A fruitful trip to Strawberry country

In Grant County, snowmobilers far outnumber skiers, and the local riders are happy to give novices a hand

By John Gottberg Anderson / For The Bulletin

From the High Lake Rim, the panoramic view of the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness stretches for miles to the east and north. Pine- forested slopes descend steeply to alpine lakes. A slim trail ascends to the summit of the 9,038-foot peak that gives the wilderness area its name.

It's not easy to get to this viewpoint, located at about 8,000 feet elevation in a remote part of Eastern Oregon. There are no paved roads; a gravel route is maintained only seasonally by Malheur National Forest. Hiking is an option in summer, but in winter, there's only one realistic way to visit the High Lake Rim: by snowmobile.

That may not be an easy sell to those Central Oregonians who are committed to non-mechanized means of off-road transportation. In winter, of course, that means traveling by skis or snowshoes. Here in Grant County, halfway between Deschutes County and the Snake River, snowmobilers far outnumber skiers, but local residents are not blind to the long-running conflict between the two camps of winter recreationists.

“We have more than 537 miles of snowmobile trails in this county, which makes it the largest system of any in the state,” said John Bastian, president of the Grant County Snowballers. “We do more than our share to open the national forest to everyone in winter. What's more, we leave no trace after the snow is gone.”

A couple of weeks ago, I joined the Snowballers and the Grant County Sheriff's Department on a day's excursion into Malheur National Forest. Although I hadn't planned my visit to coincide with the event, the Oregon State Snowmobile Association, known as OSSA, was holding its annual convention in John Day at the same time that I was there, so I was fortunate to find companions who knew the forest trails and roads.

From John Day, my group drove south on U.S. Highway 395 for 10 miles, then turned east up Canyon Creek on paved Forest Road 15 for another eight miles to the Crazy Creek Sno-park. There, my companions unloaded the “sleds” from the beds of their trucks and we headed off into the woodland.

Beware of strange bumps

I had been on a snowmachine only two or three times previously, and not at all in recent years. Thus I was feeling anything but confident when I straddled the Arctic Cat to which I'd been assigned for the day. I needn't have worried: Roger Lang, a longtime snowmobiler from Dayville, took me under his wing and made sure I rode safely and securely. That meant donning proper boots, gloves and a helmet with a faceguard to protect me from the elements.

“Just be sure you don't go over any strange bumps,” Lang dryly cautioned me. “It could be a rock or a tree ... or maybe a hibernating bear.”

I erred only once in my driving. Following Lang down a forest trail, I failed to slow sufficiently as we approached a sharp right-hand turn, and I veered into a bank of untracked snow at the edge of a steep drop. Uncertain how my machine would respond if I turned hard and accelerated again, I waited for Lang to backtrack and give me a hand. It was a piece of cake for the veteran.

Otherwise, my day's excursion was smooth sailing. Over the course of several hours, I covered about 50 miles of backcountry. Grant County Sheriff Glenn Palmer led a posse of 17 snowmobilers — I was number 17 — through gently falling snow, along forest roads and trails on the southern slope of Strawberry Mountain. As we crossed Bear Creek and climbed to the High Lake Rim, we glimpsed elk and wild turkeys through groves of larch and ponderosa pine.

Federal law directs that snowmobiles must not cross into a wilderness area. Palmer and his team are steadfast in their support of that law. Forest Road 1640 is enclosed within a narrow non-wilderness corridor that allows vehicles to approach the viewpoint. The sheriff led our group of outdoors lovers up the hill to the edge of the rim.

He motioned for me to join him on the cliff top. The January snow clung hard to the boughs of spruce trees, almost concealing a rustic sign that declared the boundary of the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness.

“When the weather is clear,” Palmer said, a sweep of his arm acknowledging the light cloud cover, “the view across this valley is truly remarkable. High Lake and Slide Lake are just down there to the left. But look through the mist, and you can see the scars of major forest fires. The last one was in 2002, but we had several others in the years before that.”

We tracked back downhill to the Lake Creek Lodge, centerpiece of a youth camp that also hosts weddings, family reunions and other gatherings. Normally open May to October, the rustic main lodge had thrown its doors open on this January week to accommodate the large number of snowmobilers in town. Volunteers served bowls of chili and chocolate-chip cookies. This was an exception to the winter rule, however; snowmobilers normally should pack their own food.

With lunch over, Lang stayed in the upper Logan Valley to play daredevil on his sled, trusting that I now could manage myself on my own machine. I followed the sheriff back to the Crazy Creek Sno-park where we had left our trucks. Along paved Forest Service roads, now covered with snow, it was easy to exceed the 35 miles-per-hour speed limit posted for summer drivers. As deputies from the Grant, Umatilla and Klamath county sheriff's departments were on my tail, I was careful not to let my enthusiasm get too far out of hand.

Snowmobile convention

More than 250 visitors from all corners of the state descended upon the Grant County Fairgrounds for the week-long convention of the OSSA. Among them was John Vogel, the president of the state organization, who traveled to John Day from his home in Hood River.

“Ours is a family sport, one that different generations can enjoy together,” Vogel said. “You can see country that you can't see any other way ... and it's a lot different in winter than it is in summer. You certainly can't snowshoe or cross-country ski as far as we can travel in a single day.”

“It's a social sport,” added Mark Schumacher of Stayton, a past state president, “and it's the most organized outdoor recreational sport in the United States. You build a lot of friendships over the years. Everybody takes care of everybody else out there.”

The convention featured more than daily guided rides and nightly socializing. There were also workshops, seminars and information sessions, the most important of which focused on safety.

“First of all, you should never ride by yourself,” Sheriff Palmer told me in a private conversation. “Let someone know where you're going.

“Wear a helmet and proper clothing. If you get cold, you're in trouble. The wind chill is much greater when you're riding fast, as we do on our machines.

“And know the area where you're riding. If you don't know what's on the other side of the hill, you could wind up in big trouble. A couple of years ago, our search and rescue crew had to evacuate a guy who had sped right over a cliff and suffered a compound fracture of his arm. Hours passed before we could get to him.”

Whither the wilderness?

On Saturday morning of the OSSA convention, U.S. Rep. Greg Walden, R-Hood River, flew into John Day to address the attendees. Preaching to the choir, as it were, the legislator spoke in support of snowmobilers' positions on wilderness protection: “If we're going to close the roads, why not keep them open for mountain bikers in summer and snowmobilers in winter? And take the opportunity to create some new routes?”

An avid skier and backpacker himself, Walden is a proponent of outdoor recreation of all kinds. But he said the original 1964 Wilderness Act, specifying that lands so protected be “untrammeled by man,” has been misinterpreted since its passage.

“It was never (the sponsors') intent to go this far,” Walden said, responding to a question about a bill that would expand designated wilderness in the Crater Lake area. The original act, he pointed out, preserved 9 million acres; since that time, an additional 100 million acres have been set aside, and Congress has been presented another 19 bills to expand wilderness in 12 states.

And then, to show his support, the congressman went snowmobiling himself.

As soon as Walden and his aide had donned their winter clothing, Snowballers president Bastian packed them into his truck and took them to the Crazy Creek Sno-park. There, a small group of experienced riders led the pair into the woodland that I had enjoyed a day earlier.

In John Day

On the surface, the town of John Day might appear to be an unlikely hub for winter sports. Fewer than 2,000 people live there, but that's enough to make it the largest community within a drive of nearly two hours in any direction.

John Day is named for the river that flows westward through the community. The John Day River rises in the Blue and Strawberry mountains and runs 281 miles to the Columbia, making it one of the longest undammed streams in the contiguous United States. According to publications of the Grant County Chamber of Commerce, it was named for an obscure pioneer trapper who never set foot within 100 miles of the town that bears his name.

John Day's main street, U.S. Highway 26, is lined for about three blocks with two-story, false-fronted, Western-style buildings. Its principal tourist attraction is the Kam Wah Chung State Heritage Site, a museum of Chinese culture open only during the summer months.

But there are ample places to stay and eat, even in winter. I find the Dreamers Lodge, a half-block off the highway, to be the best value, although the Historic Hotel Prairie, 15 miles east in tiny Prairie City, has far more character. And you can get a good steak for a reasonable price at several local restaurants, including the Grubsteak and the Outpost, both on the main street, and the Snaffle Bit, three-fourths of a mile south on U.S. Highway 395.

There is one big catch facing winter-recreation lovers who might consider a snowmobiling weekend in the John Day area: You can't rent a snowmachine in Grant County. The vehicles are for sale at dealers there, but Bastian said a new machine may cost between $6,000 and $13,000. A good used snowmobile, he added, might be purchased for between $1,000 and $2,500.

In Central Oregon, several companies have snowmobiles available for weekend rental. GK Motorsports, in Bend, offers new Yamaha sleds at $210 per day, including a trailer, a sno-park pass and a full tank of fuel. La Pine-based Mountain Performance Rentals offers sled-trailer-helmet packages for $200 to $275 per day, depending on the size of machine; a full weekend with two machines can be arranged for as little as $800. Machines are also available at a similar price from Mountain Madness Rentals in Sunriver.

If you're unfamiliar with the Strawberry Mountain area of Malheur National Forest, the Grant County Snowballers will bend over backwards to provide assistance. The club has built a new warming hut for snowmobilers at the Huddleston Sno-park, off County Road 62 south of Prairie City, and members generally welcome newcomers to join them there.

John Gottberg Anderson can be reached at janderson@bendbulletin.com.