Day 42 – Landing on the Moon

It was a restful final night in Bend at the Days Inn. This is where I had been aiming before I crashed into the Bunk & Brew Hostel. Yesterday I finished uploading all my posts, I bought supplies for the next two legs of the journey, I made repairs to the rips in my pack, and I sewed the splitting liner in my hiking shorts. I even watched a stage of the Tour De France. (I was interested in the Tour because cycling is a passion of Bram’s.)

Trail angel

After some crazy online communications yesterday, a wonderful trail angel named David Beers stepped up an offered me a ride back to the trail. This is no trivial task since the trail is about 40 miles away from here.

I am comfortable with my plan for the next 4 days. (It’s hard to make categorical plans for any time longer than that!) I am excited about the trail ahead and about reaching Oregon in about ten days.

David refuses to take money for gas. He says he is paying it forward because he intends to hike the PCT next year. He retired this year just like me. David deposits me on the moon at the trailhead. It is one of the most desolate pieces of earth I have ever seen. The trail sign looks like it came out a Mad Max movie.

Within the first mile it looks like the trail wants to make some concessions with normal earth.

But that was only the trail joking around with me. It was pure moon rocks for a good 5 miles. By the way, does this thing look like a crater? Supposedly there is a crater on top, like a fallen cake. But I don’t go up it to see.

Mount Washington

I am going to spend all day walking around Mt. Washington. It’s pretty chill, as far as mountains go. It seems to be just sort of relaxing up there, like it’s laying back in a lawn chair with a lemonade in hand. Unfortunately, no lemonade spring has been found.

The desert flowers are here!

Eventually, the evil lava rocks surrender to the good green things and my friends the ferns take their turn transforming this rock garden into something nice. And then more flowers appear.

You might be wondering why I am not showing more vistas. A fire nearby is filling the sky with smoke. It is not threatening the PCT yet. But it does cause visibility problems.

The Dawdler

I have been off the trail for two days. Things that I considered mundane then are now amazing. I am taken with the photographers disease where every subject is analyzed for composition and framing. I look for the exotic in the familiar and the familiar in the exotic. Simply, I am lolly-gagging! I am officially a Dawdler. I get mad and put the feet in high gear. And boy can they go! I suspected a few days ago that my trail legs had arrived. Now I believe it. I move along at a 3.5 mph pace!

Then this young man appears. His name is Graham and he has hiked here from the northern border of Oregon. He says that all sections of the trail are clear except for about 5 miles around Lost Lake. This matches the intel I already have. But he adds a new twist. A crew is clearing the bad part at a rate of half a mile a day going north. This is good news and I text it to Christie of the Wanders.

Big Lake Youth Camp

I am moving so fast I almost miss the turn to Big Lake Youth Camp. The camp has welcomed hikers for years, but this year, due to COVID-19 they are only allowing hikers to fill their bottles from a spigot by one of the out buildings. As I approach the spigot, this nice man comes over to greet me. His name is Les. He apologizes for the restrictions, but I assure him it is fine. The water is welcome and needed.

I learn that the camp is affiliated with the Seventh Day Adventist Church. He quickly assured me that the camp has one simple message – love. I am totally happy with that. And then, as if to illustrate that love, he runs down to the store and brings me back some ice cream. My eyes are brimming with tears. It’s all I can do to keep from bawling. He gives me one of my deepest desires (besides orange soda) – ice cream. It is the same gift I gave to the post master at Old Station and the one thing that can create bonds across all divisions. He tells me to leave the wrapper on the bench when I am done.

My plan for the day is working. I have found my campsite and it looks good. I have made it here on time. My food tastes good and I eat more for dinner than normal. Something is happening to me. I am feeling confident with my decisions. I am enjoying the day more. And my anxiety is decreasing. I am alone but not lonely.

Adjusting to the trail can be hard. I can’t explain exactly why I feel better now. It may be as simple as finally eating better. But whatever it is, I embrace it. I have a plan to be picked up at the end of this segment on Friday. And my friend Stan (from Etna) is going to give me a ride around the fire closure on Saturday. He may even join me for the last miles of Oregon!

As the day gets old and I start to eat my ramen/Cheetos/string-cheese/Oreo/milk dinner, a vehicle pulls up. A young lady pops out and starts stuffing this enormous pack. I ask her where she is going. She is heading out to check up on a group of 14-year-olds that are camping up the trail in a 13-day Outward Bound experience. It is part of her job, but she doesn’t seem to be hating it too much. Her name is Rachel.

As I lie here composing this blog, a nighthawk flying overhead is plunging from the sky. Just before it reaches the treetops it pulls up. The force of the turn makes its wings roar. I have heard this sound hundreds of times in Florida. Our ranch in Florida – the Nighthawk Ranch – is named after this bird. To hear it at the end of the day is a good omen.

• July 13
• Starting mile: 1982
• Ending mile: 1997
• Daily PCT miles: 15
• Total PCT miles: 625
• Animals: Nighthawk