A hush falls over the forest the moment the shuttle doors close. Headlamps blink off and the world contracts to a cone of moonlit powder and the hushed respiration of old-growth mountain hemlock and subalpine fir. Your guide leads with measured steps, snowshoes whispering across the deep blanket as constellations wheel overhead and the peaks around Mt. Bachelor hold the sky like a dark amphitheater. The trail—what there is of it—threads through shadow and open meadow, and at a brief pause your breath fogs in the lantern glow while hot cocoa steams in a thermos.