NEWS HOME

Skiing on Wolf Creek Highway
By Minnie (Smith) Stoumbaugh

Minnie Smith and Barbara Beckham, who lived next door for years

As you proceed west on Highway 26 from Sylvan, where Sunset Highway now crosses over Canyon Road—are you there with me?—off to the right you will see the lovely grounds of Finley’s Sunset Hills Mortuary. In my memory, this hillside has always been the final resting place for many dearly departed, but it wasn’t always as beautiful as it is now. Likely the grounds were neglected at that time because of the Second World War.

Even in my childhood, as today, the cemetery road took you zigzag up the hill onto three terraces. At the bottom of the hill there was a muddy pond with some cattails and lots of weeds, not the pretty fountain, pool and landscaping you see there today.

But once upon a winter, when we had a notable snow fall, (maybe January 1947), we five youngest Smith kids found that hillside to be a natural ski slope. But we didn’t have any skis, only a rather broken down old sled. And, by the way, we had never skied.  So why should we think of skiing now? Well, some of our friends at school made regular trips to Mt Hood for that very reason. Some of them had an extremity in a cast afterwards. But that was not a deterrent to us Smith kids. We didn’t break bones.

West Slope in the snow, 1949

Knowing store-bought skis were beyond the extent of our savings, my brother Gene, at age 14, took apart an old leaky barrel that had been stored in the basement. Having released the wooden slats from the metal band, he began sanding them into skis. You might think the slats would be too short for skis, but we were also short, so it worked out.

When he had them about where he thought they would yield the best ride, he might have asked Mom for some paraffin. But more likely he bought his own from his Oregonian paper-route money. He melted the paraffin in a pan on the stove, then poured the liquid wax on the bottom of the “skis.” A pan was in place to catch any runoff, which was reused.

Off we went the two miles to the hillside. In those days it wasn’t called Sunset Highway or Highway 26, but Wolf Creek Highway, and it wasn’t yet paved. Since the skis were Gene’s creation and he was the most daring, he tried them out first. He thought they were great, except that it was hard to keep them in place. Once or twice a ski got away and sailed on to a life of its own without its rider.

Undaunted, it was back to the drawing board. Another day, Gene bored some screws into the slats and fastened clothesline ropes to them that could be tied around our feet and ankles. He re-waxed the slats and back to the hillside we hiked! Wow, my siblings, Floyd, Gene, Fern and Roy, were doing great with them!

Then it was my turn. I confess to being a bit nervous about this adventure at age 8. I preferred the sled so I could be a little closer to the ground. Especially so when I found myself picking up speed, quickly! Oh, I wished the skis were not tied to my feet so I could get away from them! I was going too fast!

So I just sat down and made three tracks in the snow until I stopped…just before going into the partially frozen pond at the bottom of the hill!

Previous article

NEWS HOME