In the 455 miles between the hiker sanctuaries of Ashland and Cascade Locks, I find out exactly how flat Oregon really is, experience some lava, volcanoes and one giant crater, see some epic waterfalls, and sustain another injury.
We walked past the lodge, following a paved road until we joined up with the trail about a mile on. As usual, it’s ridiculously hot out. Our three wonderful days in Ashland has softened us, and our pace is slow going.
It was late afternoon, and still too hot to comfortably hike. I took the opportunity to have a free shower in the campground, and then we set out again. Back on the trail, it didn’t take long for my pain to return and slow me down again. I fell behind, and Bear Bait disappeared into the forest. I did my best to wrap up the areas on my feet that were giving me the worst problems; mainly the balls of my feet. I eventually caught up to Bear Bait again further on into the woods, limping along as best as I could. We pushed on into the dark of night, settling on a clearing in the woods to make camp. We had only done 20 miles, and I felt like I wanted to die from the pain I was in.
In the morning, we walked past several dirt roads and then stopped for water at a buggy spring just off the PCT. It was another uncomfortably hot day with more foot pain. I ate a quick breakfast and we pushed forward. The trail continued through dense forest, and I lagged behind from the agony I was in.
“I can’t let the legacy of the PCT Class of 2016 be that douche bag. I’m going to finish this fucking trail if it kills me.” I force myself up and start to walk ahead. (Photo: Lava fields with Mount McLoughlin in the distance).
We head to the free camping area designated for thru hikers, armed to the teeth with beer and ice cream. I treat myself to a shower after dinner, and the hot water feels so good on my aching body.
We sleep in the next morning, and take our time leaving. I go to the washroom near the store and scrub my feet and socks down, much to the horror of some passing tourists. Over some fresh coffee at the resort cafe, we hear through other hikers that the trail is open again through Crater Lake, and we hope that it’s true. We head back out to the highway once our lazy morning is through, and try to hitch back to the trail.
We return to the trail during the heat of the day, after a waitress gives us a ride. We stop for water 12 miles ahead at Christi’s Spring, the first reliable water source we’ve come across since leaving the resort. The spring is off the PCT, down a steep trail and within a fog of mosquitoes. We eat some food, and collect water from the muddy trickle. This is our last water for 14 miles, and we need it to get us through the night. The mosquitoes make it difficult, but we manage to fill all of our bottles without going completely insane.
The trail from here on out is exceptionally difficult. There’s blow downs for miles across the trail, which we have to clamber under, over or around. It isn’t easy, and we’re both getting increasingly frustrated. We scrape our knees, our elbows and the inner fleshy bit of the upper thigh. We’re hot and sweaty, and so grumpy from miles of terrible trail conditions. We make the decision to stop in a camp surrounded by dead, beetle infested trees, where they’re are bleached white from the sun and creaking like old bones in the breeze. It’s a risky move, but we’re aching badly, and a dead tree falling and killing us in the night doesn’t seem like the worst thing at the moment.
We get another late start in the morning, and encounter our first Southbound PCT thru hiker. He stops just as we’re leaving camp and offers us some Pop Tarts, which we’re more than happy to take off his hands. The trail leaves the forest, and the blow downs ease. After searching unsuccessfully for a pond in which to get water, we press on with only a liter each to get us through the next several miles.
It’s a bright night, with a waning moon illuminating the hills in a silvery glow.
We start the Rim Trail in the afternoon, after loitering around the viewing area for far too long. It’s a dry, hot day, and the trail is unforgiving. It’s nowhere near the grade of the PCT, consisting of short, steep climbs and descents while following the perimeter of the lake. On occasion the trail spits us out into a parking area, where crowds of tourists were gathered snapping pictures with giant cameras and eating picnic lunches.
By early evening, we depart the rim trail and join up with the PCT again. Since we’re within the National Park, we have to follow special rules regarding where we can camp; no where on the Rim Trail and at least one mile away from any road. We finally come across some flat, sandy area within a sparse pine forest and make camp after twenty strenuous miles. The wasps are a problem while we’re sitting in camp making dinner, and Bear Bait suffers a sting on the back of his neck. I decide to hide in the safety of my tent for the rest of the night.
By the afternoon we’re climbing again, across an exposed hilltop. We come across the Oregon/Washington high point, where there’s a sign marking the 7,650 foot elevation. The heat continues to stifle us, and we’re drinking through our water quickly. We need to make it to the spring by night, so we push ourselves hard into the evening.
It’s pitch black once we’re finished and we head back to camp. Once we’re settled in and cooking dinner, the aches and pains of our 30 mile day begin to set in. We head to bed just as a powerful wind sweeps its way across the ridge and through camp.
We stop at a lake busy with tourists for some lunch, and have a quick dip to cool off. The forest gets denser as we continue on, and its suddenly become a mosquito war zone. We clamber over blow downs while trying to outrun the nasty biters, and we’re feeling demoralized once we finally reach the trail junction for the PCT and Shelter Cove. The resort is just beyond some train tracks, but it’s after 9 pm now and the store is shut for the night.
We sit at some picnic tables near the front porch of the store, where there’s a hiker area to charge phones and commune. We eat dinner, and another hiker points us in the direction of the shared campsite. It’s at the back end of the property, hidden away like we’re a dirty family secret, with no picnic tables and only a single port-o-potty. We manage to find a small spot to pitch our tents, and then head to bed sometime after midnight.
We cross the highway at Willamette Pass and follow switchbacks up a hillside behind a ski resort. At four miles in, we came to Lower Rosary Lake, where we stop to top off our water and have a quick snack. There are many day hikers around and our moment of lake side serenity is shattered by screaming children.
The trail keeps climbing, cresting along a forested ridge with views of the Rosary Lakes below and Pulpit Rock in the distance.
We cross the highway at Willamette Pass and follow switchbacks up a hillside behind a ski resort. At four miles in, we came to Lower Rosary Lake, where we stop to top off our water and have a quick snack. There are many day hikers around and our moment of lake side serenity is shattered by screaming children.
The trail keeps climbing, cresting along a forested ridge with views of the Rosary Lakes below and Pulpit Rock in the distance.
We enter the Three Sisters Wilderness, and the South Sister mountain makes an appearance above the treetops.
I take my time in the morning before heading out, and catch up to Bear Bait and some other hikers further on. We decide that we’re going to go to the Elk Lake Resort, 12 miles ahead. From there, we’ll go to Bend and get some rest for a couple of days, let our bodies heal and drink some beer.
The trail is winding its way past more ponds and through forest. I’m struggling to keep up with everyone, but still managing to hobble along at a good enough pace. I’m trying to stay positive, but my environment has become my worst enemy. There was a lot of talk on the trail between thru hikers regarding Oregon; saying it was the promise land of the PCT. This was something spoken with conviction. Oregon IS flat; you can do over thirty mile days there and you should get through Oregon in no longer than two weeks. This, I’ve come to realize, is nothing more than shit talking. The only thing I can say for certain is that the PCT through Oregon is mundane, and not so flat. It’s day in and day out of walking through the same pine forest, so far. To be fair, I am only halfway through the state, so we’ll see what’s ahead.
A couple of days in Bend is exactly what I need, and I thoroughly enjoy myself.
On our way back to the trail, a woman and her teenage daughter pick us up, and something is clearly off about the situation. They both seem high, and the woman is driving erratically. We have a couple of white knuckle moments when she takes her eyes off the road to turn around and talk to us while we’re in the backseat, swerving into oncoming traffic. Her daughter laughs, and we cry on the inside. When they drop us off at the trailhead at Elk Lake, she embraces us into an awkward hug and then peels out of the parking area.
We climb a bit away from the meadows and into the forest, entering the Obsidian Limited Entry Area. It’s an appropriate name for the area, as there is literally chunks of glassy black obsidian all over the trail and beyond. We stop for lunch just off the PCT at Obsidian falls, where it’s quite a bit colder and I bundle up in my puffy.
We’re ready to make camp once it starts to get dark. The weather is changing again, and it feels much colder than before. We hike to a campsite marked on the Halfmile map, but its a shit spot notched into a muddy hillside. There’s barely enough room for a single person tent, let alone two tents. We make do as best as we can, and settle inside for the evening just as it starts to rain. More hikers arrive hoping to stay, but there’s no room and they’re forced to push on into the night.
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