June 30th Evening
Elevation: 5920 ft
Trail Miles: 830 miles

Solo.

Debi and Jon have left the trail. I am going solo now. Its kind of a strange thing. I haven’t done much in my life to myself, and am always finding myself in the company of others. In the past, I have not handeled being alone so well. Now I get to train myself in the fine art of distinguishing the difference between alone and lonely.

Solo…eh, it’ll still be fun…I hope.

We rose early today to get coffee and pastries before our climb up to the rim of Crater Lake. While enjoying our breakfast we were visited by a person who works at the park. I met him back in Portland and told him of my plans to hike. We agreed to try and say hi when I got to Crater Lake, and sure enough we managed to meet up and chat for a short bit. He invited us to go down to Klamath Falls and catch a happy hour at a Mexican Restaurant. Sadly we had to decline because we had to get to hiking.

We went back to the PCT and started our climb to the rim. Fighting off mosquitos and walking rapidly, I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I grabbed my longsleeve shirt and put it on. As I stepped over the log to continue on, I raked my knee over a broken hemlock.

Hurt, bleeding, and annoyed with the mosquitos, I decided to walk back to the road and hitchhike up to the lodge where we planned to have lunch. Meeting a couple interesting people on the hitch up, I managed to get there in two rides.

A couple hours later Jon and Debi arrived, telling me of their exploits. Mosquitos, missing the trail, mosquitos, hiking too short of a distance back, mosquitos, and finally finding the trail. They walked right past a big sign telling them where to go, but they finally made it up to the lodge.

Then they told me that they were done. Debi wavered a bit, but in the end decided she was done. So we toasted beers over lunch to being done. Hiking 850 miles is no small task, and not completing the whole trail is not failure. I’ll miss you two, be sure to have some fun now…you signed up for five months of fun.

After lunch we said our goodbyes. I imagine they went down and found the guy I knew and took him up on the offer for Happy Hour at the Mexican Restaurant down in Klamath Falls.

I then called my friends and family to let them know I am now hiking solo, and to keep me in their thoughts. Then I hit the trail, well kind of hit the trail. I walked along a road for awhile until I caught a ride to the trail. On the way down we picked up a second hiker, one I met earlier in the day.

Once we were dropped off, we started hiking. I talked with him for a bit to see about maybe hiking with him, but it sounds as though his pace is much higher than mine. We only had a little day left so I hiked on behind him, watching him get further away.
After crossing over the highway, near where he planned to camp, I took a break. As I rested there, two white birds flew down and perched on branches within a couple of feet from me. In a sense, I felt as though it was a sign that Jon and Debi are still with me on the trail in spirit.

Eventually I caught up with the hiker. We are camping at the same spot tonight, but I imagine tomorrow that will not be the case, for he is faster than I.

Tomorrow I will climb over the highest point in the Oregon and Washington section of the PCT, roughly 2000 feet lower than the highest point I have gone over, and nearly half the height of the highest point on the whole PCT. But it is still early in the hiking season for Oregon, so imaginably I must tackle some snow.

Adventure Ahead!

July 1 Late Afternoon
Elevation: 3756 ft
Trail Miles: 848 miles

A little too much adventure, I guess.

This morning we woke up and went our seperate ways. Mike, the hiker I met yesterday chose to hike over to Diamond Lake. He needed to do a little more resupply. I continued alone in a Northward direction.

Soon the mosquitos kicked in. I put on my long sleeve shirt and zipped on my pantlegs to cover as much skin as possible. Cursed me for not having my lightweight longsleeve or bugspray. Oh well, at least my pack is a bit lighter.

I hiked uphill six miles, until I reached the Mt. Thielsen Trail. With a great view of the pointy Mt. Thielsen, and sweeping views to the north and west, I decided to take second breakfast. While there, I met four other hikers, or rather peakbaggers (people who go out to summit mountains). After chatting a bit, I quickly learned they summited Mt. Shasta (14,162 ft) day before yesterday. They were on the way up Mt. Thielsen (9,182 ft) today, and Mt. McLoughlin (9,495 ft) tomorrow.

I pondered the idea of hiking up with them, but the climb sounded difficult, and I felt I needed to press on. The ascent is 1800 ft over two miles, with the last 60 ft being straight up with ropes. Fun, but not my cup of tea today. So I continued to the northern side of Mt. Thielsen.

Thats when the snow turned from annoying to downright intolerable. I hopped over the Sierras to avoid intolerable snow, but I guess the will of the trail is to give you snow two months into it. Those who hiked straight thru got snow, those who jumped to Ashland to head south got snow, and those who jumped to Ashland to hike north got snow.

But I pushed on through knee deep snow. Alone, with no footsteps to follow I forged my own trail. Seeing parts of the trail every 100-200 yards I knew roughly where I was. I stopped and checked the map occassionally to guide me.

Then one trekking pole broke. Cursed poles!! I just replaced them. REI sent me the wrong ones to Kennedy Meadows, but I did not complain. I continued on with one pole, firmly planted on the steeply sloping downhill side. Then I lost the trail.

I looked over the map and the contours of the land and figured my rough location. I pushed on, but the snow pushed back. Falling every few steps, I relied to heavily on my one remaining pole. It broke.

Cursed poles!! If the pole snapped it would be one thing, but instead it decided to laugh at me and my no good, wet, cold, mosquito infested, lost plight. The locking mechanism would work for a few steps, but then the pole would collapse to a short length. So, if I used the pole as a balancing tool it would suddenly contract under the weight, I would fall down into the snow, and typically slide some of the way down the hill.

I trudged on.

Trail, sweet glorious trail. I looked at it, it looked at me, and then it mockingly crawled under more snow. So I assessed my situation. Two broken poles, dreadfully wet boots and pants, and a hiding trail. I pulled out the map for a fifth time in the last hour.

Here I was, at some switchbacks. But was I at the top of the switchbacks, or at the bottom. If I hiked downhill the trail could be above me, and likewise if I hiked uphill, the trail could be downhill.

Hmm, what to do? I asked myself. Scanning over the map, I quickly realized that I still had to climb roughly 1000 feet on the northfacing slope. The snow would only get worse. I weighed my options against my trail mantra: “You are out here to have fun.” Cold and wet with two broken poles and no idea where the trail went from here, I realized the fun level had dropped below critical.

I turned back.

Sloshing my way back over my tracks I pushed south. The sun had now turned the snow into a slush. My steps where now posthole after posthole. I climbed slowly up the hill that I slid most the way down. I passed back through the avalanche field where all the small trees bowed to the west and all the big trees cried over their broken bodies. All the while I looked up the rocky Mt. Thielsen, telling myself that I should have climbed it, it might have been quite enjoyable.

Taking two and a half hours to cover what I had covered earlier in just over an hour, I arrived back at the Mt. Thielsen trail. I sat down, pulled my soggy feet out of my boots, put my socks in the sun, and started in on lunch.

Shortly after that the four peakbaggers arrived. Telling me of their adventure, I had to cede to the fact that they had more fun than me. I chatted a bit with them, and concluded that my best option was to head down from the mountain and skip ahead.

The five of us strolled through the shade of the mossy pine trees down to Diamond Lake, but not before I left a note for the two hikers behind me. I told them of my plan and the conditions of the trail. I advised them to look at the alternate route which was apt to be slightly easier.

Once down at the trailhead, the peakbaggers offered me a soda, a Shasta soda. They had one left from their reward for conquering Mt. Shasta. Odd, I thought, they reward themselves with soda, I reward myself with beer. Then it occured to me that I have not had a soda in over two months. I have subsisted on water and beer, and the occassional juice. That was probably the best root beer I have ever had.

I said my goodbyes, thanked them for the soda, root beer, and went to the road with the thumb poised for action.

Not finding luck with Oregon hospitality, I hiked for 4 or 5 miles along the road until someone picked me up. (Thank you Tad)

The plan: hitchhike to Bend, visit a friend, return to the trail 40 miles north of where I hopped trail, and continue my Northbound Heartsong.

Now as I sit at a Pub & Grill in Bend enjoying a Guinness or four, a menu is brought out to me. A “friend” at the bar says to order something for my hiker-hungry belly. I thanked the gentleman who I spoke with earlier. As a former long-distance/PCT hiker, he knows of hiker-hunger.

Happy Trails, Inner Peace, & Harmony