Oh the Possibilities

So Mom, Dad and Andrea dropped me off at Mazama Campground where I had left off and started the long drive home. I missed them immediately. As I've said before, its the miles just following a visit from a loved one that can be the toughest. Being so close to the finish does make it a little easier. Even though its been a bit colder in Oregon I feel a little more comfortable now that I'm back in the Northwest.

That afternoon I made the quick climb from the campground to Crater Lake's south rim. As I made my way through the trees, I noticed a rather large deer grazing in a small meadow. Just as it was noticed, its head snapped to attention upon my arrival. It quickly turned and sped up the slope through the underbrush and as it did I realized it was not a deer at all. It was quite obviously a cow elk. Furthermore, as it retreated, though they were not seen through the thick forest foliage, the sound of many more of its friends could be herd charging up the same hill. Hard to tell just how many there were, but I would guess it to be about a dozen from the mighty rumble the stampede made.

We had just completed a full drive around the lake with the family but to walk up over the rim into plain view of such a massive watery expanse was incredible. I'm not sure if its allowed but I made a nice camp on the crux of the rim. I made an effort to hide myself in the shelter of a few trees just in case some overzealous rangers were working late. After a few pictures I bedded down for the night, sure to be up in time for sunrise the next morning.

Camped on the southwestern side of the rim the sun rose directly across the Lake to me. Sleeping a bit through my alarm, I awoke to the sky already bright with an orange horizon, slowly dulling as the sphere rose higher from the dawn. The far rim of the lake hung silhouetted against the oncoming glow and its waters below a deep and chilly blue. I took my time breaking camp and didn't get hiking until the last of the morning's performance was over.

The miles went quickly as I dropped elevation from the tall rim. Though the next section to Willamette Pass was quite level, as far as PCT miles are concerned, they would prove to be rather treacherous in their own right. The trail to highway 58 connects countless small lakes and ponds. Mosquitoes by the swarms stalked one's every move. The miles accumulated quickly because breaks were cut rather short on account of being so molested by the tiny vampires. It was easiest to just keep moving. On my own again, I set my own pace and schedule. I found that I enjoyed waking early and hiking in three hour increments. Most three hour stints took me just shy of ten miles and with one morning break I could have as many as 17 or 18 mile in by the time I broke for lunch. A somewhat arduous morning pace was rewarded by a leisurely evening with time even for a bit of reading. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been carrying the same novel since Kennedy meadows, some two months ago. With the miles flying by, I quickly found myself near Willamette Pass where I put into Shelter Cove Resort for some food and showers that came at a resort price but I got something even better for free; Friends!

Shelter Cove was a nice little resting spot. It was right on the west shore of the grand Odell Lake near the top of the pass. As I sat sorting my newly washed clothes and stuffing my rucksack with food another hiker strolled into the resort. The kid had style. Sporting an oil slicked felt hat with a few feathers in the band, bandanna around the neck but falling to the side over the shoulder, he had custom wooden trekking polls with leather handle straps and wore his sheet of bug netting around his waist like a sash to pull his pack tight against his back. His name was Cody and he had put on to the trail at Crater Lake and was section hiking up to Portland where he is from. Cody impressed me and inspired me. I came to find out that along with his custom trekking polls he also sewed and stitched the pack he carried along with his tarp tent that doubles as a poncho. I wish I could be that handy and have resolved myself to becoming so. I was delighted that we would be hiking on together for the next few days.

We left the resort late that afternoon and made it about 7 miles beyond the pass to a cabin shelter maintained by the forest service. We took up camp there for the night and shared it with some other Oregon section hikers. There was Mace, Gwen Bug, and Wildman all of whom were delightful company. Later just before we were turning in I Spy and Booty came in to join us. They are a young couple from Colorado and are hiking on through to Canada as well. I've had a ton of fun hiking with these three. Great conversation, joking, and new lives and personalities to learn about make for really pleasant miles. After the cabin we were spread out along the trail the next day and camped in various spots. I was up early the next day and being a little low on food, I put into Elks Lake Resort for a meal and a few snacks. I made the 8 miles by a little after 8 a.m. The only problem was that the restaurant didn't open until ten. It started to rain so I wasn't going anywhere and I took up refuge on their deck under canopy. With my rarely read novel in hand, I was ready to wait them out.

I didn't get too far into the pages before Billy Goat sauntered up to the Deck. He had just beat the heaviest of the rain. I had run into Billy Goat a number of times on my trip. He jumps from section to section and, as I learned, hikes pretty much year round. At 70 years of age he bookends the age spectrum and is quite the trail celebrity. An article about him was front page of the LA Times at one point and every hiker knows him. I reintroduced myself to him and we chatted until the diner finally opened. As it did and we took our seats Cody, I Spy and Booty arrived and we all enjoyed a delicious meal out of the rain. With a gloomy day in progress we took our time leaving and only made 15 or so more miles that day. We all camped together at a small lake and took off at different intervals in the morning. I made my way out to the front of the pack but it wouldn't be that last time I would see them.

That day I was headed for Big Lake Youth Camp on the other side of highway 242. It was about 28 miles away and I wanted to get there for dinner so I wasn't wasting any time. Even at a brisk pace I had to stop frequently to take pictures of such a unique and impressive landscape. We were passing the Three Sisters mountain peaks. We couldn't exactly see the peaks for they were obscured by clouds but beneath them lay a vast and treacherous volcanic landscape. Huge fields of volcanic rock stretch down toward the valleys below. They reach for miles until the forest finally bleeds onto the rocky soil. Uphill from the trail not a single shrub rises from the rugged and solid formations. I couldn't help but think of the massive forces lurking below that could have created such an amazing scene. Though the volcanic mountains of the Cascade Range are barely half the height of the mighty Sierra Nevada, they posses a power, an intimidation that the Sierra lack. Walking over the sharp pumice and obsidian rock I wondered what manor of plant or animal lies berried beneath and how many times such violence has come to pass in the lifetime of these mountains. It is very much a beautiful danger but a danger none the less.

Through the ever present geological danger, I managed to navigate the lava fields and arrive at the youth camp safely before dinner was served. The staff set me up with a visitors pass and I was able to get showered and wash my clothes. Unfortunately my resupply box did not arrive so I arranged for it to be intercepted in the Town of Sisters and I would pick it up there the next day. Cody, I Spy and Booty never caught me that day. They had either pulled up early or hitched to Sisters from the closer highway. I had dinner amidst a mass of campers in a very loud and very crowded mess hall. There were a couple other hikers there too. Donuts, a young man just out of college from Puyallup as well as Easy Rider and Snow Berry, two section hikers from Oregon finishing their home state.

The next morning I was up early again and closed the 6 mile gap to Highway 20 by 7:15 am. The cars were moving rather quickly, probably on their morning commute to Bend, but I did manage a hitch without much of a wait. Dan was on his way into Sisters to see about a pair of kayaks he was looking to buy and stopped to help me into town. He was super nice and very impressed with my hike. The excitement people have for the trip is very different in the Northwest than in California. Californians seemed to be amazed at the entire feat in general, while Northwesterners seem to be excited at the prospect of one day doing it themselves. It was fun to talk about outdoorsy exploits. He is a transplant to Oregon from Vermont if I remember right. He had hiked some of the AT but enjoyed the west coast much more. He dropped me in town at the best breakfast spot where I was reunited to Cody who was now Hop Skip for he sometimes jovially skips and bounces on some of the downhills. Sure enough the three of them had hitched into town from the 242 where I had had lunch the day before. Cody was staying in town another night so decided to stay too after my box did not arrive in town either. I spent the day resupplying at the super market and filling my body with calories; pizza, soda, hot fudge sundae. I Spy and Booty left around noon and Easy Rider and Snow Berry arrived and share the room with us because the place was booked up otherwise.

I'll make tracks in the morning after breakfast. The next stop is Timberline Lodge where I'll be meeting my uncle who is hiking to Cascade Locks with me. I can't wait to see him and I'm so excited to be so close to the final state of the trip. Oregon has been wonderful. The trail has been great. The people have been amazing and the weather has held off for the most part. Its a little scary because my mind has been wandering lately, thinking of other trips that may be exciting and skills that I would like to learn. The trip has become an exercises in possibility. But possibilities are nothing really, neither possible or impossible until they are reached for with bold attempts. Whether these will bring success or failure is not known but hardly important. For they will inevitably bring stories, experience or better yet; relationship.