Day Ninety Eight

Today's miles: 25
Total miles: 2051

Feeling motivated, our original plan this morning was to cover 28 miles, for two reasons: one, Portland was two days off and we were hoping to arrive before lunch, and two, we still wanted to catch up with Wocka and Giddyup. We thought they were still only four or five miles ahead of us, assuming they had been doing 25 mile days, but we also knew that they were trying to catch Mudd, Dingo and Sneaks, who were at least ten miles in front of them.

It was always frustrating trying to catch people on trail with no way to contact them. The only opportunities we had for communication were by leaving notes on trail for each other, but even then, only the people at the front could leave notes for those behind them, and not vice versa. In this way it was easy to spend a whole week trying to chase someone, often to no avail (as Sunshine and Treekiller learned while trying to catch Katie and I from Ashland to Crater Lake).

At any rate, 28 miles turned out to be a highly ambitious goal, but we didn't realize that until later in the afternoon. Sunshine, Treekiller and I woke up at 6:00 in time to see the sunrise over Mt. Jefferson. It was a beautiful way to start the morning. We praised our wonderful campsite and I joked that, "too bad Mt. Jefferson is totally blocking the view."

The first few miles were through old growth forest and very beautiful. We stopped for our second breakfast break near a small pond with another great view of the mountain. We ran into a few weekend backpackers who were fascinated by our story of the PCT. These days, it's fun to see people's reactions when they ask us the usual question: when did you start?
We say, April.
heir eyes get wide as they do mental math and realize that was four months ago!
We smile proudly in reply. And 2,000 miles.

We reached a glacial river early in the afternoon and debated whether or not to take lunch. There was a ten mile climb coming up and we ultimately decided to push on to the next river so that we could get half the climb done before eating. We took a long break, and it was time enough for our friend Tears for Beers to catch up with us. She was usually hiking with Toots Magoots, but said they were a day apart from each other and would meet up again at Timberline. Together the four of us tackled the climb, which turned out to be no piece of cake. The elevation gain was exhausting and seemingly endless. One thing I have noticed about Oregon is that although most of the terrain is flat-ish and rolling, the parts that are uphill do not have switchbacks. California was nothing but switchbacks, which is why it took 500 miles to get from Mexico to barely Los Angeles, but in 500 miles you could do the entire state of Oregon. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Faster but more tiresome.

After five miles of climbing we reached our second glacial river - Milk Creek - which turned out to be a very difficult ford. It was raging and rocky, and glacial rivers are very silty so it was difficult to distinguish how deep the water was. It took us quite some time to find a good spot to cross, and even longer to carefully rock-hop our way across it. I worried about falling into the whitewater on several different occasions, but safely made it across. We didn't even get back on trail to find a good spot to eat; at that point we were starving and simply plopped down on the rocks and pulled out our food bags.

Sunshine's favorite habit at water sources was to take baths, and after today's hot climb he was more than eager to get wet. He let out his usual call, "GETTING NAKED!" and stripped down to his boxers to rinse off his shirt and shorts. We laughed and cat called like we always did and gobbled down our lunches.

We finished our ten mile climb in the late afternoon, and the trail finally leveled out into Jefferson Park, which was a beautiful stretch of green valleys and budding wildflowers with the snowy north side of the mountain rising stoically in the backdrop. I soaked in the views while mentally calculating hours, miles and distance. It was a constant game I played with myself all day: multiplying, dividing, and calculating miles per hour, distance covered and distance remaining to keep myself on track. Today I could already tell that we were falling behind. But it was hard to be frustrated while walking through such beautiful landscape.

I ran into more dayhikers in this area, and found myself behind a father-son backpacking pair at one point, moving slowly along the trail northward. I was a bit baffled, for I couldn't figure out how they had gotten ahead of me. Before I could announce my presence behind them, I heard the ten year old son sigh heavily and say to his father, "so dad, how long would you say you've been holding the map upside down?"
I couldn't help laughing.

Sunshine, Treekiller, Tears and I stopped at a crystal-clear stream for a break before tackling our final steep climb. I had too much caffeine in my system and was practically running up the slope, which only made me feel hungry and exhausted. I was running low on food and rationing, so by the time I got to the top of the hill I tried to eat a granola bar slathered in peanut butter as slowly as I could. I heard someone catch up to me and thought it was Sunshine, but to my surprise saw Sneaks coming over the ridge.
I was stunned speechless. "What... what...how..."
Before I could form a cognitive thought, Mudd, Dingo and Coincidence showed up right behind him. And for days I had thought they were fifteen to twenty miles ahead of us!
"What the hell, Sneaks!" I cried.
He started laughing.
"We ended up taking another zero in Bend after you left," Sneaks explained. "But we haven't told Wocka and Giddyup yet because we want to surprise them. They still think we're ahead, right?"
"Yes," I said. "They're about five miles ahead of us, as best we can figure."
"Five miles!" Dingo looked delighted. "We're totally going to catch them."
Sneaks, Mudd, Dingo and Coincidence had a habit of doing big mileage days and hiked quite fast, so I had no doubt they would catch Wocka and Giddyup faster than we would.
"Keep in mind they're hiking fast trying to catch you, though," I pointed out. "They might be doing higher mileage days than we have."
"True," Sneaks frowned. "I kind of thought we'd catch them sooner than this, too. We're already a few days out of town and haven't gotten much closer."
I rolled my eyes and laughed, enjoying the company of old friends, at least.

When Sunshine and Treekiller caught up, we had a mini-reunion and turned to see where the trail would take us next. We were at the top of a ridge, about to descend the northside into a field of snow. Treekiller peered through the trees across an open expanse of terrain and said, "look, I see Mt. Hood!"
We all scrambled to look in the same direction, and gaped in delighted awe at the mountain towering in the distance. Mt. Hood. I didn't think it would strike me so poignantly, but it did. Here was the mountain that represented home, the mountain I had spent many summers and falls and winters hiking, backpacking, skiing, and gazing upon. And here it was, practically within touching distance. I was almost home. I had almost walked home from Mexico! It was a thrilling thought.

At that point it was already 6:00pm and we had at least five miles to go. Though exhausted, we pushed on and were glad the terrain was mostly downhill from there. Walking through the snow reminded me of crossing the mountain passes of the Sierras, and a strange nostalgia struck me. It seemed so long ago.

My pace slackened and I found myself walking the last few miles behind Treekiller, hugging his heels as the sky darkened to black and it grew more and more difficult to see. We reached Upper Lake at 8:30pm and set up camp in the dark, our small group now a little larger.

Day Ninety Seven

Today's miles: 24
Total miles: 2026

Sunshine and I were determined to meet back up with Treekiller, Wocka and Giddyup, even though they were a few miles ahead of us, so we got up early and hiked out of Big Lake Youth Camp in time to find TK packing up his gear on trail an hour later. Wocka and Giddyup supposedly had gone another four miles last night, but though we hiked as quickly as we could, they were early risers and we knew we wouldn't catch them. This is one of those strange trail phenomenons that always baffles me. There have been many times that good friends of mine have been hiking no more than three or four miles away from me for a whole week, but I will never see them on trail because our paces are so similar. It's always funny reaching town and realizing how close we were together for so long without knowing it.

Early in the day we crossed Santiam Pass and found a note left by Mudd, Dingo and Sneaks to Coincidence. We figured they must have gotten back on trail yesterday at this point and were at least twenty miles ahead of us unless they slowed their pace to let us catch up.

There was a climb after crossing the pass, into burned and stunted trees and under the heat of the day. Treekiller, Sunshine and I moved slowly, and I stopped to wait for them at snack breaks. The views of the mountains in the distance were beautiful, and even if it was hot I was relieved to have sunshine instead of rain.

The rest of today's terrain was fairly easy, so we cruised along at different paces, listening to podcasts all afternoon to pass the time. Oregon's terrain, overall, is much easier than California's, and I find that easy walking leads very quickly to boredom (even with pretty views.) So I have been listening to a lot of RadioLab lately and it helps pass the time.

I've noticed that easier terrain has different effects on different people, though. While I found myself getting bored, Treekiller found himself losing motivation. Sometimes when we stopped for breaks he would sigh and say he wished the hike was over already. I did my best to cheer him up, because he became solemn and moody when he said things like this, and I knew we still had a long way to go before we were finished. Still, some of the points he said struck home. Today while taking a break beside a lake and enjoying a view of Three Fingered Jack, Treekiller said,
"Don't you find it strange how hiking has become more of a thing we have to do than what we want to do?"
I had thought about this a lot, too. In the beginning, thru-hiking was so novel and different that it just felt like a really long weekend backpacking trip, taking it slow and trying to enjoy each step. But these days, hiking was so ingrained, so automatic, so normal, that it had become our job instead of our hobby. We woke up, we hiked, we slept. Some people went to 8-5:00 day jobs; we hiked. Granted, we were getting really good at it, but it was still just something that we did. A means to an end. A path to a goal that always sits just out of reach.
"I mean... there are people who come to this area to spend five days backpacking here," Treekiller continued. "And we can do this whole stretch in one afternoon!"
"That's true," I agreed. "I've been wanting to backpack the Three Sisters Wilderness for a few years... to take a long weekend and spend time enjoying the scenery. And we just hiked all of it without even noticing...."
"And how did we do it? Listening to podcasts and trying to cover as many miles as possible," he said.
I laughed. "That's because to a weekend hiker, this section is all you get to enjoy, so you walk maybe ten miles a day and enjoy the fact that you're not working. As a thru-hiker, hiking is working. As much as I hate to admit it, the terrain starts to look the same... you take it in, you enjoy it fleetingly, and then you move on. Life is always moving forward."
Still, it was strange realizing how much we had changed in just a few short months. I had noticed this on my trip to France, too. It had taken me a few days to get out of the move, move, move, hike more miles mindset and into the take time and enjoy the trip mindset. As a thru-hiker on a time schedule, it was a difficult adjustment.

We continued onward, and throughout the morning, I was hiking in front, trying to decide when to stop for lunch. Lately I had really been enjoying taking the lead of our small hiking group. Sunshine and Treekiller were both strong, steady hikers, but they walked a constant speed, whereas I tended to speed up when the terrain was nicer, so I often found myself in front. I discovered I really liked this arrangement. Instead of feeling like I was constantly chasing after faster hikers, often driving myself to hunger and crankiness to stay at their pace, now I had control over when we stopped or hiked. I knew how terrible it was to be at the whim of other's paces, though, so when I was leading I stopped like clockwork every five miles (or two hours) for a break and stopped around 11:30-12 for lunch so that Sunshine and Treekiller had time to catch up without getting too hungry in the meantime.

Today I found a beautiful ridgeline to stop along, offering a gorgeous view of Mt. Jefferson. While I waited for the boys to catch up, I ran through my daily lunch chores: take off shoes, pull out sit pad, lay out tent and ground tarp to dry in the sun, pull out food bag and carefully prep my lunch, filter water into my Gatorade bottle and add a drink mix.

When the boys reached me, we enjoyed our lunch with a view and were soon joined by two more new faces. The first was a 78 year old named Hard Tack who was working on completing a thru-hike that he started a few years ago. His official ending point was Cascade Locks, at the border of Washington, and we were inspired that someone at his age was so proudly and effortlessly hiking the PCT. I hope I'm that cool when I'm 78.

Our second visitor introduced himself as Cuddles, and when he said his name, Treekiller responded in surprise, "oh, you're the cello player!"
I realized I had heard of Cuddles, too. He was an infamous hiker on the trail - I had been hearing about him since early on in the desert. He was a professional cello player and had brought his cello along on the trail. He wasn't carrying it, of course, but he bounced it forward from town to town as he walked, and when he arrived in town, he would give pre-arranged cello concerts for the citizens and hikers. Pretty cool.

After lunch with our new friends, we tackled a few more steep hills and exposed ridgelines. We had a tough climb later in the day that wore me out, and I stopped beside Rockpile Lake with Hard Tack to take a break. He was camping for the night there, though I wanted to push further. We had calculated that if we did at least 25 miles a day, we would be in Portland in three days, so we were trying to stick to that schedule as best as possible. I think all of us were excited about reaching Washington, and I was excited about reaching home.

While I waited for Sunshine and Treekiller, I sat with Hard Tack and talked with him. As it turned out, Hard Tack was a fascinating person to talk to. He had done so much with his life that I couldn't help asking hundreds of questions: he had biked around the world with TwoBadDogs a few years back, visiting 48 different countries in one year. He had been to base camp of Everest and bunjii jumped from the highest bridge in South Africa. He had kayaked off 23 foot waterfalls and visited nearly every famous landmark in the world. When I asked him what his favorite place in the world was, he said he adored both New Zealand and seeing the Terracotta warriors in China. Every question I asked him brought up some new story - but he was modest, kind and humble about his adventures. I was envious on so many levels, but also in awe at how many of these things he had done later in his life. It was a thoroughly engaging conversation.

Sunshine and Treekiller reached the lake at 5:00 and we discussed trying to make it another five miles before dark. We said goodbye to Hard Tack as we packed up.
"What's your name again?" he asked me.
"Bramble," I told him.
"I'm going to call you Sherpani," he said. "a female Sherpa. A Nepalese adventurer."
I hoped to see him again - in Cascade Locks, perhaps, to celebrate a great achievement for him.
Our last five miles were more difficult than expected. There were very short, very steep climbs out of the lake basin and as exhausted as I was, I was having a hard time making my legs move uphill. Each bend of the trail brought a new beautiful view, and in the fading sunlight it was a gorgeous walk. I found the perfect campsite after four miles, overlooking the majestic Mt. Jefferson. I already had my tent pitched by the time the boys caught me, and the reason for their delay quickly became obvious: Sunshine held an entire bag full of huckleberries he had picked along the trail. We cooked dinner in front of our lovely view and agreed that it was one of our best campsites so far on trail.

Day Ninety Six

Today's miles: 25
Total miles: 2002

We had a goal for today: to make it to McKenzie Pass (12 miles) by lunchtime so we could meet up with Wocka Wocka and Giddyup. They had gotten off at McKenzie Pass two days ago for Bend and would be getting back on trail today. We hoped we would catch them so we could hike with them again, as they had been behind us for most of Oregon. Sneaks, Mudd and Dingo would be getting back on trail at Santiam Pass today (20 miles further) and promised to hike a little slower so that we could try and catch up with them, too. Katie had gotten back on trail yesterday from Santiam Pass, so she was still a good distance ahead of us, trying to make it closer to Portland so that Bryan could pick her up for a wedding she had to attend in a week. We assumed we would meet up with her again afterward.

Sunshine, Treekiller and I accidentally slept in until 7 this morning and didn't get on trail until 8. There were lots of short, steep climbs this morning over beautiful lava flows, and my dissipating sore throat was still lingering enough to make it hard to breathe as I summited. Still, I found myself hiking faster than both Sunshine and Treekiller, and after our first break Treekiller waved me forward, saying,
"You first, Brambs. We'll follow."
The terrain was stark, rocky and beautiful, and so unlike anything we had been hiking that it was hard not to stop and stare. We traversed over hardened lava flows and paused to admire the rolling mountains in the distance. It was cold and overcast today but thankfully not raining.

We hadn't passed many hikers since leaving Elk Lake, but today I rounded a corner near a water source and heard a distinctive voice carrying over the trail.
"Two Bad Dogs!"  I yelled, running to where they were chatting beside a lake.
"BRAMBLE!" Art yelled back, both he and Lynn giving me big hugs. I hadn't seen them in so long (since Etna?) They were always so excited to see me, and likewise I loved reuniting with my favorite birding couple.
We chatted for a bit, and I was glad that they would again be hiking near us for a while.

We made good time and expected to be at McKenzie Pass just after lunch, hopefully not too late that Wocka and Giddyup would leave without us. Unfortunately, the last couple miles before the pass were surprising: we were walking directly through a lava flow. The trail was completely covered in fist-sized rocks and jagged boulders. We had to slow our pace to carefully pick through the terrain, and though we could hear the traffic from the road ahead, the trail meandered maddeningly back and forth for miles. Finally we crested a hilltop and could see the road below, a short stretch of lava keeping us from getting there any faster. And lo and behold, we could see a parked car and Wocka and Giddyup waiting for us!
"WOOOOOO!" Treekiller and I began whooping down to them, and they hollered back to us. Sunshine rounded the corner behind us and caught sight of our friends, as well.
"WOCKA! GIDDYUP!" he shrieked. "I WOULD RUN TO YOU BUT THERE ARE ROCKS!"
And so we slowly made our way to them, gave each other big hugs, and enjoyed a little bit of trail magic (in the form of Gatorade!) from the driver of the car.

After a quick lunch break, the five of us hiked out together over another stretch of lava rock. This stretch was much longer and rockier, and to keep myself from going crazy I put in my headphones and listened to some podcasts. For once I was happy that it was overcast, because trying to walk this stretch on a sunny day would be brutally hot: there were no trees, no shade, no soft terrain, only miles and miles of lava rock. It hurt the feet and was slow going, despite the interesting views. To pass the time, as we moved through the miles, we joked that we were also moving through years: 1990, 1991, 1992. Treekiller and I took trips down memory lane at each mile.
"1992. I was eight," I said.
"Eight? I was a freshman in high school," Treekiller groaned.
It was fun to walk through my childhood in this fashion.

After escaping the lava flow, our paces spread us out from each other, and after seventeen miles I found myself walking alone. I was in need of a break, and heard voices in the distance, which made me hopeful that Wocka and Giddyup had stopped for a snack. When I rounded the corner I discovered more than that: there were two hikers playing ukeleles and seven other hikers were sitting around them listening to the impromptu concert.

Dumbfounded, I stopped to stare, and Wocka gestured for me to sit down. I did, soon joined by Treekiller and Sunshine, and learned that our two ukelele players were named Moose and Bandaid and that they were hiking southbound, stopping to give small concerts to hikers who passed. We listened to them play for almost a full hour, requesting songs and cheering loudly at the end of each. I found myself smiling as I listened, for only on the PCT was it possible to have an impromptu ukelele concert in the middle of our hiking day and still manage to hike a marathon.

We reluctantly bid the band goodbye and sent them on their way, soon afterward reaching a very exciting milestone: 2,000 miles! We celebrated with tiny bottles of champagne and a few pictures, besides. We only had one mile left for the day and it was still pretty early. Sunshine and I wanted to visit the Big Lake Youth Camp, which was only a little bit off trail, but Wocka, Giddyup and Treekiller decided they wanted to hike a little further. We promised to catch up with them tomorrow.

Sunshine and I hiked down to the camp, where we heard the staff was very friendly and sometimes fed hikers meals during their camp season. The camp was a Seventh Day Adventist Camp for kids and was very well maintained - it had beautiful cabins, neatly tended grounds, and a lovely lake for boats. When we arrived, though, the camp looked very empty. We wandered into the main hall and went through their hiker box, which had some good meals that Sunshine added to his pack. We bumped into Two Bad Dogs and two hikers named Safety First and Rhymenocerous, who said they had found a staff member who was trying to rustle up some food for them. We joined them in the mess hall - dinner had been served a few hours earlier, but the nice staff member went through her kitchen and brought us out all her leftovers: delicious stir fry, vegetables, breads, and jellies. We were beside ourselves and voiced our thanks over and over.
"Oh my God," I groaned as I gobbled up the stir fry. "I can't believe TK is missing this. He's going to be so jealous."
"Seriously," Sunshine agreed. "This is amazing. I'm totally going to be a born-again-whatever-this-religion-is!"

For a while we contemplated charging our phones, eating dinner and then hiking out to join up with Treekiller, Wocka and Giddyup. But as the night grew later and darker, Sunshine and I decided to stay at the camp. As it turned out, instead of setting up tents, the staff let us stay in one of the cabins since they didn't have any campers this week. Delighted, Sunshine, TwoBadDogs and I took over one of the cabins and enjoyed a hot shower before falling asleep in our own little bunk bed. Heaven.

Day Ninety Five

Today's miles: 18
Total miles: 1977

Sunshine and I woke up at 8 this morning. Treekiller had gone out to karaoke last night after we came home, and when we woke up this morning, his mattress on the floor was still empty. We found him passed out on the couch upstairs and discovered that he had been out until 6:00am this morning, had walked home, and had fallen asleep for a few hours in the living room.

Scooter drove the three of us back to Elk Lake Resort at 10 and we began hiking north. First days back on trail are always a struggle, and today even more so. Treekiller was battling sleep deprivation, Sunshine was battling sore feet and ankles, and I was still trying to get over the last of my sore throat. To make matters worse, the weather had changed from overcast to ominously overcast, and within an hour, the sky opened up and began raining. We trudged along beneath the rain; the day was so dark that I would have guessed it was evening rather than early afternoon.

After six miles we stopped beside Mirror Lake for a snack break and kept a close eye on the weather, which was fluctuating between clearing up and getting much worse. Unfortunately, it didn't take long to get much worse. We ran along the trail as quickly as possible, getting soaked even in our rain gear. I had always dismissed the idea of carrying rain pants while backpacking, since they "made me too hot" and my regular hiking pants "dried quickly anyway." But today I discovered why rain pants may not have been such a bad idea: the rain was freezing.

My hiking pants were soon soaked through, my mesh trail runners were drenched, and even walking at a fast pace, I couldn't keep my teeth from chattering. I knew unless the weather cleared up, it would be difficult for my clothes to dry enough to keep me warm, and I worried about catching hypothermia. The rain grew harder and harder, and we ran into a park ranger on the trail who said we were getting caught in a pretty big thunderstorm cell, and that we should try to wait it out in a safe spot. Unfortunately, there is little to no shelter on the PCT, and on this stretch in particular. We were in an open field that supposedly had a beautiful view of the Three Sisters mountains in the distance, but today was obscured by dark clouds.

Sunshine and I, having previously discovered each other's hatred for being caught in thunderstorms, found a spot to sit on our packs and hide under his piece of Tyvek. Treekiller hiked ahead, and all around us the lightning cracked and the thunder rolled and the hail poured down. I was miserable, but I tried laughing about it with Sunshine, the two of us joking that we always seemed to be hiding under a small piece of Tyvek together whenever the weather turned bad. Fortunately, the worst of the storm didn't last long, and when the thunder disappeared in the distance, we kept hiking.

I was even colder now, having been pelted by cold rain and hail while sitting. I hiked as quickly as I could to warm up, but my fingers were turning blue and I was still wracked by shivers. The rain slowed and I took my mind off my physical anguish by trying to admire the scenery. We were in a stunningly beautiful stretch of trail, full of open valleys and dark lava flows. The rocks shone with deep colors through the golden grasses: dark umber, blood orange, chestnut and maroon. I would love to revisit this stretch someday in better weather.

The rain slowly cleared up and my clothes began to dry, which warmed me up. As I rounded one corner a few hours later, I noticed Sunshine ahead of me talking with another hiker who appeared to be going southbound. I couldn't hear them from this distance, but I saw Sunshine light up and reach out his hand to shake the other man's. Curious, I approached and as I grew nearer, Sunshine turned to me and cried, "Brambles! This is Scott Williamson!"

Ok, side note: unless you're a thru-hiker or someone who loves keeping up with thru-hiking athletes, you probably don't know who Scott Williamson is. But to someone hiking the trail, the man is a god. He was the first person to ever thru-hike the PCT in one season. He was the first person to ever yo-yo the trail in one season (ie - do it twice, first northbound, then southbound!) and then did it AGAIN the next season. Until this year, when a female hiker named Anish broke the speed record for the PCT in 60 days, Scott Williamson held the title for fastest unsupported thru-hike. He has hiked the PCT, AT, and the CDT, earning him the "triple crown" award. He knows the PCT like the back of his hand - he has walked its length something like 14 times over. He's 45 years old but still kicking ass.

So, needless to say, when Sunshine told me who he was talking to, I was a bit stunned. It's not every day you meet a world-class athlete and thru-hiking hero on trail.
We chatted with Scott Williamson for a while; he was hiking southbound trying to beat Anish's record, and told us that since leaving the Canadian border he had only encountered six hours where it wasn't raining.
"Great," we groaned. We had no desire to spend our last month on trail soaking wet, but we were hopeful it wouldn't last.
We wished Scott well and hiked on feeling rather elated, overall. Sunshine, giddy with the encounter, took a photo of the back of Scott's head walking away, and me grinning like a maniac.

We originally wanted to cover about 21 miles today, but the weather slowed us down. By late afternoon we knew we wouldn't make it that far. I found myself hiking much faster than both Sunshine and Treekiller, so I stopped now and again to wait up for them. We reached Obsidian Falls by evening and learned we weren't allowed to camp any closer to it than we were, so we found a flat campsite nearby and pitched our tents for the evening. It wasn't raining but everything was wet and cold and I woke up several times in the night to hear raindrops on my tent fly.