Olympia to Bend to Santiam Pass
Day 100.
Mile Camped: 654 SOBO
After a couple of days of delay we finally left Olympia to meet our steps in Central Oregon where we left trail before Country Fair.
Nik generously offered a ride once again and took us to the trailhead from the Dalles where he was working so Oen dropped us off at Cascade Locks (deja vu!) and we caught two easy hitches to the Dalles where we waited for Nik to get off work and picked up some last minute snacks at grocery outlet (avocados!).
The drive through the rolling grasslands and farms on the east side of the mountains was beautiful. The skies were clear and the mountains hid their faces in shadow only once the sun fell behind them.
Along the way we passed a rest area I’d been to many many years ago and Nik pulled off to check it out.
It’s always nice to layer new memories onto familiar places.
In Bend Nik took us to dinner and we fortified ourselves for our return to the trail. I deeply considered ordering off of the doggy menu which included a beef broth and glucosamine “pooch hooch” which sounded like exactly what my knees need.
From Bend it was a short stretch through Sisters and on to the trailhead and as the sun settled below the horizon we shouldered our packs and said our goodbyes.
The best Trail Angels we’ve had have been our friends and Im -incredibly- grateful to them for it.
It’s been 100 days since we first set foot on trail!
Despite spending so much time off trail this month, getting back on my feet felt like something of a homecoming.
The sunset sliding into dusk was picturesque and got my heart skipping giddily remembering, oh yes, I get to do this every day again!
As I scrambled with my forever ill organized pack I remembered some of the little rituals and mindfulness practices I had left behind on trail and felt a great sense of relief returning to them.
The stars above seemed more brilliant than I remembered and the young forest was still and silent. So deliciously still and silent.
Big Lake Youth Camp to Little Belknap
Day 101. Miles Hiked: 12.8
Mile Camped: 666.1 SOBO
Around 5am I woke to the first light and watched the sun rise through the low branches of the trees. It was no longer silent, the rumble of road work and saws buzzing filled the morning air but the view was beautiful and calming none the less. I fell back asleep and woke again when the sun was high enough to warm the cool mountain air. While packing up I was delighted to come across a patch of huckleberries and popped a few in my mouth before starting off down the trail after Grown towards Big Lake Youth Camp.
The trail turned sandy and tedious and I had to double back at one point in search of my sunglasses which had broken and fallen out of my pocket. I didn’t find them but mosquitoes did find me and when I went to get my bug spray I discovered the nozzle had snapped off. Frustrated by the swarm devouring me I dumped the greasy liquid down my limbs and spread it around as I kept walking. I didn’t have a mosquito so much as land on me afterwards and honestly I smelled considerably better.
At Big Lake Youth Camp I found Grown in the hiker commons building and a BLYC counselor gave me an introduction to the facilities. We’d just gotten back on trail so we only stayed long enough for lunch and a top off on our phones. Grown set out at 2pm and I followed at 2:20pm.
The sandy trail eventually gave way to pine needle cushioned track and back to sand as I slowly wound my way through the 2011 burn barrens and surviving forest. Shade wasnt in great supply and became more and more scarce as the trees thinned. I crawled up against a boulder into a sliver of shade and realized my shoulders were quite burned. After munching on chips and applying sunscreen I continued on. Most of the day I listened to a new to me and highly recommended podcast by Esther Perel called Where Should We Begin? Most of the day I simultaneously laughed heartily and cried at the surprising and unsurprising resonance in the sessions.
Around 7pm as I was steeling myself for the Lava Fields ahead (which commenters in our navigation app had blown completely out of proportion…sometimes ‘never read the comments’ follows you even into the woods) I found Grown as she whistled me over, resting in a small stand of trees at the edge of the rocks.
We were both pretty worn out by the sun but decided to get on top of the hill ahead while our muscles were warm so we could cruise the last four miles to water in the morning.
I almost regretted it. The broken up cinder and scoria was impossible to get sure footing on without moving slowly, though the stark landscape was incredibly beautiful in its unique way. My socks were so full of the fine sharp sand and dirt of the trail that I eventually stopped and washed my feet before continuing sock-less and even more carefully knowing these rocks would slice my feet up faster than the sand had been grating down my hard-won calluses
Eventually as daylight began to fade we reached a flat clearing with a small fire ring and set up camp.
I carefully washed my feet once more and read for a bit by headlamp which is a novelty to me out here but Samwise managed to talk me into carrying a book!
Lava Fields and Ponds and Lakes
Day 102. Miles Hiked: 10.8
Camped Mile: 676.9 SOBO
This day went so slow. I moved so slow. At Lava Lake I sat and read and washed my socks and underwear while waiting out the heat.
I blew up my sleeping pad and floated the shallow pond for an hour, slowly paddling to counter the drift and keep my shoulders in the shade near the shore.
Climbing from the lake through a newer smelling burn I stood in nearly every shadow large enough to stand in before walking on to the next one.
I made myself eat bars and snacks because I couldn’t stomach the thought of actual food.
I gagged down half an avocado and smoked oysters then reluctantly tucked the leftovers into my trash bag. Burying my vomit and ruining oysters outweighed the pain and gross factor of packing out the remnants.
Our aim for the day was ~15 miles. That would place us over the tallest point we’ll hike this stretch and right within lounging distance of Obsidian Falls which I have looooooong been looking forward to. It’s little motivation though.
I arrive at Matthieu Lake and consider stopping there. I make pasta (Ramen with Pasta Sauce) and type this out while I wait for it to turn cold again and hope I can finish it.
My body doesn’t remember what to do. My feet erupt with blisters (wait…how tf did I make it the first 100 miles without a blister and now they’re a constant??) my back aches and I can’t seem to land my feet correctly, keep my hips aligned, I’ve peed only once today…ugh
But my brain remembers. I calculate my water intake and count calories and make sure I keep something in the bank to burn and I mull over recent social happenings and my small and large crises from my time off trail with a newfound clarity and ease that still fits funny but feels good.
I wasn’t going to make it the whole 15 miles that night, it was nearly 5 already, but I accepted that. Coming back to trail after leaving on a 28 mile day I was excited to push my limits further ~athletically~. But my body doesnt remember that. And I’m not actually concerned at all with athleticism. And that’s alright.
By 8pm I was in my tent. I hiked back into the woods to a ridge near a small stream. Initially I planned on sitting by the stream for a while before pushing on over the hump of the mountain but the bleating of adolescent boys made me turn off trail early in avoidance. Looking for a healthy break of trees for a noise barrier I found a spot too dreamy to pass up and settled in to watch the sunset.
Collier Cone, Obsidian Falls, Mirror Lake
Day 103 miles Hiked: 17.4
Mile Camped: 694.3 SOBO
I told myself I would start with first light but I hardly slept a wink until then. Eventually I got on the move though and by 10am I had finished my climb and slowly picked my way down the steep switchbacks off of Collier Cone, happy to be SOBO.
I still had three miles to go to reach Obsidian Falls and stopped for a mid morning snack at a campspot off the rock.
When we left trail for fair all of this had been covered in snow and you could still see the confused makeshift trails that had been lightly carved into the shifting rubble on the ridges.
Seven NOBO hikers passed while I munched.
By noon I sat next to the falls which were themselves underwhelming but walking through the great swaths of shining rock, my hand sliding over veins of deep black sheen…that was magical.
I passed five or so more hikers on the way, two an older couple who had through hiked in 2017, the first on trail that completely understood my reasons for flipping having seen their own high snow year.
Around five hikers stopped for water or lunch while I sat by the falls.
I’ve Hiked through countless burns now, some charming and some brutal. Some poetic and some a humorless story of destruction. I walked through an old growth burn that day and felt a deep reverence. A slew of young heat bleached saplings curled in observance.
As I descended from Collier Cone into the evening the mosquitoes came out en force. Resting wasn’t an option. I paced while I munched on a bar and forced water through my filter as fast as I could. Why oh why hadn’t I cleaned my filter while I was off trail??
I was aiming for the top of the hill before Elk Lodge but I made it to Mirror Lake just as I was losing my resolve. I had hoped it would be a clear clean lake with a casual number of buzzing regulars. The Lake was lined with grass and rushes however and as I paced between campspots I planned my set up.
I dropped my bag, grabbed at the topmost occupants of my bag until I reached my tent then pulled everything else out as well before stuffing raingear and any other unnecessary contents back in and closing it up. I closed my tent door – still limp on the ground – and reached for my trekking poles. There was still a 4″ hole in the side of my tent and I made quick work of duct taping it shut before setting it up and swiftly tossing my things in the door.
I went to the shore and gathered water for the night and retreated to my tent. Somehow despite my efforts I spent the first ten minutes killing the dozen + mosquitoes that made it in.
Elk Lake Resort
Day 104. Miles Hiked: 6.6
Mile Camped: Bend
I am utterly unmotivated.
I woke up at 5:45 unsure, judging by the light, if it was still evening or if I had actually slept the night through. It was my first night on trail that I’ve slept through. It felt like minutes though.
After attempting to get going I crawled back in my bag on my deflated pad at 8:45a. There were swarms of mosquitoes outside my tent. Hundreds. Thousands in the sunlight above the trees next to me. The mountain house chowder next to me that I scored from a hiker box was gross and cold because I fell asleep the second I laid down waiting for it to hydrate. I ate a cold-soaked oatmeal and nut butter packet instead.
Elk Lake Resort was 6-7 miles away and all I could think about was a cold beer. If I was going to continue on at this pace though I’d need every penny to count. Grown has her sights set on Canada. And I just can’t keep up. Without our prepared resupplies I’d have to make my 190 bucks a month stretch much much further.
I looked up escape routes for the next 4 day stretch….just in case.
I knew I’d have to be off and running the second I left my tent so I took my time organizing and pulled my bag in to pack it. I had new blisters but there was nothing I could do about them until I caught up with Grown and made a plan for how we continue or split up. Then I’d have time to drain and heal them.
On the way down to Elk Lake I passed a group of three women out on a five day trip and stopped to chat. Almost everyone I’ve seen out here since walking south has been 40+ Quite a few couples (most either my age or 55+) and at least half of them or more aren’t men. Despite the fact I’m slowing down and struggling a little it makes me grateful I’m out here, I’m grateful to have the opportunity to create the habit and get the taste. I’ve already experienced how easily life (read: capitalism) traps and distracts.
One of the gals I was talking to gave me a butterscotch hard candy and I remembered how much I liked the one I found on my first 20 mile day/night.
At a junction I found a note from Grown. It confirmed how far behind I had fallen and made me very uneasy.
I stashed my bag at the trailhead near Elk Lodge expecting and hoping for the following: Charge my bank and phone, fill my water, purchase some kind of container to cold soak my lunches in, lounge by the lake and maybe swim, try to scam wifi off one of the cabins, head back out and put in another 6-10 miles before being devoured by mosquitoes and retreating to my tent.
Walking down to Elk Lodge I see cars parked up the drive onto the road I’m crossing.
A small but deep dread starts to seep in. I’m out of water though. Sups and Pups is scrawled on a sign entering the grounds.
Guess I will be getting that beer.
Maybe by the end of this I’ll be able to walk out of isolation into a crowd and keep my wits about me but today isn’t the day.
There’s a charging station right at the bar and I settle in with tears brimming at the onslaught of sensory overload.
How. The. Fuck. Did. I. Do. This. Every. Day.
It’s another 5.9 miles to the next lake and the mosquitoes are supposed to be a little less ruthless there. Everything charges so slowly though.
It’s frustrating wanting rest and being stuck in a bar waiting for a power bank to charge.
I watch the crowd through the window. There’s an older woman, white hair dyed bright orange-red. A short brightly colored dress on. She looks happy.
I run into her in the bathroom later and compliment the way she carries herself. She admits she and her niece had admired my hat and peach pin through the window and asks what I’m doing at Elk Lodge. I hadn’t realized she could see me too. She has me come say hello and talk about the trail a bit. It’s nice but it’s awkward and I’m tired.
One of the servers saddles up next to me at the bar after clocking out and we chat.
Everything is charging so slowly.
He says he’s going out on a paddle board and I’m welcome to join. So I tuck my bank and phone under a newspaper and follow him to the dock. Paddle boarding is just as weird as I thought it was.
His name is Anthony and he mentions as we’re talking that he’s driving into Portland to see friends for his birthday. It’s getting late and all my blister tape has come loose while swimming. I’m out of leukotape and covered in blisters and I feel ground down and weary from being around people and noise all day. I ask if he could possibly give me a lift into a nearby town and he agrees to take me into Bend.
I feel a little defeated. But it’s better to be patient with myself and sort things out than to end up in the state I was in outside of Big Bear when I tried to push through pain that needed attention and still had to leave the trail hobbling.
I have him leave me at a McDonald’s and I message Grown to let her know I’m off trail and not to wait for me. I post on a trail angel page asking for a late night place to pitch a tent and a woman named Cathy who lives nearby is there in twenty minutes. I’m offered a bed and clean towels and she and her husband Doug let me know I’m welcome to stay until I decide what to do.
I feel very lucky that the trail is so accommodating to this work of accepting my limitations and asking for help. It’s hard to do.
Later I meet their son Ruben and he asks about how I got into town, I explain. “Anthony? Like Anthony with the bus?!” they’re old friends.
While in Bend I’m able to run errands I’ve been neglecting (new socks!! A hip belt pouch! The most toxic bug spray I can get my hands on!) and strategize the next 200 miles of resupply. I talk to Grown on Tuesday while she has service to let her know I won’t be catching up this time. We chat about finances and resupply and settle on a working alternative. She’ll see about holding my half of the packages we packed together at the pickup locations and I’ll plan on doing a full resupply as I hike in case that doesn’t pan out.
The next day she reaches out again to let me know she’s off trail with an ankle injury in Eugene.
It strikes me funny. If I’d stayed on trail I would have been at least two days behind, without service, probably pretty frustrated and heart-achy myself. I know Grown would know to take care of herself but it wouldn’t be easier to leave trail and it wouldn’t be helpful waiting to get back in touch while processing her own experience and taking care of her own needs.
The majority of the time I stop and take care of myself in life I feel like hurting, inconveniencing or letting other people down is always the main result.
I don’t think that doing what you need to do will necessarily result in a fair and positive outcome, I do believe that you can make mistakes in how you go about taking care of yourself, but it felt good to know that because we kept in touch with our needs we were both in better positions to navigate them when and because we were separated.
I feel very honored and grateful to be learning this alongside one of my oldest and closest friends.
as she updates me on her plan I joke that I might be arriving where she left trail by the time she’s back on her feet. Maybe we’ll end up back in sync after all.
August is here and the pressure to know what you’re here for and what you’re capable of is in full effect.
Canada was always nothing more than a nice thought to me, and I’ll be happy to complete Oregon and the Sierra this season if I’m capable. All of California if weather allows.
Which is itself a -grand- improvement from “I’ll try to do 100 miles”
Purists can suck it.
Imma flip flop and nap and side trail and hitch hike all around over and through this dang ol track of dirt. And it’s going to continue to be the experience of a lifetime.
(By the way, if you’re in Bend check out Sips and Suds for your laundry and libation needs! Ruben treated me to a tequila tasting (they have an extensive list – just ask for it) and this Bordeaux barrel-aged Rosé Reposado CHANGED MY DAMN LIFE. Cheers!)
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