Rediscovering Winter Wonderland in Hope Valley

Date: February 21, 2026
Place: Hope Valley, Markleeville, California
Coordinates:
Length: 1.9 miles
Level: Flat terrain but challenging deep fresh snow.

 

This recent winter has been strange here, in California. It started very early with several powerful storms in October, continued into November and December with great promise of a truly wet season and a superbloom year, and then dried up completely in January and the first half of February. The end of February saw the biggest storms yet, storms that dumped huge amount of snow in the mountains and caused some serious troubles there, including the deadliest avalanche in the history of Tahoe area. Nearly all of that snow is now gone, since that last storm was followed by the hottest heat wave ever recorded in March in those regions.  

I was looking for a window in my busy schedule and between the storms to go skiing. I found that window on Friday, February 20 right after the storm was finished. I hurried up the mountain as soon as the road was opened again and enjoyed a lovely skiing day in Kirkwood. The beautiful weather after the storm and the high fresh powder invited the multitudes of snow lovers to come as well, and the narrow and winding SR 88 was jam-packed with slow moving cars. I stayed that evening in Minden, NV, and decided that the following Saturday I'd go snow-shoeing instead of skiing again on all too crowded slopes. I looked up a few sno-parks along SR 88 and eventually stopped at my previous love of Hope Valley Wildlife Area. This time however, I didn't go on the usual trail I walk on but stopped at a pullout further west with the thought of exploring a different area of the valley.  

The 'Trail'head

There are several trails in Hope Valley, most of which are used by OHVs and in winter time - by snowmobiles. The snowmobile users were already crowing the Hope Valley Sno-Park area but there were none at the pullout where I stopped. There were only a few other cars parked there. My neighbor was preparing for back country downhill skiing on the wild slopes west of the road. I was preparing to snow-shoe on the flat area east of the road. I could see three small figures moving slowly eastward on what looked like a thin trail, and decided to follow them. 

My hike as captured by my GPS

The pullout I was parked at was on the west side of the road, and both sides were pretty icy. I displayed my pass in the windshield, took my snow shoes and poles by hand and walked carefully across the road to the place where I assumed the other people descended into the valley. 

It took some work to ascend the high and icy snow curb built by the snowplows over the last few days. Up on the curb I strapped on my snow shoes and carefully descended town to where the trail was. 

The snow was virginal and smooth. The temperature was in the high 20's meaning the snow was also dry and light. Soft wind blew the top layer of snow, shifting it across the plain of the valley floor. 

Small willow bushes, completely bare of leaves decorated the snow-covered valley. The willows' red twigs added a lovely and lively color to the bright whiteness of the scenery. 

Willow bushes

The valley looked flat but wasn't completely flat, even when its features were evened by the snow. I ascended a small mound and  saw the trail disappearing between a grove of pine trees. 

The trees still carried on their branches much of the snow that was dumped on them during the recent storm. As I walked between the trees I tried listening for birds but all I could hear was the sound of the boughs swaying in the light wind and the whooshing of my own steps. 

A little further down the trail I did hear another sound, and in the middle of the pine grove I came upon another human - he was moving on cross-country skis. I saw the path that he cut through the deep fresh snow before connecting with the trail I was on.  

The skier was on his way back. I asked him how far did the trail go and he duly informed me that there was no trail here. The path we were on, he said, was blazed by the tow other people I've seen earlier with him. They were packing the snow with their snowshoes. He wasn't in a group with them but like me, he found it easier to follow a path crated by others rather than blaze his own. 

View East

 

So I learned that the trail I walked on went only as far as the other two snowshoers went. I said goodbye to the skier and continued south on the path. At the same time I started contemplating the possibility of going off on my own in any direction I wanted.  

View Northeast, Picket Peak

The day was slowly warming up. It wasn't anything resembling hot of course, but the chill seemed to have lost its bite. There were little icicles draping from the tree branches, like little sharp fangs, evidence for yesterday's partial melt. The temperatures haven't reached melting point yet today - the icicles weren't dripping. 

I am well familiar with the eerie silence of winter wonderland. Still, I expected to see some evidence of wildlife, as I know quite a few species stay put and even remain active throughout winter in the mountains. Everywhere I looked though, I saw nothing indicating wildlife activity. 

View Southeast

The ridge bordering Hope Valley on the east had a prominent peak rising ahead of me. The peak, Hawkins Peak according to the map, seemed like a good mountain to climb at a warmer time of year. 

Hawkins Peak

The snow was pretty deep. Ahead of me I could make the nearly faded curves of Red Lake Creek. I wondered if there was a flow of water under the snow and if so, would I be able to cross it without sinking through the ice. The path however, clearly crossed that creek. 

I still didn't know if there was flow below the ice when I crossed the creek. The ice covering was pretty solid and I didn't sink through nor even heard any cracking of the ice. 

Red Lake Creek

I followed the curves of the creek with my eyes all the way to the north. There, at the northern end of Hope Valley were the mountains beyond which lay Lake Tahoe, the gem of the Sierra Nevada. I had the urge to drive back through Lake Tahoe but thinking of the weekend ski traffic there cleared my mind of that thought. 

Hope Valley

To the southwest my view reached the mountains where Carson Pass was, behind which was the Kirkwood ski resort. It must have been full of skiers that Saturday. 

Hope Valley

Ahead of me and a bit off to the left was a pile of large granite rocks that were already partially exposed of the snow. Behind the rocks I could make out the shapes of the two snowshoers that blazed the trail. They were making their way back on the same path they created. 

I diverged from the path and made my way to the rocks. From there I also had a very nice view of the mountains on the west - Red Lake Peak on the left and Stevens Peak on the right. 

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

As the snowshoers came close to the rocks I hailed them. They stopped and we chatted for a couple of minutes. They told me that there was indeed no discernible path other than what they stomped with their snow shoes, and that path stretched only to the first hill on the east where they had decided to turn back. The did not see any wildlife either, but they did see some tracks. I thanked them and the continued on back toward the road. 

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

I returned to the path in the snow and resumed my walk eastward. A few steps down the path I turned and viewed the rocks again - the southeastern side of those rocks was nearly completely exposed. 

The southeast boundary of Hope Valley was nearby now. The snow was no longer flat or nearly flat. Mild-sloped mounds and hills, some covered in pine groves undulated all the way to the mountains that bordered the valley, with Picketts Peak on their northeastern end. 

Picketts Peak

The wind picked up, blowing the dry snow in wisps across the white surface. This created moving ripples. I tried capturing the ripples on camera but I'm not sure it came out right. 

Moving Snow Ripples

Ahead of me the slope was rising. I followed it up, step by step. The slope wasn't steep enough to merit raising the heel lifts which make ascending easier. I did however, have to dig harder with the prongs of the snow shoes into the snow to avoid sliding back on my steps. 

The path led me to a large pine tree with a bare top and then it ended. That was as far as the two other snowshoers go before turning back. As I was making my way up there I thought that it would be a good place to have a little snack break. When I arrived at the tree it turned out there wasn't and convenient place to sit there so I figured I'd move on and have my break at a different place. 

I looked around a bit and saw a line of animal tracks on the hillside. It could have been a small rabbit. It was not a convenient place to get to and check out at a close distance. 

Animal tracks

I thought about returning also but when I checked my navigator it indicated a forest trail just ahead, so I thought it might by nice to get to it and return on the round. I started descending down the other side of the hill and into a thick grove of pines, blazing my own path through the deep snow. 

Snowshoeing through fresh, deep snow is hard work. The snowshoes are designed to widen the base of the feet but I was sinking nonetheless into the deep snow all the way to my knees. I was very glad that I was wearing my snow gaiters, I didn't get any snow into my shoes or up my trousers.  

The wind intensified. The trees swayed, dropping blobs of snow from their boughs. I consistently chose the path with the widest gap between the trees until I eventually aborted my efforts to reach the forest trail and started curving back to the west. 

Eventually I spotted a fallen log that was almost clean of snow and I made my way there. It was a good spot for my desired break. I sat down and pulled my little stove from my backpack, stuffed my pot full of fresh, clean snow and after melting and boiling it I enjoyed a cup of hot miso soup followed by hot tea.

I took my time enjoying my break and the peaceful, silent winter wonderland scenery. Eventually however, it was time to get up and move on. As I clambered through the deep snow I passed a large, new-looking cabin. I later found out that that area was a Boy Scouts Camp and I wondered if they did winter camping there as well. 

At that point I was no longer trying to expand my loop of exploration but set my way directly where I knew the path was, even though I wasn't able to see it. 

I arrived at the path about an hour and a half after leaving it and found it nearly full of freshly blown over snow. 

Knowing how deep the path was I appreciated the amount of snow that was carried by the wind. I assumed that by the end of the day that path would be completely erased. 

I continued on westward. Ahead of me towered the mountains and my thoughts drifted to the skier that I saw earlier heading hp those slopes. I hoped he was having fun.  

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

The snow blowing in the wind was more visible along the crest of the low hill I was ascending. I paused and took a moment to appreciate the visibility of the wind gusts. 

I passed near a low, bushy tree that was definitely not a conifer and that I couldn't identify without its leaves. 

I didn't stop again. The wind was so strong now that it got from mildly unpleasant to truly bothersome. Also, I was conscious about the passing time and the very real possibility of getting stuck in the traffic that'll be going west from Kirkwood after the ski lifts close for the day. In a short time I was back into the pine grove, this time not meeting any other hiker about. 

Out of the woods - I was crossing again the flat with the red willow bushes. I could see that there were more cars now, parked on the eastern pullout. Small human figures were going along the icy snow curb. They looked pondering whether to go out on he snow or not.  

Near the road was a grove of aspens, now completely bare. Hope Valley is one of the nicest places to go and see the fall colors. On autumn those poplars are aflame with yellow golden leaves. 

There were also pine trees near the road and as I walked underneath them the wind blew light snow from their high branches down on my head and shoulders. Looking up that snow dust looked like fairy dust. 

The fairy dust didn't make me fly. I clambered up to the curb and released the snowshoes from my shoes. Two women approached me and asked about the path. They were from Nevada so there weren't concerned about making it home through traffic, so after hearing what I had to tell them they eagerly pulled their own snowshoes from the car and strapped them to their feet. 

From the curb I took one last view of Hope Valley, appreciating its serene beauty. I would have loved to stay more but I had to get back home that evening. I made it out just in time, sneaking past Kirkwood just before the lifts closed for the day.