Day 114 :: Whitefish Creek Alternate
Miles Hiked: ~4
Camped: Diamond View Lake
Leaving Shelter Cove I came across a carcass. It looks as if it has been locked in snow until everything melted just a short while ago. There’s a lot of dirt compacted on the remaining fur. Most of the face and hindquarters are gone. I tried to pry the jaw or teeth loose but there was too much flesh and tendon remaining and maggots are actually kind of high on the short list of things that really gross me out. I couldn’t tell if it was just a domesticated dog or maybe a coyote. The teeth seemed canine but the remaining fur seemed to be cat like and it was the size of a smaller full grown retriever but funny shaped. Could have been the rot/rigor mortis though.
I hiked on past some nice campsites on Trapper Creek that I wish I had known to camp at instead of loitering around the lodge for the past couple days. About a mile and a half along the trail left Trapper Creek and continued on towards Diamond View Lake.
It was only about 4 miles there and I figured it would be a decent place to make camp before the bugs were too bad.
The shallow lake was quiet and serene. The north shore lined with campsites.
I set up camp and took stock of my resupply as the sun set into the shoulder of Diamond Peak. A crane landed in a tree nearby and I marveled at the huge bird. I’ve never seen one in a tree. When I try to take a picture it takes off flying low across the lake.
I have a hearty six day carry. I’m unsure how long I’ll take to reach highway 138 because I don’t know the mileage on the alternate trail and I don’t know much about what’s between here and there worth lingering over. It’s shorter than the standard route by a few miles – I know that. Going slow it shouldn’t take me more than five days. The last stretch I only packed just enough food to get me to Shelter Cove and I was pretty hungry most of the time so while some of my food isn’t my first choice I feel good about how much I’ll have to eat no matter what I do.
As evening falls and the temperature drops I crawl into my tent. I feel jumpy and uneasy. I haven’t eaten much today, I never eat well when I’m off trail. I’m still decompressing after the constant presence of people. But the crickets sound lovely and I burrow into my sleeping bag without my pad – the hard ground feels reassuring tonight.
Day 115 :: Crescent Lake
Miles Hiked: 12.3
Camped: Oldenburg Lake
The alternate trail skirts about a thousand feet of elevation gain and loss in relation to the standard trail. Which is nice but I’m a little tired of the lowland tunnel of burns and forests.
I pass an older couple having coffee at a campsite down the trail and we greet each other as I pass. I step off trail to let a crew of about 8 hikers pass. “We’re the hiking team” a German tells me as he passes. ‘What an absolute nightmare’ I think as I gag on the flurry of trail dust and continue alone in their wake. To each other own though.
I also pass a nice older man on horseback, a second horse in tow with what looks like one of those fancy canvas tent set-ups (are they fancy? I guess I would feel fancy in one anyway). “Have a good ride..er..walk” he hollers back at me.
When I get to the horse camp at Crescent Lake Gerry calls me over and shows me where to fill my water. She and her husband trail angel there for the hikers that take the alternate. From there I made my way to the Windy-Oldenburg trailhead and down to the shore to eat lunch and nap before continuing on. Crescent Lake was less than charming but the breeze kept the bugs away even in the shade and it was nice to relax for a while.
From there I continued on to Bingham Lakes and then Oldenburg Lake where I made an early camp to enjoy the sunshine and get some washing done before the coming storm rolled in.
I looked ahead at the trail and counted out my days moving at a leisurely pace until I’d reach the post office in Chemult to pick up my resupply. It will be a Sunday. I needed to kill time somewhere or count on blowing money I don’t have on a cheap hotel.
My feet are mostly healing up alright as I go. I have a cracked and bleeding callus but at least it doesnt hurt. Nothing a little body butter and Neosporin won’t clean up.
The lakeside is quiet and pretty as the sun sets over behind the trail. Weather allowing I’ll get a nice sunrise over the lake and while the breeze keeps up the mosquitoes aren’t much of a nuisance.
For dinner I choose a knorr sides package to get it out of the way. It’s cheddar broccoli rice and I happen to have dehydrated broccoli, Parmesan packets and real bacon crumbles from the hiker box to spruce it up with. Luckily I have enough powdered milk left over and I substitute the butter for olive oil. One of the pains of the knorr sides is that they take so long to cook. And in my small camp pot it usually burns. So I bring it to a low boil and when I hear and smell it beginning to burn I turn off the stove to let it soak. The pasta will be crunchy but meh the broccoli probably will be too. That’s just camp food. At least there’s some kind of texture.
Day 116 :: Storm Clouds and Crowded Trail
Miles Hiked: 9
Mile Camped: 778.4 SOBO
I wake to the orange glow of the sun rising and get up to relieve myself and take a picture of the mornings colors on the still lakes surface.
I return to my warm spot on the hard ground, my uninflated pad as my pillow and sleep a couple more hours.
I’m not looking forward to returning to the official trail. Most of the campsites noted are group sites. The few water sources are sure to be busy.
My anxiety around all things social has found me in the woods finally.
That afternoon as I walked I listened to another episode of Esther Perel’s podcast. I thought to myself (this is a thing I do every once in a while) “fifteen year old me would be pretty stoked about this.” Just as I was feeling all self satisfied about being the weirdo adult in the world that I’d never seen or heard of at that age but knew just -knew- must be out there… Esther hit me with a one liner that knocked the wind out of me. Literally. I doubled over sobbing and stumbled off trail heaving “ohhh oh my gooodddd” as I realized the whole new way in which I had found to act out a multigenerational fuck up. I stopped by Nip and Tuck Lakes and cried and wrote a bit and made some new agreements with myself. Honestly I think fifteen year old me would be pretty pleased with that also.
At the Windigo Road water cache there are battery banks to top up from. I stop to eat and plug in my bank.
Meanwhile the clouds have grown dark and the temperature has dropped. Ominous cracks and rumbles fill the sky above but so far the drama down here is at a minimum. It rains for a moment and the dark rumbling clouds are blown north.
Two folks have already set out for the spring seven miles down the trail. I won’t be heart broken to call the day early.
I started off as a group was discussing if they should take the alternate or not. I suppose a benefit of hiking with a crew is insulating yourself and the value of your choices with others of the same opinion with the same investments. I’ve watched a few crews come through while I waited for my bank to charge. Each had their own unanimous opinion on the alternate trail, alternates in general, true thru hiking, etc. One pair even went from “Oh no why would you listen to Coldplay?!” to “Don’t get me wrong they’re good, I like them and all just like..there are better bands ya know?” All for one and one for all!
I suppose I have to be sure of my own choices. I’m not always sure though. Am I missing an opportunity in not working harder for Canada? I don’t know. I don’t have the desire to reach Canada. That I’m sure of. I’m sure it means nothing to me and I’m sure I would be motivated to finish for the wrong reasons. Wrong because they wouldn’t be healthy reasons. It would be for acknowledgment or to be seen as valid, I’d go back to punishing myself for not accomplishing enough in the eyes of others. It wouldn’t matter that it meant nothing to me. And I guess I get frustrated and feel bad hearing the way people talk about the trail as if it’s all or nothing. As if the work I’m doing means nothing. And I don’t know why I’m so easily hurt in that way. I guess I feel like I never have the “right” goals.
It started to rain again as I walked up the ridge. It could have been a little miserable but there were nice viewing points to see the storm pouring over the mountains. The clouds blew through the trees and rolled down into the valley below. There were so many beautiful places to camp if I weren’t afraid of all the tall dead trees creaking in the gusts, their siblings shattered over the trail.
Across the trail three dead trees leaned against a tall living barrier to their own destruction. I watched its great trunk move with a creak and backed up. It creaked and moaned for several minutes and finally I gave up and quickly passed under, ready to run at the sound of wood popping beneath bark. But the tree remained steady.
My hands were getting cold and my bare legs were goose-pimpled. The campsite noted on my map turned out to be ringed by tall dead trunks and I turned into the storm and headed down the ridge to find the shelter of the living forest instead.
There wasn’t much of anything by way of level ground but I found a soft bit of hill nestled in some trees and pitched my tent before the next round of rainfall.
After getting my warm-dry’s on the first order of business was a cup of coco. Cooking inside your tent is pretty much 150% a No-No and I don’t do it often but I did it this time.
I made ramen I couldn’t finish, packed it away in my cold cold soaking container and had a few swings of wine to send me to sleep.
As I settled in a group of men apparently took up residence at the campsite up the hill. They talked loudly for at least an hour – eventually I put earplugs in and burrowed into my bag annoyed.
Day 117 :: Thielsen Creek
Miles Hiked: 18.9
Mile Camped: 797 SOBO // ~897 Boom
I awoke to a bright burst of lightening followed a couple seconds later by a rich crack of thunder. I watched and listened to the next few, counting out the distance. The storm was moving away from me so I fell back asleep easily.
At daylight it began to rain again but as long as my tent remained dry I was content with waiting for the storm to pass.
Around 8am warm sunlight was coming through the clouds and when I ripped back my rain fly I saw blue sky.
After a breakfast of tortilla and Nutella I was off. The sun sent steam rising up from the forest floor and pine needles heavy with last nights rain continued to fall softly through the forest.
After making days out of the low walk through Cascade Lakes it felt good to gain elevation and see the sky and mountains through the trees.
Approaching Six Horse Spring I sat to eat last nights dinner and determine if I did the short steep talk to water. I decided to push on to Lake Maidu six miles on.
The cool weather and cloud cover didn’t inspire much thirst and again at Maidu I determined i had enough water left and that I’d continue to Thielsen Creek.
As I walked it started to hail. Nothing that wasn’t practically routine by now: climb mountain, get hailed on, repeat.
This round I felt safe enough in the dense forest and as the sprinkling turned to a downpour I knew trying to sit it out would only result in being very cold. Onwards and upwards! I put on some honky tonk and set my gait long. I sang as I walked and bright flashes of dazzling lightening were followed by heart jolting cracks of thunder. I grinning as I sang and as I whipped around a corner I found a large man huddled under a tree attempting refuge from the storm. Given that he was in full rain garb and I in shorts and a desert shirt I nodded and passed by.
As I made it to the top of my climb the sky teased me with broken clouds, blue sky and a few errant rays of sunlight.
Steam rose off of rocks even as their shadows held a fresh white blanket of hail.
One last climb brought me to the meadow that boasted the tallest point of the Oregon stretch of the PCT. I imagine the view to be quite lovely on a clearer day.
From there I descended to Thielsen Creek in the shadow (presumably) of Mount Thielsen.
My cold inspired speed today placed me within 8miles of the highway by which I’ll hitch into Chemult come Monday morning. Hoping that the storm would finally pass and lend me a peek at the mountain who’s shoulders I pitched my tent on, I set about building a fire. I told myself I had one shot at it – my feet hurt and my knees were tired and I wasn’t going to kneel in the mud blowing on wet firewood all evening.
I gathered some dry kindling and sticks from beneath thick low hanging boughs along the ridge and sacrificed two journal pages to the cause.
It had been a while since I’d built a fire in the rain but like a true PNWer it was roaring in no time. I pulled off my outer socks and laid them on the rocks to dry and stretched my toes over the flames.
By six it strarted sprinkling again so I prepared for retreat and started to disperse the flames and coals I’d so proudly conjured.
I ate a cold dinner in my tent and finished the wine I packed out. The wind blew so hard I was concerned my tent would crumple at one point. I saw lightening but couldn’t hear it’s thunder over the wind and the rain pounding. I burrowed in my warm bag and tried to sleep through it.
At 12:30 I woke up and it was still raining. My tent was dry which was good news but I had to piss and couldn’t get back to sleep. Rather than soak my dry sleep clothes in the rain I opted for filling my cook pot from the warmth of my tent and tossing the contents out the door instead. I really ought to just pack a collapsible mug or something for specifically this purpose, lord knows it would get put to use.
While I’m up I sanitize and thread a blister that’s bothering me as well then burrow back into my bag eager to dream blue skied morning into a reality but I hear a crashing rockslide on the mountain as I lay restless instead.
Day 118 :: HWY 138
Miles Hiked: 8.3
Mile Camped: N Crater Trailhead off 805.3 SOBO
The warmth of sun woke me and I immediately opened my door to see if it was a momentary break in the clouds or the start of a beautiful day.
My blue skies had been summoned and I spent the morning drying my tent and socks and sandals.
At 11:30 I finally got moving after filling my reservoir from the cold clear glacial creek crossing the trail. After a short climb the ridgeline looked out over Diamond Lake from the foothills of Thielsen and I passed a few day hikers heading for the summit.
At 1:30 I broke for lunch and while quietly munching in the sun off-trail a NoBo hiker came scrambling off trail dodging behind a tree 15ft in front of me. They squatted and peed.
The emergency pee. I know the look well. I remained focused on my tuna wrap and we didn’t acknowledge each other. To be fair about 500 miles back I asked Grown when everyone was gonna be adult enough to just drop trow in front of each other mid conversation already.
The last 5 miles flew and between the dirt road cache and the highway I passed a couple with a dog….they looked so familiar but I hadn’t met anyone with a dog like that…
“Boomhauer?!”
“Oh shit!”
It was Princess Bubblegum and Loose Cannon They hadn’t had a dog when we met and I most certainly did know them. We chatted a moment and all laughed about how we were too busy having fun to finish this year.
Their pup, Biscuit, was eager to get to it so we wished each other well and parted ways again.
At the highway there were a couple exposed spots but I knew there was a pit toilet and picnic tables 1/4 mile off at the N Crater Trailhead so I backtracked towards the simple comforts of an established campground.
I gathered firewood and made a list of town errands – then I spotted a Fire Ban sign at the parking lot entrance. Dismayed I retreated to my tent and got stoned on a hiker box pre-roll then set about scoping out the trail ahead from bed in lieu of fireside…there’s an alluring drop through more lake country where I could kill a day or two, have easy access to water in what would otherwise be a dry stretch and reach Medford mid-week… but it cuts out what looks to be potentially some of the best looking ridge walking I’ve seen in miles… I’ll have to look into it when I get to WiFi. I factor in both options in my notes. Because I’m stoned.
Makes toootal sense, right?
A couple of other hikers come in and set up. I don’t understand why everyone wants to be close all the damn time. There’s no one else camping here but they … whatever. It’s fine. I’m fine.
On the agenda for Chemult is:
*Locate WiFi (McDonald’s, Flying J or maybe library) and update blog, download music and podcasts, look up trail info, check in with folks, check on REI return
*Pick up resupply at Post Office
*Charge power banks and do laundry and mayyyybe shower at RV park?
*Fill in any blanks in resupply
*Maybe eat a whole pizza or something else indulgent and rewarding to mark my first 100 miles hiking completely solo.
Day 119 :: Chemult
In the morning I’m woken by a southern drawl shouting about biscuits. I’m in no state to interact with human being so I keep hiding in my tent. Eventually I compose myself and find Wonder and her parents eating breakfast. They hand out sausage biscuit sandwiches and instant coffee mix. They’ve come from Jasper, Georgia to see their daughter on her hike southbound and to explore Crater Lake.
They have a really smart arrangement that I made note of where Wonder would plan out a few days or weeks for them to plug into whatever she was doing but at their own speed. So for this trip she made arrangements for an Air B&B and let them know where and when to meet her so they could slack pack her and take the Rim Drive and do some lighter hiking and whatnot. When she was hiking Scotland they would go a number of miles alongside her and then she would give them all the information to catch a bus to her endpoint so they could travel in tandem without having to keep up with her big miles. I thought that was very sweet and incredibly smart.
They took off to drop her off at the Highway crossing while I was packing up and I felt bad I didn’t get to thank them again for their kindness but lo and behold they were sitting there waiting for me when I reached the Highway a few minutes later and gave me a ride into Chemult before heading down to Crater Lake Park. We talked about travels and hitch hiking (which parents love to talk to me about) and I assured them it’s actually no more dangerous than literally anything else you do as a woman in the world which isn’t actually reassuring when you think about it …but I’m usually out of the car by the time that part sinks in.
When I arrived at the post office I was told I did not have a package there so I reached out to Caiti and a Pug to try to sort out what I’d gotten wrong and set about my other errands in the meantime.
Pug and Caiti were as dumbfounded about the package as I was so I did an assessment of my supplies and the miles ahead and determined that I could make it to Mazama on what I had and attempt another hiker box resupply from there to Medford where there should definitely be a box waiting.
The Trailer park down the street had a laundromat so I posted up and made use of an outlet to charge my power banks while I waited. That knocked out the 2/3 of my most time consuming errands on my list. Next I stopped into the Flying J to see about showers. $15 – ouch. But no time limit? Well. Okay.
It was glorious.
I mean honestly. It would have been alright if I didn’t have my own soap and conditioner to supplement the dispenser but still. There was an outlet to keep charging and a sink and endless hot water with great water pressure and it was CLEAN. Plus the wall mounted fan kiiiiiind of gave me a low key blowout while I dicked around on the free internet. I spent an hour and half in there. The only reason I even left was because I was starving.
So I made my way next door to…a closed cafe. Then I walked down to the dive bar/diner/motel at the entrance to town. I’d usually be all about a joint like this but my appetite was clearly gonna exceed my expectations and for once in my life I didn’t want to sit around drinking waiting on a nibble…I wanted to get back on the gosh darn!
But I had a beer. And I chilled.
The wait was long and killed my chances of getting a hitch before dark but the burger was decent and they house made a bomb ranch dressing. And it beat the hell out of Subway which was the only other eatery in town.
The Flying J provides when you’re traveling without means. Bulking up the ghost of a food carry I had and a night of shitty coffee and blog updating followed by napping by a CRATER filled with WATER and ITS OWN MOUNTAIN sounded pretty alright anyway. It also broke up my hiking plan in a more desirable way. Plus it made me think of chugging coffee all night at a Whattaburger in Texarkana while hitching cross country with Stella about a million too many years ago. And that’s a funny memory to revisit.
Tonight we chug coffee! And tomorrow?! We crawl nine miles into a massive crater and crasssshhhhhhhhhh!!!!
Leave A Reply