Day 108 Dumbbell Lake
Miles Hiked: 6.4
Mike Camped: 705.9 SOBO
It was time I got back to it and Doug was kind enough to drive me back out to Elk Lake. After fond farewells and thanks I was back on trail.
It dawned on me on the drive out that all this time I’ve really felt like I was “doing Caiti’s thing” and that suddenly it had become my own journey.
I am aware of my reputation for going it alone much of the time in life but predominantly these forays into the unknown are a matter of survival, a grasping at anything I can reach for to try to stay afloat and mostly I’m motivated to be elsewhere because I anticipate an eventual failure and I’m hiding it as best as I can. I’m fine with baring all and sharing my struggles when I can frame it and remain ‘in control’ of the narrative. Like I’m doing here. I’m really proud of this about myself actually. But I will avoid genuine vulnerability at all costs. And that…I’m not so proud of. That’s something I’m working on.
This however is not so much that impulsive go it alone journey now. It’s one of very few elective and joyful adventures I’ve had the privilege and wherewithall to go after in my adult life. One of maybe two I’ve done alone. That’s not how I entered it, I entered it knowing and fearing the fact I’d spent the last two summers battling mental health crises more challenging and unfamiliar than I’ve known in the past. I figured,
One : that Caiti was and has been about the only person in the world I could trust with this part of me point blank and is someone I could and have been able to ask for help from in finding safer spaces to ride that out and seek further support.
Two: that if I was in the woods hopefully I could keep hiding the majority of this experience from my friends and family.
And finally
Three: that if there was any hope in the world of finding it in myself to self regulate and develop better coping skills…it would be out here. It would be in doing the work before I was getting red flags (or worst after I’ve blazed past them). It would be in learning what caring for myself on a holistic level looks and feels like. (Spoiler: part of that holistic care is opening up to more than one human on the planet about what you’re experiencing haha)
It’s August and I don’t feel like a dying sun.
So that’s nice.
I felt it there, pressing in on me, and managed to get around it for now.
I’ve won back a little trust in myself.
Which is no little thing.
Aaaaanyway – I set out for Dumbbell Lake. The skeeters were a slight nuisance along the way but armed with toxic waste spray I made it through alright until I came upon another dang wasp. This one got me right on the ankle and sent me yelping and hopping down the trail, not willing to risk another sneak attack.
At the Sunset Lake junction I took a wrong turn and about half a mile down the trail realized my mistake after passing some day hikers. It wasn’t a far stretch to the Red Hill trail that came from Sunset Lake back to the PCT so I set off through the woods to find it. I figured I was just getting my side-trip legs warmed up was all.
Back on trail I passed a handful of small lakes and considered bushwhacking out to one of the larger ones for a little more isolation. I foolishly figured most hikers would be heading into Elk Lake or making big miles out of there though. When I got to Dumbbell it looked vacant but at the end of the peninsula there was a group of men setting up hammocks. They offered me space and welcome but I headed back a little ways to set up away from the conversation at a nice spot facing out towards the water in the sun.
I spent the evening making dinner and planning my next few days out when I wasn’t staring out at the deep blue-green water and taking in the generally dreamy scene around me. Five more hikers filtered in. One walked up to me sitting in the sun in shorts and a tank top eating dinner, “No mosquitoes?!” She asked incredulously. “You’re safe now friend” I joked. Meatloaf and Judas, SOBO flip floppers whom I’m sure I’ve met somewhere along the way but couldn’t place where, camped next to me. Though they were friendly, all the bustle and noise on the lake confirmed my impulse to get off the main track. I couldn’t see any sure-fire detours ahead but I made note of some options and decided to sleep on it.
Day 109 Mink Lake.
Miles Hiked: ~5
Mile Camped: ~710 SOBO 1 mile off trail
“I’ll just take the trail by Mink Lake for the scenery,” I reasoned, “and it will be nice to sit and filter water without seeing anyone else” —
As the trail lowered and passed Porky Lake I slapped at a few mosquitoes and wondered if my detour was really worth the trouble. The trail climbed back out of the marshes though and opened onto Mink Lake where a cool breeze blew the swarms back into the recesses of the woods. I started scouting out a spot to take a dip.
The day was still young and I had intentions of taking in a little sun and a swim before continuing on. It was an awful nice lake though. And I was sharing it with almost no one.
I checked my mileage and potential campsites ahead and when I made lunch I confirmed I had the food to spend a day lounging and then it was settled.
Hello gorgeous.
Now this was the kind of “hiking” I’d been tryyyyyying to do.
I walked along the Lakeside Trail looking for a campsite and settled into one in a nook that was sheltered from trail views and a healthy distance from the small quiet handful of local campers I passed on my way there, a small scouts group by the looks of it.
I took some time to sit by the waters edge washing out socks and wringing the crystallized sweat from my shirt.
I blew up my sleeping pad and lounged in the cool clear water for a while, floating through dozens of electric blue dragonflies.
And I took a nap in the sun while I dried off.
It was a little difficult to stay put honestly. I kept thinking “This has been nice, I could get another 8-10 miles in before the mosquitoes get too bad…”
I managed to keep myself from bolting by putting on a podcast and walking the loop around the lake, without so much as an energy bar to weigh me down. Instead I munched huckleberries by the handful as I walked. Along the way I spotted a mink or a weasel or maybe a fisher? bounding down the path ahead of me, I’ll have to look it up when I get service to know for sure. It was cute, that’s what matters.
I made an early dinner and while I cooked my lentil soup a couple young chipmunks bickered and tussled in the huckleberry bushes just behind me then darted straight towards me. One ran right into my back and they both bolted as I laughed aloud.
I took another nap after dinner, woken occasionally by the same duo looking for snacks perhaps and then I set up my tent in case the setting sun was about to send out a cue to the mozzies to attack. When I came out to watch the sunset they were only a minor annoyance though.
I pulled up my maps and made some notes and screenshots of my favorite camping spots to send to friends up-trail, edited photos, and tucked in for the night.
It was a very beautiful day and I felt more in tune with myself than I have in a very very long time.
Day 110 :: Irish Lake Island
Miles hiked: 12.4
Mile Camped: ~722.5 on far side of Irish Lake
In just the first 2mi back on the official trail I passed 8 thru hikers, all northbound. I recommended Mink Lake to one and then recalled how flat my endorsement of the cave back by Casa de Luna had fallen and continued on with a simple “howdy, happy trails” to the following hikers. Hike your own hike or whatever. They’d find it if they wanted to.
My sleep that night had been a little restless. My dreams hyper specific to the few irritants occupying my mind but oddly they were all very soothing. Maybe my brain is learning a kindness towards myself even when left on sleeps sub-conscious shuffle. Maybe.
The trail stretched out in a fairly level and minimal climb through the lake country. I had a couple spots in mind for camping 10 and 14 miles ahead respectively. The coming heat of noon was keeping the mosquitoes in check for now but my target would be decided by just how long they were deterred and how fast I hiked.
I passed by a dozen or more shallow lakes and ponds, the only breaks in the tunnel of trees and brush.
My understanding was that this was the best of what I had to expect from the rest of Oregon (Crater Lake aside) before California would supply some of the vistas I’d gotten used to in the first 600 miles. I hoped I was wrong about that though.
I stopped for lunch – tortilla soup w/ fresh tortilla chips!- and while hiking on a full stomach felt rotten it was nice to actually feel full for once.
Another dang wasp got me! Right on my knee again, just a bite this time but it still sends searing pain though my nerves all afternoon.
At 3pm I reach Brahma Lake. It’s too early to stop and the area is clearly going to be dominated by insects as the temperature drops but I stop to eat some of the tiny red huckleberries at the shore and watch the bumblebees. A big fish jumps out in the center of the lake. I consider staying. But it’s still 26 miles to Shelter Cove and I wanted to get at least ten miles in.
Oh you guys. I’m just so pleased with myself.
I got to Irish and Taylor lakes around 5 and was met with local weekend warriors. I was a little dismayed by the mess and the full campground but I was still determined to find a hide away and I set off down the dirt road towards the trail-less sides of the lakes. Along Taylor I found some flat ground up the hill from shallow shoreline littered with logs. Not a terrible spot but not what I was looking for and sure to be mosquito ridden within a couple of hours. I decided to give the area one more chance and set out for a small peninsula on the far side of Irish Lake. Pushing through heavy and fragrant boughs of needles I thought about Colorado and stomping through the forest in the heat of summers long past.
I caught the glint of the lake down the hill and headed for it. The peninsula pointed towards a small island, a shallow walk out from the shore.
I took my socks off and started across. The clear water was deceptively deep but felt refreshing. I whistled hopefully – no answer.
I climbed up the hill and found a small flat area in the sun. Down below a small sandy cove looked out on the lake and on the other side the island rose again with another east facing flat spot with a fire ring.
I’m getting used to this life.
I took my time setting up camp. I went for a swim and conditioned my hair then laid out in the sun on the hot rocks.
I was so hungry even the tuna I’ve come to loath sounded good and I doctored up a wrap with some hiker box fried onions, mayo, crushed gardetto’s and mustard.
I went to watch the sunset and heard a rustle in the rocks. A pretty snake started to slither away, at first I thought it was quite small – a foot or so long – but it was surprisingly big. It slipped down between the boulders out of sight. As I wandered around on the rocks my eyes spotted something and my heart skipped a beat.
A long translucent ribbon of snake skin lay between two rocks. As I stooped to grab it I saw it’s recent occupant curled beneath a stone. It unfurled and dove into a hole between two rocks faster than I could snap a picture. As I picked up the skin it came racing out of another nearby hole and down the rocks into the water.
I was absolutely thrilled.
The three things I most wanted when I started this trail were:
- To see a rattlesnake (I’ve seen two!)
- To see a black scorpion (I found a dead one near Deep Creek and didn’t have a way to pack it out which made me very bummed)
- To find a snake skin! (For whateverrrrrr reason I really imagined they would be rolling across the desert floor on the breeze like a tumbleweed or something in Southern California)
(I aaaalso want to see a mountain lion but only from a good n healthy distance. Crater Lake is coming up though! Also….a tarantula hawk…but that can wait as well.)
Voila! List complete! I can quit now.
It felt like such a wonderful reward for slowing down, taking my time and prioritizing joy in my surroundings and time to relax into them.
THEN
I FOUND
ANOTHER ONE!
I spent a good half hour combing the islands edges for more and finally was able to snap a picture of one of the pretty snakes they belonged to.
As the sun set the skeeters came out and I retreated to my tent. Someone across the lake got a big fire going. I had gathered wood earlier in the evening but I was snug in my bed by then. I was going to have to add this little island to my list of favorite destinations and plan a return trip when I could share it’s charm.
Day 111 :: Bobby Lake
Miles hikes: 13
Mile Camped: 735.5
It was hard to leave my island oasis but I knew I didn’t have enough food to stay still much longer and I eventually packed up and set out for the next dreamy lakeside campsite.
Most of the day was hot and sunny. Luckily I overpacked water out of Irish Lake because the exposed climb up the burn was dehydrating and slow going.
Finally back in the woods I slapped at mosquitoes and performed my ritual armory against them: 30% DEET wipe down on exposed skin, bandana tucked under collar, 100% DEET spray down on legs hips and shoulders.
Which meant I wouldn’t swim up ahead at Charlton Lake but it was a small trade off.
At Charlton I had lunch and another SOBO hiker invited himself over and introduced himself as “mono myth” (it means Hero’s Journey according to him.) He talked a lot. I talked a little. I was happy to hear he was shooting for 30’s.
Some lovely fluffy clouds rolled in and cut the heat of noon but also warned of a change in forecast. I’d taken screenshots of the coming clear days in the areas I’d be hiking this stretch but weather in the mountains changes without much notice.
My wasp bit knee and my back were starting to bother me as I came up on Bobby Lake. When I saw tents at the shore I took the first side trail I saw and set out for solitude as some darker clouds rolled over the lake and a few errant drops fell from the blue sky above my head.
I found a cute spot and I dropped my gear under a stand of trees as I sat to collect myself but it started to rain and I drug my weary bones back up to throw up my tent in case it kept up. It didn’t. Thunder rumbled steadily as the clouds were blown north along the east side of the lake and I sat in the pine needles and rested my feet.
When I get up to get water for dinner I notice with no pleasure that despite slowing down my pace my hiker hunger and my hiker hobble have returned.
One the menu: Alfredo sub ramen with parm and fried onions.
Subbing out ramen in all the pasta dinners has been such a game changer for me. The extra few minutes it takes to cook pasta was a huge deterrent for me eating at all because I’d rushed it too many times and ate too many crunchy or burned dinners. Plus ramen is lighter.
As I waited for dinner to cool I started a fire. It was the first fire I’d built of the whole trail actually. Mostly protected by the smoke, I took off my hiking shirt and enjoyed the warm evening air.
Day 112 :: Shelter Cove / Odell Lake
Miles Hiked: 11
Mile Camped: 746.5
It was only 12-13 miles to Shelter Cove where I would charge my devices and resupply what I could from their hiker boxes and campground store before probably going into La Pine or Chemult in the morning, hitch providing.
I was less than thrilled with the climb ahead and as usual not looking forward to a day spent at a busy lodge with chatty hikers in a busy campground.
At Maiden Cabin I stopped for lunch. My ding dong self didn’t actually take a picture of the outside so here’s a stolen one:
It was cool inside which was the main allure but I made tracks when two chatty NoBo hikers rolled in.
The Rosary Lakes were beautiful. Before the climb down there was an impressive vista. I chatted with three section hikers there. One wanted a picture of my sandle sock combo. If I interact with anyone for more than a “Howdy, Happy hiking!” It’s always a comment on my shoes.
On the way down to Shelter Cove I stopped at the Middle Rosary Lake and swam and changed into shorts and a tank.
The walk down to Shelter Cove made me regret resupplying there a little knowing I’d have to climb back out both to the trail or to the highway if I wanted to resupply in town.
A pickup slowed down and offered a ride the rest of the way as I was cursing the road walk and I hopped in with Roadrunner who was already en route to the hiker tent by the lodge.
On the way in I had passed a couple hikers who informed me there was a $5 burger dinner at cabin E for hikers and that the restaurant was closed. I arrived just a few minutes before the dinner. After taking stock of the hiker box that was so hyped on Guthook and finding mystery ziplocks and custom mashed potato mixes (mashed potatoes follow right behind peanut noodles on my trail food shit list) I made my way towards burgers.
Hawking was there but I didn’t recognize anyone else. It was a tame crowd and I sat on the periphery and took it all in.
After dinner when I headed back to the hiker tent, a lone woman was trapped by the man that had picked me up on the road. He was telling her about the foot soaking stations he had set up at his RV. She was uncomfortable. He was making inappropriate and suggestive comments. She and I made eye contact and I engaged the man in conversation while she escaped. “What site was that? —- Oh cool I’ll have to check that out! Thanks so much!” Obviously that wasn’t the end of the otherwise one sided conversation. The experience solidified my desire to camp off site.
That evening I sat on the campstore porch and started to look ahead at the trail and checked in with Grown.
Round Up, the hiker who rented Cabin E, came by and asked if I was camping and had I set up yet. I said yes and no, I was waiting out the late trains and was going to go find a secluded spot near the tracks we walked in across. He offered me the top bunk in the cabin and I jumped at the offer of a comfortable bed and refuge from the crowd. I gave him one of my snake skins as a token of my appreciation.
Day 113 Shelter Cove Zero
In the morning I took advantage of the cabin amenities and got a free shower in.
I perched at the hiker tent next to the hiker box and waited.
The luxuries of Odell Lake include the cafe and swimming. Unfortunately… a family emergency and an algae bloom made both of those offerings null and void.
What was left? People watching.
Hiker watching specifically.
A man came in, laid down his pack, stuck most of his arm down his shorts and scratched aggressively. He immediately went to the hiker box to rifle through the mystery ziplocks.
Folks discussed the Whitefish Creek Trail alternate from here south (or if they were NOBO which route they had taken).
A hiker posted up next to the hiker box and clipped his toenails.
Good lord people are gross.
There are a handful of injured folks here. Someone with tendinitis, someone with a bacterial infection, etc. That always happens at hiker vortexes like this. Folks waiting to heal or waiting to give up the ghost. For international and cross country travelers it’s an especially difficult and expensive call to make. I’m grateful we have had the luxury of proximity to community and resources and home. The trail is not an easy thing to walk away from with an injury even when it’s only temporarily. (This is me telling you to lavish Caiti with all your love while she heals up).
Someone dropped the dregs of their resupply in the box. I beat hand-shorts to it and scooped up Gatorade bars and a tuna packet. Then hand-shorts made his own drop – beef sticks (they were at least sealed).
Before we started talking to folks Caiti, Ruth and I would make up our own trail names for people. Ones the stuck in my mind were: Volume Control, Sheila (she miiiiiiight not have been real though), Sandra Dee and maybe the first of them all: Dad? Hand-Shorts is one of many, that is to say.
I spent the following day filling out my resupply and killing time. It wasn’t my favorite way to spend a day but it beat hitching back out to the middle of nowhere after a town run. Some folks pitched in from their extras as well which was very sweet of them.
I spent one more night at Shelter Cove and the next day charged my devices and got a move on after the heat of the day had passed.
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