Here are pictures from my entire trek from Santa Barbara to the PCT and all the parts of the PCT I did to Canada.
Showing posts with label PCT2009. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PCT2009. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Manning Park, Canada
I left the Dinsmores with resignation and tears. I really didn't want to return to the trail but there was no choice. I got a ride to the car show that Mrs. Dinsmore was in charge of and where there would be breakfast available. It was a pretty good breakfast of eggs and biscuits with country gravy for only $3. I ate mine so hungrily they gave me a second plate. I was good to go so I walked down toward the road to hitch up to Steven's Pass and resume my hike.
On the way to the highway I passed Mr. Dinsmore directing car show traffic. He gave me a big bear hug and assured me it would be ok. He knew how much I didn't want to return to the trail. I walked down the highway with tears running down my face.
Before I stuck out my thumb I stopped at the Skykomish ranger station and got a map of the suggested detour around the Glacier Peak trail damage. Bridges had been washed away a few years ago and there was a section of old growth blowdowns. The lady at the ranger station had me pretty convinced the reroute would be wonderful and I was all set to do it.
I got a ride up to the pass and when I got out there, there was not a cloud in the sky. It was sunny and beautiful. I felt actually happy to be out on the trail again.
I passed up Mr. Zip pretty confident I wouldn't have to listen to his stream of consciousness ever again. Whew. Peace and quiet for the rest of my life!
I hiked all day and finally made camp on a small saddle where there was a lot of grass and just one little camp site. It seemed nice. A couple of guys arrived shortly after I set up my tent. They had been at the Dinsmores', too. I felt bad for taking the only nice spot on the saddle, but they went on a ways and found places to camp.
In the middle of the night the mist reappeared and made everything wet and miserable. I had to pack up wet gear in the morning and walk through wet, encroaching brush. Along the way I lost my gloves because I had stuffed them down my jacket when I warmed up and they had fallen out.
I hiked up to a beautiful pass with gorgeous views and found people having lunch so I joined them. My gloves had been seen on the trail but left there. They were key to me keeping warm without an actual jacket, but I figured I could make do with what I still had. Maybe use socks or the arm warmers I had.
The views of Glacier Peak and the craggy mountains were beautiful. The huckleberries along the trail were tasty. It was quite lovely and despite the ability to trust the weather, I felt happy to be out there. I hiked off and on with four people: Icecap, Grateful, Highlander and Gingersnap. Gingersnap was a woman and the rest were men. Icecap was Swiss. Grateful was hiking only the Washington section.
We reached the detour point of no return at the same time and someone said, Well, you gotta die sometime, and we all chose to stick to the PCT. It really came down to a choice of 7 miles of damaged trail on the PCT vs. 50 miles on the reroute of unmaintained trail that most had failed to make it through and of those who did, they were sorry. We were committed now.
Somewhere around then I suggested to the others that although they had absolutely no responsibility toward me and I didn't expect them to do anything at all to help me, that if they didn't mind, I would appreciate it if they would allow me to tag along through the damaged section just so that I didn't have to do it alone. They agreed that would be fine so long as I was there at the same time they were. We had similar hiking speeds so I was pretty certain I would be. They were faster than me but took long breaks and so we would end up doing the same miles each day. A few times I was pretty certain they had gotten far ahead of me and I was now on my own, but then I would catch up again. So I completed the section all the way to Stehekin with the four of them.
The lady at the ranger station had said that most likely the people who had hiked the damaged section of the PCT had said it wasn't so bad because they had felt committed once they started it and so they were minimizing how bad it was. It actually turned out not to be so bad for real.
The first big challenge was Milk Creek. This creek was a glacial melt stream, cold, swift and milky in color. I arrived at it early in the morning. If I hadn't been so drawn to the brand new trail leading right to Milk Creek's brand new bridge I would have been just fine. The creek in the morning was an easy boulder hop. Instead, I crossed on the bridge and once on the other side, was reluctant to cross back. I ended up bushwhacking up the stream back to the trail. I got tangled in branches and ended up with wet feet from the stream anyway. I ended up crossing parts of the stream multiple times. The rocks were slippery and at some point I could see the PCT trail up a hill and decided it couldn't be that hard to walk straight up to it. So that's what I did. I ended up cursing the wet leaves of thorny blackberry and stinging nettles all the way up to the trail. Icecap and Grateful were on the trail just as I reached it.
I followed them into the next challenge which was the 3 miles of blowdowns. These blowdowns were amazing. Old-growth trees. Absolutely huge. I hadn't realized how amazing the trees in this area were until I saw their immensity laying down. The way through was a well-worn path and easy. It was actually kind of fun. The blowdowns mostly ended at another milky glacial stream that had two logs across. I crossed with a certain amount of fear. Icecap and Grateful only waited on the other side just long enough to see me step up to the logs. That was fine with me. I walked gingerly one step at a time and then was safely on the shore.
The final challenge aside from a few more blowdowns was Suiattle River. The bridge was washed out and we had to cross on a log. Icecap and Grateful waited only long enough to see that I found the log. I crossed all alone at 5:30 PM. I have no idea what the river looked like. I never looked at it. I only looked at the log. I walked one step at a time without crossing my feet. I didn't want to lose balance. Trekking poles, right foot, left foot. Trekking poles, right foot, left foot. I talked to the log: Nice log, good, strong log, sturdy log, nice log. I talked to my feet: Good strong feet, good job, you're doing great. Then the bark was loose on the log so I went back to praising the log.
Once I jumped over the root ball at the end of the log to the other side of the river I breathed. I had made it! I felt with the relief and success of crossing that log and in advance, the immense power and success of reaching Canada. I knew I would make it now. There was nothing now between me and the border but easy trail.
The last day before Stehekin was boring. I hiked down to the bus stop hoping I'd make it in time for the 3 PM bus. I did. All during the bus ride we could talk of nothing more than the Stehekin Bakery. I hoped we weren't making it into something more than it was. But it turned out we couldn't have raised our hopes up too high. The bakery was a miracle out in the middle of nowhere, the absolute best bakery I've ever been to. I had huckleberry pie and a sun dried tomato stuffed croissant that weighed about a pound. So good. I planned to return and buy stuff to bring with me on my last section, which I did. Man that was heavy food! I had to eat it quick or die under the weight.
I ended up taking almost 2 days off in Stehekin. Tony wasn't set to drive up for a few days and I didn't want to finish the trail before he got there. The plan was for him to drive up to Manning Park and hike south. We would cross paths somewhere around Harts Pass and then he would hike back to the border with me. So I lollygagged around Stehekin. Fortunately the food at the restaurant was fabulous. I think it was as good as Drakesbad.
I took a late bus back to the trail and hiked only 5 miles in. I camped there and relaxed with my book. The next day I hiked only 20 miles, meeting Flicker along the way. The scenery had changed dramatically. I had to laugh because people said the scenery up here toward the end was the prettiest and so unlike the rest of Washington. To me it looked an awful lot like Southern California!
That night it rained most of the night. Oh god, not more rain! I decided I couldn't sit out here in Washington being rained on. I just wanted out of here. So I poured the coal on and hiked 29 miles, camping on Jim Pass. On the way I bumped into Mathman who I hadn't seen since White Pass at the end of Washington's first section. I told him about meeting Tony and that I wasn't going to let him meet me at Harts Pass. I was going to cut Tony's hike short and hike as far as I could get toward Canada.
It rained briefly at Jim Pass and then the sky was perfectly clear. My tent was never wetter than under this clear sky. I figured this was the day I would meet Tony. So I set out happily expecting to bump into him somewhere around Woody Pass.
When I got to Woody Pass, which was a rocky, dramatic spot way up high in alpine conditions, I stopped to dry out all my things. I expected Tony to come around the bend any minute. I met 3 hikers instead and they had not seen anyone meeting Tony's description. My heart sank. Tony hadn't come. I started to worry. Maybe he was fiddling with his damn fool GPS in the car and had had an accident. Maybe his mom had died and he had to go to the funeral. Maybe traffic had just been bad and he decided just to wait at Manning Park instead of hike. I was disappointed and worried.
After my stuff was all dry I said to myself, Well, let's go to Canada. And off to the border I went.
The trail went way up high to the highest point in Washington. I studied every person I saw to make sure it wasn't Tony. I saw two people up on a ridge and I walked up to the ridge just to make sure neither was Tony.
I walked down, down, down. I met a couple who were just starting out a section hike. We talked for a while about water sources since this final section had long stretches without water. I told them about not meeting Tony and how I'd have to go to the border alone. I asked them if it was far. They told me I was just right before the final four switchbacks. I broke out in tears. I was almost there!
I counted the switchbacks as I went. At number four I suddenly found myself at the monument. How hard I had worked to reach this point! I cried tears of joy. I took pictures of my pack against the terminus marker and pictures of the metal pyramid that marks the border. I tried to take pictures of myself, too. I only had a disposable camera so I wasn't sure if they came out. I walked around to the back of the terminus looking for the sign-in register. It wasn't there. I looked around the area and saw nothing. I pushed against the metal pyramid. That thing felt solid. So I left. (Later I learned the register was inside the pyramid and I'd have to lift the 40lb top off. I don't think I could have done that.)
I camped at the campground .2 miles from the terminus. I hoped someone else would camp there who might take my picture. Nobody did. I relaxed there as the sun set reading my book and worrying about Tony. I could have hiked further but I had worked so hard and struggled so much that I was going to at least spend the night.
In the morning I set off for the final 8 miles to Manning Park. The trail went annoyingly up hill and then steeply down hill. It went on forever. All I could think was that I was done with all this. I never had to climb up to nowhere again. I never had to feel the loss of built-up energy with a long descent again. I was done with all of it.
I arrived at Manning Park and found my way to a celebratory breakfast where I choked down french toast through buckets of tears. The end of the trail was so anticlimactic. It didn't even say PCT on the trail sign at the end. And there was no trailhead parking lot and no register. It was just the end. There was a thru-hiker trying to hitchhike and all during my breakfast he never got a ride. He was like a symbol to me of how people end the trail and then they just leave. Manning Park was no Emerald City. It was simply the end. People just dispersed. Here I was all alone.
I went over to the lodge and met some hikers who had seen Tony out on the trail. I grilled them for more information. We somehow had missed each other. I hoped he would figure out what happened to me. I called his phone and left a message letting him know I was ok. I called the ranger station at Harts Pass to tell them if someone tried to send out a search party there was no need. I was at Manning Park and ok. Then I figured out where the PCT trailhead parking really was and walked down the highway a mile to leave Tony a note on his car, which was there. Nothing to do now but wait.
I was going to sleep in the forest instead of get a room, but then it started pouring rain. So I got a room in their cheap hostel. As I sat in my room worrying about what the marble-sized hail had to be doing to Tony's tent out there on the trail I heard someone call my name in the hall. It was Tony! Oh my God! I exclaimed. I was so surprised. We hugged for a long time.
It turned out Mathman had clued Tony in to what happened to me. It also turned out that when I slept on Jim Pass Tony had been only a mile away. He had found a camp site just below the trail in the trees. I had walked right by and never saw him. We had had an agreement that we'd leave a note on the trail if we left the trail but he had not left a note. If he had, I would have found him.
We went back to the restaurant for a celebratory dinner with Mathman. We had a great time talking about the trail and drinking wine. Tony and I stayed in the lodge instead of the hostel.
The next few days I have had the luxury of unwinding from the trail by driving south and revisiting places I had been. We stopped at Skykomish and helped hikers get to and from the trail. We stopped at Timberline Lodge and stayed at the lodge and had the breakfast again. I got to visit Little Crater Lake which I had passed by but regretted. It was more amazing than I had expected. If you haven't hiked by it yet, be sure to visit. We hiked the Ramona Falls loop. We visited Crater Lake and toured around Lassen. We're back at Piper's Mom's house getting great food and soon I'll be home again, adrift and tasked with finding a job and returning to "normal" life.
The beauty of Washington lingers through the fading haze of my misery. The mosquitoes of Oregon are mostly forgotten as I realize Oregon had some of the best things to visit. California welcomes me, familiar and dry.
If I had signed the register at the border, this is what I would have written:
There are many things in this world that you can do to make it feel like you've lived your life to the fullest. Hiking the PCT has been one of them.
On the way to the highway I passed Mr. Dinsmore directing car show traffic. He gave me a big bear hug and assured me it would be ok. He knew how much I didn't want to return to the trail. I walked down the highway with tears running down my face.
Before I stuck out my thumb I stopped at the Skykomish ranger station and got a map of the suggested detour around the Glacier Peak trail damage. Bridges had been washed away a few years ago and there was a section of old growth blowdowns. The lady at the ranger station had me pretty convinced the reroute would be wonderful and I was all set to do it.
I got a ride up to the pass and when I got out there, there was not a cloud in the sky. It was sunny and beautiful. I felt actually happy to be out on the trail again.
I passed up Mr. Zip pretty confident I wouldn't have to listen to his stream of consciousness ever again. Whew. Peace and quiet for the rest of my life!
I hiked all day and finally made camp on a small saddle where there was a lot of grass and just one little camp site. It seemed nice. A couple of guys arrived shortly after I set up my tent. They had been at the Dinsmores', too. I felt bad for taking the only nice spot on the saddle, but they went on a ways and found places to camp.
In the middle of the night the mist reappeared and made everything wet and miserable. I had to pack up wet gear in the morning and walk through wet, encroaching brush. Along the way I lost my gloves because I had stuffed them down my jacket when I warmed up and they had fallen out.
I hiked up to a beautiful pass with gorgeous views and found people having lunch so I joined them. My gloves had been seen on the trail but left there. They were key to me keeping warm without an actual jacket, but I figured I could make do with what I still had. Maybe use socks or the arm warmers I had.
The views of Glacier Peak and the craggy mountains were beautiful. The huckleberries along the trail were tasty. It was quite lovely and despite the ability to trust the weather, I felt happy to be out there. I hiked off and on with four people: Icecap, Grateful, Highlander and Gingersnap. Gingersnap was a woman and the rest were men. Icecap was Swiss. Grateful was hiking only the Washington section.
We reached the detour point of no return at the same time and someone said, Well, you gotta die sometime, and we all chose to stick to the PCT. It really came down to a choice of 7 miles of damaged trail on the PCT vs. 50 miles on the reroute of unmaintained trail that most had failed to make it through and of those who did, they were sorry. We were committed now.
Somewhere around then I suggested to the others that although they had absolutely no responsibility toward me and I didn't expect them to do anything at all to help me, that if they didn't mind, I would appreciate it if they would allow me to tag along through the damaged section just so that I didn't have to do it alone. They agreed that would be fine so long as I was there at the same time they were. We had similar hiking speeds so I was pretty certain I would be. They were faster than me but took long breaks and so we would end up doing the same miles each day. A few times I was pretty certain they had gotten far ahead of me and I was now on my own, but then I would catch up again. So I completed the section all the way to Stehekin with the four of them.
The lady at the ranger station had said that most likely the people who had hiked the damaged section of the PCT had said it wasn't so bad because they had felt committed once they started it and so they were minimizing how bad it was. It actually turned out not to be so bad for real.
The first big challenge was Milk Creek. This creek was a glacial melt stream, cold, swift and milky in color. I arrived at it early in the morning. If I hadn't been so drawn to the brand new trail leading right to Milk Creek's brand new bridge I would have been just fine. The creek in the morning was an easy boulder hop. Instead, I crossed on the bridge and once on the other side, was reluctant to cross back. I ended up bushwhacking up the stream back to the trail. I got tangled in branches and ended up with wet feet from the stream anyway. I ended up crossing parts of the stream multiple times. The rocks were slippery and at some point I could see the PCT trail up a hill and decided it couldn't be that hard to walk straight up to it. So that's what I did. I ended up cursing the wet leaves of thorny blackberry and stinging nettles all the way up to the trail. Icecap and Grateful were on the trail just as I reached it.
I followed them into the next challenge which was the 3 miles of blowdowns. These blowdowns were amazing. Old-growth trees. Absolutely huge. I hadn't realized how amazing the trees in this area were until I saw their immensity laying down. The way through was a well-worn path and easy. It was actually kind of fun. The blowdowns mostly ended at another milky glacial stream that had two logs across. I crossed with a certain amount of fear. Icecap and Grateful only waited on the other side just long enough to see me step up to the logs. That was fine with me. I walked gingerly one step at a time and then was safely on the shore.
The final challenge aside from a few more blowdowns was Suiattle River. The bridge was washed out and we had to cross on a log. Icecap and Grateful waited only long enough to see that I found the log. I crossed all alone at 5:30 PM. I have no idea what the river looked like. I never looked at it. I only looked at the log. I walked one step at a time without crossing my feet. I didn't want to lose balance. Trekking poles, right foot, left foot. Trekking poles, right foot, left foot. I talked to the log: Nice log, good, strong log, sturdy log, nice log. I talked to my feet: Good strong feet, good job, you're doing great. Then the bark was loose on the log so I went back to praising the log.
Once I jumped over the root ball at the end of the log to the other side of the river I breathed. I had made it! I felt with the relief and success of crossing that log and in advance, the immense power and success of reaching Canada. I knew I would make it now. There was nothing now between me and the border but easy trail.
The last day before Stehekin was boring. I hiked down to the bus stop hoping I'd make it in time for the 3 PM bus. I did. All during the bus ride we could talk of nothing more than the Stehekin Bakery. I hoped we weren't making it into something more than it was. But it turned out we couldn't have raised our hopes up too high. The bakery was a miracle out in the middle of nowhere, the absolute best bakery I've ever been to. I had huckleberry pie and a sun dried tomato stuffed croissant that weighed about a pound. So good. I planned to return and buy stuff to bring with me on my last section, which I did. Man that was heavy food! I had to eat it quick or die under the weight.
I ended up taking almost 2 days off in Stehekin. Tony wasn't set to drive up for a few days and I didn't want to finish the trail before he got there. The plan was for him to drive up to Manning Park and hike south. We would cross paths somewhere around Harts Pass and then he would hike back to the border with me. So I lollygagged around Stehekin. Fortunately the food at the restaurant was fabulous. I think it was as good as Drakesbad.
I took a late bus back to the trail and hiked only 5 miles in. I camped there and relaxed with my book. The next day I hiked only 20 miles, meeting Flicker along the way. The scenery had changed dramatically. I had to laugh because people said the scenery up here toward the end was the prettiest and so unlike the rest of Washington. To me it looked an awful lot like Southern California!
That night it rained most of the night. Oh god, not more rain! I decided I couldn't sit out here in Washington being rained on. I just wanted out of here. So I poured the coal on and hiked 29 miles, camping on Jim Pass. On the way I bumped into Mathman who I hadn't seen since White Pass at the end of Washington's first section. I told him about meeting Tony and that I wasn't going to let him meet me at Harts Pass. I was going to cut Tony's hike short and hike as far as I could get toward Canada.
It rained briefly at Jim Pass and then the sky was perfectly clear. My tent was never wetter than under this clear sky. I figured this was the day I would meet Tony. So I set out happily expecting to bump into him somewhere around Woody Pass.
When I got to Woody Pass, which was a rocky, dramatic spot way up high in alpine conditions, I stopped to dry out all my things. I expected Tony to come around the bend any minute. I met 3 hikers instead and they had not seen anyone meeting Tony's description. My heart sank. Tony hadn't come. I started to worry. Maybe he was fiddling with his damn fool GPS in the car and had had an accident. Maybe his mom had died and he had to go to the funeral. Maybe traffic had just been bad and he decided just to wait at Manning Park instead of hike. I was disappointed and worried.
After my stuff was all dry I said to myself, Well, let's go to Canada. And off to the border I went.
The trail went way up high to the highest point in Washington. I studied every person I saw to make sure it wasn't Tony. I saw two people up on a ridge and I walked up to the ridge just to make sure neither was Tony.
I walked down, down, down. I met a couple who were just starting out a section hike. We talked for a while about water sources since this final section had long stretches without water. I told them about not meeting Tony and how I'd have to go to the border alone. I asked them if it was far. They told me I was just right before the final four switchbacks. I broke out in tears. I was almost there!
I counted the switchbacks as I went. At number four I suddenly found myself at the monument. How hard I had worked to reach this point! I cried tears of joy. I took pictures of my pack against the terminus marker and pictures of the metal pyramid that marks the border. I tried to take pictures of myself, too. I only had a disposable camera so I wasn't sure if they came out. I walked around to the back of the terminus looking for the sign-in register. It wasn't there. I looked around the area and saw nothing. I pushed against the metal pyramid. That thing felt solid. So I left. (Later I learned the register was inside the pyramid and I'd have to lift the 40lb top off. I don't think I could have done that.)
I camped at the campground .2 miles from the terminus. I hoped someone else would camp there who might take my picture. Nobody did. I relaxed there as the sun set reading my book and worrying about Tony. I could have hiked further but I had worked so hard and struggled so much that I was going to at least spend the night.
In the morning I set off for the final 8 miles to Manning Park. The trail went annoyingly up hill and then steeply down hill. It went on forever. All I could think was that I was done with all this. I never had to climb up to nowhere again. I never had to feel the loss of built-up energy with a long descent again. I was done with all of it.
I arrived at Manning Park and found my way to a celebratory breakfast where I choked down french toast through buckets of tears. The end of the trail was so anticlimactic. It didn't even say PCT on the trail sign at the end. And there was no trailhead parking lot and no register. It was just the end. There was a thru-hiker trying to hitchhike and all during my breakfast he never got a ride. He was like a symbol to me of how people end the trail and then they just leave. Manning Park was no Emerald City. It was simply the end. People just dispersed. Here I was all alone.
I went over to the lodge and met some hikers who had seen Tony out on the trail. I grilled them for more information. We somehow had missed each other. I hoped he would figure out what happened to me. I called his phone and left a message letting him know I was ok. I called the ranger station at Harts Pass to tell them if someone tried to send out a search party there was no need. I was at Manning Park and ok. Then I figured out where the PCT trailhead parking really was and walked down the highway a mile to leave Tony a note on his car, which was there. Nothing to do now but wait.
I was going to sleep in the forest instead of get a room, but then it started pouring rain. So I got a room in their cheap hostel. As I sat in my room worrying about what the marble-sized hail had to be doing to Tony's tent out there on the trail I heard someone call my name in the hall. It was Tony! Oh my God! I exclaimed. I was so surprised. We hugged for a long time.
It turned out Mathman had clued Tony in to what happened to me. It also turned out that when I slept on Jim Pass Tony had been only a mile away. He had found a camp site just below the trail in the trees. I had walked right by and never saw him. We had had an agreement that we'd leave a note on the trail if we left the trail but he had not left a note. If he had, I would have found him.
We went back to the restaurant for a celebratory dinner with Mathman. We had a great time talking about the trail and drinking wine. Tony and I stayed in the lodge instead of the hostel.
The next few days I have had the luxury of unwinding from the trail by driving south and revisiting places I had been. We stopped at Skykomish and helped hikers get to and from the trail. We stopped at Timberline Lodge and stayed at the lodge and had the breakfast again. I got to visit Little Crater Lake which I had passed by but regretted. It was more amazing than I had expected. If you haven't hiked by it yet, be sure to visit. We hiked the Ramona Falls loop. We visited Crater Lake and toured around Lassen. We're back at Piper's Mom's house getting great food and soon I'll be home again, adrift and tasked with finding a job and returning to "normal" life.
The beauty of Washington lingers through the fading haze of my misery. The mosquitoes of Oregon are mostly forgotten as I realize Oregon had some of the best things to visit. California welcomes me, familiar and dry.
If I had signed the register at the border, this is what I would have written:
There are many things in this world that you can do to make it feel like you've lived your life to the fullest. Hiking the PCT has been one of them.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Steven's Pass (Hiker Haven)
I left from Snoqualmie Pass and hiked to Steven's Pass, after taking two nights at the Summit Inn at Snoqualmie Pass and two nights in a Motel 6 in Seattle. By the time I returned to the trail, the weather man was talking like there would be no relief in sight for the record high temperatures. That was what I wanted to hear after all that cold rain and near hypothermia.
While in Seattle I bought new shoes and a new hat at REI. The hat has little curtains that come down to shield my ears and neck from mosquitoes. It really works and it works for sun, too. The shoes are street running shoes and I'm not quite sure about them yet. I can't tell if the ache is caused by them or the result of my feet, having outgrown my old shoes, expanding as if they had been bound and now released. As long as the trail isn't too rocky, my feet feel fine.
The trail from Snoqualmie climbed and dropped a lot. The first day was up, across and then down a million tiny little switchbacks. I slept by a washed out bridge in deep, dark forest. The humidity was high and my sleeping bag and tent were damp by morning.
The second day I climbed 2200 feet only to drop to a river and then climb 2600 feet to a high pass near a craggy rock called Cathedral Rock. I made a big mistake and forgot to get water before climbing up to Cathedral Pass. I was down to my last liter and wanting to camp on the pass but there was no water up there so I was forced to hike two more miles down the other side. The creek I slept next to was cold and clear and had really good water. I had been warned by two guys slapping mosquitoes from their necks (wow, my hat works great!) that the mosquitoes were awful. There were a few by the creek where I slept but they weren't too bad at all.
These climbs of only 2000 feet or so would take me from thick, dark montane forest to sub-alpine conditions. It is like the world is condensed in Washington. I walked by lots of sparkling, dark blue lakes. I think I've seen more lakes now than the average Minnesotan. I don't really care for lakes since I don't like to drink from them. Who knows how many DEET-encrusted, deoderant wearing, dirty people have swum in them? What I really like are creeks. My favorite thing is to stop at a spring-like creek and drink a pint right then and there. Maybe put a little lemonade in it. Refreshing.
In the morning I had to cross a potentially dangerous creek. It was a pussy cat. I could have kept my feet dry all the way across if I hadn't wanted to see how cold the water was. Described as icy cold, it was actually a little warm.
The heat and humidity was nearly unbearable at times. I have been wearing a polyester turtleneck with my desert shirt over it and long pants plus my magic hat. It's too much but I feel shell-shocked from my experience with mosquitoes in Oregon and kept expecting to be swarmed at any moment. Only they never came. The mosquitoes were quite tolerable. Still, I'm used to the heat and kept on all my layers anyway. I don't have anything else to wear.
On my third day of hiking, the trail decided to climb up to a 5000+ crest five times, each time dropping at least 500 feet or so in between. It was exhausting. But I made the 25 miles left to Steven's Pass before 5pm, which was pretty amazing since I had stopped to talk with scores of people all along the way. One guy said I'd never make the 25 miles--I'd have to walk with my headlamp on. It's a mental block to think it can't be done. It can and I did it and have been doing it for months now.
I met Dicentra on the trail. She's very nice. She has a great web site called One Pan Wonders. She has great recipes for backpacking food. I used her site to get ideas for how to eat better on the trail. It's a great resource. I enjoyed meeting her on the trail.
When I arrived at Steven's Pass, where there is nothing but a closed ski resort, I found a cardboard box with ice and sodas. I drank one and then walked out to the highway and stuck out my thumb. My ride was a hiker, too, and a schoolteacher who had been backpacking around the area. It was a wild ride about 20 miles too far west. When I finally said it really seemed we went too far, he stopped and got out a map and sure enough we had. He turned the car around and dropped me off not at Skykomish but at Baring instead. They were serving dinner when I arrived so I sat down and had a Philly cheesesteak sandwich with delicious side dishes. I tried to call the Dinsmores but was having no luck. Then the lady I was seated next to pointed to the other table where the Dinsmores were also having dinner. What a coincidence!
Mr. Zip, who I had met in the rain before arriving at Snoqualmie Pass, had returned to the trail two days before I did. While I was shopping and resting in Seattle, he had been hiking. I caught up to him today with about 5 miles left to the highway. Both of us are staying at the Hiker Haven in Baring, WA. It's basically the garage with rollaway beds and a porta-potti. I washed up with a hose well enough to sleep. Showers will be available tomorrow when we get rides back to Skykomish where their real house is.
I don't know when I will be able to update this journal next. All I have left is to hike from Steven's Pass to Stehekin and from Stehekin to the end of the trail. The next section is supposed to be very difficult with a washed out bridge or two over dangerous rivers. I've been a bit nervous and even considered skipping it completely. But as Mrs. Dinsmore says, a 10 year old girl did it so don't be a wuss. Okey-dokey. The final section is supposed to be the most beautiful. So far Washington underwhelms me. But the last section is supposed to deliver the goods.
Tony plans to hike with me at the end. I'm sure when I see him, and when I see that darn post in the clear cut we're all working so darned hard for, I will fall apart with joy, relief and sadness. It'll be over and I will be able to go home. I can't tell you how often I have thought of our beautiful Santa Barbara backcountry. The sunlight here has taken on an orangey hue and a few times the scenery has been just right to make me think of hiking Lost Valley Trail or White Ledge near the Magician's Cave. We are lucky here in Santa Barbara.
While in Seattle I bought new shoes and a new hat at REI. The hat has little curtains that come down to shield my ears and neck from mosquitoes. It really works and it works for sun, too. The shoes are street running shoes and I'm not quite sure about them yet. I can't tell if the ache is caused by them or the result of my feet, having outgrown my old shoes, expanding as if they had been bound and now released. As long as the trail isn't too rocky, my feet feel fine.
The trail from Snoqualmie climbed and dropped a lot. The first day was up, across and then down a million tiny little switchbacks. I slept by a washed out bridge in deep, dark forest. The humidity was high and my sleeping bag and tent were damp by morning.
The second day I climbed 2200 feet only to drop to a river and then climb 2600 feet to a high pass near a craggy rock called Cathedral Rock. I made a big mistake and forgot to get water before climbing up to Cathedral Pass. I was down to my last liter and wanting to camp on the pass but there was no water up there so I was forced to hike two more miles down the other side. The creek I slept next to was cold and clear and had really good water. I had been warned by two guys slapping mosquitoes from their necks (wow, my hat works great!) that the mosquitoes were awful. There were a few by the creek where I slept but they weren't too bad at all.
These climbs of only 2000 feet or so would take me from thick, dark montane forest to sub-alpine conditions. It is like the world is condensed in Washington. I walked by lots of sparkling, dark blue lakes. I think I've seen more lakes now than the average Minnesotan. I don't really care for lakes since I don't like to drink from them. Who knows how many DEET-encrusted, deoderant wearing, dirty people have swum in them? What I really like are creeks. My favorite thing is to stop at a spring-like creek and drink a pint right then and there. Maybe put a little lemonade in it. Refreshing.
In the morning I had to cross a potentially dangerous creek. It was a pussy cat. I could have kept my feet dry all the way across if I hadn't wanted to see how cold the water was. Described as icy cold, it was actually a little warm.
The heat and humidity was nearly unbearable at times. I have been wearing a polyester turtleneck with my desert shirt over it and long pants plus my magic hat. It's too much but I feel shell-shocked from my experience with mosquitoes in Oregon and kept expecting to be swarmed at any moment. Only they never came. The mosquitoes were quite tolerable. Still, I'm used to the heat and kept on all my layers anyway. I don't have anything else to wear.
On my third day of hiking, the trail decided to climb up to a 5000+ crest five times, each time dropping at least 500 feet or so in between. It was exhausting. But I made the 25 miles left to Steven's Pass before 5pm, which was pretty amazing since I had stopped to talk with scores of people all along the way. One guy said I'd never make the 25 miles--I'd have to walk with my headlamp on. It's a mental block to think it can't be done. It can and I did it and have been doing it for months now.
I met Dicentra on the trail. She's very nice. She has a great web site called One Pan Wonders. She has great recipes for backpacking food. I used her site to get ideas for how to eat better on the trail. It's a great resource. I enjoyed meeting her on the trail.
When I arrived at Steven's Pass, where there is nothing but a closed ski resort, I found a cardboard box with ice and sodas. I drank one and then walked out to the highway and stuck out my thumb. My ride was a hiker, too, and a schoolteacher who had been backpacking around the area. It was a wild ride about 20 miles too far west. When I finally said it really seemed we went too far, he stopped and got out a map and sure enough we had. He turned the car around and dropped me off not at Skykomish but at Baring instead. They were serving dinner when I arrived so I sat down and had a Philly cheesesteak sandwich with delicious side dishes. I tried to call the Dinsmores but was having no luck. Then the lady I was seated next to pointed to the other table where the Dinsmores were also having dinner. What a coincidence!
Mr. Zip, who I had met in the rain before arriving at Snoqualmie Pass, had returned to the trail two days before I did. While I was shopping and resting in Seattle, he had been hiking. I caught up to him today with about 5 miles left to the highway. Both of us are staying at the Hiker Haven in Baring, WA. It's basically the garage with rollaway beds and a porta-potti. I washed up with a hose well enough to sleep. Showers will be available tomorrow when we get rides back to Skykomish where their real house is.
I don't know when I will be able to update this journal next. All I have left is to hike from Steven's Pass to Stehekin and from Stehekin to the end of the trail. The next section is supposed to be very difficult with a washed out bridge or two over dangerous rivers. I've been a bit nervous and even considered skipping it completely. But as Mrs. Dinsmore says, a 10 year old girl did it so don't be a wuss. Okey-dokey. The final section is supposed to be the most beautiful. So far Washington underwhelms me. But the last section is supposed to deliver the goods.
Tony plans to hike with me at the end. I'm sure when I see him, and when I see that darn post in the clear cut we're all working so darned hard for, I will fall apart with joy, relief and sadness. It'll be over and I will be able to go home. I can't tell you how often I have thought of our beautiful Santa Barbara backcountry. The sunlight here has taken on an orangey hue and a few times the scenery has been just right to make me think of hiking Lost Valley Trail or White Ledge near the Magician's Cave. We are lucky here in Santa Barbara.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Snoqualmie Pass, WA
It rained all through the night, either from the sky or from the trees or both. Eventually it was raining inside my tent. I felt completely exposed laying there in the dark with water falling on my face. I could not sleep.
After a while it seemed like maybe the sun was coming up somewhere in the world. At least I could see things inside my tent now. I packed up with my headlamp on and managed to get going in the dark of the clouded forest around 6am.
It was raining while I packed. I thought I would see if wearing a plastic bag over myself like a vest would help. I folded up my soggy tent. It had a small puddle in one corner and the rest was just soaking wet. I tried to squeeze out the muddy water but ended up putting the 5lb blob in the back pocket of my pack and then sealing in the moisture with the garbage bag pack cover I had made. As I hiked I stopped a couple of times and let out the pool of muddy water that formed in the bottom of the bag as the tent drained.
I hiked on into the worst part of the trail so far. There was nothing to say positive about it. I spent most of my time pushing my way through shoulder high or higher soaking wet plants. Very quickly I was completely drenched and did everything I could to keep my body temperature up so I wouldn't get hypothermia. I wore a hat, a hooded windbreaker, my desert shirt, my turtleneck, my gloves, the plastic bag, shorts and rainpants. I didn't wear my pant legs because they would just get wet and cold.
As I waded for 30 miles in the wet brush, cursing the stupid trail that made me climb up every single hill just to see more wet leaves, I suddenly got my PCT epiphany:
It's nice to know there are people out there willing to push their way through wet brush for 500 miles of Washington rain, with feet that are never dry, with shoes and socks that are visibly rotting daily, and sleep in tents that rain on the inside, and climb mountains in the rain with nothing to see but wet plants--all this just to see a post in the middle of a clearcut. I am not one of these people.
I couldn't understand why people said I would love Washington. So far I had pushed my way through about 250 miles of wet brush--either ankle high or higher--and had had soaking wet feet every day except one. I felt completely finished with it. I hated it. It was no fun at all.
I went to Snoqualmie as fast as I could. I didn't get there until 6pm. The trail was rugged and difficult to walk on for the last 10 miles.
I met some people trying to warm up by a fire next to a lake. I unleashed all my frustrations from the last 100 miles on them. I told them how I had stood in the middle of head high wet plants and screamed at the top of my lungs, "F**K YOU! I hate you, Washington!" It hadn't helped. They laughed and said it was 8 more miles of wet leaves to Snoqualmie Pass. I sighed in relief. Only 8 more miles! They looked at me oddly and said it had taken them all day to walk those 8 miles and they were exhausted. They invited me to warm up by their fire. Three big strong young guys. I said no thanks, I was pulling a 30 miler today, just like yesterday, just to get the heck out of this weather. If I stopped to warm up, I'd just go out and get cold and wet in the wet leaves again. They were surprised someone could walk so far. I was sure part of it was not carrying heavy gear. The rest was sheer desperation.
I hurried on, but my feet were failing, tender and sore from 7 days of being wet and 2 days of walking too far. I really wished I was a young strong guy and not an old lady and that 30 miles could feel easy. I walked slower and slower over sharp and slippery rocks. I could feel every painful rock bruising my feet. I struggled and frequently failed to prevent myself from stubbing my toes on the rocks. You CAN stub your toes with shoes on, especially when your toes are pushing over the edges of your shoes like mine are, my feet having become wide to ridiculous, unshoddable proportions.
The trail was so leached out from the obviously constant rain that falls here that it was like either walking in a creek bed or else all the slipery wet roots from all the trees lay in wait to trip me up.
I emerged in a clearing and could see the red roof of the hotel I was going to stay in. I could not find the trail. I just walked straight down through a ski area.
I stopped to let out another cup of muddy water from inside my pack cover and then proceeded to check in to the hotel. I showered and went down to the Family Pancake House in my socks for dinner, wearing only my windbreaker and my skirt (pinned at the waist since now it was two inches too big) since I had nothing else to wear that didn't smell like rotten, wet socks. I had two pork chops, baked potato, vegetables, soup and hot chocolate. There was apple pie filling to put on the pork chops. It was good. I watched a family of 300 pounders eating. How different we were, and how similar. I could have eaten their dinners, too.
After dinner I felt a little better and a lot warmer. I called Tony and we had a nice chat. Santa Barbara is on fire once again. A map of the fires in the last 2 years shows about 1/2 the county has burned now. At least the weather is almost the same as here in Washington so I wasn't missing much.
I fell asleep in a cloud of dryness and softness and woke up in the middle of the night sweating.
The next morning I showered again and went down and ate 2 breakfasts. Finally I felt almost human again. Human enough to start crying. This trail is very hard. It is not fun. It is not a vacation. There was not a moment in the past 4 days that was worth any of the effort. I had hated every single minute of it. The only thing that had been good in this whole state had been Goat Rocks which I had seen 5 days past, the only thing I hadn't had rain for. It had been the highlight of the entire PCT, actually, an exciting knife-edge walk while bracing myself against the winds trying to blow me off, stunning sub-alpine beauty below me. Nothing could top it. I had seen all there was worth seeing, as far as I was concerned
I turned on the TV. The weather report was for an end to the rain and a gradual warming into the next week. I was surprised to see the high temps were in the 40s in places. That was probably what it had been for me. I burst into tears because I did not want to return to the trail. The rain had given me an excuse to quit. I didn't trust the rain to stay away. One nice day and I'd feel obligated to return to the trail and then for sure it would rain and I would suffer again. I wanted no more of this.
I had forged a plan to figure out a way to get to Seattle. I would shop at the big REI, buy some new shoes and socks. Hang out and eat seafood and drink coffee until I exploded. Then take a bus to Skykomish and hang out at the Dinsmores. Then return to Seattle and take a bus to Stehekin. If the weather was nice then, I'd finish the hike. If not, there were only 16 miles of wet brush I'd be willing to hike: the 8 miles from Manning Park to the post in the middle of the clearcut and the 8 miles back. I no longer felt that it was worth it, or valuable, or important or even meaningful to hike every mile of the trail.
After a while it seemed like maybe the sun was coming up somewhere in the world. At least I could see things inside my tent now. I packed up with my headlamp on and managed to get going in the dark of the clouded forest around 6am.
It was raining while I packed. I thought I would see if wearing a plastic bag over myself like a vest would help. I folded up my soggy tent. It had a small puddle in one corner and the rest was just soaking wet. I tried to squeeze out the muddy water but ended up putting the 5lb blob in the back pocket of my pack and then sealing in the moisture with the garbage bag pack cover I had made. As I hiked I stopped a couple of times and let out the pool of muddy water that formed in the bottom of the bag as the tent drained.
I hiked on into the worst part of the trail so far. There was nothing to say positive about it. I spent most of my time pushing my way through shoulder high or higher soaking wet plants. Very quickly I was completely drenched and did everything I could to keep my body temperature up so I wouldn't get hypothermia. I wore a hat, a hooded windbreaker, my desert shirt, my turtleneck, my gloves, the plastic bag, shorts and rainpants. I didn't wear my pant legs because they would just get wet and cold.
As I waded for 30 miles in the wet brush, cursing the stupid trail that made me climb up every single hill just to see more wet leaves, I suddenly got my PCT epiphany:
It's nice to know there are people out there willing to push their way through wet brush for 500 miles of Washington rain, with feet that are never dry, with shoes and socks that are visibly rotting daily, and sleep in tents that rain on the inside, and climb mountains in the rain with nothing to see but wet plants--all this just to see a post in the middle of a clearcut. I am not one of these people.
I couldn't understand why people said I would love Washington. So far I had pushed my way through about 250 miles of wet brush--either ankle high or higher--and had had soaking wet feet every day except one. I felt completely finished with it. I hated it. It was no fun at all.
I went to Snoqualmie as fast as I could. I didn't get there until 6pm. The trail was rugged and difficult to walk on for the last 10 miles.
I met some people trying to warm up by a fire next to a lake. I unleashed all my frustrations from the last 100 miles on them. I told them how I had stood in the middle of head high wet plants and screamed at the top of my lungs, "F**K YOU! I hate you, Washington!" It hadn't helped. They laughed and said it was 8 more miles of wet leaves to Snoqualmie Pass. I sighed in relief. Only 8 more miles! They looked at me oddly and said it had taken them all day to walk those 8 miles and they were exhausted. They invited me to warm up by their fire. Three big strong young guys. I said no thanks, I was pulling a 30 miler today, just like yesterday, just to get the heck out of this weather. If I stopped to warm up, I'd just go out and get cold and wet in the wet leaves again. They were surprised someone could walk so far. I was sure part of it was not carrying heavy gear. The rest was sheer desperation.
I hurried on, but my feet were failing, tender and sore from 7 days of being wet and 2 days of walking too far. I really wished I was a young strong guy and not an old lady and that 30 miles could feel easy. I walked slower and slower over sharp and slippery rocks. I could feel every painful rock bruising my feet. I struggled and frequently failed to prevent myself from stubbing my toes on the rocks. You CAN stub your toes with shoes on, especially when your toes are pushing over the edges of your shoes like mine are, my feet having become wide to ridiculous, unshoddable proportions.
The trail was so leached out from the obviously constant rain that falls here that it was like either walking in a creek bed or else all the slipery wet roots from all the trees lay in wait to trip me up.
I emerged in a clearing and could see the red roof of the hotel I was going to stay in. I could not find the trail. I just walked straight down through a ski area.
I stopped to let out another cup of muddy water from inside my pack cover and then proceeded to check in to the hotel. I showered and went down to the Family Pancake House in my socks for dinner, wearing only my windbreaker and my skirt (pinned at the waist since now it was two inches too big) since I had nothing else to wear that didn't smell like rotten, wet socks. I had two pork chops, baked potato, vegetables, soup and hot chocolate. There was apple pie filling to put on the pork chops. It was good. I watched a family of 300 pounders eating. How different we were, and how similar. I could have eaten their dinners, too.
After dinner I felt a little better and a lot warmer. I called Tony and we had a nice chat. Santa Barbara is on fire once again. A map of the fires in the last 2 years shows about 1/2 the county has burned now. At least the weather is almost the same as here in Washington so I wasn't missing much.
I fell asleep in a cloud of dryness and softness and woke up in the middle of the night sweating.
The next morning I showered again and went down and ate 2 breakfasts. Finally I felt almost human again. Human enough to start crying. This trail is very hard. It is not fun. It is not a vacation. There was not a moment in the past 4 days that was worth any of the effort. I had hated every single minute of it. The only thing that had been good in this whole state had been Goat Rocks which I had seen 5 days past, the only thing I hadn't had rain for. It had been the highlight of the entire PCT, actually, an exciting knife-edge walk while bracing myself against the winds trying to blow me off, stunning sub-alpine beauty below me. Nothing could top it. I had seen all there was worth seeing, as far as I was concerned
I turned on the TV. The weather report was for an end to the rain and a gradual warming into the next week. I was surprised to see the high temps were in the 40s in places. That was probably what it had been for me. I burst into tears because I did not want to return to the trail. The rain had given me an excuse to quit. I didn't trust the rain to stay away. One nice day and I'd feel obligated to return to the trail and then for sure it would rain and I would suffer again. I wanted no more of this.
I had forged a plan to figure out a way to get to Seattle. I would shop at the big REI, buy some new shoes and socks. Hang out and eat seafood and drink coffee until I exploded. Then take a bus to Skykomish and hang out at the Dinsmores. Then return to Seattle and take a bus to Stehekin. If the weather was nice then, I'd finish the hike. If not, there were only 16 miles of wet brush I'd be willing to hike: the 8 miles from Manning Park to the post in the middle of the clearcut and the 8 miles back. I no longer felt that it was worth it, or valuable, or important or even meaningful to hike every mile of the trail.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Stevenson, WA
I have to skip some entries otherwise I'll be in this cafe all day and I really want to get going again.
The executive summary up to here is that I walked by Mt. Jefferson, crossed its glacier streams before reading how dangerous the streams could be. I guess that after swimming the rivers in Yosemite fast, milky streams up to my crotch didn't seem so bad.
After I passed out of the alpine beauty of Mt. Jefferson, climbing and descending a mountain pass that reminded me a lot of the High Sierra with the snow fields and all, I descended into some mighty flat forested country.
I looked forward to a visit at Ollalie Lake, but the store there was closed and had been for two years. I got the special California treatment from a man there who insulted me. I was starting to realize that Oregonians don't like people from California.
I motored along for my longest day yet: 36 miles. I spent the night near Timothy Lake, a great car-camping lake with a trail that goes all around the lake. People mountain biked, jogged and hiked. People boated and fished on the lake. I could hear young people having a great time below my isolated camp site. I wished I could be like them instead of on this excruciating lonely journey. At least the mosquitoes seemed to be seriously waning.
The following day I planeed to try to reach Government Camp and the post office. It was a Saturday so I hoped I could go 15 miles super quickly. I got to the road at noon, made an attempt to hitchhike but didn't get a ride, so I decided to skip it and just go on to Timerberline Lodge.
The trail from Barlow Pass to Timberline Lodge was probably the hardest 5 miles of the hike. It was very steep and I was very out of food and starving. A section hiker really really wanted to talk ultralight gear with me but I wasn't a human being anymore. I was just a cranky, thirsty, hungry, achey, tired zombie stomach lurching down the trail. I lurched my way up through viewless forest until I reached an opening and suddenly saw that I was ON Mt. Hood. The above-treeline peak was right in front of me. I was shocked.
I could see Timerline Lodge a ways away. The promised land. I struggled through sand dunes to reach it. I washed up a little in the glacial stream, then went to the Lodge for food. I ate at the Blue Ox and had a pizza and some beer. I felt much better. I washed up as well as possible in the ladies room since they would not sell me a shower at the Lodge. I made camp on a hill below the Lodge.
The next morning I went to Government Camp and did laundry and washed my hair with my pocket shower. I made camp in a vacant lot in a stand of trees and hung out for a relaxing zero day. On Monday morning I took care of my post office business, forwarding my package on to Cascade Locks. For some reason I had thought it was another 150 miles to Cascade Locks but it was only 50. I was so happy when I learned this. I could live without the things in my bounce box for 2 more days. The guy at the post office gave me the business about forwarding my box. He said he'd do it, but I wasn't allowed. I asked if there were special rules in Oregon because other post offices had even suggested to me that I could forward my packages unopened for free. I was thinking maybe I was getting the California treatment again and worried my box would never arrive at Cascade Locks.
I set off to Cascade Locks. The trail was pleasant and there were few mosquitoes. I took a detour to visit Ramona Falls. I think that fall is on many motivational posters and calendars. After visiting, I reached the first river I could not ford: Milky Fork. I tried but the bottom was unstable and the water very deep even though the creek did not look very big. I wandered around and found a sign that pointed to a hiker bridge. I had to backtrack up the Ramona Falls trail to find the bridge. It was a giant log with a handrail nailed to it. It bounced like the suspension bridges of Nepal.
I hiked on, climbing and climbing until I reached a junction with the Timberline Trail. The guide book was full of lies. First lie was that the trail would be mostly down from here. It was mostly up or level for at least 10 more miles after he said that.
Then the trail plunged down into the Columbia River Gorge. I took the Eagle Creek trail and got to walk behind the giant Tunnel Falls through a tunnel blasted in the cliff. That was exciting. The trail went down hill for about 20 miles almost to sea level at the river.
The guide book and reality bore absolutely no resemblence when I reached the trailhead parking, so I just walked out to the freeway, looked at the signs on the freeway to decide which direction to walk, and walked along a bike path that took me right to the Bridge of the Gods.
I didn't cross the bridge, though. Instead I spent the night and all the next day and another night at Cascade Locks in the campground. They let me stay for free and there were hot showers. My first shower since Elk Lake, about 10 days or so ago. It felt wonderful.
I did all my grocery shopping from the store in Cascade Locks. That was a mistake. Their selection was not very good so I will be disappointed with my food for all of Washington. I prepared boxes of food in the blasting wind of the Gorge and then mailed them out. The gorge was so windy but the wind was warm and moist. It must be very cold in winter. The place was noisy with the sound of the river, the trains on both sides running constantly, the highway and all the other noises of industrial society. It was difficult to sleep, but my second night there the wind died a little bit and I fell asleep at about 6pm and slept for 12 hours.
I walked across the bridge after breakfast. It was thrilling because it was a metal grate and you could see through to the river. The railing on the side was low. I feared the traffic would make me walk too close to the end. I was feeling a touch of vertigo.
Finally I was out of Oregon and into Washington. I learned there was a shortcut that cut off about 21 miles if I didn't mind walking on roads. I didn't mind at all. I walked to Stevenson and wished I had shopped there instead. Their store had more of the things I liked. I bought a few things, updated my journal just a little, and headed out.
I have to admit that my feet really hurt a lot lately. I am hoping they can make it the 500 miles left to go. I really want to succeed. It's close enough to taste and I really really want to go home, but not without reaching the end.
The executive summary up to here is that I walked by Mt. Jefferson, crossed its glacier streams before reading how dangerous the streams could be. I guess that after swimming the rivers in Yosemite fast, milky streams up to my crotch didn't seem so bad.
After I passed out of the alpine beauty of Mt. Jefferson, climbing and descending a mountain pass that reminded me a lot of the High Sierra with the snow fields and all, I descended into some mighty flat forested country.
I looked forward to a visit at Ollalie Lake, but the store there was closed and had been for two years. I got the special California treatment from a man there who insulted me. I was starting to realize that Oregonians don't like people from California.
I motored along for my longest day yet: 36 miles. I spent the night near Timothy Lake, a great car-camping lake with a trail that goes all around the lake. People mountain biked, jogged and hiked. People boated and fished on the lake. I could hear young people having a great time below my isolated camp site. I wished I could be like them instead of on this excruciating lonely journey. At least the mosquitoes seemed to be seriously waning.
The following day I planeed to try to reach Government Camp and the post office. It was a Saturday so I hoped I could go 15 miles super quickly. I got to the road at noon, made an attempt to hitchhike but didn't get a ride, so I decided to skip it and just go on to Timerberline Lodge.
The trail from Barlow Pass to Timberline Lodge was probably the hardest 5 miles of the hike. It was very steep and I was very out of food and starving. A section hiker really really wanted to talk ultralight gear with me but I wasn't a human being anymore. I was just a cranky, thirsty, hungry, achey, tired zombie stomach lurching down the trail. I lurched my way up through viewless forest until I reached an opening and suddenly saw that I was ON Mt. Hood. The above-treeline peak was right in front of me. I was shocked.
I could see Timerline Lodge a ways away. The promised land. I struggled through sand dunes to reach it. I washed up a little in the glacial stream, then went to the Lodge for food. I ate at the Blue Ox and had a pizza and some beer. I felt much better. I washed up as well as possible in the ladies room since they would not sell me a shower at the Lodge. I made camp on a hill below the Lodge.
The next morning I went to Government Camp and did laundry and washed my hair with my pocket shower. I made camp in a vacant lot in a stand of trees and hung out for a relaxing zero day. On Monday morning I took care of my post office business, forwarding my package on to Cascade Locks. For some reason I had thought it was another 150 miles to Cascade Locks but it was only 50. I was so happy when I learned this. I could live without the things in my bounce box for 2 more days. The guy at the post office gave me the business about forwarding my box. He said he'd do it, but I wasn't allowed. I asked if there were special rules in Oregon because other post offices had even suggested to me that I could forward my packages unopened for free. I was thinking maybe I was getting the California treatment again and worried my box would never arrive at Cascade Locks.
I set off to Cascade Locks. The trail was pleasant and there were few mosquitoes. I took a detour to visit Ramona Falls. I think that fall is on many motivational posters and calendars. After visiting, I reached the first river I could not ford: Milky Fork. I tried but the bottom was unstable and the water very deep even though the creek did not look very big. I wandered around and found a sign that pointed to a hiker bridge. I had to backtrack up the Ramona Falls trail to find the bridge. It was a giant log with a handrail nailed to it. It bounced like the suspension bridges of Nepal.
I hiked on, climbing and climbing until I reached a junction with the Timberline Trail. The guide book was full of lies. First lie was that the trail would be mostly down from here. It was mostly up or level for at least 10 more miles after he said that.
Then the trail plunged down into the Columbia River Gorge. I took the Eagle Creek trail and got to walk behind the giant Tunnel Falls through a tunnel blasted in the cliff. That was exciting. The trail went down hill for about 20 miles almost to sea level at the river.
The guide book and reality bore absolutely no resemblence when I reached the trailhead parking, so I just walked out to the freeway, looked at the signs on the freeway to decide which direction to walk, and walked along a bike path that took me right to the Bridge of the Gods.
I didn't cross the bridge, though. Instead I spent the night and all the next day and another night at Cascade Locks in the campground. They let me stay for free and there were hot showers. My first shower since Elk Lake, about 10 days or so ago. It felt wonderful.
I did all my grocery shopping from the store in Cascade Locks. That was a mistake. Their selection was not very good so I will be disappointed with my food for all of Washington. I prepared boxes of food in the blasting wind of the Gorge and then mailed them out. The gorge was so windy but the wind was warm and moist. It must be very cold in winter. The place was noisy with the sound of the river, the trains on both sides running constantly, the highway and all the other noises of industrial society. It was difficult to sleep, but my second night there the wind died a little bit and I fell asleep at about 6pm and slept for 12 hours.
I walked across the bridge after breakfast. It was thrilling because it was a metal grate and you could see through to the river. The railing on the side was low. I feared the traffic would make me walk too close to the end. I was feeling a touch of vertigo.
Finally I was out of Oregon and into Washington. I learned there was a shortcut that cut off about 21 miles if I didn't mind walking on roads. I didn't mind at all. I walked to Stevenson and wished I had shopped there instead. Their store had more of the things I liked. I bought a few things, updated my journal just a little, and headed out.
I have to admit that my feet really hurt a lot lately. I am hoping they can make it the 500 miles left to go. I really want to succeed. It's close enough to taste and I really really want to go home, but not without reaching the end.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Saddle with a good view of Mt. Jefferson
It was great to be able to get out of my tent and do everything I needed to do wtihout mosquitoes bothering me.
I wanted to get an early start but it was the same time as every day. I felt tired. I choked down some fig newtons and set off for Big Lake Youth Camp to get water. It was 6 miles away. My water supply was very low.
The burned forest eventually became green again. I never saw Cold Spring, the spring the book made sound like just a pool of horse urine.
I found the turnoff to Big Lake. I had arrived just in time for breakfast, so I payed the $5.50 and got not just water but an all-I-could-eat delicious breakfast full of fruit and yogurt and eggs and coffeecake and lots more. I stuffed myself. Lately I had been letting myself get stomach-growling hungry, mostly because of a lack of water to prepare anything and mosquitoes making it difficult to eat. I thought maybe I felt tired because of not eating so I ate heartily of all the delicious food. One thing I reallylove about civilization is refrigeration. Eating and drinking cold things is so wonderful.
I set off into burned forest again, water bottles full. I could not believe how hot it was. I wore my umbrella and sweat profusely. I dragged myself to Santiam Pass highway where there was a cooler full of snicker bars, oreos and soda. A hiker named IRish from last year left this stach. It made my day. I should have drunk two Pepsis, but I restrained myself. Too bad because the one barely helped me continue down the trail I felt so drained by the heat.
The trail went on forever with no good water in sight and no shade. The trail could best be described as abandoned. At times I wasn't sure I was on the trail. It was mostly fallen, burned trees and walking over and around them. No trail tread at all in many places. Just a rockiness that was more distinct than the rest of the burned forest.
At 6pm I reached a small pond that I mistook for "beautiful Rockpile Lake", thinking that maybe the guide book was being facetious since it lies so much anyway. I filled up my bottles with the shallow water and went on a few hundred yards and there it was: the truly beautiful Rockpile Lake. I kept going.
Thunder clouds had gathered so I hoped to find a good camp spot before it rained. I took a second to stuff my sleeping bag into a plastic bag in case it rained.
Shortly after Rockpile lake I met a thru-hiker going south named Socks. He seemed so excited, as most thru-hikers going south seemed to be. He stopped to talk for a while but I eventually had to say good-bye and press on.
I walked through a lovely flat area with multi-hued cinder cones surronding it. Later I traversed a slope filled with small frogs leaping everywhere. I had to take care not to step on them.
Finally around 7 with my feet aching and my stomach growling I pulled into my saddle which was teeming with mosquitoes thanks to the big snow patches all around. I made my camp anyway because it appeared I might be in for a long night if I didn't.
It took a long time in my tunnel-shaped, giant tent to kill and the bugs that followed me inside. There was a beautiful view of Mt. Jefferson just out of view of my door. I had climbed the shoulders of the Sisters and Three-fingered Jack. I had met lots of people. Hikers, backpackers, thru-hikers, mountain climbers and even Trekker Bob again. It had been a good day.
I wanted to get an early start but it was the same time as every day. I felt tired. I choked down some fig newtons and set off for Big Lake Youth Camp to get water. It was 6 miles away. My water supply was very low.
The burned forest eventually became green again. I never saw Cold Spring, the spring the book made sound like just a pool of horse urine.
I found the turnoff to Big Lake. I had arrived just in time for breakfast, so I payed the $5.50 and got not just water but an all-I-could-eat delicious breakfast full of fruit and yogurt and eggs and coffeecake and lots more. I stuffed myself. Lately I had been letting myself get stomach-growling hungry, mostly because of a lack of water to prepare anything and mosquitoes making it difficult to eat. I thought maybe I felt tired because of not eating so I ate heartily of all the delicious food. One thing I reallylove about civilization is refrigeration. Eating and drinking cold things is so wonderful.
I set off into burned forest again, water bottles full. I could not believe how hot it was. I wore my umbrella and sweat profusely. I dragged myself to Santiam Pass highway where there was a cooler full of snicker bars, oreos and soda. A hiker named IRish from last year left this stach. It made my day. I should have drunk two Pepsis, but I restrained myself. Too bad because the one barely helped me continue down the trail I felt so drained by the heat.
The trail went on forever with no good water in sight and no shade. The trail could best be described as abandoned. At times I wasn't sure I was on the trail. It was mostly fallen, burned trees and walking over and around them. No trail tread at all in many places. Just a rockiness that was more distinct than the rest of the burned forest.
At 6pm I reached a small pond that I mistook for "beautiful Rockpile Lake", thinking that maybe the guide book was being facetious since it lies so much anyway. I filled up my bottles with the shallow water and went on a few hundred yards and there it was: the truly beautiful Rockpile Lake. I kept going.
Thunder clouds had gathered so I hoped to find a good camp spot before it rained. I took a second to stuff my sleeping bag into a plastic bag in case it rained.
Shortly after Rockpile lake I met a thru-hiker going south named Socks. He seemed so excited, as most thru-hikers going south seemed to be. He stopped to talk for a while but I eventually had to say good-bye and press on.
I walked through a lovely flat area with multi-hued cinder cones surronding it. Later I traversed a slope filled with small frogs leaping everywhere. I had to take care not to step on them.
Finally around 7 with my feet aching and my stomach growling I pulled into my saddle which was teeming with mosquitoes thanks to the big snow patches all around. I made my camp anyway because it appeared I might be in for a long night if I didn't.
It took a long time in my tunnel-shaped, giant tent to kill and the bugs that followed me inside. There was a beautiful view of Mt. Jefferson just out of view of my door. I had climbed the shoulders of the Sisters and Three-fingered Jack. I had met lots of people. Hikers, backpackers, thru-hikers, mountain climbers and even Trekker Bob again. It had been a good day.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Near a fresh looking lava flow
I forgot to note yesterday that it was one year ago that I quit the trail. Also yesterday was the day I crossed my personal 1000 mile mark for this year. Tomorrow I will cross the trail's 2000 mile mark.
Today the hiking was good. There were mosquitoes around my tent in the morning but they lasted only a couple of hours and then almost the entire day was mosquito-free.
I walked through fragrant, flower-filled meadows, by creeks and springs that visibly bubbled out of the ground. I walked below the massive Sisters with their blaciers and striking red-black lava. I met lots of people on the trail including a PCT hiker who had quit the trail earlier this year and another guy out for a loop around the Sisters who followed me and talked for a while.
I stopped at a small lake and actually took off my clothes and went in.
After all the alpine beautiy of the Sisters wilderness I entered a wasteland of rocky, blocky lava flows. It was difficult to walk on. FInally I crossed McKenzie Pass and completed Section E and started Section F.
I ended up camping in the middle of another long waterless stretch in the middle of another burned forest. I didn't think I could make it to Big Lake Youth Camp at a reasonable hour. My visit there would be for water tomorrow morning.
Today the hiking was good. There were mosquitoes around my tent in the morning but they lasted only a couple of hours and then almost the entire day was mosquito-free.
I walked through fragrant, flower-filled meadows, by creeks and springs that visibly bubbled out of the ground. I walked below the massive Sisters with their blaciers and striking red-black lava. I met lots of people on the trail including a PCT hiker who had quit the trail earlier this year and another guy out for a loop around the Sisters who followed me and talked for a while.
I stopped at a small lake and actually took off my clothes and went in.
After all the alpine beautiy of the Sisters wilderness I entered a wasteland of rocky, blocky lava flows. It was difficult to walk on. FInally I crossed McKenzie Pass and completed Section E and started Section F.
I ended up camping in the middle of another long waterless stretch in the middle of another burned forest. I didn't think I could make it to Big Lake Youth Camp at a reasonable hour. My visit there would be for water tomorrow morning.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Latest updates from Oregon
I finally got a chance to update my blog and get it current. Here are my experiences since Ashland:
On the Wickiup Plain
The portions and number of sides with the meals I'd been ordering had been shrinking. It must have been a signal it was time to head out. I got a chance to use the computer one last time and updated my blog. Moosa and Boone reappeared in the morning so I said good-bye to them knowing there was no way I'd ever see them again with their 40 and 50 mile hiking days. Good old Lloyd agreed to mail my tent to Gossamer Gear for me. He's so sweet.
I set out on the trail again in the afternoon. I basically had a 71 hour layover at Elk Lake. The paparrazzi greeted me as soon as I set foot on the PCT but they stayed polite until about 5:30 when they got all swarmy and annoying again. I tried to maintain a Zen calm about it and see if that would help.
At Mirror Lake I stopped to get water and they bit me on my crotch through my pants, the one place I had missed with the DEET. Sigh. 700 miles of this to go. 28 more days, with any luck. I hoped there would be some improvement toward the end.
I had enough food to skip a resupply in Sisters. Too bad because I had wanted to visit the town. But I also wanted this horror show to end so it was good I could blow on through.
I did not hike far today. Only 8 miles. I made camp on the Wickiup Plain with a view of South Sister out my tent door. I camped there because it was windy. The wind blew the blood suckers away. When it stopped, they returned.
I was glad I had opened up the tent at Elk Lake Resort. It was not the same tent as mine. I would have gone crazy trying to figure out how to set it up without instructions in a haze of mosquitoes. At least I had had a chance to set it up at Elk Lake so I could do it quickly.
I set out on the trail again in the afternoon. I basically had a 71 hour layover at Elk Lake. The paparrazzi greeted me as soon as I set foot on the PCT but they stayed polite until about 5:30 when they got all swarmy and annoying again. I tried to maintain a Zen calm about it and see if that would help.
At Mirror Lake I stopped to get water and they bit me on my crotch through my pants, the one place I had missed with the DEET. Sigh. 700 miles of this to go. 28 more days, with any luck. I hoped there would be some improvement toward the end.
I had enough food to skip a resupply in Sisters. Too bad because I had wanted to visit the town. But I also wanted this horror show to end so it was good I could blow on through.
I did not hike far today. Only 8 miles. I made camp on the Wickiup Plain with a view of South Sister out my tent door. I camped there because it was windy. The wind blew the blood suckers away. When it stopped, they returned.
I was glad I had opened up the tent at Elk Lake Resort. It was not the same tent as mine. I would have gone crazy trying to figure out how to set it up without instructions in a haze of mosquitoes. At least I had had a chance to set it up at Elk Lake so I could do it quickly.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Still at Elk Lake
Ok, so I'm probably not going to get my journal updated for a while. I'll have to do the best I can for now.
About my visit to Crater Lake. Last year I had thought I might try to get at that far, which would have been farther than I had originally planned because I had originally planned only to go to Ashland. But this year I did get to Crater Lake and had a really nice time there. I found a lot of trail magic there. Real magic, the kind that you don't expect. I made a list but don't have it with me right now, but off the top of my head there were these:
The mosquitoes started somewhere a day or two before I got to Crater Lake and continued mostly, with a few tiny breaks, ever since. They are bad from dawn until noon, then ease up for a few hours if I'm lucky, then come back for the rest of the day around 3 or 4. I suspect they will continue on through Oregon. They had a late spring and I'm just in time for the worst of it. Lucky me.
I was horrified when my tent zipper stopped zipping. I already mentioned how I walked as fast as I could to Elk Lake so I could stay somewhere safe from them. It has been a really nice place to stay.
I never know what to expect when I go to these places. Some places do not like hiker trash. We are dirty and smelly and while we spend a lot on beer and food sometimes, otherwise we tend to be kind of cheap. They welcomed me so kindly when I arrived at Elk Lake and have treated me with such graciousness, kindness and happiness. I have been very glad I've come. It's a lovely lake with lots of kids swimming and people kayaking. I may go for a kayak ride myself.
The morning my tent broke I called Tony and told him it was an emergency, that I needed a new tent and that there would not be much I could do to obtain one myself out on the trail. I asked him to call a friend who knows gossamer gear and either plead with him to contact gossamer gear on my behalf or else see if our friend might be able to help me himself. But Tony contacted gossamer gear directly (sorry, but the computer I am using has a broken "g" key) and they were kind enough to rush a loaner tent to me. It should be at Elk Lake tomorrow when my shoes may also arrive.
Once my packages all arrive, I'll be all set to resume my hike. In the mean time, I have enjoyed swimming in the lake and listening to the live music they had last night and sleeping soundly with the sheet I placed over my broken tent as a door. There are few mosquitoes at Elk Lake. It's been a welcome rest.
Yesterday, Moosa and Boone arrived at Elk Lake. I thought they had passed me in the night long ago. They had called a man named Lloyd who drives hikers around. I jumped in the car with them and went to Bend. I wanted to get cash from the ATM. Then Lloyd drove me back to the resort. He is an old man who is hard of hearing. I really appreciate the help of trail angels like him, but it is difficult to talk to people who cannot hear me. I would have asked him for more help today, but I did not think I would be able to communicate with him.
Lloyd had said the road to Sisters, Oregon was closed and it would be hard to get to Sisters. I had been counting on that town as a resupply.
I looked in the Data Book. It was a little over 1 day to Sisters, if I could get a ride which now seemed unlikely if the highway was closed. The next place was 100 miles away, and would not have much in the way of supplies. After that would be government Camp, Oregon in 150 miles. I do not have enough food to go 150 miles and Elk Lake does not have a lot of food. Just snacks.
This morning while sitting on the deck at the lake a young woman came up to me and said she had hiked the trail in 2006 and offered out of the blue to give me a ride to Bend if I wanted to go. I took the opportunity to go with her and buy more food and a new salad dressing bottle to make a new device so I can pee without mosquito bites. Only the salad dressing bottles seem to be the right shape and sturdiness. She drove me to the store and to her house and let me shower and use her computer (with the missing "g" key).
She says that the road to Sisters is open from a popular observatory over toward Sisters, but closed to thru-traffic. I ought to be able to get to Sisters easily. And yet I still bought a lot of food at the store. It's nice to have food I can eat without preparation, that I can just shove under my headnet quickly into my mouth. I may only need to buy just a couple of items in Sisters.
The trail is supposed to improve as far as open views go, but maybe not so much for mosquitoes. Hopefully they will improve a little, too. They have to end someday, right?
When I was hiking section I from Tuolumne Meadows onward and enduring swollen rivers over my head, snow and getting lost, part of me hated it and just wanted a calmer, kinder trail. And part of me was thinking, Mother Nature, is that all you've got? Bring it on. I can take it.
So she brought me mosquitoes. But I still won't give up. They will not win. I will put my head down and power through 30 mile days every day if I have to. I am going all the way to Canada no matter what. Hopefully I will figure out why and what it is that I'm supposed to find there at the end.
About my visit to Crater Lake. Last year I had thought I might try to get at that far, which would have been farther than I had originally planned because I had originally planned only to go to Ashland. But this year I did get to Crater Lake and had a really nice time there. I found a lot of trail magic there. Real magic, the kind that you don't expect. I made a list but don't have it with me right now, but off the top of my head there were these:
- Walked cross-country through the woods and emerged in front of a restaurant with an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet
- Bumped into a friend I knew from home
- Saw an older couple pass me by while I was hitchhiking and somehow knew they would turn around and pick me up--and they did, telling me how they NEVER pick up hitchhikers but something about me made them want to help.
- The lake itself was magic, an ultramarine blue that exists nowhere in nature, not even in your mind after you see it. You can only experience that color in person and your mind cannot grasp it when you are looking at it.
The mosquitoes started somewhere a day or two before I got to Crater Lake and continued mostly, with a few tiny breaks, ever since. They are bad from dawn until noon, then ease up for a few hours if I'm lucky, then come back for the rest of the day around 3 or 4. I suspect they will continue on through Oregon. They had a late spring and I'm just in time for the worst of it. Lucky me.
I was horrified when my tent zipper stopped zipping. I already mentioned how I walked as fast as I could to Elk Lake so I could stay somewhere safe from them. It has been a really nice place to stay.
I never know what to expect when I go to these places. Some places do not like hiker trash. We are dirty and smelly and while we spend a lot on beer and food sometimes, otherwise we tend to be kind of cheap. They welcomed me so kindly when I arrived at Elk Lake and have treated me with such graciousness, kindness and happiness. I have been very glad I've come. It's a lovely lake with lots of kids swimming and people kayaking. I may go for a kayak ride myself.
The morning my tent broke I called Tony and told him it was an emergency, that I needed a new tent and that there would not be much I could do to obtain one myself out on the trail. I asked him to call a friend who knows gossamer gear and either plead with him to contact gossamer gear on my behalf or else see if our friend might be able to help me himself. But Tony contacted gossamer gear directly (sorry, but the computer I am using has a broken "g" key) and they were kind enough to rush a loaner tent to me. It should be at Elk Lake tomorrow when my shoes may also arrive.
Once my packages all arrive, I'll be all set to resume my hike. In the mean time, I have enjoyed swimming in the lake and listening to the live music they had last night and sleeping soundly with the sheet I placed over my broken tent as a door. There are few mosquitoes at Elk Lake. It's been a welcome rest.
Yesterday, Moosa and Boone arrived at Elk Lake. I thought they had passed me in the night long ago. They had called a man named Lloyd who drives hikers around. I jumped in the car with them and went to Bend. I wanted to get cash from the ATM. Then Lloyd drove me back to the resort. He is an old man who is hard of hearing. I really appreciate the help of trail angels like him, but it is difficult to talk to people who cannot hear me. I would have asked him for more help today, but I did not think I would be able to communicate with him.
Lloyd had said the road to Sisters, Oregon was closed and it would be hard to get to Sisters. I had been counting on that town as a resupply.
I looked in the Data Book. It was a little over 1 day to Sisters, if I could get a ride which now seemed unlikely if the highway was closed. The next place was 100 miles away, and would not have much in the way of supplies. After that would be government Camp, Oregon in 150 miles. I do not have enough food to go 150 miles and Elk Lake does not have a lot of food. Just snacks.
This morning while sitting on the deck at the lake a young woman came up to me and said she had hiked the trail in 2006 and offered out of the blue to give me a ride to Bend if I wanted to go. I took the opportunity to go with her and buy more food and a new salad dressing bottle to make a new device so I can pee without mosquito bites. Only the salad dressing bottles seem to be the right shape and sturdiness. She drove me to the store and to her house and let me shower and use her computer (with the missing "g" key).
She says that the road to Sisters is open from a popular observatory over toward Sisters, but closed to thru-traffic. I ought to be able to get to Sisters easily. And yet I still bought a lot of food at the store. It's nice to have food I can eat without preparation, that I can just shove under my headnet quickly into my mouth. I may only need to buy just a couple of items in Sisters.
The trail is supposed to improve as far as open views go, but maybe not so much for mosquitoes. Hopefully they will improve a little, too. They have to end someday, right?
When I was hiking section I from Tuolumne Meadows onward and enduring swollen rivers over my head, snow and getting lost, part of me hated it and just wanted a calmer, kinder trail. And part of me was thinking, Mother Nature, is that all you've got? Bring it on. I can take it.
So she brought me mosquitoes. But I still won't give up. They will not win. I will put my head down and power through 30 mile days every day if I have to. I am going all the way to Canada no matter what. Hopefully I will figure out why and what it is that I'm supposed to find there at the end.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Central Oregon
I am sorry that I have not updated my journal in a while. I am updating it as I find Internet access along the way. I have not found any Internet access since Ashland. It's now July 23, 10 days since I left Ashland, and I've finally found Internet access in Elk Lake Resort. I don't have unlimited time. The owner of the resort was kind enough to let me borrow his computer, so I have to be quick.
I will say that Oregon so far is Hell on Earth. I'm serious. I am not having a good time. I'm mostly fleeing at the fastest I can go from horrible clouds of the angriest, most aggressive mosquitoes I have ever seen. I started the state wearing ordinary zip-off pants, a tank top and long-sleeved desert shirt. They bite me through the pants, through the desert shirt anywhere the tank top does not cover and even through my shoes and socks.
In Crater Lake area I was able to tolerate them ok with my headnet and keeping moving. Crater Lake was absolutely beautiful, by the way, and I had a wonderful time there experiencing trail magic after trail magic. The Ultramarine Blue is amazing. I will describe everything in more detail when I get a better chance.
After Crater Lake I went through a section after Theilsen Peak where the mosquitoes were in a frenzy. I could not outrun them. They bit me everywhere they could. The air was thick with them and when my arms swung I could feel hundreds of them. My only salvation lay ahead at Shelter Cove Resort. I walked as fast as I could.
When I got there I bought both a T-shirt and an aerosol can of bug repellent. Now I could be better covered under my desert shirt and not get bites on my shoulders, chest and back. With the aerosol I could fog myself with DEET and hopefully stand a chance out there. I do not like the smell of DEET and it makes me a little woozy, but it smells like victory.
Last night I slept in a dead forest of half-trees. I thought there would be no mosquitoes there but I was wrong. There were fewer, though, so I was happy. In the morning the zipper broke on my tent. I no longer have a sanctuary from them. The only thing I could do was run to Elk Lake Resort 28 miles away, which I did in record time. I found a piece of a sheet in the hiker box. I hope that will serve as some kind of door to my tent until I can get a new tent.
I hate Oregon. The trail is mostly boring, viewless forest and when it is interesting I cannot enjoy it. So many turquoise lakes beckon me to swim in the hot sunny afternoon but I cannot stop. I can only run and run and run and hope for a good spot to set up camp in the evening so I can zip up in my tent and never come out until morning, no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT. If you know what I mean. I have had to choose between dehydration and washing my cookpot. Washing my cookpot won.
I will sit here at Elk Lake waiting for my shoes to arrive and possibly a tent, too. I hope I can survive. I hope you can't die from mosquito bites.
Elk Lake Resort
The mosquito swarms found me in my dead forest camp. At least they took a short break in the middle of the night so I could pee outside with only mild swatting. The stars were amazing. I had been wondering what happened to the moon lately. I hadn't seen it in a long time. But I enjoyed the amazing stars.
When I went to put my tent away in the morning the bottom zipper would not close the zipper teeth. Now both zippers were broken. That meant I no longer had a safe haven from the mosquitoes in which to sleep.
I had been able to call Tony last night so I called him again. I told him I needed a new tent. Maybe Gossamer Gear could help me or maybe our friend Paul. I had planned to take it easy today, if possible, and not rush to Elk Lake. My shoes were en route to Elk Lake but would not be there for 3 or 4 days. But now I just needed to get there quick so that I could sleep somewhere with less bugs and hopefully phone reception so I could find out what would need to be done about my tent.
I had lolled around in bed and it was already 7AM. I hustled down the trail and walked at top speed all day in swarms of mosquitoes. I passed many beckoning lakes but could not stop. I ate things I could eat quickly or by shoving under my headnet. I finished off my chocolate covered espresso beans for a several hours burst of energy.
I met a southbound thru-hiker sitting by a nice creek swatting bugs with his bandana. He told me Thumbs UP was a section hiker who started in Ashland, not a thru-hiker. Moosa and Boone would be pleased to know this, that they were still number 2 and 3 in the pack. The southbounder also said I was only a couple miles from the turnoff to Elk Lake so I said good-bye and hit the gas.
The trail opened up again in a forest of broken, white trees like the one I had slept in last night. I could see South Sister, Broken Top and Mount Bachelor. It was beautiful. I found the turnoff to Elk Lake and marched down the road. Elk Lake Resort was a bustling place on this Friday afternoon. I stopped to wash up in the lake and then went up and ordered the biggest burger they had. It had cheese, bacon and a fried egg. A hear attack on a bun. I got a glass of the local brew on tap, too. I was so relieved to be here were it was safe that I stifled my tears.
After I ate the burger, I went inside where there was a couch. There was a man using a computer. He let me use it to check my mail. I updated my blog/trail journal with the message that follows this one chronologically. It had been 10 days since I had been able to update my trail journal. I wanted people to know I was persevering.
I called Tony to find out about my tent and he said that Gossamer Gear would overnight a loaner to me. I could send mine in and they would fix it. It should be at Elk Lake on Monday.
I thought how funny it was that you have to be careful what you wished for. Only last night I wished I could relax by a nice lake. Now I would be relaxing by a nice lake for 3 or 4 days at least. I did not mind, except for the gnawing feeling that I would really just like to get this hike over with as fast as possible. For now, though, it would be a time of rest and recovery.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Near Charlton Butte
In the morning I made up my mind that my sanity was worth buying both a T-shirt and bug spray. I walked back to Shelter Cove and bought both with a cup off coffee and a pack of crumb donuts. My clothes were still went from washing them in the shower the evening before, so I set them out to dry while I read and sipped my coffee and generally avoided heading into the bugs.
By about 9:30 I felt I had procrastinated enough so with great trepidation I resumed my hike. It took almost an hour to get back to the trail. I learned I could have followed signs to Shelter Cove and followed more trails to get there. Another example of the guide book not matching reality.
I crossed a highway and went looking for the Ski Lodge. Yogi's book said you could eat there. I found the place but it was shut up tight as if it only opened in winter. I marched on, feeling pretty good thanks to the delicious Shelter Cove coffee.
AS I hiked up the mountain, many teens were hiking down. Then 2 adults. I asked them if they were in charge of the teens. They said no. I asked how the mosquitoes were up ahead. They said they weren't too bad. While we talked I could see them swarming all over them. I didn't much like the smell of DEET, and it made me a little dizzy, but I could see now that it smelled like victory. There were no mosquitoes on me.
One of the teens had asked me how far I was hiking. I told him to Canada. After I said that and passed him, I began to cry thinking about that. I didn't know why. I guess I felt overwhelmed. It seemed like such a long way and the obstacles were so daunting. The emotional struggle of just the mosquitoes was probably half the reason for crying. But I thought the other part was that I actually was beginning to think I might make it.
All through the day I passed by lots of pretty lakes and in between there were rarely views. There were ponds and swamps. I was swarmed only once and mostly did not wear my head net. My spirits were lifted.
I stopped at a nice largish lake called Carlton Lake to fill my water, cook my dinner and wash my feet. I heard noises and could see someone. After I was all packed up again, I went over to say hi. It was a couple with folding tables, a huge dome tent, wine glasses filled with wine and a huge fire. I asked how they got all this stuff up here. They pointed to their wheelbarrow and said there was a road very close by. Turned out the road was only about a tenth of a mile away. I suddenly wanted to someday just camp like that near a pretty lake and relax and swim and not rush off like thru-hikers have to do to get their miles in. As it was, I had been happy to dangle my feet in the water for a few minutes.
I pressed on hoping to make 20 miles today, which meant from Charlton Lake I needed 2 more miles. That would put me at a junction with a trail to Lily Lake. I climbed a small mountain named Charlton Butte. The trees were all dead. They were all broken in half. Some looked burned. Most were bleached white. I stopped when I saw a flat spot next to the trail. There would be fewer mosquitoes here. I had lost my urinary device and tonight, at least, maybe I would not need it.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Across the street from Shelter Cove Resort
Before the wind died down the mosquitoes found my tent and hovered there all night. It would be another night of peeing in my cookpot. In the morning with a dehydration headache, I had to choose between drinking my water or cleaning my cookpot. I cleaned my cookpot and headed on, hoping that if I missed the hidden lakelet that I might make it to the next water source a few more miles away.
I walked up the trail a short distance and saw some rock cairns. I looked around and saw sticks laid out in arrows and spelling H2O. I hadn't missed the hidden lakelet after all! I went over to the pond and filled up all my water bottles. On the way back I found a tennis shoe, picked it up and left it near the rock cairns pointing toward the lakelet. As I went up the trail there were a few more rock cairns and arrows. I got the feeling that many others had been as desperate for water here as I had been and wanted to spare others the pain of missing this water.
I hiked on and was pretty certain I had found my way into the central depths of Hell. Never in my life had I experienced mosquitoes as awful as they suddenly became. They swarmed me as I walked full speed. They swarmed me as I ran. They stung me through my shirt, through my shoes. I felt defenseless. I stepped into some kind of beehive or something and screamed and ran away as fast as I could so I wouldn't be stung by bees as well.
I smeared DEET everywhere I could. I wished I had a T-shirt to wear under my desert shirt or the kind of repellent that fogs all around you to cover my clothing. At least I had my shirt to protect my legs and my bandana to cover the tiny little triangle at my neck where my bugnet and my collar didn't quite meet. I was grateful for my deluxe headnet. I would be dead without it, I was certain, if not from bugs then from suicide or insanity. I wondered if you stripped naked, could you die from mosquito bites?
For 6 hours I endured a constant storm of bugs. I met a couple of section hikers. The wife wanted to chat. The husband just wanted to get the hell out of there. I did, too.
At noon I found myself below dramatic Diamond Peak right were the lava ended and the trees began. There was snow. There was a breeze. I found a flat rock to sit on and eat my lunch. I would not have to set up my tent to have lunch as I had been promising myself to keep myself going down the trail. With the wind there was only one mosquito bothering me by my left ear on the lee-side. I felt relief at last.
After lunch I ran into a day hiker I had seen two days ago. He seemed cheerful and said the bugs weren't too bad ahead. They were indeed more tolerable, but I was shell-shocked so I never took off my skirt or headnet. I could see nice views every now and then. There were some nice lakes. Summit Lake earlier in the morning was so inviting, but it killed me to walk by it without taking a swim. I stopped briefly to wash off with my bandana, but I dared not swim. A pretty turquoise lake later in the day beckoned me, but again I just pressed on.
By the time I reached Shelter Cove I was absolutely exhausted. I got my resupply package, took a shower, drank a beer and ate an ice cream. Then I was off to find a stealth camp in the woods. The swarms were starting up again as I searched for a site. I put up my tent as fast as possible and cooked right outside the door just sticking my hand out to light the stove, add the pasta, put out the fire that started in the duff. I had no emotions anymore. Even starting a forest fire was no big deal.
As I rested in my tent I felt a certain terror. The trail was not fun anymore. It was Hell on Earth, the worst experience I'd ever had. The next section of trail coming up was said to tie with the Sky Lakes alternate route for worst mosquitoes. How could they be worse?
I was still near Shelter Cove and could return in the morning and buy either a shirt or bug spray. I wasn't sure which would be better. I felt like crying as I fell asleep.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Near a minor crest saddle to a lakelet
I woke up tired and didn't want to get up. The bugs had found my tent and were whining on the backside but ignoring the front. I didn't feel very hungry, either. But I ate and packed up and got away unscathed, steeling myself for another exhausting day of sweating inside my tightly sealed clothing. I struggled with a feeling of wanting to quit. The mosquitoes, the boring trail, the heat. But I forced myself onward.
I did reach some nice viewpoints and saw some interesting volcanic mountains. I walked on quite a bit of snow. At a saddle with no mosquitoes and good views of Tipsoo Peak I stopped to rest a little. Tipsoo Peak was red and black and the top was layered. I had passed the Oregon/Washington highpoint at 7560 feet. All downhill from here, eh? Uh, no. My hope now was for a close to 30 mile day.
Well, if any trail can reach the highpoint in the morning and then climb all afternoon, it's the PCT. I sure climbed a lot of hills after reaching the flat highpoint in the middle of a meadow.
There was a place to get water off the trail called Six Horse Spring. I went down to get water. It was a frog pond. I only got one liter, which turned out to be a mistake. The Data Book listed another water source a tenth of a mile east on a road coming up. But later when I read the Guide Book there was no mention of this water or road at all. At the road itself there was nothing pointing to water, no indication that anyone had gone in search for water. There was another chance for water in 2 more miles, so I forged onward with my water supply dwindling.
There was a sign at another road advertising a trail angel. I wished he had cached some water at the road. The next water would be off-trail at a hidden pond. The point to go looking for the pond was at a saddle. Sometimes the land here seemed featureless to me in this viewless forest. I often could not tell if I was on a saddle or not. I had a suspicion at the hour I should have arrived at this spot that I might be on the saddle in question, but I could see no faint pathways where others had found the hidden lakelet. So with only one liter of water left in my pack I made camp in a slightly breezy spot that still had as many mosquitoes as most everywhere I had ever been lately.
The good news today was that there were little breezes all day. THat really made the heat more tolerable. I was able to walk without the headnet most of the day. And tonight I made a cold dinner that turned out to be one of the tastiest yet. Cous-cous with curry, raisins, pecans, tuna and mayo. I've got to make that again! I met two backpackers today at the highpoint. I met my goal to walk close to 30 miles, too.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Near Mt. Thielsen Trail
I got up early in my sanctuary from buggy Hell which I never left for one minute during the night and packed up and nit the trail running for shelter. I went down the Annie Creek trail to the highway and back to the Mazama store. I was too early to use the bathrooms so I waited. Once open, I enjoyed the serenity of a civilized public bathroom. I also took one last hot shower. Then I went over to the restaurant for one more all-you-can-eat breakfast. I would have a little more restraint this time.
Moosa and Boone were there with Jesse, a section-hiking woman they had met along the way. I had driven at least a week or more up the trail from when I last saw them in Old Station and now here they were, caught up. Fast, young and strong, I expected them to pass me while I slept tonight.
We compared notes over breakfast. They had missed Jack Spring and had had to drink melted snow. Jack Spring had been hard to find. The sign points toward Southbound hikers and is nailed to a small, leaning tree. The trail had been marked with sticks but it was very faint otherwise. They also complained bitterly about the mosquitoes.
After breakfast I bought coffee at the store and tried to finish my book so I wouldn't have to carry an empty book. People would come up to me and talk about their experiences hiking the PCT or completing the AT or the triple crown. They always seemed excited to meet a fellow long trail pilgrim.
I hitched a ride to the Post Office and sorted through my resupply package. I got my skirt out for an extra layer over my legs. It would feel great not to have that pin-pricking sensation from the bugs every time I crouched down to set up my tent or refill my water bottles. I mailed all my stuff forward to Government Camp.
I hitched again up to the Rim and resumed my journey on the Discovery Trail with 5.5 liters of water. It would be 26 miles until I'd see water on the trail again.
I walked along the west rim of Crater Lake all morning. I felt sad when I had to say good-bye to the Ultramarine Blue. The trail left the breezy, viewful rim for more hot, dry, viewless forest teeming with mosquitoes. A forest fire was burning near by and I seemed to make a large arc around it. I was determined to get in at least 20 miles but not to pass up a place to camp that had a breeze and few mosquitoes. I finally found a perch on the side of a slope covered in pumice. Just enough breeze to cool off a little and blow the bugs away. Just enough tiny space for my tent.
Oregon so far seemed boring and painful to me and I just wanted now to get out as fast as I could.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Crater Lake Rim
I woke up very early but dawdled in my tent. It was cold and I was in no hurry. I read my book and avoided leaving my tent. I ate the muffin I had bought at Fish Lake, the last breakfast in my pack.
Eventually I packed up and headed off. It seemed like I had wasted a lot of time but it was only 6:30.
I walked a short distance and ended up at a gravel road turnaround area just off a paved road. I had been keeping an eye out for two dirt roads the guide book said would come up before Highway 62. I had never found them. I thought maybe either the dirt roads had gotten paved or else the trail had been rerouted. At first I didn't think the paved road was Highway 62 and then I realized it had to be, so I left the PCT and headed east on the Highway trying to follow the crazy instructions to Mazama Village.
I couldn't find the way so I just decided to head cross-country through the woods. When I emerged at another paved road I saw a large building with a long line of hotshot firefighters waiting outside. Imagine meeting people hungrier than me! It turned out they were waiting for breakfast and this was a restaurant with an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. Score! I followed them in and ate all I could. I didn't think I could eat too much, but I did. I thought I might vomit afterwards. I ate 4 french toast, 2 bowls of yogurt, fresh fruit, raisin bran and a bowl of country gravy without the biscuit. I thought it was porridge but it was good eaten like soup. I thought I would explode.
I saw the Mazama store behind the restaurant and went inside to buy Tony a postcard. The lady at the register really wanted to learn more about hiking the PCT alone as a woman. I gave her the link to my journal and told her to read all the journals on trailjournals.com. She'd learn all there was to know. We talked. I admitted that this year especially there were moments of loneliness, but almost never any real fear. I encouraged her to do it.
They had pay showers so I took one. I felt so good to be clean again.
I realized I could have skipped mailing food to Crater Lake and just shopped in the store here instead. But the enforced layover would do me good. My feet were tired and sore.
The campground cost $23. Too much for something I could do for free. I thought about hanging around the store all day and then walking into the woods to sleep before making my way to the Post Office tomorrow morning. Then it occurred to me that was a bad idea. Instead, I could get a ride to the Rim and spend the day up there looking at the lake. Then I could hike the connection between the Rim and Highway 62 in the late afternoon, camping somewhere along the way. So I went out to the road and stuck out my thumb.
A car passed me with an older couple. Older people never pick up hitchhikers. I know that. But for some reason I expected them to turn around and come get me and that is exactly what they did. The husband explained they never pick up hitchhikers but something about me said they ought to help me out. Trail magic, that's what!
They drove me to the ranger station to meet their son who issued me a permit to camp in the Dutton Creek drainage. Then they drove me to the Rim where I got my first view of Crater Lake.
Everyone says that Crater Lake is an amazing shade of blue. It is true. The color exists nowhere else in the universe, I'm certain. It does not even exist in the mind. You have to gaze upon the color to see it and as soon as you turn away, the color is gone, so you must look again. It's the only way to see it. In person.
Looking at all the nice vacationers made me think there must have been an easier way to come see this big blue lake. I talked to Tony on the phone. He was playing the relaxed vacationer himself. For now I would try not to think of the 25 miles without water coming up, the 90+ degree heat, the voracious mosquitoes and my dozens of itchy bites and just watch the blue color and see the afternoon shadows give shape to the reddish brown crater walls.
As the afternoon wore on, I decided to go over to the cafe and gift shop. I bought lunch and was eating it in the shade when an old man walked up to sit with me on the ground. He picked up a rock and declared "Andesite porphory!" A word I had not heard in many years since my days as a geology major. I asked him if the crystals were feldspar. Ah, ha, you are a geologist, too, he said. He was a nice old man and was soon hustled off with his lunch and a friend.
As I ate my brownie, I saw the back side of a familiar man. I said, a little quietly in case I was wrong, "John!" The man turned. It was my friend from home John Axen, a recumbent cyclist and magazine review writer. It turned out he had moved to Oregon and was here on a bike ride. He was shocked to see me and I enjoyed talking with him.
The shadows grew longer and it seemed time to go. I went in search of the Dutton Creek trail but needed to ask the rangers where it was. With full bugnet regalia on, I hiked down about 5 out of the 6 miles or so and found a relatively swarm-free spot to spend a few more hours relaxing away my nero day.
So much trail magic today.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Crater Lake National Partk Highway 62
In the middle of the night I woke up to pure darkness and silence. No whining. I switched on my headlamp to check. All the mosquitoes were gone. The coast was clear. I put on my long-sleeved desert shirt just to be sure and dashed out to pee. They mobbed me in 10 seconds. I leapt back in and killed the 10 or so that followed me. I now had quite a pile of little corpses by my feet. I'd need to devise a way to pee inside my tent from now on, I feared.
In the morning, the horrible whine started up before dawn. I did everything I could do inside the tent before venturing out. With headnet and DEET in place, I left my sanctuary and folded it up and put it away. As I bent over folding and stuffing, clouds flew up my untucked shirt and stung me all over my chest. I quickly tucked in my shirt.
I set off as quickly as I could, hoping to find a less buggy place further on. I walked as far as I could. I traversed a big, long ridge and saw 3 frogs, one of which was enormous. Get to work frogs! Eat those bugs!
Eventually, nature was calling me. AT least it was less buggy on the ridge. I decided to try Gary's strategy from last year. I set my pack down as a decoy. The mosquitoes seem to mistake it for me. Then I went over to dig my hole. I went back to my pack which apparently wasn't fooling anybody, and while the mosquitoes followed me, I pulled down my pants and applied DEET to my thighs and cheeks. Then I ran to my hole and did my business as fast as I could. Mission Accomplished and the DEET worked.
I hiked up and over Devil's Peak and into a valley with creeks and a little snow on the trail. I met a group of backpackers with fishing poles. We spoke briefly but I could see the mosquitoes getting to them so I hurried on. I was fully enclosed in my headnet while they had tank tops and shorts. I could not understand how people could wear so little out here.
I saw no other people all day as I hiked the PCT. The trail eventually climbed into a burn area. Sweat was pouring down my face. I realized there might be no bugs in the burn zone so I took off my headnet, sat down and rested. I ate in peace. Suddenly I loved burned forest.
I made the detour to Jack Spring. I needed water. It was a long way down and the trail was very faint. I found the spring, a seep really, and rested and washed my feet. I felt so much better with clean feet and socks.
I climbed back up to the PCT feeling perky and hiked on as it went levelly and eventually climbed up to a high point with good views. I ate the last of my cookies and played my pennywhistle. I hoped I could find such a nice place to sleep later.
Into the late afternoon I went, mostly down but sometimes up, through trail strewn with fallen trees. Around 3 or 4 I passed into Crater Lake NP. It was 7.5 more miles to Mazama Campground. Today was only Saturday. I was going to have to camp in the park, maybe at Mazama, on Sunday and wait for the Post Office.
As I progressed, the mosquitoes returned. Now I could only pray I'd find a decent spot to sleep. I vowed to hike all the way to Mazama if I had to. I was very tired, my feet very sore, but any slowing of my pace showed me just how many mosquitoes laid in wait for me.
Finally, as my stomach was growing and the shadows lengthening, I felt a breeze. I stopped. Fewer mosquitoes. It would do. As dinner cooked I set up my tent and then everything, including me, went inside safe and comfortable.
The mosquitoes here in Oregon were like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. They were mean and crazy. I put DEET on the backs of my hands so they bit my palms. They crawled under the back vent panel of my shirt and stung my back so I sewed it shut. With a hideous EEEEEEEYYYYY!!!! they would crash into my head with such force I felt like the Twin Towers being crashed into by tiny planes. They stung me through my pants, they flew up my shirt and stung my chest. I looked forward to getting my skirt out of my bounce bucket to wear over my pants.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Near a spur trail to an overlook
I slept well in my little nook. In the morning I tried to take a picture of the nook because I was so fond of it. It probably wouldn't come out.
I continued my walk around Brown Mountain. It seemed like a long way to the turnoff to Fish Lake. Maybe I hadn't gone 27 miles yesterday after all. I finally found the turnoff and hesitated. Did I really need to go? I thought maybe I didn't, but something steered me in that direction anyway. The trail since Ashland had been pretty boring, so why not take a detour for a little adventure?
The trail down was wide and smooth, almost paved. I found the PCT campsite easily. The book had said the trail was obscure. More lies. I made my way over to the store along the shore of Fish Lake. It was a small lake. People were fishing on the shore and from boats.
I reached the store at 9:00 and it had been open an hour already. My plan to sleep far enough away to arrive after they opened had worked. They had a cafe, too, so I went inside and had pancakes and eggs with coffee for a second breakfast. I purchased some candy and a muffin to replace my one missing breakfast. While eating, the owner handed me the trail register and showed me the hiker box. Inside the hiker box were Crystal Light lemonade packets. It was the one thing I had forgotten to pack and the one thing I had missed most. Trail magic! Fish Lake had exactly what I needed when I needed it most.
I read the trail register. I only recognized Aysa's name, who I had met two days back. So I flipped back to last year. I saw Cuddles' entry. I saw Rolleicord and EnviroPyro. I was happy to know that Rolleicord had stayed on the trail. Last time I saw him his ankle was hurting and EnviroPyro was worried and thought he should see a doctor in Burney. I had not seen them since. It struck me how easily last year blended into this, how the time collapsed and in my mind I was still on last year's hike. AT the same time, seeing my friends' signatures from a year ago drilled home how fleeting such an experience as this hike really is. It seemed so real and permanent and neverending while I was living it last year, and then in an instant, it was over. I knew this would happen to me again in a few short weeks. I felt sad.
I paid for my goodies and I was off. I stopped by the shore of the lake and soaked my hair and clothes. I already felt very hot so early in the morning. I climbed back up to the trail and returned to the PCT. I was very happy I had stopped at Fish Lake. I had not seen another person yesterday and it was good to have human contact, both real and in the book with my now imaginary friends.
It was also good to have real food. Is it the eggs, the pancakes or the coffee or the combination of all of the above that gave me so much energy? Maybe it was the gentle grade of the trail going easily up hill. I do so much better going uphill than any other direction.
I reached some sort of summit, possibly of the shoulder of Mt. McLoughlin but who can tell in the viewless forest? Then I was back to descending and endless, flat, viewless, silent trail. Fortunately there were a couple of nice springs along the way for water.
Toward late afternoon, the mosquitoes began to increase and I wore my headnet. I met a backpacker who stopped to talk. He asked me if I was going to stay on the PCT or take the lake-lined alternate route. I said I would stay high because, as was obvious, I do not tolerate the bugs well. He said he had started down the alternate route and turned around quickly back to the higher official route. The bugs were really bad and surrounded him in clouds like nothing he'd ever seen before. I thanked him for the advice.
The backpacker also asked me if I was hiking the whole PCT with just my little tiny backpack. I think my pack looks pretty big, but not as big as him. I just smiled and told him that I have everything I need, just that everything is small and light. I cannot hike with much weight. 25 pounds is already 1/5 of my body weight. Imagine what his 60 pounds would do to me?
I continued along the higher PCT route. Sometime in the late afternoon I paused as I stepped over a log. I was mobbed by mosquitoes in a way I had never experienced before. Suddenly 40 mile days seemed like a good idea and easily done as I ran from the cloud. With sudden energy I walked full speed down the trail to keep them away. Soon the bugs were finding their way into my headnet and biting in all sorts of tiny places not covered by clothing. I battened down my hatches against the siege. I was so hot, like a sauna, inside my clothes. P put DEET on my hands and walked with the straps of my hiking poles swinging against my fingers, swatting them away from my hands. They could bite me through my pants so I dared not slow down.
Near the junction with Sky Lakes trail, I met Lakota John from Alaska heading south. He asked me if I had been to Cliff Lake. I said I had not seen a lake in a long time. He was crestfallen as he realized he had been going in the wrong direction for over 5 miles and would have to turn around. He was 5 miles off course. He walked away quickly, but then returned a few minutes later to tell me the Sky Lakes Trail was much prettier than the PCT and I really ought to take it instead. I said I didn't want anything to do with lakes and their mosquitoes. They were bad enough up here on the PCT. He said there weren't any bugs on the Sky Lakes Trail, but when he talked, he seemed to not have a sense of linear time. Years, months, distances and locations seemed jumbled in his thinking. I did not believe him there'd be less bugs on the Sky Lakes Trail.
I continued on and decided to stop at a high point on the trail and make dinner. THe mosquitoes were driving me to distraction. My dinner fell over while it was cooking. I put out the fire this mishap started with half a liter of water. Ants were getting into everything and carting off whatever tiny prizes they managed to steal from me. Mosquitoes bit me furiously through my pants.
Lakota John returned and stopped to chat. Then he left again. I walked only a little while further with my dinner leading into its ziploc bag and making a mess. I found a flat spot, wasted more water cleaning up the mess, then set up my tent in a cloud of mosquitoes. With it up, I pondered how on Earth to get inside without bringing them all in with me. One of the zippers was broken so I had to unzip the door fully. I unzipped, tossed all my stuff inside, jumped inside shoes and all, then zipped up my fortress of solitude. I spent 10 minutes killing the 50 or so that followed me in before I could finally take off the headnet, shoes and hot clothing and finally not be roasting or eaten alive. Beautiful rest.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Somewhere traversing Brown Mountain
It is a testament to the adaptability of the human body that I slept at all last night in my most lumpy and un-level bed. But I did. It was the worst camp I ever made.
I set off early to take advantage of the cool of early morning. It did not last long. THe day was hot and viewless. There was little to do but look at tree trunks and be completely aware of how sleepy I was and how tired my feet were. I struggled to just keep moving. Others find the near level trail of Oregon a chance to finally get in some big miles. I seemed to do better with more ups and downs. At the end of the day I still got in about 27 miles, but they were hard miles to me.
Did I mention it was hot? I wore my umbrella, even in the shade. ONce in a while the sun would claim a patch of the forest and then I was still protected. But its help was minimal.
The trail had little water again. I took great pains to try to follow the guide book and make sure I did not miss Big Springs, which was off the trail a bit. THank heavens the BLM put a sign pointing the way or I might have missed it.
Big Springs was a nice spring. THere was a pipe lifting the water out of the stream bed and it flowed strong and clear. I rummaged around in my food bag and got the fixings for crackers and hummus ready, but then I found my one box of pudding. I made lemon pudding instead because when else would I find pudding-ready water at lunchtime?
I washed up at the spring with the cold water and put clean socks on. I soaked my desert shirt. I was ready to forge ahead into the heat of the day. My pep was short-lived.
I hiked on for a few more hours and emerged to Dead Indian Road. There was a recommended, lake-blessed alternative route here, but I decided against it. Too many mosquitoes.
I walked a few more miles to Brown Mountain Shelter. I was glad there was another sign to point the way. The book was too confusing to follow.
You could stay in the shelter if you wanted. I went inside. There was a pad of paper. Thumbs Up was the last to pass through. I had heard of him from a section hiker named Aysa I had met yesterday. Thumbs Up and another guy supposedly were the next two thru-hikers after Eric D. They were pulling 30 and 40 mile days. They must have gone through when I was in Ashland. (Later I heard they were section hikers who started in Ashland so Moosa and Boone were still numbers 2 and 3 in the "race" to Canada.) There was no way I'd meet Thumbs Up now. I signed my own name and then went outside to pump water at the well on a very tall green hand pump. I filled all my bottles and then cooked my dinner while I ate my dessert. It was still plenty early, only 4:30, but I figured it would stay warm an hour and ahalf and then I'd eat it.
I hoped to find a camp site at 6. Since I had been so tired today, even taking a brief nap at Dead Indian Road hadn't helped, I thought I shouldn't push myself too hard. Plus, why hurry? Unless I pushed real hard, I was on schedule to reach Crater Lake on Sunday and I'd have to wait for the post office anyway. Furthermore, Fish Lake Resort was coming up in 10 miles and I did not want to set myself up to arrive when they were closed. I wanted to buy a little more food since all my tortillas had been moldy and I was running low on candy.
I set off from the shelter. The heat had eased. There were some high clouds and contrails. The rest while cooking dinner seemed to help, too. I felt much peppier.
The trail soon wound through huge piles of chunky lava rocks. THe trail builders had formed the trail with scoria cinders. It was interesting, but not anything you could camp on. I thought I might end up at Fish Lake anyway. But then I saw a tiny nook next to the trail. I stopped and ate dinner there and then set up my tent. Soon swarms of mosquitoes mobbed me and I dove inside for safety. I could only imagine how awful the lake-lined route would have been.
My camp site was smooth and level. I knew I'd get a good night's sleep. And being early in the evening, my reward was a chance to read another chapter of my book. I still managed around 27 miles despite how much I felt I struggled all day.
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