JAWS camp part II: Getting to Mt. Hood, Timberline Lodge
Riding to Mt. Hood was peaceful. Nothing but green trees and (mostly) open road. 
From part of Hwy. 26, you can see the summit of Mt. Hood in the distance.
I was also impressed by Oregon’s drivers. In Georgia and South Carolina, everyone is a Jeff Gordon wannabe. Even the slowest drivers on the interstate are going 70 mph in a 55 mph zone. Not so in the Portland area. Aggressive-driving speed demons were the exception, not the rule.
Timberline Lodge
Camp didn’t start until 3 p.m. Friday. That morning, I drove up to Timberline Lodge with my friend and ex-coworker Nadirah.
Timberline is a historic lodge built by entirely by hand by craftspeople hired under the Works Projects Administration during the Great Depression.
The lodge is 6,000 feet above sea level — about half-way up the side of Mt. Hood (cloud-covered summit pictured below). 
There is an asphalt trail on part of the mountain. Walk up far enough and you’ll see some beautiful views of Mt. Jefferson, Three Sisters and a good bit of the Cascades (below).
Mt. Hood is also a great meditation spot. Nadirah and I each copped a squat on a rock and did some deep breathing.
Timberline Lodge itself is a tribute to Alpine goodness. Lots of rustic wood and rich jewel-tone colors. You can also eat lunch or dinner at the restaurant. Be sure to have the hot chocolate. Nadirah said it’s downright amazing. Those squash pancakes were yummy (but then, I like squash). But don’t miss the salmon salad.
Warm Springs
We continued on to Warm Springs Indian Reservation and The Museum at Warm Springs.
The drive from Timberline to Warm Springs is gorgeous, if not a little bit harrowing. There’s nothing but a guide rail separating you from an ugly mountainside death.
It’s also a long-ish drive — at least it felt that way going there. It’s worth it though. The museum is fabulous.
Plus you’ll want to get some de-fucking-licious wild huckleberry ice cream from Indian Trail restaurant. I promise you: it’s make-you-use-profanity good.
