Dick Feringer

Events

Roles

History

1953

p. 55, Mountaineers Annual 1953

Meany Ski Hut Dick Feringer, Chairman

I remember the first time I came to Meany-passing the familiar scenery over Snoqualmie Pass, turning off by Rustic Inn, winding over the narrow dirt road to Martin, and hiking up the short path to the lodge. Disappointment descended on me like the misty rain clouds which hung in the valley. This brown barnlike building seemed very colorless on this grey day. I remembered the tales told of this place, and at this moment couldn’t share such enthusiasm.

My first introduction to Mountaineers, other than car companions, was upon joining six weary and drenched fellows standing around a Smithsonian model Fordson tractor which they claimed would run, but looked to me as though it should have been melted up some time before I was born. Every automotive theory I had ever heard was being advanced as to why it wouldn’t start.

p. 56

A short time later, after being appointed as a volunteer to cut wood, I was slogging up a path leading into the woods, drying off the underbrush with my pants. During that rainy October day the wood seemed to grab at the saws at every stroke. After an hour or so our work was interrupted by a loud noise which sounded like something between a steam locomotive and a drag saw charging through the brush. To my utter amazement, the tractor appeared carrying out its much needed task.

By the end of the day I was wet, cold and tired, and wondering how long my association with the Mountaineers would last. A warm meal saved the day. I don’t know what Nashie put in the casserole, but I was astonished to see that most of the people danced the rest of the evening!

The next day, as during the first, confusion seemed to reign. People were milling around in all directions. Most of the help appeared obviously inexpert and a complete lack of organization, I was sure, existed. Sunday afternoon I skidded down off the hill with the handles of several axes cutting into my shoulder and was amazed at the size of the woodpile by the basement door. An incredible amount of work had been accomplished! The dam was cleaned out, the water line repaired, a new tow rope had been spliced into place, and cleaning and painting on the main floor definitely improved the looks of the hut.

The weather was kinder on the succeeding work parties, and the companionship and spirit of new acquaintances made them much more fun. After five such weekends the wood was all in, the machinery in good working order, the hut scrubbed, and everything was ready for nature to take its course and bring forth snow. At the end of that last work party people sat by the window, looking at the cloudy sky like a girl sitting by the phone on Saturday night.

p. 57

With the coming of winter the lodge shrank into a roof sitting on the snow and gave the impression of a man who had pulled his hat down over his ears. The familiar inside of the lodge convinced me this was still Meany, and the warm cozy fire and friendly skiers transformed the hut into a comfortable island in the middle of the cold wilderness.

There were still more experiences in store. One was meeting and getting to know Nashie whose superb cooking and personality provide a focal point about which Meany has revolved for many years. The other was skiing on the Lane, that patch of hillside which justified the past months of effort. The variety of ski terrain available, both cross country and downhill, more than balanced the anticipation built up during those first work parties.

By this time I had learned that Meany was companionship; it was felling trees, cutting wood, splicing rope, brushing the hill; it was repairing engines, building, painting, cleaning pots and pans; it was touring in powder snow to the lookout, practicing deep snow skiing, setting up a slalom on the lane; it was also dancing, games, parties, memorable conversations, and good food.

Since those first few work parties, I have seen many improvements go into the hut every year. Last year the Bonneville power line opened up an entire new ski area serviceable by the tow. Old Meanyites call it “Little Sun Valley,” claiming it has the terrain of Mount Baldy concentrated in four hundred yards! A new gas stove and water heater have added greatly to the convenience in the kitchen, and improved manicuring techniques on the lane enabled skiing with less than two feet of snow.

Now when I hike up the trail from Martin and the hut comes into sight, a never waning enthusiasm returns, and I feel as though I am coming home.