There are few places that are full of nothing but fond memories. Places that inspire a shit-eating grin (see right). Places that can do no wrong, have no negative energy, and lead to no bad times. The cave at Mt Hood Meadows is one.

A bent over tree stump, hewn logs, and rotting evergreen branches come together to form a very lackluster shelter in the summer. In the winter, however, snow sifts through the top structure at first, and then packs hard across the roof, forming a perfect wooden igloo high on the mountain.

Sitting on top of a rocky, banded cliff, slightly back, and surrounded by dense forest, the cave is completely hidden, despite it’s relative proximity to the top of Mt Hood Express, the main lift out of the base area at Meadows.

On New Years Eve, I popped my head into the cave to go drink beers out of the wind with a couple friends. A single white LED light hung from the frosty roof, shining a tiny beam of light on a knitted bag sitting in the snow—with a pot leaf on it. This is a noble gesture, leaving behind one’s illegal drugs for random others to enjoy should they find or know about the cave. They obviously felt inspired enough that they had inspiration to share, so to speak.

I left their present where it was when we left the cave.