Crater Lake

Day 119 :: Rim Alternate

Miles Hiked:  18.5

Mile Camped:  Motel in Klamath Falls

After spending the night in The Chemult Flying J catching up on the blog and hatching future plans I walked back out to the highway at first light to hitch back to the trailhead.  

Taj picked me up in his rig right away and got me to the 138 turn off where I started walking, thumb out.  It was a crisp and beautiful rosy sunrise and my breath trailed me as I walked.  There was very little traffic out there at 6am and no one was remotely interested in slowing down.  

Around 2 miles down the road Lawrence passed in his pickup, flipped a U turn and scooped me up.  He was heading back to Lost Coast where he teaches.  We talked long-trippin and I mentioned wanting to plan a dual sport trip next year and he offered his contact info and help finding a good one when I started looking for a bike.  

I got a hustle on at the trailhead when my feet hit the dirt to warm up.  

Within an hour or so I wasn’t feeling all that well.  24hrs sleepless just doesn’t sit like it used to so I branched off into the woods to find a soft place to nap. 

Two and a half hours later I started to compose myself.  I snacked on kit kat pieces and Pringle’s in lieu of breakfast and got back to it.  I wanted to get to the Crater Lake Lodge that evening so I could keep in contact with Nik up in the Dalles about potential adventures the next day and I wanted to get there with time to find a place to camp and settle in since a large chunk of the campground is closed.

Normally I’d just plan on stealth camping in the periphery of the park but there are so many closures even on the Rim Trail for mountain lion activity that I figured the combination of town-day social overwhelm and an all-nighter wasn’t gonna give my nerves any kind of fortitude against the usual nighttime crackling of pine needles and twigs anyway.  

At 1pm I stopped to eat lunch.  The seven or so miles I’d walked that morning were flat and uneventful, young forest gutted by fire. 

Just before reaching the park I saw a familiar face approaching.  Gwag!  We stopped to say hello and he updated me on his trail experience.  I’d last seen him at Kennedy Meadows where he left to see his lady and he informed me that when he came back a week later the whole scene was abuzz about the raucous crowd that had taken over the general store table and caused a bunch of trouble…about a week back.  New signs were up regarding quiet hours and intoxicants. 

By my recollection everything had been quite tame but I suppose that’s all relative. 

He had headed into the Sierra with a crew, Redleg and Tonka amongst them, but they all ended up bailing out and scattering.  Since the last time I had seen or heard tale of Redleg he and Tonka were talking about cutting the high route through the Sierra where the first and last person that had entered this season DIED…I was glad to hear news of their alive-ness.  We had a good laugh and wished each other well as we parted ways again.  

As the trail finally rose out of the burn I was eager for that expansive blue well ahead.  I expected it to appear on every crest and the climb seemed to continue endlessly under the noontime sun.  

At last I spotted cars alongside me and the trail met and crossed Rim Drive.  

From my perch in the shade beneath the roots of a tree I took in the views and had a snack before setting out for the Lodge another six miles on.  

I’ve done a small part of the Rim Trail before – when Stella and I were here.  I recognized the rocky outlook where we had eaten lunch.

The trail weaves around the peaks that ring the crater and after the third or fourth time it met back up with the lake view I was honestly…pretty over it. 

When I finally reached the lodge it was just before closing.  The servers gave me an extra pulled pork sandwich and I watched the sunset on the patio while I gorged myself. 

Once I connected to WiFi I got a message from Nik saying there was a mix up with work and he had come down early so I let him know I had made it and he came and grabbed me from the park just as it was getting dark.

Day 120

Miles: 0

Mile Camped:  Mazama Village

Nik and I got breakfast and then he dropped me off back at the park before he left to catch a flight home.  

It had been nice to talk to someone other than myself and I was less than thrilled about getting back on trail.  I deeply considered bailing out, at least for the weekend.  But I’ve made an agreement with myself that I’m not allowed to decide to leave the trail when I’m not on the trail.  So I stayed.  

I spent the day charging my bank and checking the hiker box and slept early at the makeshift PCT campsite.

Day 121 – Stuart Falls

Miles Hiked:  11.9

Mile Camped:  934 

From here on out the mile number where I camped will be the number of miles I’ve hiked rather than the trail mile because it kind of hasn’t made sense since flipping anyway and I intend to keep taking alternate trails going forward.

Anyway.  That morning I puttered around and got lunch before finally getting the motivation to head out.  There was a ~ 20 mile water carry leaving Crater Lake and I loaded up anticipating dry camping a night before getting to the first source.  

A couple miles in I sat down to write and snack and as I lounged up walked Scarecrow!  We caught up a little and then he took off down the trail.  I don’t think I’ll be moving fast enough to keep up but it was nice to see a familiar face for a moment.  

When I got to the Stuart falls junction I made an impulsive decision to take a detour and camp at the falls.  The trail was freshly rebuilt, which I was grateful for – the effects of the burn had clearly been extensive.  It was pretty though.  Tall grass was growing along the trail and the late afternoons golden sunlight set the dusty path aglow.  Eventually the freshly cut and dug trail petered out and the old grown-over trail continued on – a maze strewn with blowdowns. After miles of dusty weedy path the trail finally crossed Stuart Creek via a couple of downed trees.

Right at the top of the falls a stand of unburned trees lined a small campsite and I set up my tent and sat a while watching the tiniest baby bird struggle unsuccessfully to fly. 

It was unlikely the thing would survive but it was dang cute.  After a bit i walked to the edge of the cliff to see what was below.

I headed off down the trail with a snack and a water bottle to see the rest of the falls.  

I hadn’t been in very good spirits since leaving Mount Theilsen but I made every effort to allow the beauty around me to sink in and it sort of worked.    

The trail was overgrown and hard to follow in places, submerged in muddy stream in some spots.  It was very charming and reminded me of trails and gully’s I grew up on in Olympia.  

It was also lined with giant luscious huckleberries, a few tendrils of ground trailing blackberry or the-like and the first thimble berries I’ve seen this year!  I snacked as I hiked.

The falls were lovely and I climbed down to explore where I could get a foothold.

As the sun started to sink towards the horizon I made my way back to camp.  The baby bird hadn’t made it far.  I considered trying to enclose it to keep it safe and warm through the night but didn’t see to what end and left it to the woods to determine its fate.

Between the ash and dust and charcoal and mud I was quite a sight.

Day 122 :: Burn baby burn 

Miles Hiked: 10.2

Mile Camped:  944

I lost another gaddamn spork so I ate dinner and breakfast with a tent stake.  

I had just bought this last one back in bend so I’m pretty annoyed with myself.  

My little bird friend was gone in the morning.  I heard a few little peeps in the night and then nothing.  It couldn’t get off the ground more than a couple feet so my bet is some hungry night creature found a tasty snack.  That’s the way it goes though.  

No one else came down to Stuart Falls, probably because most of the trail was so severely burned.  The solitude was nice and it was a relief just to be lonely alone.  

With about twenty miles remaining between myself and my next detour I wasn’t in a big rush to leave.

At 11:40 I started walking, which is very late even for me.  

Climbing out of the burn and picking the trail out amongst the blowdowns, snags, gnarled saplings and sheets of black bark was slow going and I felt sick to my stomach all afternoon.  Most likely a combination of not eating or drinking enough.  

By 1:50 I’m nearly back to the trail.  I pass a burned and tarnished trail marker.  I know the trail continues straight ahead more or less but its indecipherable amongst the wreckage here.  

Finally there’s a break in the burn and I sit in the shade and drink water and eat a snack.

I know I’ve reached the trail when I see folks up ahead.  I walk behind a couple and pass four more people in the next 15 minutes.  

I stop to eat lunch and consider a nap but there’s no time if I want water and camp set up before nightfall.  

The terrain is level, very exposed and rocky for a while.  It feels like this burn is never ending.  I wonder cynically how many years it will be before the PCT is nothing but a tour of what was the west coast forests.  

I put on some upbeat music and double my pace – hopping from rock to rock.  The arch of my foot has felt like it is tearing lately but not in the usual plantar fasciitis way by the heel, it’s right behind the ball of my foot.  It might be the actual skin which is hard and dry from blistering and only partially healing repeatedly.  This morning I drained and dressed it again.  The faster I move the less it hurts but when I stop it gets pretty painful.  

Two miles from water I throw my pack down in the shade of a healthy forest.  I’m angry about how hard ten miles feels today.  

I haven’t moved this fast since California but I’m also in a shit mood.  I miss when the trail felt like magic even when my body was falling apart.  I also know that I’m moving fast because I feel bad not because I’m enjoying myself and while it doesn’t feel destructive in a short burst I can easily turn it into something unhealthy.

I’ve known this would happen.  I’ve known it wouldn’t last.  But you can’t blame a sad guy for hoping.  I’ve been bleeding and it’s a full moon and of course I’m full of emotions but all that doesn’t make it any easier.  I’ve lost touch with that unfamiliar and surprising well of joy and wonder I had been drinking from all these hundreds of miles.  I can objectively describe the beauty around me, but I just want to sleep for an eternity.  I just want to shut it all out.  

A mile from water I stomp into a camp spot and set up my tent.  I can’t handle the thought of getting to the creek and making camp with other people around and I have about a liter of water left.  I can go get some in the next couple hours if I feel like it but I need to just secure my space and settle down first.  

I hear bears barking at each other as I fall asleep and small creatures scurry around my campsite all night.  I don’t sleep much. 

Day 123 :: Trapper Lake

Miles Hiked: 10

Mile Camped: 954

Determined to bust out of my funk I started the day at a jog to Cakes da Killa.  It felt good to move fast.  

I stopped at water sources only long enough to marvel at the dozens of teeny tiny frogs scrambling around.

Four miles in at a lookout before Devil’s Peak I sat and made lunch.  I was most of the way up the mornings 1000ft climb and closing in on the alternate trail I’ve been considering taking down to Sky Lakes.  My mood was sinking and my sweat drenched clothes made it too cold to nap so I continued on.  

FINALLY the trail climbed up steep switch backs to the base of Devils Peak.  At the top of the saddle I set my pack down and took off for the top.  It felt amazing to climb without the weight of my pack.  The chacos don’t have much by way of traction so it was also helpful not having the extra weight on the narrow unstable footpath of shifting shale.  From the top I could see seven lakes below and some of the trail I’d hiked.  Southwest I could see the burn the trail would lead back through.  So much burn.  

It really made such a huge difference to finally get above the tree line for a while.  

I make tracks when I get back down the peak and followed the ridge past the aptly named Shale Butte to Luther Mountain where I veered off down the Divide Trail for Sky Lakes.  

The climb down was beautiful though a little tedious.  A couple miles of trail wound along and down rocky cliff side strewn with bits of fallen trunks.  

At Margurette Lake I spotted someone’s tent while scoping out a spot so I moved on to Trapper Lake a short ways down the trail.  

While I left my fellow hiker to their solitude I wound up with an entire family just across the cove.  With two small dogs.  With bear bells.

The sherbet colored sunset was a pretty lovely end to the day though.

I’m grateful I’m keeping this record.  I’m grateful for this opportunity even on the hard days.  Even on the hard weeks.  

It is still endlessly beautiful.

Day 124:  Deer Lake

Miles Hiked: 3

Mile Camped: 957

Very slow start to the day.  Very noisy neighbors.  I made breakfast and coffee (I got a bunch of instant coffee from a hiker box – it’s the most coffee I’ve had consistently in about two years.  I’m realizing in hind sight that it’s worth considering this stimulants culpability in my recent moodiness). Caffeinated and irritable but determined to get out of my head I deflated my sleeping pad and packed up.

I made the short trek to the northern twin of the Heavenly Twin Lakes and made myself comfortable.  

I spent the afternoon fishing and doing laundry and generally relaxing.  

A few people came by the trail nearby through the day but I was mostly left to myself.  

There are loads of giant dragon flies around here.  One big bright blue one landed on my arm while I did my washing and as my clothes dried in the trees more of the tiny little frogs I’d seen the day before found the warm wet folds to hang out in.

In the late afternoon a man came and fished the other side of my little jetty and I took the cue to move on when he tried to make conversation.  I hiked past a family and a few weekend joggers to Deer Lake just a half mile off the PCT.  

I had time to lounge and head on to the next water source but I spent the evening catching frogs instead.

Day 125 : Medford 

Miles Hiked: 16.8

Mile Camped:  Ashland 

At dusk I heard bears barking uncomfortably close to my campsite so for the second time in almost a thousand miles I put up a bear hang.  Luckily I wasn’t of any interest to them because it was probably the worst hang I’ve ever done.

I was up at 7:30 with a generous goal to break camp by 9 which I still blew by 15 min BUT I had taken the time to french braid my hair myself for the first time so whatever.  

I set off at a brisk walk and made four miles in under an hour and a half.  My usual average is about 2.2 miles an hour.  The even terrain allowed me to kick that up to about 3.3 miles an hour.  I put on some of my tried and true upbeat favorites (Blackbox and Real McCoy) and put another five miles down by lunch.

The trail is a green tunnel around here and the only thing I stop to linger over are huckleberries.  

I pass a lot of folks including some familiar faces from back around the aqueduct – they call me by name but I can’t remember theirs… they pack up as I sit down and they head north anyway.  

Lunch is a sad wrap of cold ramen-mash with crushed Cheesits and Fritos.  

I keep up my three mile an hour pace as I skirt Mt Mclaughlin.  Near the spur to the peak I sit and rest and stretch for the four mile downhill push to the highway.  

Anna comes around the bend with her usual smile.  I know I’ve probably missed some with my side treks but it’s still actually so nice to see folks from the desert even if it’s for a short out of breath chat.  Anna flipped to Ashland and hiked south to Quincy before returning to Kennedy Meadows and completing the Sierra.  She just got back on at Ashland two days ago.  

I love getting to hear what everyone is doing on and off trail.  Some folks have come around to my side and are off on their own treks now, some are almost finished, some left for work or lack of funds or injury or gear failure.  

It’s interesting to see what people’s breaking points are.  Or more commonly what they choose to state their breaking point was.  I guess I just find it kind of fascinating overall.  Why anyone would do this in the first place and what happens from there.  

At this point in the day I know I won’t get into Medford in time to get to the post office but I figure I’ll try for a hitch anyway – at least to Fish Lake where I can make a plan for town and then, hitch allowing, head into town in the morning.

The last five miles loom ahead of me.  

I just don’t really like going more than about ten miles a day.  

When I reach the 140 I hear a car approaching.  I charge out of the woods as they come over the hill and I beam my biggest smile and throw out a thumb.  Miraculously they immediately turn on their signal.  

I’ve gotten a lot of easy hitches in my years but this was something else.  I was 17 miles sweat-drenched, hat on, trekking poles in hand … all visual cues I’d usually attempt to minimize.  But…approaching the road I’d pulled out my lucky hitching hoops. 

I’m sure that’s what got ‘em.

Paul was headed straight to Medford from a work meeting in Klamath Falls.  He gave me his number and offered to take me back to the trail the next day if I needed and gave me a box of snack size chips and cookies when he dropped me off at the McDonalds in Central Medford.  

I’d just missed post office hours and was steeling myself for an overnight stay stealth camping in the park nearby when Alan reached out and offered to bring me down to Ashland for the evening and the promise of a bath and bed put me at ease.

Alan got Grown and I from Grants Pass to Country Fair when we flipped from Kennedy and part of our hiking plan has involved hopping off at the 66 to see he and Trisha at their home on our way past Ashland.  I’ll still be taking a beat there in a few days on my way through but I was very grateful for the rescue.  That Blazing Salads Family magic ya’ll.  Where on earth would I be without it?!

Day 126 : Fish Lake Trail Magic

Miles Hiked: 2.5

Mile Camped: 975

In the morning after coffee in bed and a delicious breakfast from Trisha, Alan brought me to the post office and dropped me at Fish Lake where I sorted out my resupply and realized Guthooks had been in the middle of updating when I left town and the app wouldn’t so much as open.  I hassled patrons and hikers at the cafe until someone had enough service to hot spot me while it finished updating.  Meanwhile the chipmunks harassed me.

By then it was 1pm and ten miles to the nearest water.  With the crossing to Alan’s place outside Ashland just under 40 miles away I opted to spend the afternoon enjoying the lakeside and head out in the morning. Taking a zero anytime I hike more than 15 miles has officially become a ‘thing’ 

In the evening I made my way back to the highway crossing so I could load up on water at the creek in the morning.  There I found Clementine trail angel-ing and sat to take advantage of her phone charging set up.  

She was so sweet and so kind and had an absolutely thorough array of hiker amenities.  

In my resupply box I didn’t receive at Chemult I had packed a treat to carry and celebrate hiking 1000 miles.  I’ve been a little bummed about not getting it.  I originally packed it for my 500 mile mark thinking that would be the grand finale but sent it home to extend my trip and expectations.  So it had become somewhat sentimental.

Clementine…had a Dark Chocolate Cheescake Mountain House desert in a box of resupply top off options that were up for grabs.  600 calories of divine chocolatey goodness, just in time for my 1000th mile!

While my phone charged we talked and a few hikers rolled through.  

I had a hilarious breakthrough while chatting with everyone.  

I’ve been saying that I’m trying to get from Mexico to Canada for so long some part of me actually forgot that I was literally never trying to get to Canada.  I started saying that because it was simpler than explaining that I had nothing better to do than join my best friend on a weird long hike all summer.  Because I didn’t want to share my deeper motivations and reasons for struggling with stability and boundaries and personal space and the time and energy to process trauma and and and… and turning that into a sound bite and distancing myself by from it’s reality. Mexico to Canada wowie yessir isn’t that an interesting and easily repeatable goal and motive.

I’ve been confused and defensive over….literally nothing.  It’s a hilarious and perfect example of how your words can affect your reality, even when you don’t start out believing what you are saying at all.  Which is a thing I’ve been working on – self talk and the words I say to myself and about myself aloud and privately. So as soon as I started saying “I’m actually not really NOBO or SOBO or thru hiking at all, I’m barely even hiking the actual trail at this point.  It’s just an accessible framework to travel and hike for a long period of time.  I’m hiking to enjoy myself.”    …I stopped feeling like my experience had to measure up against anyone else’s in any kind of way. The work I’ve been doing internally felt like enough again. It’s only part of my truth but it’s the part I feel comfortable sharing over and over and over again.

But

I’M. LIVING. MY. CREST. LIFE. YA’LL.

Oh what an absolutely silly thing.

Brains are so frustratingly simple sometimes.

Anyway. With rain in the forecast for the next day I wanted to shave a little off of the walk to the South Brown Mountain Shelter where I was hoping to keep dry while the rain passed.  

Once I got walking though I realized my camping options were going to be limited by the endless piles of scoria and cinder that bordered the thin ribbon of crushed rock trail.  ((THAT TRAIL WORK THOUGH….wow.))

As luck would have it after I passed up a couple of tight cowboy camp spots I found an ample bit of level ground… with a peek westward towards the setting sun through a break in the trees.  

I felt the cool refreshment of that unfamiliar well of joy and wonder as I set up camp and watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I can recall, photos just can’t do it justice.