A Hidden Nordic Gem
An exclusive xcskiworld.com column by Levi Hensel. Find the complete index of columns by this author here
Earlier this winter I had the distinct pleasure of skiing at one of the truly unknown and utterly stunning nordic skiing centers in the nation.
Across the country there exist many of these small, well-kept trail systems. These complexes are run by committed, caring, and unheralded “volunteers” who maintain these trails out of the goodness of the hearts and a pure love of cross-country skiing (because Lord knows they aren’t being compensated nearly as well as they should be for their efforts).
In central Washington State there exists a spectacular example of just such a skiing location.
Most people who are interested in sliding on skinny skis, over pristine corduroy, under brilliant sunshine, particularly in the Pacific Northwest, will tell you that the Methow Valley is the place to go. I do not contest that the skiing in the Methow is, as reputed, amazing. However, I urge you, if you happen to be in the area, or are looking for a new “destination ski location”, to take a short detour, about an hour south of the Methow, and ski at Echo Ridge.
I’ve known about the Echo Ridge Trail system for two or three years, but had never had the opportunity to make the pilgrimage. This was mostly due to my having not being in the area during the winter.
Echo Ridge is set upon, and between, several peaks above the pristine waters of Lake Chelan. Chelan is one of the true under-appreciated locales of the Northwest. The fifty-mile long, glacial-fed lake is an ideal summer fun and water sports destination. It is, unquestionably, my favorite place in the world (that I do not typically identify with skiing, that is), and the memories from my summer vacations, and the sunny times I’ve spent there, never fail to bring an ear-to-ear smile to my face. The multitudes of lakeside cabins and vacation resorts become silent during the winter months however, closed-up and dormant until the temperatures reach the triple digits again.
This year, I found myself in central Washington for the holidays, with gloomy weather and a dearth of snow. I scanned websites fastidiously. I sought out any scrap of snow knowledge (however minute) with fervor, from anyone who wouldn’t run in terror at my pitiful pleas for information on potential skiing locales. I was desperate for snow, and things looked dismal. My prior knowledge of Echo Ridge had been confined exclusively to the web. On a whim one day, several years prior, I’d wondered if there was anywhere to cross-country ski near Lake Chelan, and, upon entering a few key words had not only discovered a well maintained website, but was quite impressed at the content contained therein.
As I sank deeper into a state of snow-bereft distress, I remembered my previous visits to the Echo Ridge website (www.chelanvalley.com/nordic), and thought I’d give it a look. I’ll tell you that, given the brown grass, dry, cracked earth, and dusty pavement everywhere else around, I certainly was not holding my breath. As the home page loaded and I clicked through several linked pages, I stumbled onto a fresh grooming report. There was, apparently, snow to be had, and the skiing report was that the conditions were passable to good.
I didn’t wait. I grabbed my rock skis and quickly prepped a pair of nice skis as well (because you just never know). Expecting that the trails would be hard to find, I printed out the website’s excellently detailed directions too.
Turns out that I didn’t even need them. After a thirty-minute drive northeast from Wenatchee (where I was staying) along the Columbia River, and up through the town of Chelan (located at the southern end of the lake) the way to the trail system was incredibly well signed.
Unfortunately, it was raining the whole way. Not a very auspicious start, but I continued on, clinging to a wisp of hope anyhow. As I left the town of Chelan (fueled by a fresh cup of emergency coffee, in the hope that it would lift my dour, rain-depressed mood) I followed the signs towards Manson, the small town that lies along the lake just north of Chelan.
The low clouds and drizzle fell softly as I drove along the northern/eastern shore of the lake, before veering suddenly due east and straight up. The directions claimed that after leaving the lakeshore you’d begin to gain elevation quickly. Quickly was an understatement. The road was well maintained though and as it wound ever upward, through acres of rainy, leafless orchards (Chelan is part of central Washington’s nation-leading apple production area) the gray, but still gorgeous, waters of the lake were visible below.
Eventually I took a right hand turn and begin (still climbing) up a steep-sided box canyon. The fog was quite thick at this point and only a skiff of snow covered the ground. Disappointment was rapidly setting in. I was pleased, however, to note the multiple Bed and Breakfasts and cabins for rent along the roadside, nestled among the Douglas Fir trees and resting on the slopes of the canyon. At least I knew that people did, in fact, come up here regularly for some winter fun.
Soon I passed by (actually, the road runs right through) the base of the Echo Valley Ski Area. Echo Valley is a small alpine area, with several nice (but short) downhill runs, that sits at the head of the canyon. It too has a quite nice and excellently organized website (www.echovalley.com). Unfortunately it was too cloudy and rainy at this point for me to see much higher up the slopes than past the base of the runs. There was snow on them, but not enough to ski on.
By this point the road had turned to dirt and there was packed snow on it. I began to worry a bit about whether my Honda Accord (without studded tires) was going to make it much farther if I kept gaining elevation at this rate. My fears were compounded by the one-hundred and eighty degree turn the road now made (accompanied by a vicious slope increase) immediately after passing through Echo Valley. “Up” is the only word I have to describe what happened next. I went waaaaay up. The road probably gains close to fifteen hundred feet in two miles or less. Oh yeah, and I still couldn’t see a thing around me because the cloud cover was so low.
Up, up, up, up, the road continued to climb. As reduced as my field of vision was, I was quite aware that the one-lane road dropped precipitously away from me on the right side as I continued climbing. I desperately hoped that no vehicles would be descending in the opposite direction. After ten minutes or so of quite careful driving (my car ended up doing just fine), I pulled into a parking lot.
Brilliant sunshine and an empty, gracefully arching sky surrounded me in all directions, disappearing gradually into the far blue distance. It was as though the clouds were suddenly parted by the hands of God to let the rays of warmth shine down. I looked around in silent amazement at the basking hillsides and rounded peaks. Below me a bed of white cloud tops extended to the horizon, occluding the world beneath, and completely unblemished, except for an occasional mountain peak which punctured the surface and rose up into the sunlight. The contrast between the gloom I’d been driving through and this new found glory was absolutely flabbergasting. The surprises didn’t end there either.
Aside from the four or five other cars in the parking lot, the place was empty. But the simple fact that there were other cars there was encouraging. A five dollar trail donation later, and a quick inspection of the nearby tracks, and I was off on my nice skis, cruising around the gentle curve of the nearest hillside. The grooming was immaculate. I cannot stress enough how thin the snow cover remained (about five inches I’d guess), and just how fantastic a job the trail groomer(s) had done with what they had available. Personally, I have had the very fortunate opportunity to ski at a fair number of world-class trail systems in North America. I can think of a select few of those areas that would not be extremely hard-pressed to do what the folks at Echo Ridge had done with the same amount of snow. It is a testament to the hard work that was clearly done in the off-season to keep these trails in shape.
There were approximately five kilometers of newly graded and sublimely rolling trails that were groomed specifically for skating, and then what seemed like an endless expanse of classically tracked trails extending in every direction from the parking area. I skied for the first full hour without repeating any trails, and without touching several trails that were still unopened. I would guess that you could probably ski for two hours or more without repeating any trails, if every trail were open. Even the majority of the “classic” trails looked wide enough for a person to skate on, although this could be slightly changed given a deeper snow pack. The number one selling point of the area however was that every one of the trails remained above the clouds, spiraling gently around the hilltops, keeping the views grand and the terrain gentle to moderate. The quality of the grooming did not falter, and the number of people using the trails while I was skiing continued to grow, with several families, couples, and groups either striding, skating, or snowshoeing on the trails. The range of equipment quality, ski skill levels, and age of the people using the trails was quite wide, but the level of enjoyment everyone was having was equal, and nothing less than jubilant.
If ever there were a “hidden” ski area I would recommend visiting, Echo Ridge would be it. I hope that you will take the time to make the drive up to the trails sometime in the near future, for just the day, or to stay at one of the B&B’s or cabins (www.chelanrentals.com) along the road for a weekend or more. It is truly worth your time. I would like to further congratulate Wayne Machus (the grooming report fellow) on a job well done, as well as give thanks to all the volunteers who have clearly given so much of their time to make Echo Ridge such a stunning place to ski.
It was worth the drive, and it made my Christmas.
Ski on my friends, and until next time, keep your poles sharp, your wits sharper, and an eye out for hidden skiing treasures.
Levi Hensel lives in the skier paradise of Bend, OR where he races for XC Oregon/Therapeutic Associates Inc. He is proud to represent Fischer USA in his racing endeavors, and when not training vigorously, or writing absurdly, finds time to help coach, and drink a lot of coffee.
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