High Points

Current Update: I am 45 miles away from the OR/WA border. I'll be going into Portland to resupply for WA in a few days, hopefully I can catch up on the blog there! Sorry I'm incredibly behind.

To save myself a little bit of typing any time I refer to the Ms I'm referring to mosquitoes.

M = mosquito
Ms = mosquitoes/mosquitos (I'll let you visualize your favorite spelling)

DAY 99 - My Own Portable Sauna

I upzipped my tent, which was placed only a few feet away from the edge of the rim of Crater Lake.



(the view from just outside the tent, just amazing!)

I didn't hear a single M or see one land on me, so I happily trotted down the hill to find and use a secluded little restroom spot...and dig yet another poop hole (this was beginning to become rather tiresome).

But in those 10 seconds that I was still, all the Ms in the area must have smelled me, for they came in droves, to suck me dry. I hurried to finish my business, did a clumsy job of throwing a bunch of dirt and pinecones back ontop of the hole, and ran back to my tent where I pulled out the old rainjacket and quickly threw it on. Then came the headnet. Another day for fashion lows.

But then maybe fashion is all about surviving: creatively, regulatorily, and/or out of necessity. If so, maybe my wearing the rainjacket, headnet, hideous but protective hat, and sandals with socks is the highest form of fashion, in a pure and raw sense. Not really, impossible. Maybe I just need to come out with my own line of Rainbow Brite hiking gear (lots of hot pink would be implemented... "Wait!" you say! That doesn't adhere to the philosophy that we must blend in with nature, so as not to distract other hikers. One, if I fall down a mountain I don't particularly want to blend in, I want the search and rescue team to be able to find my dead body. Two, maybe I want to blend in with a field of wildflowers.)

So, anyway, I was hiking along the trail, it was warmish and sunny, and I was essentially draped in a piece of plastic. Even in the cold and rain it's easy to get a little sweaty in a goretex rainjacket while hiking...but this situation altogether screamed sweatbox. The only difference between this and a sauna was that I wasn't cleansing my pores. I was straight up reclogging the pores with my own sweat and grime, all day long!

And so I sweated as I decided to get off the trail and road walk for several miles. The trail had pretty much finished skirting the rim with excellent views. It was now covered in snow and about to go up and around snowy steep mountains on the non-crater-lake-viewing side. And if I trudged through the snow I would just go slower, and then the Ms would just have a better chance of drilling for my blood.

So I carefully walked along the winding road that had no shoulder, past many a snow drift.

I took a look at all the great views along with the drivers of SUVs and RVs...




...and I got strange looks from small children who were wondering why I had a net in front of my face.

I found a great new little flower on the side of the road...



...and I passed even more parking lots full of loud tourists. It was strange, I had been toiling away for months to see beautiful views, and these people where driving right up to them in their air conditioned vehicles, and they were going to go home that night and eat pizza, watch movies, take showers...



Was I crazy? No, the best views I had seen were impossible to get to by car.

So I continued down the road and got back on the trail where it was almost out of the snow, just annoying patches. Then it got hot as I neared the pumice field and the sun shown right down on me. I wanted to sit down for little rest breaks, but the Ms would just bite my legs.

I trucked along for hours, passing many pine trees with strange wooden tumors nubbing out of the trunks. Finally I made it to highway 138, where I found this amusing sign...




...then I ate my dinner, it wasn't void of Ms, but they weren't as bad. I covered my legs with my down jacket, swallowed my grub, and looked at the map.

I would walk until darkness began to envelope the forest, by then I should be near the beginning of more snow patches. This way I could just wake up and dive straight into what I imagined would be a tough day of snow and navigating.

I packed up and walked for a while, plowing through meager amounts of snow patches, softened by the warmth of the day. As the light started to drift away the snow became more prevelent than the trail, so I snagged one of the last dry patches of ground off of the trail and made camp. I would deal with the next many miles of snow in the morning.

I had walked 20 miles, not because my feet felt great, but because I was trying to set myself up for success the next day. I was honestly dreading the snow. The flat portions were annoying, but I could deal with it. But the map showed a couple of steep switchbacking descents along north faces at higher altitude, near Mt. Thielson. I knew that would equal steep traversy snow. And I doubted there would be anyone in miles to hear my screams as I slid down the snowy slopes, faster, and faster, until I slammed into some rocks below, ending my short lived life. Who would find my remains? I didn't have my security blanket with me (my crampons). Only my little sandals and wool socks. Had I known the snow was at a much lower altitude than what I had been used to in Cali, maybe I wouldn't have sent home the crampons. Now I would just have to toughen up and learn a few more character building lessons. Great. On top of my dread I felt a little lonely. I bet all the other Nobo thru-hikers were having campfires in Northern Cali, laughing together, telling each other of the highlights of the day.

I missed my friends. Not just because I felt lonely, but because I had really enjoyed all the campfire nights we had shared together. Would I ever share dinner with another hiker?

And with those thoughts I fell asleep.


DAY 100 - 100 is an Epic Number for an Epic Day

I didn't get going and on the snow patches until after 9am. But I had my reasons.

#1 - I allowed myself extra sleep because I had a bad dream in the middle of the night about a girl who was going down the snowy slopes of the PCT next to Thielson, by herself, and she had fallen. She was trapped under this giant tree and she needed my help. Was this a warning sign?

#2 - I didn't have crampons. When I had talked to Freebird about how he made it across the icy morning snow of the sierras in his Teva sandals he had said, "Oh Rainbow Brite, you just don't start at 5am. You wait until the snow is soft as you need it to be, then you can walk comfortably on it. I spend less time and energy this way. Besides, what's the rush?"

So, I was going to use the Freebird method and hope I didn't have any crying episodes on the side of the mountain.

This was going to be good for me. I was ready. I was mentally prepared. I was going to step up to the challenge and face this by my lonesome!

But I really wished someone would be near Thielson, just in case I fell. I really wanted someone to be able to report the incident.

This part of the trail had many helpful treemarkers to make finding the trail much simpler. Most of the snow was soft enough to be easily walked on, and on the steep sections it remained not too difficult to kick in steps with sandals.

I just went along, taking baby steps (like in "What About Bob"), making my way up the trail.

I snatched great portions of clear trail here and there as I trapsed along South and/or West portions of the trail. But, alas, I made it to Thielson and with a great sigh beheld the trail.

Just as I had expected.

Snow covered.

There was an embankment of snow to hustle down and I really couldn't see any dry trail in my future. I took a gamble and scrambled up the Mt. Thielson trail, about 100 yards, to see if I could get a better look at the lay of the land, to see if I could spot a bit of trail. I knew the trail hugged the contour of the mountain and started dropping down, but it would be nice not to overshoot the descent.

I spotted the tiniest sliver of trail in the distance and knew exactly where to head, through snow, if I wanted to follow the trail. I could also dip straight into the valley and straight back up, but I might run into ample amounts of brush and heartache that way.

I trotted back down the Thielson trail towards the PCT.




(mt. Thielson)

"Oh!" I shouted in a startled voice.

I had been right there only three minutes ago or so, without a trace of any human. Now there was a person!

Sitting and having a snack break was Jacob. He had hiked a large portion of the PCT Sierras with his wife in 2003, but now he wanted to get working on other parts of the trail.

Thank goodness, someone would be around if I fell and went screaming down the mountain.

We chatted for a bit and then I headed into the snow. It honestly wasn't that bad. The snow was very soft and pilly and I was able to take long deep plunges down the side of the mountain and with a bit of trudging I found the small section of trail and then continued along the way, scouting for more trail markers and consulting my maps.

I made it up to the next ridge where I would drop down a set of switchbacks on the northface.

This ridge had a full on near vertical snow bank to drop down. For some reason I wasn't so scared, maybe I just knew there was nothing to do but tackle it or turn back. And so I carefully crawled onto the snow and then dropped down with my stomach towards the snow wall. I dug my clawwed hands into the snow and carefully kicked steps down to the less steep part. I plunged down past all the switchbacks and hopped onto where it seemed the bottom-most switchback was.

I lost the trail near the first running water I had seen in 24 miles, but that is where Jacob caught up and I decided to lunch.

After lunch Jacob and I started hiking together through the snow, but we had differing opinions on where the trail was so we split. I found the trail a bit down the way, and even further along the trail I saw that Jacob's footprints had rejoined the path.

I found him at another one of his snack breaks and from then on we decided, without verbally acknowledging it, to hike together through the rest of the mess.

We made it to the highest spot of Oregon and Washington...



...where we both took pictures with our iPhones.

We walked until sunset and slowly started to emerge from some of the snow. We found a dry patch with a great lookout to have dinner at. There was a bit of a breeze, which we hoped would keep the Ms at a distance. We had no such luck.

I pulled out the groundcloth of my tent and wrapped my legs and feet with it. Only my hands were exposed. But I could quickly move and swat around with them. With every bite of dinner I took I had to uncover my face and let the Ms have a chance of getting dinner too.

We cleaned up, walked a few hundred feet, and found a great dry flat area to camp on.

It hadn't been such a lonely day, and I hadn't died, just a few quarts of blood had been sucked out of my veins as I passed by epic landscapes. So all was well.

100 days down.


DAY 101 - The Itch

Upon waking I scratched my bugbites.

Though I wasn't ready to roll until 8am or so, Jacob had waited.

As we walked out of the snow and down a side trail towards water I scratched my bites and walked at the same time.

There was a vile stench that was coming out of the pit vents of my rainjacket, in small wafts. Gross. It was bad enough not showering very often when you are hiking in normal amounts of attire. With this rainjacket hiking equation going on I was going to be ripe by the time we reached Shelter Cove, a campground/RV park on a lake...they had coin operated showers supposedly.

We gathered water and had more breakfast at the lake off trail. The water was so clear. Texas lakes are murky with about 1 ft. visibility tops. Here I didn't even have to bandana filter my water!

We got back on the trail, and I felt a little bit at home. Dangling from all the mountain hemlocks were bunches of light green whispy moss. It reminded me a little of the Spanish Moss that grew in the oak trees of the South...especially the oak trees that decorated the warm canopy roads of northern Florida.

I stopped to take a picture of the moss as it hung from two particularly well lit trees.

Jacob caught up and asked, "Taking pictures of the moss?"

"I love it!" I said, "It reminds me of...an old man's beard!"

I thought of Dumbledore and his long beard gently blowing in the wind.

"That's what it's called," said Jacob, "Old Man's Beard!"

"No! Really?" I couldn't believe I was spot on for once.

"Yeah, seriously. And it's also natures best toilet paper! Not the softest, but it works really well!"

I had been wondering why Jacob had a nice large tuft of it stuffed into the sidepocket of his backpack.

This...this was good to know because fear #34 on the PCT was: Running out of baby wipes and having to take a dump. Maybe now I could be a little looser with my extreme rationing of baby wipes.




(old man's beard...the best representations of the moss are high up on big trees, but my iPhone doesn't zoom...so this is what you get for now)

We kept walking and stumbled upon a trail crew camped quite literally ON the trail. They were from the Northwest Youth Corps (19 years old and younger) and they were cool kids and they were doing their week of backcountry work...



...we thanked them for what they were doing and continued along our way after several minutes of chat, in which they warned us of the Ms at Windigo Pass.

"Worse than this?!?!?" I thought to myself, "Please, let it not be true!"

As we walked away I felt a little sorry for the girls in the corps whose tent didn't have a bug net...how were they going to survive nights?

We lunched then passed nice views...



...and mangled trees...



...before arriving at Windigo Pass, where again, we had to go off trail for water.

We found the running stream and began to gather water. I was slapping the darn Ms all the while as they gathered in droves on my legs. I kept passing my hand back and forth under the water as I let it collect in my bottle, trying to ward off Ms. But the second cascades of water were gone from my hands the Ms would land and begin drilling and mining for my blood. I could feel little stinging sensations everywhere. I didn't have enough hands to treat my water and slap the wretched little beasts at the same. So after collecting several liters of water I was about to go mental.

I was slapping and dancing and squirting my natural bug spray all over my legs.

"you're about to go crazy?!" Jacob rhetorically asked.

"Yes! Those kids were right!" I screeched while scratching the itchiness all over my legs and hands and feet. I hopped around until Jacob was ready to vroom vroom outta there.

I scratch scratched as I walked along, until we found a dinner spot where the Ms were only a little better than Windigo Pass. So the groundcloth came out and the killings began again.

We both searched for cell reception and like nerds twittered away.

Afterwards was cleanup, walking, and setting up camp.

I raced to put my tent up as fast as possible (the faster I went the less time Ms had to bite me). Then I unzipped the smallest portion of my tent door and carefully chucked everything in. Then: One, two, three!

Unzip tent door!

Jump in!

Zip the door to the legs, carefully and quickly reach hands out and take shoes off!

Pull feet in!

Zip up tent completely!

Kill every M that made it in!

Blerg!


DAY 102 - Soda Pop

I had to do away with my #1, most important, self implemented rule: DO NOT comb/brush my hair while inside my tent.

Really, what would be worse, a few greasy hairs stuck to the inside of my tent even after the usual shakedown or more Mbites, lots more, on my face, scalp, and hands?

So I combed and braided my hair in the tent.

Jacob and I headed towards Cowhorn Mountain and started crunching through snow patches.

I walked onto a patch that had not thawed and was kind of icy. My feet slipped out from underneath me, and though the worst that could of happened was me plopping onto some rocks and trees about five feet below, I found myself screaming bloody murder. It was like an instant flashback to the San Jacintos, on my first icy patch, when I went flying and screaming down the mountain.

I only went about a foot because I dug my fingernails straight into the snow cake.

"Sorry!" I said to Jacob when I saw that nothing bad really could have happened.

"So that's what you meant when you said I would have heard you scream if you fell near Thielson," he stated.

"Pretty much."

I got up, brushed myself off and continued plodding. Honestly, I was a bit shaken from my one foot slide/fall combo. It reminded me that I'm no pro and that anything can happen. So the confidence and no looking back feeling from the days previous was taken down a notch. I let Jacob take the lead, not because I was lazy and didn't want to break in the snowy trail every time we crossed the ridge and had a mountainside of snow on our hands, but because I wanted to slow it down a bit.



(cowhorn mountain in the distance)

The trail wasn't in snow too long, and before I knew it we were at Summit Lake for lunch!



(summit lake)

Jacob took care of his blisters (oh how I remembered the tragedy of totally blistered feet) and I soaked up a little what the area had to offer...




...like an outhouse that didn't smell bad...



...and lunch at a real table!

After we collected water and were getting ready leave we heard a truck rumbling up.

"Maybe this guy will have cold beverages to offer us!" I said to Jacob who was a little downhearted by the blister situation.

The guy stopped right at the edge of the lake by the dirt boat ramp. But then I remembered a sign that said no more than 30 days of camping here per calendar year.

"Or maybe he's just here for day 1 of 30."

We put on our packs and said "hello!" to the man who continued the conversation by talking about all the little lakes of Oregon. His jeans were wet to the knees, as he had walked through one earlier in the day. On his days off he would drive around the countryside just checking out all the little lakes, he told us as he sipped on a cold freshly cracked open brewski.

Then he offered us beverages from his stocked cooler! Ah-ha! The only sodas he had were coca-cola type drinks, which I had just told Jacob the night before that I hated. But the man was so nice to offer us drinks, that I grinned, accepted the gift, and let the nasty high fructose corn syrup beverage rush past my throat. It was cold, and that was refreshing.

We finished our sodas and I asked the man if I should crush the can.

"Naw just toss it in the bed!" he replied as he tossed his empty beer can into the back, with a swing full of gusto.

We thanked the man and headed back towards the trail.

"You can go ahead, I might be a little slow because of my blisters," Jacob said.

"Well, we're about to go uphill, I don't mind taking it slow," I told him.

I remembered when Evan had walked with me down to Walker Pass when my feet were so blistered that it was all I could do to keep on hobblin'.

Also I had realized this was the first time in my whole trip that I had been able hike and converse with someone else. I either had been way behind, or gasping too much to talk, or the others were wooshing by. It was a rather pleasant experience to hike and talk.

And so I slowly lead the way up, up, up the hill, towards Diamond Peak. Jacob had given me the full story on the BP oil spill in the morning, but afternoon lead into why I had skipped so many miles. I still had to struggle not to cry as I talked about it, and my heart ached a little, as I felt inadequate to hike the whole trail in one go. But at the very same time, for the first time, I was going uphill, almost floating, not minding, because I was finally at the right pace for me. Perhaps I would always be haunted by my decision to skip so many miles and leave my comrades, but I wasn't going to regret any of the unique experiences I was having in place of bone crunching, soul sucking pain every single day.

At a beautiful lookout we stopped for a minute. Thielson gleamed in the distance. "It looks so rugged," I said.

"And it didn't when you were on it?" Jacob asked.

"Well, it just looks more rugged from a distance."

Then Jacob showed me how to identify mountain hemlocks. Finally, we continued up.

Back into the snow we went, but I didn't mind, the evening sun made the snowfields of Diamond Peak look dazzeling.




(the sun about to hide behind the mountain)

I was grinning from ear to ear! Oregon was beautiful!

Jacob stopped in a patchy snowfield with many knocked over trees to look for reception...



...and then said, "I know, isn't this terrible, checking my phone in such a beautiful place?"

On the contrary, I said, "Um, what better place to partake in one of your favorite pastimes than in a beautiful location like this!"

I was really glad that there was someone just as obsessed with their iPhone in the wilderness as me!

We headed towards the east side of the peak and found a small, dry, dinner spot.

I peeled off my sopping socks, caked with ice, so that my feet my dry out over dinner.

There was the usual battle with the Ms. I was so sick of their weasly little snouts and their beady little eyes. Sometimes I almost felt sorry for them and wanted to just say, "I won't kill you if you just stay off of me...look, look over there, that is your cousin's dead body on my shoulder because they ravaged my flesh and began sucking my blood." But a few minutes later I would feel nothing but putrid hate for them. I wanted to pinch all their puny little heads off and put them in a rocket and blast them into outterspace where their headless bodies would not ever be able to breed again.

I scratched my bugbites.

Then dinner was over and we were going to trudge until dark so that we could get through as much snow as possible, so that we could get to Shelter Cove by a decent time the next day.

I put my wet wool socks back on and they were cold, colder than a wicked man's heart. My feet were almost instantly in pain. With every step more snow would just slip between my sock and sandal and become a little ice pancake. I tried to slam my feet into the snow with every step to get the blood flowing, but it wasn't working.

All I could think about was the searing pain of ice cold blood running through my feet. I almost told Jacob that I had to stop. But I kept my mouth shut.

The light slippped away from the earth, the snow began to harden, my breath was condensating, and we found a rocky little clearing that was snow free.

"think we can camp here?" asked Jacob

"Yes!" I quickly said. I didn't care if I had to sleep on a mound of rocks and dead wood, I wanted to peel my socks off and jump in my sleeping bag! But honestly, I think it was the second most ridiculous camping spot Ive slept on since starting the trail.



(morning pic of the tent...it was literally wedged inbetween all those natural elements, but I slept good!)

DAY 103 - Coin Operated

We started the day with navagating down the snow covered slopes. Occassionally checking for reception because Jacob was trying to get Kate, his wife, to send his original insoles to Elk Lake Resort, 45 miles past Shelter Cove.

Once we dropped onto soft dirt terrain we took a snack break and then flew down to the road to get off and head towards Shelter Cove.

Shelter Cove Resort = resupply packages, ice cream?, showers?, power outlets!!!

At the crossroad to get off there was a little self issuing wilderness permit station, with this sign tacked up on the board:




(duh!)

We walked over railroad tracks...




...past an old Volvo parked on the side of the road...




...and to the Resort (camp/rv park)...




...um where were the Ms? Blessed civilization! There were maybe 16 Ms in that whole square mile.

So as we got to the general store I stripped off the rainjacket and rejoiced!

Here I met Sandals, Smudge, and Sheepskin. They were flip flopping around the trail trying to avoid snow, but, while a little better than the high sierras, Oregon was still loaded in places. Everything was melting fast, but the white cakes were still present, and they brought grim reports of the Three Sisters and Mt. Jefferson. Whihoo! They had bailed in several areas, and they warned us that having a GPS was almost vital.

Just when I had thought I was in the clear...we had just gone through all the high points of Oregon and I thought I was mostly out of it! But every day more snow would melt, and every day had it's own challenges, right? So what's a hiker to do but hike on? I felt confident as a navigator, and if the traverses got hairy I could always turn back.

So I went inside, grabbed my packages, and got an incredibly messy ice cream cone...



I opened up my care package from Danea...



...and saw two small wine boxes. Jacob and I toasted to having bumbled through the snow for four days.

I organized my stuff and headed to the showers. Six quarters = 3 minutes of hot water.

I loaded the coins into the slots. I laid out my soap and shampoo carefully. Set the razor out, had everything ready. I slammed the six coins sitting in their prospective slots into the machine, pulled the water knob and acted fast! Two shampoos, sorta shaved legs, scrubbed skin, and only a little soap residue left on me!

I walked back to the store, a new woman.

With such a tight budget I didn't pay the $8 to camp there for the night, but wandered off the property and onto some random trail.

Minimal Ms were present...but what about tomorrow afternoon, when I would return to the wild?


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