Saturday, September 7
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| Gear for my first trip (giant tent on the left!) |
I went on my first ever backpacking trip this past Sunday
night--Wednesday. I had my Marmot Traillight tent, a fleece blanket (no
sleepingbag/quilt yet), headlamp, map, compass, knife, basic food, water
and iodine tablets with neutralizer in a borrowed pack. I brought rope
thinking I'd practice tying up a bear bag, but never quite got around to
that.
I hiked in about 3 miles with my friend Paul, and set up for
the night. We tried briefly to light a fire with some moss soaked in
blister pine sap, but the wood was too damp, or we were too
inexperienced at fire building, and dinner was eaten without a fire. I
was just fine with this. I'm debating whether I want to bring a cooking
system at all on the trail...but I'm getting ahead of myself.
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| So many mushrooms on this hike |
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| Mt. Hood |
We
hiked sobo from Lolo Pass down to Ramona Falls, and I carried all of my
own gear, including the whole tent. I wanted to see what it was like
with a 20+ lb (guestimate) pack. We got a few strange looks from folks
who saw me with the big pack and Paul with a small backpack looking like
a day hiker. We looped back to Lolo Pass taking the Muddy Creek trail,
offering the opportunity for several water crossings. I'm going to have
to work on those--it took us almost an hour to hike one mile over two
forks of the river because we had to follow them quite a ways to find an
easy place to cross on rocks. I think my preferred method may be
stripping off shoes and socks and wading. It seems safer than jumping
from slippery rock to slippery rock.
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| Ramona Falls |
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| This is where we crossed two parts of Muddy Fork River. Mt. Hood is hiding behind those clouds. |
I was pretty worn out and
sore by the time we got back to Lolo Pass. The last 3 miles were pretty
tough for me, and I was frustrated not to have gone further.
Paul
went back to the city and I set up camp with a handful of thru-hikers at
the campsite near the road. It's funny how physically tired I was, but
how mentally awake I felt at the same time. I wrote a bit, read a bit of
Thirty-Nine Steps from my 101 Classics app, and finally fell asleep.
I
dreamt of giant waffles at my friend Jefferson's house, and I tried to
explain to him that I was actually hiking the PCT, so if he would just
share the waffles, they wouldn't actually get eaten. I then explained I
had to go because it was snowing. I woke up a bit shivery in my slightly
inadequate blanket on the ground, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
My subconscious is already working like a thru hiker's, craving the town food!
Shortly
after I woke up the next morning a lovely lady came over and asked if I
could jump her car, as they'd drained the battery listening to the
radio the night before. Little did I know I was doing a little trail magic for Legend, who was hiking this section with Not Dead Yet and
his older sister while Legend's mom drove and met them at campsites each
night! Legend was a wealth of information and started to make me wonder
if I could hike the PCT sooner rather than later.
I packed up
camp, ate half the blueberry muffin given to me by Legend's mom as a
thank you, and started off. I caught up with everyone north of the pass
having a break. Chatted with them and a few other thru hikers. I was
starting to seriously consider how to make the PCT happen. In light of
this, I opted not to take the Lost Lake loop and keep on the PCT
instead. Who cares if I run out of map, right?
Later that day I
leap-frogged a bit with Hops and John. They were much much faster than
me of course, but took the time to chat a bit and Hops asked for my
contact info so he could help if I needed anything in the Oregon stretch
next year! Who knew strangers could be so wonderful to each other.
Just
before Indian Springs campground I witnessed my second bit of trail
magic, although this was the first time I knew what it was called.
Sidhartha and Kelsey had showed up on the trail with a cooler of beer
and sparkling water for hikers! I got a royal welcome and sipped a beer
while chatting with everyone. Kelsey is class of 2014 too! So many signs
were pointing me towards making this happen.
I decided to go on
past Indian Springs campground after all and continue to Eagle Creek.
Having run out of map about 6 miles ago, I got some directions and
headed along. Due to a poor concept of right and left (it's just never
been something I've gotten the hang of), I ended up on the road instead
of the trail. As Sidhartha drove down from the trail magic site he took
pity on my and offered to drop me off at Wahtum lake. I protested,
saying it was cheating, but he pointed out it wasn't my thru year and I
acquiesced.
Everyone has their own story and their own reason for
hitting the trail. Hearing a little of Sidhartha's on the short ride
made me realize how similar my journey of the last three years has been,
and how important this hike could be for me.
I met up with Kelsey
and her hiking companion, as well as one of the thru hikers from camp
the night before at Wahtum Lake. Everyone was unsure where Eagle Creek
was or the PCT was at that point, but luckily I'd been on a day hike and
could point is at least onto the PCT, which isn't as scenic, but gets
the job done. They passed me up and I was on my own again, which was
lovely. I had lots of thinking to do.
I found a beautiful place to
camp on an overlook point. It was just big enough for my tent. I set up
and reclined on the edge of the rocks, looking out over the valley and
at Rainer and the other peaks. It was a beautiful place for reflection.
The
next day I headed off, and realized I should have gotten water at
Wahtum Lake even though it was a few steps out of the way. I was down to
a few gulps of water and had a 12 mile day to get to Cascade Locks, as
Sidhartha offered me a ride back to Lolo Pass if I made it there, and
that sounded much more appealing than retracing my steps back. I came to
a campground that had a windbreak built in the midst of what looked
like a controlled burn area. There was a sign pointing south to Eagle
Creek trail that someone had added "water" to. I headed down, thinking I
might get on that trail after all, and I at least needed water.
The
only water I could find was a small puddle a mile down the trail, and
decided that couldn't be what people were referring to, so I kept
hiking. The trail was not as well maintained as the others I'd been on,
and there were downed trees to scramble over or army crawl under. My
right foot was starting to hurt me, so I stopped to check it and
reconsider my plan. The medical tape I had wrapped around the ball of my
foot to keep a cut (acquired climbing waterfalls bear foot a few weeks
prior) from reopening was causing a blister on the top of my foot and
was tighter than I had realized. I cut the top and hoped for the best. I
also decided to head back, despite that adding about four miles to my
day. A mile up hill climbing over and under the same logs, worried a bit
about my lack of water, I came back to the puddle. Upon further
inspection, I realized I could climb up the hill and find where a
trickle of water was enough to fill my water bottles. Once I got that done, I felt a bit better about the day and headed northbound again,
getting back on the PCT.
I hadn't seen anyone all day, and had
only heard something that sounded mammalian in the underbrush a ways off
when I was on my detour. This continued pretty much all day, with the
exception of a solo runner, whom I may have hallucinated. The trees were
getting monotonous, I was sore, a bit frustrated by the morning detour,
and getting a sizable blister on my right inner heel, presumably from
walking strangely due to the pain in the front of my foot. I plodded on
though.
Seven miles from my final destination, I started the
downhill switchbacks. They seemed like they would never end. I wished
I'd made my tent into a hang glider and jumped off the overlook where I
camped. I fantasized about riding my pack down the mountain like a sled.
I climbed through the pokey, steep, difficult underbrush and cut one,
but realized how quickly that could lead to injury and further
complicate things, so I hobbled on. I felt like I was hiking on two of the claw feet from my mom's antique dining room table. I started to do this crazy hopping
from one foot to the next down the switchbacks, glad no one was there
to see what I imagine looked like a very awkward, pathetic attempt at
jogging. Every time I would think an end had to be in sight, I was
greeted by more of the same never ending trees and the same switchbacks.
I was getting frustrated.
When I came to a trail juncture, I was
presented with the names of several trails that weren't the PCT. Having
no map, I assumed that the hellish switchbacks that continued down must
be the way forward, and continued my crazy hobble jog. I even checked
Halfmile before I got too far down the trail, which assured me I was on
the PCT. I crossed a bridge, lay down with my feet up in a campsite, had
a snack, and celebrated that I must be getting close to Cascade Locks. I
started up the mountain on the other side of the river, which seemed
like a bit of a cruel joke, until I found a sign that said "PCT 1 mile"
with an arrow pointing back the way I had come. Halfmile confirmed I was
not on the PCT. I wanted to cry. I wanted to push the button like they
do in the Out of the Wild tv series, so a helicopter would come take me
home. I knew I wasn't cut out to hike the PCT, I couldn't even manage
three days effectively. And then I laughed, ate some trail mix, and
started an angry down and then uphill climb back to those switchbacks.
I found the trail, straight ahead of where I left it, full of the same
kind of rocks I'd been cursing for a while because they made my already
sore feet hurt that much more. I stopped hating the rocks. I started to
accept that they were there and I was walking and we were each doing our own thing, get all sorts of zen.
And I walked on, trying to feel like those two extra miles were worth it
because at least that rounded my trip to an even 50 miles. And I just
kept going, even though I didn't think it should be possible.
When
I finally got to Bridge of the Gods and called for directions to
Shrek's Swamp, I was so happy. I was proud of myself for figuring things
out, and for not giving up. I felt stronger than I ever had. John put a
beer in my hand when I got to the Swamp, and that helped too.
I
could barely start my hobble again after sitting for a while, and my
knees were screaming, but I felt amazing. I got to meet Shrek, Kelsey
came up to drive me back to Lolo Pass, and I got some awesome hiker
dinner. I talked gear all night and all the way back to my car with
Kelsey. I started dreaming my PCT dream. And here I am.
