Snow Angels

Last month I went on a retreat to Breitenbush Hot Springs in Oregon. It was a last-minute decision, and I was lucky enough that someone had canceled last-minute so I was able to get a spot. I’d never been on anything like this before, but felt I really needed to be with other people of like-mind. After several difficult years, including Dad’s decline into dementia, my nerves felt shredded raw.

The retreat was organized by Incite Agency for Change, an Oregon-based organization founded by public health professionals Michelle Bangen and Charlette Lumby. This was apparently their first retreat enterprise, created as a place where people could step away from the stresses of everyday life, reconnect with themselves, and simply breathe for a while.

It formally began on Thursday, and I set out in my Mini, aiming to arrive at 5:00 PM, which would give me an hour to get settled in the yurt I’d rented, and be in plenty of time for the welcoming dinner at 6. About halfway there, a hailstorm erupted, slamming golf ball-sized chunks onto my poor little car. In minutes it became a white-out, and I could barely make out the headlights of traffic coming the opposite way. I drove so slowly I was afraid someone might drive into the back of me, so I pulled over to the side of the road, hoping to wait it out.

The onslaught of hail gradually became somewhat lighter, and when a car passed me, I pulled out and followed their tire tracks as far as I could before they vanished into the storm. I did this several times until the storm eased up and only a few snowflakes spiraled down. At long last I reached the turn for Breitenbush, and headed up an extremely narrow, winding road up the mountain. Snow had fallen heavily here, and I took it as slowly as possible, bearing in mind that one slip and the Mini could careen off the side of the road into the bushes and trees on either side. This is how women die, I thought, imagining that happening. If I survived that, then I’d have to hike miles either up to the lodge or down to the tiny town at the bottom of the mountain, and who knows if some kind of predator, human or otherwise, might intercept me! At this point there was no Wi-Fi or data available, so I was truly on my own.

By the time I edged my way into Breitenbush’s check-in shed, it was 6:30 and getting dark. Up here, there must have been several inches of snow. I laughed at myself. What was I complaining about? There had been no snow this past winter, and I’d wished for it… now I had it!

At check-in, they advised me that dinner was almost over, so I should park my car in the adjacent lot, and go straight to the lodge. They gave me a little hand-drawn map, which looked like it had been photocopied many times. It was a bit of a hike to the lodge, but I got there in time, and both Chelle and Char, as they are fondly known as, welcomed me warmly, handed me a plate of lentil stew, and a lovely jasmine sweet tea. I should mention that all food over the weekend was vegan… and sugar, smoking, alcohol, phones, and drugs were all banned. I was ushered into the meeting room with my dinner, and I joined about eighteen people who sat on Japanese meditation seats on the floor. Most were women, with only three men.

The others appeared to know what they were doing, but I was a retreat virgin! After introductions, the first session was a sound bath. Everyone lay on the floor and we were talked through breathing by guest leaders, a man and woman, who played soft guitar music and rang bells and gongs. I’d never been to anything like this before, and kept resisting the urge to laugh, as I felt self-conscious at first, and didn’t quite know what to make of this. But it was very relaxing just to stretch out after the rather harrowing drive there.

At the evening’s end, close to 10:00 PM, I mentioned to Char and Chelle that I still hadn’t moved into my yurt. They kindly lent me their utility wagon, which I was to return the next morning. Gratefully I pushed it out into the night… and stopped dead. Breitenbush protects the wildlife by not polluting the area with light, so all around me was complete darkness, relieved only by the reflection of the snow covering the ground and trees, and the occasional red lamp at key areas. Where the heck was the car park, let alone my yurt?

Suddenly, two women appeared at my side. To my immense relief, they both stepped in and helped me push the wagon through the snow, through winding dark lanes until we found the car park. I got most of my things out of the Mini, and then we set out to find my yurt, using the faded map I’d been given earlier. Directions to the yurt had been drawn when I arrived, but with a pink highlighter, which we couldn’t see in the red flashlights we’d been given as part of our welcome package.

We chatted as we meandered toward where we thought the yurt was, and exchanged names: they were Cassie and Theresa. We must have navigated the snow for about twenty minutes, and still hadn’t found my resting spot. It truly felt like a Monty Python episode as we met dead ends and retraced our steps. I learned later that poor Theresa had had recent knee surgery, but she didn’t complain as we shoved and yanked that stubborn wagon all over the place, as the snow began to fall again, soaking everything in the wagon.

Finally, Cassie took matters into her own hands. She told Theresa and I to wait, and she scouted ahead. We heard a triumphant yell, and she led us to the elusive yurt, named Sundial. They helped me drag my belongings into the yurt, and after I gave them both grateful hugs, they disappeared into the night. My Snow Angels, I thought, watching them vanish into the darkness. What incredible kindness they’d shown a stranger. I will be forever grateful to them. Below is a photo of us during the retreat. We quickly bonded after that, and have stayed in touch, with plans to meet up soon.

I don’t know many people who would have done what they did; helping someone they’d just met in what could have been dire circumstances. With my sense of direction, I’d probably have accidentally walked right into the nearby river, never to be seen again!

I’ll write some more about the retreat later. For me, it turned out to be one of the best things I’ve done in years.

So, to my Snow Angels… a most grateful thank you!