Do Talk To Strangers

Again:

M = Mosquito
Ms = Mosquito/mosquitoes

DAY 104 - Solar Lights

After eating some of Danea's homemade granola bars that she sent in a care package (it reminded me that homemade is always the best!) I packed up my hidden camp that was situated on the side of some random trail less than a mile from Shelter Cove.

I headed back to Shelter Cove Resort to enjoy one last refreshing juice drink and a little more sattelite wi-fi. After hiking nearly 85 miles I presumed a half-day of rest was in order.

When I got to the general store Jacob was just about to head out. He wanted to keep up an average of 22 miles per day. On my own I'll do a 20 every now and then, but every day, no way.

So we said goodbye, wishing each other safe journeys.

After hours of writing, reading, emailing, and yes of course Facebooking, I left Shelter Cove, a true shelter from the Ms...



...and a home to bike riding kids, fishermen, dudes with stellar mustaches, and RVing parents and grandparents.

I walked along the road lined with flurishing greenery...







...and I reached the highway/PCT intersection and crossed the road.

As I held my phone out for one last attempt at reception (I had forgotten to look up one thing) I heard someone coming down the trail. Jacob!

His back had spazzed out up at the Rosary lakes and he had all those blisters on his feet, so he decided to go into town, to let his feet dry out and his back rest up. He would take his time and decide on the best plan of action.

So we said goodbye again, this time I wished him a speedy recovery.

And so I marched onward, knowing that there were no friends ahead of me, only hundreds of miles behind.

I passed the lovely Rosary lakes (a set of three strung in a row from north to south)...



...and fought the Ms tooth and nail to eat my dinner without getting too bitten.

My map book (which I had learned to be skeptical about) had said there was a "nice" shelter ahead, and though some of the other shelters listed had been gross or non-exsistent, this one had been given that extra special description of nice. So I decided to put all of my eggs in one basket and walk until almost pitch dark to find this shelter. I left behind the lovely but M infested campspots of the Rosary Lakes.

I walked briskly trying not to let the sun sink too fast. At every little bend of the homestretch I tried to peer through the ever darkening forest for any sign of a glorious shelter.

Finally, just when my hope was beginning to fade with the light...and I was starting to hum aloud (because of my fear of wild animals at dusk) I saw a little cabin looking shelter off the path and in a more open area! Technically it was a Nordic skiing shelter so there was no carved path. I followed the pointing arrow and made my way easily to the cabin.

Though the building had been constructed relatively recently, the dimming light made it look creeeeeepy.

But the Ms were swarming, so I had to make a decision. What if there was a cougar inside? Or a bunch of daddy-long-legs!?

This full on shelter had a door, and so I carefully stuck out my trekking pole and with it gently pushed the door open a crack.

"Hello!" I nervously said.

No rustle, nothing.

So I pushed the door open even further and stepped in. I let the door swing shut behind me and stood in the soft but enveloping darkness. I began to breathe in a slightly musty odor.

There was a little blinking light on the back wall of the room. No way! In my mind I instantly connected the blinking light to the solar panel I had glanced at outside!

I baby-stepped towards the blinky light, going slowly incase a wild cat or the boogie man were to pop out or something. I barely made out a timer knob, reached, and cranked it. And there was light! And the only Ms that were in the shelter were the 15+ that had followed me in!

Right next to the light were two posters that did not comfort me at all...



...After studying them for a moment, I looked around the room, lit by a few wee solar lights...



...there was a table, chairs, a woodburning stove, pots, benches, hangers, and only a little bit of dust.

I read a note by the light that said the upstairs loft light was by the escape window. I looked past the ladder, up into the loft. I would wait a minute, take off my pack first.

I read the log book, and poked around a bit more. Finally I gathered the courage to go up the ladder to the dark loft. Though I had been living in the woods for over 3 months I was still terrified of spiders and the places they might lurk. So, trying not to touch anything, I looked for the escape window and found the timer upstairs and twisted it on. Bling! It was a tidy little floorspace with a pile of yoga like foam mats and there was a tarp with some medical stretchers and things. I brought my pack up to the loft and slept on top of my thermarest plus a foam pad. Seeing as I had killed all 15 Ms that had come inside with me, I had a bite-free, blissful sleep, only hindered slightly by what flew across the loft ceiling once...was it a bird or a bat?



DAY 105 - The Respites and Reinstatement

Not waking up to the sound of 85 million Ms buzzing at my tent screen made for a good morning. Why couldn't there be a "nice" shelter every 10 to 20 miles?

But, it took me a while to get going. See, I had gotten up at a semi-decent time to use the restroom, but after going outside, digging a hole, filling it, and covering the desposit, I had been bitten enough times to justify literally sprinting back to the shelter. So then I felt obligated to take my time eating breakfast and packing up...for these could be my last bug free moments, I thought to myself.



(the shelter in the daytime)

I put the rainjacket on, the hat, and the headnet and readied myself for battle. I went outside.



(I took a quick snap of the outside of the shelter)

I tried to whisk by the trees at a fast enough pace to keep the Ms off the back of my legs, but I found the walk/slap/scratch mix to be essential. It was becoming the standard each day.

I passed the trail Juction that lead to Eugene, OR...




...and headed to Bobby Lake.

Upon arrival I noticed that the Ms really weren't THAT bad in the sun, right by the water. Finally, an opportunity to jump in an Oregon lake! Bobby lake was a small lake, and while the water was cool, it wasn't freezing.

I dunked myself in the clear waters...so refreshing after a morning of sweating inside the rainjacket!



(at Bobby Lake)

I got out and sat in the sun to dry off. While I had to slap a M occassionally I noticed that there were far more electric blue dragonflies buzzing about than their were Ms...maybe I was coming out of the bug hell that I had been dwelling in for a week.

But as I dried off I realized it was time to suit up in the old hazmat attire in order to arrive at my lunchtime destination, Charlton Lake...that is if I still wanted to make it with a few pints of blood left in me.

I waded through clouds of blood suckers and reached Charlton. But when I got there, I was met with a heavenly breeze...one that kept the Ms far away!

No motorized boats were allowed on this lake, so only the occassional canoe rowed by as I lunched and soaked my little feetsies for 1.5 hours...



I had given my Dad an extremely hard time as we went through Yosemite for he kept saying, "Here, stand in front of [insert any Yosemite highlight] so I can get you in the picture!"

I would put my hands on my hips and make a silly face, "Dad! You got me in the last picture!"

I would always acquiesce and stomp over to [name a Yosemite highlight] as nearby tourists would wonder why I didn't want my picture taken so many times.

Now, as I was walking alone, I realized, except for myspace type self portraits next to mountains...or feet pictures, I didn't have much evidence of little old me on the rest of the trail and/or enjoying wonderful sights.

So I grabbed my iPhone and headed over to the lady on the other side of the little jutting piece of land we were on. I really had noticed hardly anyone on or near the lake, but this lady was so conveniently located, sitting in a chair situated right in the water...so she could have a lovely footsoak too.

"Um...excuse me," I said. And then I asked her if she wouldn't mind taking a picture of me, since I was by myself, and if course she obliged...




...but then she asked where I had been, and how long I had been by myself. Soon we were talking about the different regions of Oregon and the trips she and her husband Denny had planned. Infact, Linda and I ended up talking for an hour and a half. And of course we always circled back around to talking about the Ms. They had spent a lot of time in the area over a vast span of years. So, Denny warned me that the Ms would probably be pretty bad at Irish and Taylor lakes, where I wanted to camp for the night. I believed the warning, and dreaded the Ms, but I didn't want to stay at Charlton and be 6 miles or so behind what I hoped to achieve for the day.

Linda looked at me and said, "But hasn't this been a nice little respite from the mosquitoes?"

Yes it had, indeed.

Linda and Denny packed up their things and headed back towards Waldo lake where their camper was, and I headed to Irish, where I would put my camp.

First, I went through the burn area that Denny had mentioned...



...I'm not usually a big fan of burn areas. For one, I feel bad that part of the mountain burned. Secondly, they are also usually hotter to walk through, ugly, and anywhere you try to sit for a rest/snack break will probably soot up your bum. But this burn area was my favorite burn thus far, visually it was the most elegant, and heat wise it wasn't bad at all (maybe because it was 7pm)...



...so I enjoyed the burn area before I descended into the depths of Hell's Mosquito Factory.

I found myself stopped in front of the beautiful Irish Lake and I think I had time to enjoy a view of the lake at dusk for 1/27th of a second before the throngs of Ms came rushing towards me with the fury of 100,000 angry men.

I had thought that nothing could be worse than Windigo Pass, here I learned I was wrong.

As I slowed the movement of my body in order to grab my tent pole, over a dozen Ms landed on each sandaled foot.

Arrrrrrrrrgggg! Blerg! Ey-yi-yi!

I started throwing every item out of the back pocket of my pack. With wild eyes and fast moving hands I searched for my bug spray.

Gush, gush, gush. I sprayed my feet with the natural bug spray. 75% of the bugs fell to the wayside. But still having 25% of the local M population on my legs was near unbearable.

So, in a record-breaking speedy fashion I threw my tent up and flew inside.

I killed the 40 Ms that made it inside and then took this picture...



...the sunset was so beautiful, but I could only bear to look at it through the tiny window of bug netting.


DAY 106 - Fearless: or When I Finally Listened to the Lyrics

This was the first morning in a long time that I had actually taken a good look the back of my thighs...




...I looked like a domestic violence incident. (And the sad thing is that this photograph doesn't even represent the worst of the bruising, but I will spare you and post no others.) All these bruises were self-inflicted. Those dang M bites were so itchy, so plentiful, and always reoccuring...I had scratched my legs into a severely bruised state. I was bound to be a mess, a hot mess, for the rest of the hike. But I was okay with that.

Right where I got back on the trail I ran into "Big Boots" Nathan, a south bounder.

We talked to each other through similar styled head nets, and he gave me hope...a report that there were few Ms at Elk Lake. "Please!" I thought as I had gotten bitten no less than 50 times in our brief convo.

They, the Ms, wouldn't even stay off my hands as I walked into the Three Sisters Wilderness...



...and exaggerated my normal trekking pole/arm movement.

But I didn't find any relief until I reached Lake Brahma, I couldn't take the jacket off...but I could soak my feet...




...ahhhhh...



...and enjoy the trees.

I tested other lakes for low M levels but found myself usually in losing battle situations. So I plodded forward, eventually allowing myself to enjoy the very rare headphone treat.

Pink Floyd came through the little speakers placed near my ear canals. Had my friend Justin, who made the mix for me, remembered that I liked Pink Floyd, or had he chosen the song "Fearless" for its lyrics?

"You say the hill's too steep to climb
Just climb it
You say you'd like to see me try
Climbing
You pick the place and I'll choose the time
And I'll climb
The hill in my own way
Just wait a while for the right day
And as I rise above the tree lines and the clouds
I look down
Hear the sound of the things you said today..."

I have always had this problem when I listen to songs where I can remember the melody, even the sounds that come out of a singer's mouth...but it's like I don't even know that those sounds are words strung together. I hear them as noise and syllables, I find it nearly as easy to sing along with a Latin song as I do an English song. I have to make a very direct effort to listen to lyrics. Somehow (though I've listen to this mix/song many a time) I finally heard the lyrics, and without even trying.

Maybe because subconsciously I could connect with the words...I now knew, in the most literal sense, what this meant. I was finally ready to hear the lyrics and accept them as I slowly climbed the hill in my own way...passing wild flowers just starting to bloom...



...towards Cliff Lake...



...where the Ms were not too forceful, and the light was peaceful, and the shelter had a 3 wall structure and a pair of gross dirty socks inside...



...Yes, that's right, I set up my tent outside and away from it.

But as I was eating a nice quiet dinner outside I heard a strange and scary animal noise.

I had no idea what it was...it sounded like a seal bark/lion roar.

I snatched up all my stuff sacks and food, and flew over too my tent.

Wham, bam, slam! I chucked everything into the tent and zipped both my vestibule and tent all the way up.

I didn't move, just listened. Over the next few minutes I heard the noise several times...sometimes it sounded closer, other times it seemed far away.

I decided it was definitly not a cougar or bear. I was going to be at elk lake the next day, and back at summit lake the guy who gave us soda pops told us that sometimes he could find pre-shed elk racks.

Was it an elk? They were probably friendly enough...wait did they charge people? No, that was a moose...or was it both species.

What in tarnation was I doing out in the woods by myself? The only reason I knew what a seal bark sounded like was because I had been to Sea World (and Big Sur). Even worse, the only reason I knew what a lion sounded like was because I had seen an MGM movie.

And so I did not relax much, inside my tent, for the rest of the evening.

Maybe I had learned to climb the hill in my own way, but I wasn't fearless.

DAY 107 - The Human Connection

A heard of elk had not stampeeded through my camp, so I woke up...still alive.

I got hustlin' and headed for elk lake resort, my next resupply/real toilet/power outlet/possible shower.

I don't remember much about the morning, it was boring and I was just trying to get to Elk Lake.

So afterwhile the 10 miles had dissappeared beneath my feet and I was standing next to the restaurant/store at Elk Lake...



...where I found a strange blend of Bend yuppies, soccer moms and their families, lake lovers, sailboaters, and tattooed folk.

I set my pack aside and went inside. I went up to a young man working at the little store counter. I asked about PCT packages.

"Just a minute, let me find out..." he said as he left his position in order to retrieve information.

He came back and told me, "We pretty much have packages all over the place. You can check the shelf on the back porch over there, if you don't see it, try the back room."

Um, okay?

So I walked to the porch shelf...no package. I double checked with the young man about what back room he meant...checked it, no luck. Finally, I noticed it sitting next to the bar on top of small sized kegs. I snatched it up and thought, "The packages really are all over the place!"

I went to the back room and took over one of the many empty tables. I ordered a huge and delicious spinach salad (I was craving fresh things), brought in my pack, and packed my bag up.

After dinner and finding out that showers were five dollars, I decided I would just jump into a lake the next afternoon.

I was just going to go the couple miles back to the trail and find an immediate camp spot. So I passed the elk statue...



...and left. As I was walking up the paved road away from the resort I ran into Scott, a cyclist from Bend. He had been out on a 50 mile Sunday bike ride, but he still offered me some of his chips when he heard what I was up to.

As we talked and shared stories I got offered a Pro Bar (which are the best and most expensive energy bars) and a fresh-from-the-bakery cookie. More important than the sustinance though was the connection with another human being. I realized here that even if I did get lonely hiking by myself sometimes, I could do this. I could keep walking and not go crazy because when I needed it there was always a person, a conversation for the day that kept me going. If I was hiking with a group I would be racing to keep up, but I was now getting the chance to stop and talk to people from all over, to hear stories from people that I otherwise would never run into. It was all part of the adventure. Like the views I had been missing early on because my nose was to the ground, I had let many an opportunity to talk to strangers pass me by. Strangers that weren't so strange, they were the unknown faces of hour long friends that shared the same zest for life. All these wonderful people would collectively help keep me company along the way.

And so I bid Scott a good night and walked on.


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