"You can parallel turn and slide stop, right?" the lift operator inquired. I nodded. "You'll be fine. The pitch really isn't that steep."

It looked steep to me, but I pushed off and was relieved to find that the 70-degree heat had turned the morning's icy layer into soft, manageable snow with a texture made slightly grainy by a nightly salt treatment. I skied into a clear view of snow-streaked Mount Jefferson and the rolling green of the Cascade Range while other skiers and boarders whisked by, gloveless, getting in a final run before the lifts shut down at 1:30 p.m.

Tip Timberline Lodge is a historic landmark inn. But if it's booked, check out Mt. Hood Inn in tiny Government Camp, just 15 minutes from the lifts: (800) 443-7777, www.mthoodinn.com. To stay at a nearby camground, call the Mount hood Information Center at (888) 622-4822.

On the remainder of the snowfield, Olympians and aspiring Olympians from American, Japanese, and Canadian ski teams carved up the groomed lanes reserved for training. Summer schussing keeps athletes competitive and diehards satiated. For the rest of us, summer skiing is about options, a chance to explore Mount Hood well into the long, warm days of summer.

Halfway down the mountainside, I dropped over a small ledge and made wide, sweeping switchbacks down a canyon as hikers made their way up. I could see families pouring out of the Magic Mile chairlift to a prime picnic spot at 7,000 feet and guests at the 1937 Timberline Lodge lounging by the swimming pool.

Within the Mount Hood National Forest's 1 million acres of wilderness, visitors can hike hundreds of miles of trails, including the adventurous route to Hood's 11,240-foot summit. You can also angle from the shore of clear blue lakes or shoot down the Clackamas or Salmon rivers by kayak or raft. At Mt. Hood Skibowl, the other local winter resort that's open during the summer, you can rent mountain bikes, go bungee jumping, zip down an alpine slide, or scurry up the climbing wall.

After I finished my final run, instead of sipping a mug of hot chocolate, I changed from skis to hiking boots and stepped off the Palmer snowfield and onto the Pacific Crest Trail. I had plenty of daylight left for an afternoon trek among the lupine.