Is there any place cozier than a lodge built in 1937, six thousand feet up a snowy mountain on a winter's night? Especially after spending a half an hour in the outdoor hot tub, moon overhead, and winter winds lashing snow flakes into your hair. I felt like one of those macaque monkeys in the snowy hot springs. But the monkeys don't get to dry off and have delicious beer afterwards. I'm so glad I'm not a monkey!
Timberline is truly a heavenly place. The enormous hand-hewn wood beams and staircases, wrought iron fixtures handmade furniture and stained glasswork, the beautiful paintings and tile mosaics...it is all delicious. Our little cozy room looked right out the front of the lodge into the snow-swept valley and indigo pines. In the morning I crept down to the embers in the huge lobby fireplace, before any other guests and availed myself of the hot coffee already there. I cracked open the last Jane Austen novel, "Sanditon" the one she died while writing, and settled in to wait for the breakfast buffet. Ahhh, this is the beautiful northwest life!