective was to find a place with snow and solitude.
We ended up in Idaho’s Panhandle with a whole forest full of snow trails to explore and a cozy cabin with just enough modern conveniences (warm shower and a full kitchen) to make our trip a relaxing and comfortable respite.
After stopping off at a grocery store for supplies in Priest River, we headed north on Highway 57. Through pitch dark, we followed the road up the west side of Priest Lake.
The closer we drew to our destination – Elkins Resort, in the little town of Nordman – the more snow we saw piled high on the roadside. We hoped to be kicking and gliding across powder the next morning in an old-growth cedar forest.
We snaked our way through the woods where cabins looked like lanterns with the yellow glow of lamplight. The main living area in Cabin 15 was spacious and comfortable, with a futon and overstuffed chair by the rock fireplace. The two small bedrooms were just big enough to lay tired heads at night.
We noticed right away that there was no TV, no radio and no phone, so there would be no spinning aimlessly around the dial for hours just to realize the best thing on is yet another showing of “Die Hard.” (God, I wish someone would destroy every copy of that movie. And while they’re at it, throw in every copy of “Independence Day” and all the “Lethal Weapons.”)
Elkins Resort was established in 1932 as a fishing camp along Reeder Bay on Priest Lake. Back then, there was no electricity, running water or bathrooms. Now the resort is a full-service, year-round destination.
An old advertisement board from those early days hangs in the lodge and features two bathing beauties on water skis and the words: “Race you to Elkins! Idaho’s Shangri-la…of Priest Lake.”
Before settling into our cabin for the night, we ate in the lodge’s dining room. John’s meal of halibut encrusted with bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese had a light and delicate taste. My thick “baseball sirloin” was tender and moist, despite the fact that I order my steaks on the very done side.
Seasoned mashed potatoes, baked acorn squash and simple greens with an oil dressing and sesame seeds accompanied our entrees. Unfortunately, there was no room for dessert.
Next morning, we woke with a big country breakfast on our minds. Our cell phone signal was strong, so we called the main lodge to order from the restaurant. Then John trudged out into the cold morning air to bring our food back to the cabin.
We had no guilt in eating that big supper, followed by our hearty breakfast because we knew we would ski it off at Hanna Flats Cedar Grove, about six miles from the resort.
A dog sled race was being held near Hanna Flats that morning and the parking lot was a staging area for the event. Since we didn’t want to get run over by a pack of dogs, we drove down the road to the Priest Lake Golf Course for a turn around its Nordic track.
We feared it wouldn’t allow dogs, but it did – good news for our Kah-less. We enjoyed the warm-up but were eager to get into the woods. After lunch at the cabin, we returned to Hanna Flats to see if the dog races were finished.
They were, and they had chewed up the track for us, leaving behind a soft, flat wide path to ski on. They also left a lot of “brown ski wax” which we manuevered around like an obstacle course.
Following the length of an airstrip that borders the Hanna Flats trail system, we reached a path that led deep into the forest of Western hemlock, pines and firs. A young woman skied past us as she trained two dogs in the growing snow sport of skijoring – being pulled while on skis by dogs in harness.
Many trails with names like Twin Flower, Big Cedar and Buffaloberry crisscross the forest. We purposely chose the Hanna Flats Cedar Grove Trail to see some big, old trees.
This low-lying section of forest was too moist and spongy to build on for Jim Hanna, who brought his family to the area in 1921. The Hannas chose a spot nine miles northwest of the flats in an abandoned homestead.
The previous residents, by the name of Gumpp, had moved that winter so their children could be near a school. When they returned to find the Hannas in their home, the Gumpps just moved on.
In 1926, a massive woodland fire burned 125 square miles of forest. Yet, Hanna Flats was untouched. The moist soil and absence of underbrush forced the fire to take a drier route. Today the grove is preserved as part of the Idaho Panhandle National Forest.
We got a little turned around at the end of the day. John consulted his compass and pulled out the GPS. He had marked the car’s location in the GPS as a waypoint, for just such an occasion. That device has saved us from spending the night in the woods more than once.
That evening in the cabin, we rested our tired bodies by the roaring fire. John huffed and commented on the news as he read the paper. I stroked Kah-less’ fur and studied the knots in the cedar panels overhead as the firelight danced off the walls and ceiling.
Next morning, we were sore (including the dog). Three hours of skiing may have been overdoing it, especially since this was only the second ski trip this year for us.
We thought we broke Kah-less; he lay on his stomach to eat breakfast. But we came all this way and there were so many ski trails, we just had to go out again before we left for home.
The bright sunshine forced us to wear sunglasses for this day of skiing. Below the blue sky, the peaks of the Selkirk range emerged – a breathtaking finish in our race to kill ourselves via skiing.