I had the brilliant idea sometime mid-last-week to launch a snowshoe outing somewhere east of Snoqualmie Pass and invite along Tyler and Dan (Studley). I thumbed through my book and found a decent enough looking outing out of Salmon La Sac (off of I-90 exit 80, north of Rolsyn and Ronald), and so it was set Saturday afternoon: meet Dan at the IHOP off the State Park exit in Issaquah, drive to the trailhead, and let adventure ensue.

Tyler dutifully showed up at the House at 7:35 + mandatory 5-10 minutes late (aka right on �schedule�), asking for coffee. I had none to offer him, as I was partaking in tea. We blazed for Issaquah, arriving at the IHOP at 8:10. No Dan. At about 8:25, and still no Dan, I began to obsess about how both Dan and Tyler possessed cell phones, but apparently didn�t know each other�s numbers. After all, Dan should�ve at least called by now, and Tyler didn�t have Dan�s number stored. We decided to find a nearby grocery store so I could buy some lunch, then got back to the IHOP about 8:40, waited about 5 minutes, and decided to go. As we were getting on the freeway, Tyler suggested I call Greg, have him get Dan�s number off the message board, and call Dan. I executed this plan, only to find that I had woken up Dan � he muttered something about his alarm and after some confused discussion decided there was no way he could catch up with us.

It turns out that Dan didn�t miss anything. Already late, we found the compact snow covered road leading to our �trailhead,� through the bustling burghs of Roslyn and Ronald, and past the legions of snowmobilers (there is a popular sno-park along the road � the description for our intended trail stated that our particular trail was largely ignored by snowmobilers). Suddenly, Tyler�s Ford Explorer planted itself in the ditch on a straight and level section of road. It quickly became apparent getting it out would be no easy task, and probably would�ve been impossible if not for a legion of four passing � and rather amused � snowmobilers. This whole debacle set us back a bit further.

We found our trailhead, found a place to park the beleaguered vehicle, donned our appropriate gear, and launched ourselves into imminent adventure. Most popular snowshoe �routes� follow summer hiking trails, which of course are covered by feet of snow. Usually, it�s a matter of finding the trailhead sign, then, more often than not, following an established trail set by previous groups. If a lot of new snow obscures the trail, it becomes a matter of routefinding, which can actually be pretty simple and fun if the weather is clear and the visibility is good � and the feet of snow covering the trail also covers the underbrush. At the very least, unless it�s snowing heavily, you know you can at least follow your own trail back to where you started.

Of course, we were also east of the Crest, which means we were in the more open pine forests which dominate the eastern slopes. We followed a somewhat obscured path through the trees until we broke out above the treeline, where the few trees around were rarely taller than 6 feet. This is the point where snowshoeing becomes most enjoyable. You pick out your destination and just head there, avoiding obvious hazards (like avalanche slopes) along the way. There were two immediate problems: we were in the middle of a cloud making for horrible visibility (the somewhat indistinct trail we followed though the forest was now indistinct to the point of being invisible) and without the cover of forest we discovered it was raining, and we were getting wet and miserable.

So we decided to head back. We had been going not quite an hour, and couldn�t have gone much more than 1.5 miles, but we decided to just bag it. It wasn�t meant to happen today. I spent most of the way back to the Ford trying to convince myself that I wasn�t a wuss � and I suspect Tyler was having a similar internal dialogue. The closer we got to the truck, the harder it seemed to rain, and by the time we both got inside, our boots off and into dry shirts, the engine running and the heater blasting, neither of us doubted our decision in the least.

Then we faced a completely new ordeal. I decided we should stop at Village Pizza in Roslyn. I had been there years ago and remembered it as being very good. It was closed. No bother, we decided we could last until North Bend where we had the Pizza Place or the Bar and Grill to choose from. The Bar and Grill was closed for the week for remodeling, the Pizza place didn�t open until 3, and it was 2:30. We admitted defeat and decided to hold off our hunger until we got back to the House.