Day 47 – The Road to Washington

I awaken in Portland. I had hoped to be camping by the Timberline lodge last night, but Stan, my hiking partner for the next few days, had forgotten his sleeping pad so we made the drive to Portland to pick one up at the REI. Stan’s girlfriend, Christie, has a condo in Portland where we spend the night.

When I call Patti to tell her I am in Portland, she immediately thinks I am in the hospital. I assure her that it’s just a side trip. She says that she is getting slowly better from the virus she has. I am relieved

Stan and I plan to head out to the trail again this morning and pick up where we left off – at the Timberline Lodge. The hiking day will be a little shorter but we have options.

Timberline Lodge

Timberline lodge near the foot of Mount Hood is one of those great historical National Park lodges built during the Roosevelt administration. It is also famous as the location for the movie, The Shining.

It is Sunday, and Timberline Lodge is packed with hundreds of skiers, hikers, mountain bikers and their dogs. We hike from 10 am to 5 pm and the parade of day-use folks ever decreases. It is actually heartening to see so many people enjoying time outdoors. Public support of Wilderness trails ensures that they will be around for many years.

Mount Hood

The elevation of Timberline Lodge is about 6100 ft. Over the course of the day, Stan and I will descend to 2800 ft. As we drop down, we will circle Mount Hood’s western side.

The main feature of the trail on Mt Hood today is mud. With snow still melting at higher altitudes, rivulets of water cross the trail and saturate it at dozens of places.

And where all these small sources of water come together you have enormous jets of water cascading down the mountain.

As I walk by a group of day hikers, I hear one identifying flowers. It turns that one of the flowers I have seen frequently is actually not that common except for this year. For some reason bear grass is having a “super bloom” year. Here is my teacher with the grass behind.

Two other flowers capture my attention. One is bold and the other shy. The mountain lilies seem intent on hiding their faces from me. I pass hundreds before I find a patch willing to look up a bit.

I get separated from Stan after lunch. I had suggested that he walk in front of me since I had been walking in front of him all morning. He says, “Sure,” and disappears out of sight. Dang, that guy can really hike. It is impressive considering that he has not hiked in weeks. I will spend at the next three hours trying to catch up to him.

Away from Stan, I start having some adventures of my own. First, I accidentally get off on some sketchy alternate trail that takes me along an unstable sand trail right next to a precipice. I try to walk calmly without imagining the danger. The trail rejoins the PCT after 10 death-defying minutes.

Crossings

Then I come to rapidly moving river that is about 20 feet wide. Several folks have stopped along the bank, unsure how to cross. Many people have died crossing dangerous rivers like this on the PCT. I ask if anyone has seen Stan. “Some guy skipped across the river about 10 minutes ago. He had a big stick.” Well, I guess that could have been Stan. “And his hip belt was unfastened.” Well, I guess that could have been Stan, too. You see, Stan is a kind of unpredictable person – spontaneous.

I wade into the river with my shoes on. I need thee best traction possible. The first two steps are fine. I stay balanced by wedging my trekking poles into the rocky river bottom. The third step surprises me as I step squarely into a channel. I can feel my leg being pushed downstream against my will. I relocate it on the bottom against a rock that holds my foot in place. My fourth step is like the third. I restep until I find a bracing rock. The water is only a little over my knees, but this is serious business. This river really can sweep me away if I am not careful. The fifth step finds shallower water and less pressure. The sixth step is fast again and then the seventh step is out.

I meet a thru hiker named Ziplock on the other side. He is putting on his shoes because he waded across barefoot! He is a doctoral student in neuroscience. He said that the hiker I suspect to be Stan just sort of leaped across the stream on top of the water.

Well, I think, Stan does look a little like an older Jesus. But, nah. We find Stan sitting on a rock not far up the trail. “Stan,” I say, “how did you get across the river?” “I jumped across on the tallest rocks.” I have underestimated this guy. Either, he has some serious skills, or he is insane.

Stan and I hike together until we reach the last river near camp. The crossing is like the last one except Stan wades through like I do this time. No Jesus-like theatrics. Later we meet a fellow with three pre-teen boys. We wonder how the kids got across the river. “On the log, of course,” the man says. There, over the river not 20 yards from where Stan and I waded across, are two enormous trees over the river. We feel pretty dumb. Our shoes and socks are wet and will probably not be dry in the morning. Our pride is also dampened.

Oh well. Here is what our camp looks like.

We would like to hike 18 miles tomorrow, but the worst blowdown section (around Lost Lake) is within that section. We will have to be flexible about our goals if the hiking is difficult. In the mean time, the sound of the river running by our camp beckons us to sleep. I do.

• July 18
• Starting mile: 2097
• Ending mile: 2110
• Daily PCT miles: 13
• Total PCT miles: 738
• Animals: 100 dogs