The Calm Before the Storm

Leaving my camp in the burned area.

August 17: Once again, I woke up with a bad case of mosquitoes. It was becoming a regular and quite annoying habit. I practically had to jog for three hours to outrun them before they started tapering off to a manageable level when I finally stopped for my first snack break. Usually, I break for a snack within the first couple of hours, but I pushed on for an extra hour even after getting hungry just to avoid those darned mosquitoes.

And, once again, I decided to take an extra long lunch break to relax in the relative calm of a mosquito-free afternoon and hike late into the evening when mosquitoes were at their worst. It's always better to be moving when the mosquitoes are thick!

At around 5:00, I decided to stop for dinner. Normally, I prefer to cook my dinner at the end of the day while in camp, but if the mosquitoes were going to be really bad then, I didn't want to have to fumble around cooking a meal. Better to do it now before the mosquitoes really came out. I cooked my meal in some trees on the side of the trail, finishing up about a half hour later. While rinsing my bowl, I felt a drop of water hit my face. I looked up and saw some very angry-looking clouds. Where the heck did those come from?!


The weather forecast for the last several days suggested a "chance" of thunderstorms, but each day would end with beautiful, clear skies. I had grown complacent and stopped believing the so-called thunderstorms would ever arrive. It wasn't raining--not really, at least, despite the one drop that hit me--but it certainly looked like the sky was warming up to the possibility.

I think this is Irish Lake. I was most amazed at how
perfect the reflection on the lake was. It was like looking
into a mirror. I've never seen such a perfect reflection
from a natural body of water.

It looked nasty enough, in fact, that I started hunting around for sticks to prop open my homemade umbrella. It takes a little time to find the right sized sticks for this, so I wanted to do that before it started raining. A few more drops fell on me. I heard a rumble in the distance, and the clouds seemed to grow darker.

I started throwing everything in my pack rapidly and decided it was time to "run" for camp. Maybe I could make it before the rain really started? I didn't have a chance, though. Within five minutes, the skies opened up and the drenching downpour started.

My goal was to do at least 30 miles for every full day of hiking, and I still had several miles to reach that point. The rain was already coming down in torrents--I was already wet. May as well just trudge through it. I reflected on my long lunch. If only I took a normal short lunch, I could have already completed my 30 miles for the day and been safe and dry under my tarp before the skies started pouring. It was my own stupid fault for being stuck in this storm.

The faint rumbling of thunder grew increasingly louder, and I started counting the time between the flashes and the thunder. At first, this was somewhat difficult since I usually didn't see the flash, but as the clouds grew darker, it was impossible to miss. And occasionally, I heard absolutely no discernible gap between the flash and the thunder--it seemed to crack just above my head. I never saw anything around me struck by lightning, but it was close. And loud. And I thanked my lucky stars that I was in a forest full of trees, well down on the side of a mountain. Fortunately, the PCT almost never goes over the top of a mountain. To keep a grade that horses can love, the trail goes around mountains more often than not. In a lightning storm, this is a good thing.

I wasn't thinking much about the clouds at this point.
They didn't seem like a big deal at the time....

The trail climbed steadily upwards, which did not please me at all, but I wasn't too concerned about it figuring it would pass through a necessary gap between two mountains then head back down the other side. The sky darkened considerably. Sunset was still a good hour away, but the clouds were so thick and in the depths of the forest, it was positively dark except for the bright flashes of light.

My umbrella almost felt worse than useless. I was soaked through, cold, and miserable. The storm seemed to have no intention of being a quick one. The skies were angry, and they had a lot to dump.

Then the trail went directly over the top of Koosah Mountain. The very tippy top. I was stunned! I hadn't been at the top of a mountain in what seemed like weeks, and now here I was standing at the very top in the middle of the thunderstorm! And more than a little nervous. I did not stop to rest.

I pushed on, trying to get back down the other side as quickly as possible. I had enough--I would stop at the next safe place I could find. Normally, I would have loved to camp at the very top of the mountain, but in a thunderstorm, that was not going to happen.

About ten minutes later, I found a tent set up near the edge of a cliff alongside the trail. I shouted into it over the thunder, asking who was in there. A fellow named Mike, who claimed to be a thru-hiker himself. "Then why are you just called Mike? What's you're trail name?" He had no trail name, though. He was just Mike. I'd never met Mike before and introduced myself, then decided to camp in the same area, a small distance away.

I was a little nervous about this particular site. We weren't at the top of the mountain, but we weren't very far downhill from it either. Mike had set up his tent next to a couple of prominently large trees that worried me a bit. I set up next to a couple of smaller trees. Had Mike not been there, I would never have considered stopping at that location at all--it seemed too dangerous. It still seemed dangerous, but I also liked the idea of having another hiker nearby if lightning did strike a little too close. Also another reason I didn't want to set up my camp too close to Mike. If there was at least a little distance between us, at least one of us would be okay if lightning struck. So I hoped. I also crossed my fingers. =)

I look out from under my homemade umbrella.
Forecast: Wet.

With my tarp finally set up, I dived under and changed into the dry clothes in my pack. Actually, even my dry clothes were a little wet. The waterproofing of my stuff sacks seems to have lost their resistance to water. The clothes weren't soaking wet, but they were supposed to be 100% completely and totally dry. They were not. Neither was my sleeping bag. I made a mental note to be better prepared for wet weather in the future. This was only the third time in four months it had rained on me--and the first time I had to set up camp IN the rain. I'd forgotten it could rain.

My view from under the tarp was awesome--I could see the silhouette of South Sister, a magnificent mountain that would light up with every flash of lightning. Given the fantastic view, I decided to try my cell phone and e-mail. It seemed unlikely I'd get anything, but I had nothing better to do. Remarkably, they both worked! I called Amanda. =)

"You would NOT believe this lightning storm out here?!" I'd shout over the rain pounding the tarp.

"Are you under your tarp?"

"Yes!" A flash of lightning streaked across the sky. "WOAH! You should have seen that lightning bolt!"

"I can actually hear the rain on your tarp!"

This was the last decent picture I could get for the day
before the skies got so dark I couldn't get anything
but blurry photos. The burned area let enough light get
through. Once I was in the trees again, it was just too dark
for more photos. That's the South Sister (of the Three Sisters
fame) in the distance. Lightning was striking that
mountain all over the place! And shooting across the sky
in cloud-to-cloud strikes.

"Yeah, it's pretty loud," I agreed. "Can you hear the thunder too?" I asked, just as the boom from the lightning bolt rumbled through. She couldn't though. I guess the pounding of the rain drowned it out.

Amanda seemed pretty amused that I was talking to her on a cell phone, from the middle of nowhere, in a lightning storm. The reception was awesome, which is strange since half the time I don't even get a signal even when I'm IN a town.

The lightning didn't stop until nearly midnight, and the rain lingered on for most of the night, and I finally went to sleep. At least the mosquitoes weren't out this night. The rain must have driven them off. =)

Over the Mountains and Through the Woods....

Sunrise from my camp at East Diamond Peak.

August 16: Can you believe it? Mid-August already! And you guys thought I'd never get caught up with this blog. But it's still going! =)

I woke up this Monday morning to do what most working Americans do: Work. I started early, already on the trail hiking by 6:15 that morning. The mosquitoes were already raising a ruckus, and the best way to avoid them was to outrun them!

The trail passed through a lot of trees with a lot of ponds--if there was a mosquito heaven, then this section of the trail was it. Lots of stagnant ponds to breed, lots of tree cover to keep the wind and elements away, and lots of hikers to take advantage of. Those mosquitoes must have though they died and went to heaven. I felt like I died and had gone to hell.

By around lunchtime, I had reached Highway 58, crossing just below Willamette Pass. My guide showed "dining" available about a quarter-mile up the road, along with a mini-mart of some sort, so I went ahead and walked from the pass to the ski area. I was sadly disappointed to see the parking lot taped off and everything appeared to be closed. *grumbling* In the early afternoon, the bugs were still out, but at reduced levels. I had hoped to go indoors and escape the buggers completely for lunch. It was not meant to be. *sigh* AND I walked a 1/4 mile off the trail AND BACK with absolutely nothing to show for it except wasted time. Argh!

One of many, many ponds
along this section of trail.

I did stop for lunch further up the trail between a small bit of land separating Upper Rosary Lake from Middle Rosary Lake. What a wonderful place to camp, I thought, if it wasn't so early in the afternoon. Probably a buggy hell come evening in any case. I wasn't tempted to stop early and try my luck. I did, however, stop for a rather lengthy two hours and read from one of the magazines I carried.

Normally, I'd rather have taken a short lunch and stopped earlier for the day, but given how bad the mosquitoes have been getting, I decided to take a longer lunch and hike later into the evening. I wanted to do a full 12 hours of hiking each day. Whether a I took a two hour lunch and hiked two hours later into the evening or took a short lunch break and stopped earlier, I'd get the miles in.

The difference was that by doing more walking during the buggy times, they'd bug me less. As long as I walked, and walked quickly, they couldn't get me. So I used the non-buggy (or rather, less-buggy) times for relaxing and resting.

I didn't cross paths with any northbound hikers, and I wondered if Red Head, Double D, and Just Dave were ahead of me or behind me. If they did NOT take the alternate route, they were definitely behind me. If they did take the alternate, I didn't know if they reconnected to the PCT at Willamette Pass before or after I reached it. I knew there were at least a dozen or so people within a day ahead of me, but I could have easily passed some of them if they had gotten off the trail at Willamette Pass to resupply at the nearly Crescent Lake Junction.

Odell Lake

In a nutshell, I no longer had any idea who--if anyone--was ahead of me, or behind me. There were certainly hikers around--I just didn't know where.

A little after 8:00 in the evening, I set up camp in a fire burn area near the trail junction for Lily Lake. The burn area had several advantages: One, it was exposed to the wind, which would help keep the mosquitoes away. Two, the area was largely bare of vegetation that could hide and protect those little buggers. And three, it gave me a nice view of the sky above. I do like to camp under the open skies when I can. =) It was also well away from any known water sources, which I hoped would limit the near-certain mosquito attacks to a manageable level.

And yes, the mosquitoes were still annoyingly bad. They could have been much worse, though.

What's up with that?! *grrr*

For dinner, I prepared the world famous Hamburger Helper. (Made with real, dehydrated hamburger. For some reason, everyone always thinks I don't add hamburger to the meal.) I already slipped into my sleeping bag while cooking--helps keep the mosquitoes away from my lower half and a good portion of my torso with just my head and arms poking out the top. But while ripping open the seasoning packet, I got a little carried away. The package ripped open, and most of it spilled out onto my sleeping bag, covering me with an orange dust.

"Just great," I thought. "I bet the bears are bored of eating unseasoned hikers anyhow." Not that I really believed any bears would attack me, but on general principle, I prefer not to smell like food.

I cleaned up the mess the best I could, though, and finished cooking and eating dinner. At one point during the night, I heard something that sounded large scurrying around near the unburned line of trees several hundred feet away. "It's not a bear," I told myself. And I still believe that. =) Probably a deer or something. Yeah, probably. =)

Upper Rosary Lake, if I recall correctly.

I think this section of trail might be in danger of "too much" signage!
I especially like how many options the blue arrows provide. =)

I enjoyed looking at the lichen while resting during my lunch break.

You'd think this was a forest or something!

Really? I could walk all the way to Eugene from here? Cool!
Maybe next time, though....

Charlton Lake

Sunset from camp

Attack of the Killer Mosquitoes

Overlook of Miller Lake.

August 15: In the morning, Red Head had his tarp set up. This surprised me because when he went to sleep, he didn't have it set up. I warned him the evening before that "possible" thunderstorms were forecast overnight, but it was a pretty low probability and both of us decided to risk cowboy camping. I was fully prepared to get up in the middle of the night and set up a tarp if it started to rain, but it hadn't. Red Head, however, said that he saw lightning to the east all night long and decided to set up his tarp after all. Despite sleeping maybe 25 feet away, I didn't see any lightening, nor even noticed Red Head setting up his camp during the night. I must have really been out of it!

That morning, the mosquitoes were absolutely awful, so it didn't take me long to pack up and start hiking. Despite my early start, I was still the last one out of camp. Just Dave broke down camp and was on the trail before the sun even came up. Double D wasn't far behind. Red Head was the most leisurely of the bunch, but even he left camp before I did.

I caught up with all three of them at Windigo Pass, however, where the water cache was essentially empty. I knew about this water cache and hoped to restock my water supplies on this dry stretch of trail with it, but my topo map also showed a permanent water source--a creek--a tenth of a mile off the trail. While I hoped I could fill up from the water cache, I still had the creek as Plan B.

The weather forecast called for a "chance" of
thunderstorms, but the storms held off. For now...

Except when I arrived, Red Head, Double D, and Just Dave told me they had hiked down the road and found the creek dry. One of them even hiked a ways in the opposite direction along the dirt road and came up empty. Checking with Erik the Black's book, I saw a small water source about 2 1/2 miles further up the trail and told the rest that, but Red Head shook his head. "No, Yogi says that water source dried up. The next one on the trail is another 12 miles away."

Hmm.... This was bad. Twelve miles is a long way to hike with no water. I still had 1 liter of water left in my pack--I always make it a point of carrying more than I expect I'll need on any given segment (better too much than not enough!), which left me with about 1 liter more of water than any of the other three. But still, 1 liter of water for 12 miles of hiking--not a good ratio. I let them drain the last drops from the water cache--they needed it more than I did.

When they were done, I shook the cache and could still hear water sloshing around inside. Why didn't they get every last drop? It wasn't much, but still, waste not, want not. I twisted off the nozzles completely and drained the very last drops myself, managing to squeeze out another 1/3 of a liter of water. I thought they were crazy for not taking it, but if they weren't going to, I'd be happy to have it.

The register with the cache included a phone number of the person who maintains it, so one of them with a cell phone (that actually got a signal!) made a call. He was a couple of hours away--it would take a couple of hours for him to resupply the water, but he did suggest an alternate route that would pass water sooner than the PCT. I wasn't interested in the alternate route--I had 1 1/3 liters of water. I could make it to the next water source. I'd be thirsty and miserable, but I could make it. So while they were talking on the phone trying to figure out what to do, I waved goodbye and headed up the trail... alone.

Turns out, Yogi was wrong. Erik the Black was right. After 2.4 miles, I reached a small, stagnant pond just off to the side of the trail. It was an ugly pond. Stagnant. And it looked like the shoreline was trampled by cows or something. The water was nasty, but as they say, beggars can't be choosers. I filled up my Nalgene bottle, threw in a pill that would sterilize the water (a rare thing for me to do), and was determined not to drink that water unless I absolutely had to.

Back on the trail, I wrote a message in the trail pointing to the H₂O in case Red Head, Double D, and Just Dave decided not to take the alternate route. Heck, anyone coming after me would likely be needing water, and I wanted to make sure nobody missed it--nasty as it was.

The next water source, ten miles away, was another stagnant pond, not any better than the stagnant pond I did take water from, so I didn't bother to fill up there. And I started drinking the horrid water. I was out of the good water, I was thirsty, and I needed to drink some fluids. The water from the stagnant pond tasted fine, but I still didn't really trust it. I pushed on another few miles to Summit Lake where I planned to restock my water--it was an enormous lake and anything but stagnant. I could definitely get water there, I thought.

And the lake was beautiful. Clear, blue water, more than anyone could use in a lifetime. But upon stopping for about 10 seconds, I was bombarded with one of the largest mosquito attacks of my life. I walked around in circles, trying to outrun the mosquitoes, pulling out my water bladders, and I finally gave up. I just couldn't stop. I pulled out my bottle of DEET instead and applied great quantities of it all over the place, and I swear I heard the mosquitoes laugh at me when I did that.

I wrote my H₂O message in sticks--there weren't
many rocks to use like I'd done with previous trail signs.

I gave up and made a run for it. The trail crossed a dirt road by the lake and just as I was crossing, a pickup truck came to a stop in front of me. A cute girl leaned out the window and asked, "Are you hiker trash?"

"YES!" My arms flailed, trying to swat the mosquitoes.

"Do you want trail magic?!" God, I'd love some! Did it include jumping into her vehicle?

There were actually two girls in the truck, and they stopped the car and jumped out. The driver told me that she worked at Crater Lake maintaining trails and had thru-hiked the PCT in the past. And this story started sounding very familiar to me.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Coyote."

"Yes! I thought so! I met you at the general store in Old Station!" She had given me a ride in that very pickup truck back to the Heitmans. With all the mosquito swatting going on and completely out-of-context and unexpected run-in, I hadn't recognized her or her truck.

The girls weren't out of their truck for more than two seconds before they started flailing their arms around like me. It was a strange little conversation....

Water, so close, and yet so far...

Coyote had the day off and her and her friend decided to hike up Diamond Peak--a short way ahead for me--for the afternoon. We only talked for a few minutes, though, before the mosquitoes drove the two girls off. Quite literally. Coyote said she wanted to stay and talk longer, but the mosquitoes were terrible. (And they had shorts on! Suckers!) I could already see streaks of blood on their arms and legs where they killed mosquitoes that had already gotten some of their blood. Coyote did give me a few food items, but I didn't examine them especially closely. "I'll eat this stuff further up the trail where the mosquitoes aren't as bad!" I explained. It was horrible. Trail magic, and I couldn't even enjoy it. Not yet, at least....

Coyote and friend drove off, and I practically ran up the trail trying to escape the mosquitoes. It was turning out to be a miserable day, despite the trail magic. Bad water, bad mosquitoes... what else could go wrong?

I should know better than to ask questions like that, but I did. Miraculously, nothing else went wrong that day. Occasionally, I'd see what would look like a viewpoint ahead on the trail, and I'd take out my camera while hiking, then take a photo at that point--without even stopping. I couldn't stop, not for a second, before a swarm of mosquitoes decided. So most of my photos that afternoon are a little blurry. They were taken, quite literally, while I was on the run. I cussed the things out, which made me feel a little better at first, but it didn't last long.

I finally did fill up with water--another stagnant pond, though not as bad as the first ones I'd come across--just beyond Emigrant Pass. It was, according to my maps, the last water source available for 10 miles, and I was completely out and already dehydrated. The mosquitoes were still there, but seemed to be weakened at this particular location. Perhaps because it was in the sun. The mosquitoes seemed much more active when I was in the trees and shadows, and this particular little pond was fully exposed to the sun at the time.

I set up camp near sunset at an exposed section of trail on East Diamond Peak, hoping the wind would help drive them off. The wind did help--a little--but the mosquitoes didn't give up. I ate a few snacks but decided to skip a full dinner. I couldn't handle the bugs anymore. I'd rather starve than expose my arms and fingers by cooking dinner.

No, it wasn't until after 10:00 that evening when the mosquitoes finally decided to leave me alone. I turned on my headlamp and started cooking dinner. I was famished!

Mount Thielson

Sunrise over Crater Lake.

August 14: I woke up to a strong wind, but as long as it kept the mosquitoes away, I wasn't going to complain. Not to mention waking up to the spectacular view known as Crater Lake. Shortly after sunrise, I was back on the trail hiking.

Near where the trail crossed the rim road, an ambulance was parked. The road forks there, one direction continuing along the crater's rim while the other headed north to who knows where. Getting closer, I could see a sign directing runners to turn there. Guess there must be a race going on today, but I certainly didn't see any runners.

Thinking back to the day before, at one parking area along the rim road that intersects the trail, I noticed a long line of porta-potties. The porta-potties outnumbered the people parked at the trailhead by about 10 to 1 and it seemed like a ridiculous number for such a small parking area, but now that mystery been lifted: runners. Those porta-potties were for the runners that, presumably, would be running today.

I didn't care about running, though, and followed the trail down the north side of the crater where it hooked up with the official PCT once again and dived back into the trees.

Even from the crater rim, I could see Mount Thielson
off in the distance. I expected to hike past it by sunset.

In the afternoon, I came across a group of about 10 day hikers who were coming down from Mount Thielson quizzing me about my hike. Quite the interrogation, but I didn't mind so much since they offered me some extra cookies and a small bottle of grape juice. =)

Late in the day, I reached Thielson Creek--the first water source in 25 miles--where I found Double D just about ready to soak his feet. He kindly waited until after I filled up with water before dunking his feet. Just Dave and Red Head, he told me, were just ahead on the trail. Not a big surprise since I had seen them the afternoon before at Crater Lake. Double D asked about my camp on the rim (wonderful!), and I asked about their camp off the rim (buggy and horrible!).

Double D looked to be in quite a bit of pain. He wasn't actually thru-hiking the trail and had only been on it for a week or two, so he was still suffering from blisters and the usual problems associated with starting a long-distance hike. Trying to keep up with his friend from home, Red Head, was a challenge. Red Head was thru-hiking and had come all the way from Canada. But Double D was determined to keep up, planning to complete his first 30 mile day that afternoon. But his feet were suffering badly from the distances he had not yet grown accustomed to.

The ambulance drivers seemed to be directing traffic.

Several more miles further along the trail, I caught up with Just Dave who was standing near a sign marking the high point of the PCT for the Oregon/Washington section of the trail. "It's all downhill from here!" I told Just Dave, but neither of us really believed that. =) The high point for Oregon and Washington was rather anti-climatic. The area was mostly above tree line so we could actually have views, but it was like standing in the middle of a large plateau rather than on the edge of the plateau where the sweeping views would be found.

Just Dave was on his cell phone, talking to his wife. I didn't image there would be a signal out here--where the heck did that come from?--but I followed his example and pulled out my cell phone and Peek device. The cell phone didn't get a signal, but I was able to download my e-mail with the Peek. =) Just Dave finished his call and continued on while I sat down and went through e-mail. Double D caught up and limped passed me while I was attending to 'business.' Which included downloading a weather report predicting afternoon thunderstorms for the next few days. I didn't like that forecast and tried downloading a new one, but it sent me the same miserable forecast again. Stupid computers.

Most of the day's hiking was like this--flat, easy,
and in the trees.

I passed ahead of Double D about a half hour after leaving, eventually coming to a stop at the trail junction for Miller Lake and a nice little spot for a camp. Just Dave and Red Head had also decided to stop there so I actually had company for the night. Seemed like eons since I actually camped with any other hikers.

Diamond Lake, off in the distance.

Mount Thielson, getting closer and closer....

Double D examines his poor, pitiful feet along Thielson Creek.

This sign marks Oregon and Washington's high point on the PCT.

After checking my e-mail, I took this photo before getting up again.

Crater Lake

This must have been a fierce fire at the time!

August 13: The burn area described by the southbounders I met yesterday was just another couple of miles down the trail, and it must have been quite an exciting little blaze. It looked very recent, and it looked very thorough, but I had no information about when the fire happened, the size, or the cause. It just looked like an enormous apocalyptic wasteland, but I rather enjoyed it. It had a hypnotic quality, and it allowed for a lot of views that otherwise would have been obscured with trees. The more I hike in the trees, the more I wished those lumber companies would get their act together and cut out some views. =)

In the late morning, I reached Highway 62--the road into Mazama Village. I followed the road about a mile into the village. The main purpose was to pick up the food I mailed to myself, but while I was there, I could make phone calls and pig out on non-hiker foods. Near the pay phone, a huge line stretched by. Nobody was using the phone, though, so I approached it, joking that I hoped the line wasn't for the phone. No, they told me, they were waiting for campsites. These were the people who had not reserved a campsite and it was first come, first serve. They were hoping to beat the odds and get a site.

I didn't say anything to them, but I thought, "There are about a BILLION trees out here where you can camp for free, and you're all jockeying for a bunch of picnic tables crowded with other nearby campers?" Then I thought, "Good. There will be fewer of you trying to poach near MY campsites." =) I'm turning so cynical.

The road walk into Mazama Village.

I pick up my mail drop, called Amanda and my mom, then ate a large lunch buffet at Annie's Creek Restaurant before following Annie Spring trail behind the complex back to the PCT.

The trail climbed steadily upwards, up to the crater rim. At Dutton Creek, the trail splits. The official PCT goes around Crater Lake--horses aren't allowed up at the crater's rim--but I don't think a single thru-hiker on foot has ever followed it. Nobody wants to hike around Crater Lake--we want to hike on the rim! So horses turned left to follow a trail around Crater Lake, and I went right to the footpath to the rim.

About four miles out of Mazama Village, I reached the rim at Rim Village. I stopped for a cold soda at the store there where I bumped into a few other hikers including Red Head, Just Dave, and Double D. Which is where I learned that I actually had passed Zero Zero and Fire Marshall when they got off the trail at Fish Lake Resort to pick up new shoes... or something to that effect. I didn't get off the trail to resupply there, which is why I never saw them. I was a little surprised that anyone would get off the trail to resupply there. Seemed too close since leaving Ashland, and it was twice as far off the trail as Mazama Village. I couldn't provide the three any information about how far back the two were, though, since I hadn't even seen them.

Rim Village was crowded with people. Hundreds of them, milling around, admiring the views. I entered the store to buy a cold drink and felt positively claustrophobic in the store, pushing my way through the hordes of people. Didn't they have maximum occupancy requirements they had to follow? Because I'm pretty sure they weren't being followed. I must have reeked since my last shower was a few days before, but it was so crowded, that my reek alone was not enough to part the masses of people.

The line that seemingly started at the pay phone. (And the
line continued to grow the longer I was there.) My
maildrop was inside the store there.

I bought a drink, finally stumbling out into the sun outside, and shook my head with disbelief. "Have you ever seen so many people in your life?!" I asked Red Head. "Holy crap!"


The three eventually picked up and left as I sat outside sucking my drink. I also filled up with water--the rim of Crater Lake has no water sources and I did not expect to reach another water source for 25 miles. And I was left thinking about this historic landmark known as Crater Lake. Sullivan liked it so much that he dedicated three hikes in his Hiking Oregon's History book to Crater Lake. I'd already done all three of them on past visits, but I revisited them in my mind. Crater Lake Lodge I could see a little ways off the east, the start of one of his hikes. It was built from 1909-1915 for the "relatively modest price of $50,000, the building originally opened with tarpaper on its outside walls and flimsy beaverboard between rooms." It was scheduled to be demolished in the 1980s but a public outcry saved it. Instead, it had a $35 million makeover and reopened in 1995 better than ever.

I finished my drink, properly disposed of the cup, picked up my pack, and started hiking. I have been to Crater Lake a couple of times before, but today was the best views I've ever had of the park. Previous visits were obscured with smoke from nearby wildfires (I wondered if the fire area I hiked through that morning was the same fire that obscured the views on one of those visits), and once I drove through in the middle of the night only seeing the views by moonlight. Today it was clear, no smoke in the air, and the middle of the day. The deep blue water of Crater Lake sparkled like the jewel I'd always read about but never managed to see.

The gift store at Rim Village where I bought
my cold soda. You can't tell from this photo
but there are probably hundreds of people
crowded in that building. *shaking head*

There's a boat in the lake that will take visitors to Wizard Island, named since it resembles a wizard's hat. It looks like a tiny dot on the vastness of the lake, and visitors can disembark at Wizard Island to follow a trail to the top. I did this in a previous visit, and tried to pick out people on the island but couldn't see anyone. I wasn't sure if that was because there was nobody to see or if it was because they were too small to be seen, but I did pick out the faint trail that leads to the top. Interestingly, I decided, the views of Wizard Island are actually better than the views from Wizard Island. But I was still glad to have visited Wizard Island. =) Wizard Island is another of the hikes described in Sullivan's book, this time exploring the geology associated with the area and the formation of Crater Lake (which, technically, is a caldera, not a crater, but Caldera Lake doesn't really have the same ring to it, now does it?) and Wizard Island (which, technically, does have a crater at the top).

I asked a tourist if he could get a photo of me at the rim there--I hadn't been getting many photos of myself recently, but I figured I needed at least one with Crater Lake, thanked the man, and started hiking clockwise around the rim. The rim trail was remarkably difficult to follow with steep ups and downs. Now that I was no longer on a trail specifically designed for horses, they felt no compunctions about finding the steepest, most direct routes they could find. My hiking speed went down significantly, and I spent more time looking at my feet than the views of the lake. But wow, what amazing views! Even more remarkable, absolutely no tourists were using the rim trail. The only other people I found along the rim were the other thru-hikers. I also passed two more southbound thru-hikers who had started in Canada.

Crater Lake--the deepest lake in the United States
(third deepest in the world)--and that deep blue color
actually shows up pretty well in my photos!

I was told, down in Southern California, that this year there might not be anyone who completes a southbound thru-hike due to the heavy snow in the North Cascades. I was a little skeptical of those claims--I heard some people predicting that "nobody" would be able to cross the High Sierras too--but we managed to succeed. And while trail communication is remarkable, I couldn't fathom how news of the trail in Washington could reach us in Southern California--at least not accurately. Now I'd found five southbound thru-hikers who had started in Canada, with more on the way.

The trail wound its way around the Watchman, a fire lookout located on the highest point along Crater Lake's rim and the third Crater Lake hike described by Sullivan.

By around 7:00 that afternoon, I was coming close to Devil's Backbone, where the trail veers off the rim of Crater Lake and back down to hook up again with the official PCT. It was still early in the day to be quitting, but I knew I wouldn't find any better place to camp than right there on the rim. The views were awesome, and the mosquitoes were non-existent. I found a nice little place out of view of the road circling Crater Lake and set up camp. Red Head, Just Dave, and Double D continued on wanting to get in more miles. Suckers. I had the best campsite in the world--all to myself! =)

Who IS that handsome devil?! ;o)

That didn't last long, however. About an hour later, two section hikers arrived and joined me. They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. =) They set up their camp about 30 feet away under a few trees struggling to survive on the harsh rim conditions. While they cooked dinner, one of them came over to me and offered me a slice of salami, but by then I had already eaten dinner and brushed my teeth, so I declined. I think he might have found that insulting, though, because neither of them came over to talk to me again for the rest of the night. I didn't mean to be insulting. =(

Once the sun set, the mosquitoes came out in force. I was a little disappointed about that. The day had been the least buggy for several days and I hoped on the exposed rim where I was, they wouldn't be a problem at night either. I was wrong.

The mosquitoes only bothered me for a couple of hours, however, before the wind picked up and blew them into submission. And it was a strong wind that picked up, blowing sand everywhere--into my hair, into my ears, into my gear. I didn't complain, though. No, I thanked the wind for the protection it provided against those blood-sucking mosquitoes.

Wizard Island

And once the sky got dark, I watched the Perseids shoot meteors across the sky over Crater Lake. This was the wide-open sky I wanted the night before, and while the Perseids were no longer at their peak, the sky was still spitting out shooting stars quickly and efficiently. Late in the night, I woke up and spent a solid hour watching the sky. I could see the Crater Lake Lodge with a few lights on off in the distance, but otherwise, it felt like I was alone, with the entire lake to myself. Totally awesome. Totally. =)

The two southbound thru-hikers I met today.

Just Dave (left) and Double D (right) hiking along the rim.
(Crater Lake is immediately behind me.)

The Best Campsite In the World!

I had a great view for the Perseid meteor shower here!

Southbounders and Perseids

Early in the day there were plenty of views.
Late in the day--where I really wanted
the views... not so much.....

August 12: My primary goal for today was to find a nice, clear place to set up camp. The Perseid meteor shower would peek tonight, and I wanted a good vantage point to enjoy the view. Unfortunately, looking at my topo maps, it looked like the trail would run through trees nearly the entire day--and it was especially thick with trees around the section I'd expect to reach. Should I cut my day short? Try to push onward further than I've ever traveled in a day? Let's see how I feel nearer the end of the day and make a decision. Ideally, I wanted to travel about 30 miles, stopping near Honeymoon Creek, but there were uninterrupted trees for miles north and south of that point.

The first half of the day, as it turns out, was largely clear of trees. After hiking so much in the trees in the last few days, I decided to take off the long-sleeved shirt that I wore every day to keep me from burning. Once the shirt was off, I didn't feel like putting it back on once I broke out of the trees, and I ended up getting a slight sunburn. Stupid sun. *shaking head* After that, I started wearing the long-sleeved shirt even when I thought I'd be in the trees.

Not to mention that the bugs seemed to stay out all day long. Usually they gave up by about mid-morning, but today they stayed out the whole day. While I walked, it wasn't a big deal--they couldn't keep up with me--but when I stopped for a break or to eat lunch, they attacked. It wasn't a big attack, but there were certainly enough of them to be annoying.

While I didn't see any northbound thru-hikers
today, I did see evidence of them up ahead!
I was a little puzzled about this note left for
Fire Marshall and Zero Zero by Red Head since
I was pretty sure all three of them were ahead of me.
Did they walk past the note and not even see it?
Did I somehow pass Fire Marshall and Zero Zero
and not even know it?

Also annoying me, the buckle for my waist pack started grinding painfully into my back. I adjusted it a few times, trying to find something that would alleviate the pain, and finally just took it off completely and threw it into my pack. I'd hiked well over 1,700 miles with that waist pack with no problems, and there was nothing obvious about why it would suddenly start causing such discomfort. Am I getting too thin? Has that comforting layer of fat worn off of my body and the lack of padding is causing the trouble? I didn't know, but I couldn't hike with it on anymore.

Speaking of aches and pains, my left ankle was still a little sore from those bad shoes I got rid of four days before. How long before my feet were back to 100%? I didn't expect to still be hurting from those shoes four days after ditching them. Maybe I'm just getting old. Or, more likely, tired. I need to finish this trail....

Near the end of the day, I met three people heading southbound on the trail--the only people I had seen all day--and it turns out they were actually thru-hikers who started the trail in Canada! I met my first south-bound thru-hikers! Wow. If we could somehow merge our hikes, we'd already be done!

Southbounders tend to start their hike about a month or two after us northbound hikers do, mainly due to snow in the North Cascades. These hikers started in mid June at the Canadian border. They complained bitterly about the horrible snow conditions in Washington and said it probably was as bad as the snow we faced in the High Sierras. The mountains in Washington are considerably lower than those of the High Sierras, but it's also at a much higher latitude which compensates for the lower altitudes. The snowpack is often times much deeper in Washington than the Sierras.

But Oregon, they assured me, was basically snow-free for them, and relatively flat and easy to hike. The trail was very well groomed as well. Washington, they reported, had a lot of overgrown sections. But, they admitted, that might only be because trail crews hadn't had a chance to get out and do maintenance by the time they went through. Perhaps that would be fixed by the time I reached Washington.

I told them that there were some great views coming up for them soon, and they might want to consider camping out on one of them because of the Perseid meteor shower. The girl, whose name I've long since forgotten, seemed pretty excited about the meteor shower not realizing that the Perseids was at its peak. She asked about which part of the sky to watch, and I suggested looking to the east sometime after midnight. I asked them for suggested views along the trail that might not show up on my topo map, but they weren't optimistic.

They did say there was a large burn around ahead for me on the trail, however, which got my hopes up. A forest that's been thoroughly burned can leave the sky wide open and clear! They didn't remember exactly where the burned area started, though, and weren't sure if I'd make it by the end of the day. I crossed my fingers and hoped. =)

Then we went our separate ways, I heading north and them heading south. I stopped at Honeymoon Creek to resupply water, but the mosquitoes there were horrible. I hoped that maybe along the water's banks there might be a view of the sky, but there wasn't. The next water supply on the trail was 20 miles away as well. Almost all hikers, I suspected, stopped here for the night because of that fact. I wanted a view of the sky, however, and to get away from the mosquitoes, so I loaded up with 5 liters of water and kept hiking.

I pushed on another four plus miles finally stopping near sunset by the intersection with McKie Camp Trail--completing a record 34.0 miles for the day. The burn area, wherever it was, eluded me. By sunset and after 34.0 miles, I was tired and needed to stop. There was a small clearing on a hillside that provided a limited view of the sky directly above me, and I set up camp there. It was less than ideal, but it would have to do. I was hugely disappointed, though. I'd been looking forward to this meteor shower for a week and it was hugely disappointing not to find a better place to watch the show.

The last nice view of the day's hike.

Even with the limited view I still saw a lot of shooting stars. My highlight for the night was watching two shooting stars that shot into view simultaneously. I've seen them in close succession before, but it was pretty cool watching two shooting through the air simultaneously.

Honeymoon Creek--the last water source on the trail
for the next 20 miles.

My campsite for the night. This was
one of the most common views I had
each day. =)

Goodbye to Ashland....

Amanda checks out the flowers by the trail.

August 11: Amanda and I woke up for our last morning in Ashland. She had to go back to work. I needed to go back to hiking 'full time.' I'd never make it to Canada in time if I kept doing 16 mile days!

Before we left town, I did a little minor resupplying at a nearby Rite-Aid. I also needed some more fuel for my stove, so we followed the directions in my guidebook to a so-called hardware store. When we first entered the store, we thought maybe we had the wrong place--it was filled with art supplies! Deeper in the store we found more traditional wares of a hardware store. We found the denatured alcohol and started making our way out of town, stopping at Wendy's along the way to fuel myself. No reason not to fill up with the junk food I normally eat. =)

And once again, I found myself at the side of Keno Access Road, ready to continue my hike. The four soda cans we left the afternoon were crushed and waiting for pickup, along with a beer can that seemingly materialized out of thin air.

For the first 0.8 miles, Amanda would join me to add to her own Hike-a-Thon miles. My guidebook showed a dirt road crossing the trail at 0.8 miles, a clear landmark that Amanda could use for marking her miles. Before we started walking, Amanda put out an ice chest and garbage bag for any hikers that happened along.

The trail was mostly flat, which Amanda appreciated, and in the trees which didn't bother Amanda one way or another. When we reached the road we hugged and parted ways.

You don't see signs like this very often, but they're
a heck of a lot of fun to find. I can't help but smile
at the thought that the Canadian miles is so much
smaller than the Mexican miles! I'm practically done already! =)

I didn't start hiking until noon and my plan for the day was to do at least 15 miles--fairly respectable for such a late start, I thought. I was quite pleased with myself when I ended the day after 20.6 miles of hiking, setting up camp in the dwindling daylight near Highway 140. I was a little sad that Amanda couldn't stay for an extra day--I was actually at a major, paved road. It would have been easy for her to pick me up again. Most of the trail it's hard to coordinate days of slackpacking because there are so few roads around, and now here's a road we can't even make any use of.

The whole day of walking was pretty dull. I passed no thru-hikers along the way, and only two day hikers along the way. The trail stayed in the trees almost the entire distance except for a few fleeting views of Mount McLoughlin

Several days later, when I talked to Amanda again, I'd learn that she bumped into Charmin and Hasty walking back to the car. Apparently, they were mere minutes behind me on the trail and I never even knew it, but it was the first confirmation I had heard that Hasty had finally caught up with Charmin again--apparently doing a whopping 50-mile day into Ashland. Seems kind of ironic that Amanda's last Charmin sighting was actually later than my last Charmin sighting.

Mount McLoughlin dominates
the occasional view late in the day.

You can tell I arrived at Highway 140 late in
the day--look at the length of my shadow! =)

I camped by this pretty little creek. =)