Volunteering on the PCT – winding up and an ice cold shower

August 19 – 21 2015

On Wednesday, the second last day of the project, we performed trail maintenance on the switchbacks and demolished a bridge that was sagging in the middle. As we walked up the switchbacks Justin pointed out the problems, leaving little orange flags at each site that needed work. Before lunch Lynn, Sam and I worked on a short section that needed widening and leveling.. The trail was narrow and sunken, so horses we using the shoulders, causing more erosion. There were a series of check steps that seemed to be working well. So we widened the trail, digging out the shoulders, and used the dirt to fill in the trail. There were mostly northbound and southbound hikers out today, enjoying the soft earth underfoot. Some of our crew began taking apart a bridge further uphill. It was made of logs across a rocky stream bed. The middle portions of the logs were rotting and sinking, while the ends were well preserved and securely nailed together. The logs were removed with some difficulty, and replaced by large rocks to allow hikers and horses to cross. We watched some of this being done as we ate lunch on a hillside. Afterwards we returned to our section and did some more trail maintenance in a couple of places. Sam, who is a beginner bird enthusiast, noticed a small hen like bird close to the trail, among some old logs. She did not seem alarmed at us watching her, and nonchalantly wandered the brush. Soon we saw  two or three chicks scratching around, mostly hidden in the undergrowth. It was a grouse (Sam later checked this out in his bird book). We completed a few more small tasks on the switchbacks, then made our way back to camp for tea.

The next morning, our last, we had pancakes with berries for breakfast. At the pre-work stretch circle, we ribbed Justin, all our stretches having some funny reference to him. He took it in good stride. He and Wes thanked us all. Some of the crew were leaving after breakfast. The rest went back to Mesa Creek crossing and put in finishing touches, and also put up a post with an old PCT sign. A friend of Henry had hiked up to camp to accompany him out. We prepared lunches, then broke camp, packing away the kitchen stuff, and finally our personal gear, ready to hike out. Christina and I walked together, taking our time, enjoying the sun and the trail, especially Wickiup Plain. We passed two pack animal trains, one ours, going to get the kitchen stuff and tools. By the time we got to the trailhead, they had overtaken us and were back and unpacked. Christina and I thanked Phil and his family, and Pepper, for carrying our equipment to camp. They would be returning shortly with the animals to vacation in the shadow of South Sister.

I left Devil’ Lake  and headed south to return to Elk Lake for a hot shower and lunch. Mid-way during the week I had had a lovely shower with water from a gallon Ziplock that I had left all day in the sun to heat up. I had found a private hollow hidden by pines, and carried the Ziplock in my hard hat there. After stripping, I soaped up with Dr. Bonner’ soap (the same soap I had used to wash clothes with), then showered with the now very warm water. It felt wonderful. I was looking forward to a shower now, and a change of clothes. Elk Lake Resort was crowded with a large group of touring bicyclists and a wedding party. The resort offered  a shower package that included a towel and a small bar of soap. As I paid the $5 fee, the woman at the desk told me that the water heater  had broken down and there was only cold water in the shower – icy cold water! Well…. I decided to go ahead and take up the challenge. The day was pretty hot by now and I would warm up soon. I did manage to take a good shower by darting in and out of that icy stream, exposing different parts until I was clean all over. I brushed my teeth, dressed, then sat outside the shower room in the sun, properly drying my feet and hair. It felt great. The woman at the desk asked if I had had that cold shower, and I was glad to say I had.

Lunch was many glasses of cold diet Pepsi, and a chicken burger with sweet potato fries, washed down with more Pepsi. It was relaxing on the deck, eating lunch and watching boaters, kayakers, paddle boarders and the wedding party. I talked to a couple of hikers who were also lounging around.

Then I left Elk Lake Resort, and drove east along the Cascade Lakes Scenic Highway to Bend, and then a short distance north on 97 to Smith Rock State Park. Wes had told me about this park – it was where he rock climbed, and he suggested it as a good camping spot. I arrived there mid-afternoon. The vistas of towering rocks and arid scrubland were appealing and the campsite was clean and organized with toilets, showers, a dish washing area, and a separate cooking and eating area. There was a practice rock wall too. After setting up my tent, I ate an early supper. It was warm, but towards sunset a wind came up and blew dust into the tent. The setting sun turned the facing rocks red. A sickle moon hung low then disappeared behind thorny trees. Later the stars were bright and sparkling as the night turned colder and very quiet. I slept well, waking at 6, to pack up everything loosely as it was dusty, and I only had to throw it all in the car for the final leg home. The rising sun lit up the opposite facing towers of rock. As I left the campsite two spotted fawns were grazing near the camp host’s site. They looked up then continued eating. Saying goodbye to them, I took 97 north, then continued on 26 west through the Warm Springs Reservation. I had walked through this Reservation on my hike from Mt. Hood, and crossed the Warm Springs River. Since then there had been a wild fire on the reservation, caused by sparks from a semi that blew a tire. The fire was under control, but as I ascended to the high desert plateau, I could seen clouds of smoke hanging over the valleys and gorges. Further northwest the terrain changed as I approached  Mt. Hood, to thick wet forest. Mt.. Hood was completely covered in cloud and smoke, but the air lower down was cool and lemon scented.

i stopped for breakfast at Government Camp – coffee and a veggie slider at the High Mountain Cafe, a friendly and reasonably priced artsy place – then continued on the last section home, the drive up I-5 then across the Tacoma Narrows bridge to the Olympic Peninsula.

The weather still being hot and dry, I wasted no time washing and drying the camping equipment and clothes. We had another trail project the coming weekend and had planned to leave Thursday for Snoqualmie Pass. We were taking the RV, so did not have to have camping equipment, and could luxuriate in a warm dry camper with standing room, toilet and gas stove. In the end we were really thankful for the RV as the weather changed, and the last day was a washout, but that’s another story. My first stint at trail maintenance had been such a positive experience – just being back on the PCT was magic itself.

Volunteering on the PCT – tools of the trail

August 15 – 18 2015

Saturday morning dawned cloudy, but as predicted the sun soon shone bright, and continued to do so for the rest of our stay, getting hotter each day until Thursday, our final day, when it cooled down a little and made the hike out quite pleasant. Our day began with breakfast – usually uncooked, of granola, milk, bread, peanut butter, jam, honey, with coffee or tea.  One morning we had a treat – Christina fried tortillas with apple-cinnamon filling. They were delicious! And on another morning we had pancakes. During breakfast each one got their lunch and drinks ready to take to the worksite.

Following breakfast, at 7.30 we stood in a circle around the tools, and in turn, each of us gave the group a safety tip, and a stretch exercise. On the first day, Justin went over the tools and how to safely use them, as well as other safe ways of working on the trail, where hikers, equestrians and our own crew members would be passing.

The tools: this is a McLeod (pronounced ‘McCloud), meant for raking and scraping material off the trail., for spreading dirt, and for tamping down dirt. These had a long handle so one did not have to bend low to use it effectively.

This is a Pulaski,  my favorite tool, not heavy, and essentially a double axe with one end turned 90 degrees to form an adze. The digging  end is narrow and sharp to easily bite into the earth and cut small roots, and the axe handy for cutting thicker roots.

The Pick Mattock has a pick at one end and a cutting edge at the other. It is heavy, the weight good for driving the pick in and great for breaking up dirt, and the cutting edge for roots. I found it quite heavy and would tire easily using it.

Rock bars are great for prying out rocks. The ones we had were 20 pounds each and about 7 feet long.

A rock sling is a cradle made of thick webbing, with loops on the sides as handles. Up to 8 people could grab the handles to move those rocks  but generally 6 was the maximum.

Other tools included shovels, and sledgehammers and chisels to chip or shape rocks.

We had to be wearing hard toed shoes, and a hard hat.  Work goggles had to be worn if chipping rocks.

The tasks that occupied most of us for several days was the re-enforcement of horse crossings at Mesa Creek and at the nearby stream that originated from a spring. Horses had worn away the banks adjacent to the crossings. We had to think like horses (!) and present a path that would be intuitive to the horse and rider. This essentially meant having a series of steps leading down to the water and a series leading up from the water, and large rocks or other obstacles on adjacent banks discouraging them from straying from this path. The forest service and environmentalists had approved this work in the streams and our use of materials from the surrounding land. So we set out with digging tools and rock bars to look for rocks, ones with at least one flat surface for the step, rolling them down slopes and then carrying them to the worksite. By day’s end large rocks lined the bank. We began to bury a few to make steps. This involved digging the bank to make a hole shaped to the bottom of the rock, a trial and error method by which the rock was manipulated into the hole,and if not sitting right was rolled out. This was hard work for me. I could barely move some of those rocks so mostly left that to the stronger crew and instead helped to shovel gravel from the stream bed and dug holes. Working in the stream, pretty soon my boots and socks were soaking, but the water was pleasantly cooling. The days were so dry and the sun so hot that by next morning the boots were dry.

We typically broke for a rest around ten, then lunch at 11.30, another break at 2, and ended the work day at 3.30. This left the afternoon for tea and personal activities. I frequently used this time to wash clothes and make notes in the little pad I carried. Some others explored the nearby meadows and hills. Mike, the butterfly enthusiast, could be seen wandering the meadow, stream banks and forest,waving his net, his pant legs tucked into his boots. With his hard hat he looked like an explorer in not-so-dark Africa. He talked animatedly about his hobby and showed us his specimens.
Wes had set up a slack line in the woods and invited us to practice on it. I don’t think he had any takers.

Pairs of us took turns cooking dinner. The meals were healthy and substantial. Any left overs could be taken for lunch.

The washing up process was this:  There were three basins, the first had boiled hot water for rinsing the kitchen ware and removing particles and grease. The second had moderately hot water with soap and a scrubber for proper cleaning and the third had cold water with bleach for rinsing. We washed out personal utensils first, then the kitchen ware and lastly the pots. When all was done, the first basin was emptied into the waste water sump through the strainer. The second basin was emptied into the first, then the soapy water strained into the sump. The cold water with bleach was emptied into the first basin, swished around, then into the second basin and finally the bleach water was strained into the sump. I was intrigued by the efficiency of this process in water usage. It could so easily be used at home too. Only we have a septic and have to be careful about putting bleach in the system. The process however brought to the fore memories of villagers in Africa using small amounts of water to wash, cook and take a bath. Already this summer Washington state had declared a drought emergency and in our area of the Olympic Peninsula outdoor use of water had been banned. We had been asked to reduce indoor use too. Here were lessons to be learned and practiced.

After dinner if it wasn’t too cold we stood or sat around and talked, and drank hot chocolate till it got too dark. The first day’s work left us all tired, but with a feeling of accomplishment. We could do this!

Over the next couple of days most of us continued to work on the horse crossings while a few did trail maintenance. Equestrians passed on the trail testing the sturdiness of the steps. Mostly we got positive feedback, but were somewhat miffed when a couple of groups complained that when they walked their horses across to hobble them in the meadow they (the humans) got their feet wet! We did not think there was much we could do about that. The crossing for humans had to be a little distance from that for horses to prevent erosion of the banks, just the thing we were here to repair.

The work went well, and on Monday Justin declared the entire next day off, to do as we pleased. Several of the group decided to climb South Sister mountain, just over 10,000 feet in height and the tallest of the three Sisters. This mountain is quite popular and being so close to Bend can have a few hundred hikers on the weekends. The climbers left early and most were back early evening with stories of thick scree and sand, boulders of pumice, and beautiful lakes of varying color in which some of them swam and cooled off. A couple of others followed the PCT north, aiming to do a loop  I followed Mesa Creek west as it went through forest then skirted meadows. I crossed the stream once, then lost the trail in a tangle of downed trees, swamp and mossy bank. There was a waterfall further on but I did not get to that.  I had a pleasant lunch by the stream, enjoying the gurgling and the sun, and then returned to camp. I took a nap in the afternoon , wrote up my notes and had tea by the stream.The last to return to camp,just as we were about to start dinner without them, were Justin and Sam – they proudly brought us beer, canned juice and chocolate, from Elk Lake Resort to which they had made a short side trip after climbing South Sister. Everyone was excited by this special day, and we had only one and a half days of work left. The night was warm, and all slept well from their exertions. I had to get up four times to pee – I think it was the candy and fruit juice.

 

Volunteering on the PCT – a tribute to Phil King

September 4 2015

This is a reproduction of an article that appeared in Trail Dirt, a PCTA emailed newsletter. The author, Justin Brimer, was our leader on the South Sister project. 

 

Volunteer Spotlight: Phil King

Mountains move when volunteer packer Phil King and his mule team say so.

After more than 10 years of hauling food, tools, bridges, water, explosives, kitchen supplies and whatever else the U.S. Forest Service or PCTA volunteers need to make backcountry trail crews possible, he talks like a man that has seen much.
His stories veer from horrific weather and stubborn mules to beautiful mountain meadows and the “interesting bunch” of PCTA volunteers he has packed for over the years. His love for Oregon’s backcountry and commitment to ensuring its Wilderness legacy is evident in the hundreds of hours spent hauling gear up and down mountains so trail crews can focus on the work of repairing paths.
Phil recently packed in and out all three volunteer vacations for the PCTA’s Skyline crew. Among all the food and gear he and his team hauled to backcountry work sites, he carried 20 lb. rock bars up to the base of South Sister, 85 pounds of water to an otherwise dry camp on Maiden Peak and, just for fun, carried out a 42-inch-wide steel culvert left in a camp site near Olallie Lake that weighed more than 50 pounds. When engineers at the Willamette National Forest said there was no safe way to carry out the cumbersome culvert, Phil smiled so wide his fu manchu almost touched his ears.
“Well good, I like a challenge,” he said.
The culvert, which was illegally dumped at the campsite, is now a fire ring in his backyard.
Phil enjoys sharing his passion for pack animals and the Pacific Crest Trail by bringing friends and his wife Judy along during rides. He is also an avid hunter and says the wilderness is a resource that he feels obligated to give back to so others can enjoy it. He said he knows other PCTA volunteers feel the same.
As much as he enjoys helping others to soak in the wilderness experience in and around the PCT, he gets a kick out of flatlanders that make mistakes or underestimate the unforgiving mountain weather and wildlife. Like last year when he said he rescued a PCT hiker perched high in a conifer that got spooked by what she thought was a bear that chased her up the tree. After spending a night perched in the tree without food, water, a map, cell phone or flashlight, Phil was happy to help her down and ensure her the “bear” was long gone. He said he then chuckled and told her that if a bear was to give chase the last place to run is up a tree.

Then there’s the one about packing out a PCTA volunteer crew that was hit by a foot of snow earlier in the week. It was a challenge to bring a full mule team through snowdrifts of up to two feet high, but he said it was worth it to see relief on the faces of the cold and anxious crew.
He loves telling volunteers about the way the mountains use to be, with roads extending far into what are now wilderness areas and monster bucks roaming the peaks. His grandfather also packed food and gear for forest service crews working in the backcountry and Phil said he is proud to continue that legacy. He and Judy and their ornery cattle dog, Pepper, live in Kings Valley, Oregon, which may or may not have been named after his family.
Phil, who is also a professional farrier – a specialist in equine hoof care and shoeing horses – says he plans to continue hauling gear up and down mountains and working with the PCTA for years to come. If you want to reach him, a phone call is still your best bet, as he hasn’t gotten around to electronic messaging just yet. When he is not around his phone he is “either on top of or under a horse,” as his voice messages so eloquently states.

 

— Justin Brimer, PCTA Skyline-Sasquatch Crew Leader

 

Volunteering on the PCT – windy Wickiup and an introduction to group camping.

August 14 2015

Sometime during the early morning the wind picked up and clouds moved in, and we woke to the threat of rain. After  a tailgate breakfast of muffins we packed up and left Todd Creek Horse Camp for Devil’s Lake Horse Camp a few miles away where we met the pack animals that would transport the group’s food, camping equipment and tools to the worksite. The equipment had been carefully packed into 80 pound lots by Justin and Wes. This was the maximum each load had to be, and each was paired to a similar load (in weight and shape), so the animals were balanced. Two horses and three mules were unloaded from the large trailer by their owners, two rugged looking Cowboys, complete with chaps and dusters. Running around the animals, nipping at their feet keeping them together, was a small herd dog named Pepper. Not that the animals looked like that wanted to go anywhere – Pepper just took his job very seriously. So seriously that he had no time to make friends with us humans. As the three mules were loaded up, we gathered around for introductions. Justin and Wes were the project leader and assistant leader respectively, and there were nine crew members, all volunteers. The Cowboys and their animals were also volunteers. They had been doing this for many years. Pretty soon all was ready. The mule train left first, a cowboy leading and at the rear, and Pepper running in between.  We followed, taking the path that went under the highway and began immediately to climb, which it did for the next two miles. It was not difficult hiking, and it was cool. The ground was sandy and rocky with downed logs across the trail. I was walking in the terrain that I had driven through yesterday – short hemlocks and not much else. But it was interesting, and had that clean look of pine forests. We emerged from this thin forest onto Wickiup Plain.  The clouds were low, wispy fingers sweeping the tops of the trees at the margins of the plain. The wind blew uninhibited over the plain, small rocks, sand and tufts of grass being no match. South Sister mountain was obscured by cloud, but Rock Mesa, a lava field to the east looked like a tidal wave about to engulf the plain. This plain was special. It was beautiful and ethereal in this type of weather and I imagined how beautiful it would be in the sun. I imagined the first people here building their homes on this plain, their wickiups – domed shelters made of long poles bent over – riding their horses, walking to the stream for water and to bathe. 

Here is a picture of a wickiup from the internet:

  

On the hike out, on our final day, Christina and I stood on the PCT and looked out at the plain. I remarked that it was a wonder that we had the privilege to freely roam these plains and hills, while the people who lived here once were confined to reservations, their culture almost destroyed. She agreed. I wondered how the now dominant American culture would stand against Jihadist threats. This plain is special – I could feel the past, look at the present and wonder about the future through this keyhole into time. 

The trail cut across the plain, the ground sandy and difficult to walk on, like soft beach sand. We came to a junction with the PCT proper. I was back on the PCT! Over the next few miles the trail rose gently then fell then rose again to a fortested hill on the other side of which was a swampy meadow, then a series of switchbacks leading down to a stream. The path meandered through a little more forest then opened to a large meadow. We had arrived, after a 6 mile hike. The mule train had been waiting for us and joined us now as we made our way to the campsites at the edge of the meadow among lava rocks and trees. It was still windy and heavily overcast, but had not rained.

The mules were quickly unloaded and hobbled nearby. Pepper, his job done, now had his mind on food, and was not reticent to come begging from us. We forgave him his prior rejection of our advances, and fed him tidbits. He continued to keep one eye on the animals. Pretty soon Pepper and the mule train left to return home. They would come back in a week. 

We had several jobs this afternoon: set up the kitchen, set up the toilet, collect water, then set up our personal tents. We ate lunch first. A protected small dell among the rocks, partly surrounded by trees was chosen for the kitchen. There was a two-burner gas stove and well as a single -burner stove, two gas cylinders and two foldable tables. Coolers and four large bear boxes held the food, utensils and other kitchen necessities. A hand washing station was set up a few feet away, consisting of a water bag hung from s small tree with pump bottles of hand soap on a log.  No hand towel – one had to shake the water off. Plate and utensil dryer consisted of a large mesh bag hung from another tree. The two burners occupied part of the table space, the rest being for food and thermoses for hot water and coffee. 

Mesa Creek ran right by the camp, it’s gurglings clearly audible from our tents, a pleasant lullaby. The creek crossed the meadow from east to west, arising on the slopes of South Sister. It was joined, in the middle of the meadow by a small stream That arose from a spring in the hillside at the far end of the meadow.  The creek was our water source, and both creek and stream were our worksites. The water was cold and clear  and ran quickly. On the banks grew lupine and further downstream grass.  We filtered the water through a bandanas into a platypus bag,  to keep out large particles, then hung the bag on a tree. The water dripped through another filter to remove the dreaded giardia and crypto. This water, stored in 5-gallon collapsible containers, was for drinking and cooking. A similar, marked, container of unfiltered water was for boiling water for washing up. We took turns making sure at least two of the containers were full of filtered water at all times. 

Next we set up the toilet. On a little knoll behind the kitchen area, and a decent distance from it, the perfect toilet area was found. It was a slight depression, hidden by a wall of pine trees. Here a 6 foot long, by about a foot wide and deep trench was dug in the loamy earth. The dug earth was kept at the side to be used to cover poop. Later bags of ash from old fireplaces was added to the earth pile as a better material for covering poop. A perfect ‘door’ to this privy consisted of two tall trees with a third about 10 feet high that had fallen across the two vertical ones, forming a lintel. It was determined that a person using the toilet could not be seen from the ‘door’, and here is where the bag of toilet paper and bottle of hand sanitizer were kept. The ‘door’ was about 50 feet from the toilet. When you went to the toilet you were supposed to take TP and hand sanitizer with you, so that another person wanting to use the toilet would know it was occupied when they saw the items weren’t in their place. It worked well with our group. I felt safe and private when using it. After a few days another trench had to be dug as the first was full. Towards the end of the week we were nearly out of TP. We must have been a poopy group! 

Leave No Trave principles require that we take out everything we bring in, including used TP. At this camp however we were allowed to bury the TP as it was in a well contained trench. 

To further reduce environmental contamination, an 8 inch wide by 1.5 foot deep hole was dug near the kitchen. This was for waste water from the kitchen. The water was poured through a strainer to catch solids. The solids were bagged and taken out with the rest of the waste. 

The menu for the week had been well planned by Justin and Wes and posted on a bear box, with each evening’s dinner bagged separately. For dinner today we had a salad to start, then quinoa with chicken and vegetables.  Dessert was usually cookies. There was hot water for cocoa or tea too. 

Prior to supper we had chosen our tent sites and set them up. Rain was still a possibility, so I ensured everything was staked down and in the tent, well within the bathtub floor. 

The evening was cold. After supper we stood around the kitchen. Justin wanted to know what brought each of us to volunteer for this project and what we hoped to gain. I talked about my hike, my love of the PCT and how this was one way to get back on it, and to learn about the trail. 

It did not rain that night, or any of the other nights. It was cold. I woke up several times to pee, lulled back to sleep by the creek. It had been a good day. .  A hard week’s work awaited us in the morning. 

Volunteering on the PCT – getting there.

August 12-13 2015

I applied for a volunteer position with the Pacific Crest Trail Association and was accepted for an ‘easy’ weekend project at Windy Pass, WA, organized by the North 350 Blades, and was on the waiting list for the volunteer ‘vacation ‘, August 14-20, a week long project near South Sister mountain in Oregon, that I really wanted to go to. There were last minute cancellations for this latter project, and I quickly accepted the offer to join . I was excited; this was a way to get back on the trail, to experience the trail another way, to give back some of what I had got from it. There had been loneliness and depression which I would have to learn to deal with, but there had also been love, passion, wonderment and excitement, openness and hospitality, and that is what I wanted to return and why I wanted to return to the trail.

I set off from home early on Wednesday morning, heading southeast to I-5, and had a pleasant drive past Portland to Eugene where I stopped for gas. In Oregon attendants pump the gas. You just give them your card or cash and sit back. I was so relaxed I forgot to turn off the engine! I inquired about Rte. 58 and was told it was the next exit. The road meandered past dams and reservoirs along the middle fork of the Willamette River, then along the river itself, slowly rising to the visible hills, the terrain becoming forested. After leaving the Olympic Peninsula it had been very flat, with large stretches of farms south of Portland. Now the heat of the plains was replaced by shady groves, and soon exciting vistas of Diamond Peak and the surrounding wilderness told me I was in the Cascades again. I arrived at Shelter Cove Resort on the western shore of Odell Lake in the afternoon. It was busy, with fishing boats being hauled in and out of the lake. There was to be a Kokanee fishing derby there the coming weekend. I was told the fishing was good. I had come all the way here to pick up a re-supply box, one of the two I hadn’t got to on the hike. I paid for a spot at the walk-in campsite, but decided to sleep in the car, too lazy to put up the tent. The afternoon passed slowly. There were many hikers, resting and eating at the tables by the side of the store. I ordered a pepperoni pizza and a cold Gatorade. While the pizza cooked I sat on the lawn in a plastic Adirondack chair and wrote up my notes. Nearby there was a pile of hiking gear that belonged to a family – mother, father, boy of about 12 and girl of abound 10, all hiking the PCT.  They talked of showering and went off to do so. My pizza was ready and I returned to the shady lawn to eat it. The family came back looking refreshed and talked about supper and pizza. Less that halfway through the pizza I was full, and I offered the rest to the mother, knowing that the store had stopped cooking pizza sometime before mine was ready. She accepted it saying her children would be surprised. I asked which direction they were headed and told her I may see them later on the PCT and where I’d be working.

It got cooler in the evening and the logs in the outdoor fireplace were doused with a mixture of diesel and gas and lit. They appeared to be wet as they wouldn’t catch, even after several dousings. I sat in the Adirondacks around the fireplace and chatted with a hiker. Presently a man from a nearby trailer came and arranged a group of Adirondacks for his friends. He said he was glad it was not crowded with hikers that evening and that the night before the hikers had hogged the fire and been noisy. He didn’t seem to like them, but conceded that he had spoken to some of them and that some were ‘intelligent ‘. He sounded like he was referring to a lesser known species. His friends were pleasant enough, and offered me some of their boxed wine, but I was in no particular mood to drink or socialize, and presently left for the car, letting them know I was a hiker too, and trail worker. It was too dark to see their expressions.

The night was cold, and the stars brilliant. I slept fitfully and was glad for morning so I could move on.

By 9 I was on the road, going further east on Rte 58 then north on the Cascade Lakes Scenic Highway. It was early and traffic was light, so I could go as slow as I wanted and enjoy the terrain. There were lava plains with sparse population of stunted pines, and ground that was rock to sand. The land looked ravaged, almost desert-like in places. There were lakes and reservoirs on both sides, some hidden behind large fields of lava rocks that the road skirted in places. The lakes- Davis, Cultus, Lava, Elk, Devil’s, Sparke and finally Todd, varied in color from deep blue to turquoise to blue-green. I stopped at Elk Lake Resort to pick up the second and last resupply box and have a cup of coffee. I was mistaken for a trail angel- a couple were waiting for a ride to Mckenzie Pass so they could hike back to the resort where their car was parked. They were a nice couple, both classical musicians. They used my phone to call their trail angel again. He was in the parking lot a few feet from them! I would have liked to talk to them more, but they were off. So was I, to Todd Creek Horse Camp where the trail crew were to meet and camp for the night. The campsite had a large parking lot for horse trailers to park and turn around in, and nearby corrals and campsites. I chose a shady spot to park on, and had a small lunch at the picnic table, raiding my resupply boxes for goodies. The afternoon grew hot. Presently a couple with two dogs and two horses drove in, parked their trailer in the adjacent shade and unhitched it. The man drove off to Bend to get the truck repaired and the woman tied the dogs in the shade, gave them water, then corralled the horses. She introduced herself and her friendly dogs and asked if I wanted to ride one of the horses. Being almost totally without any horse sense or experience, and not wanting to injure myself before a hike and a week of hard work, I had to decline. The man returned shortly, the truck repaired, and they went off for a walk. I snoozed in the car. More trailers with horses arrived, unloaded, and horses and riders disappeared into the wilderness on the trails. I realized I had less than a liter of water so  walked to Todd Lake with two Gatorade bottles. The spot appeared to be popular with day visitors. I filled the bottles at the stream that flowed from the lake and brought them back to camp to treat with the Steripen before drinking.

By early evening there was still no sign of any of the other PCTA crew, and I was beginning to think I was waiting in the wrong place. So I called the leader, left a voicemail, and pretty soon he called back, confirmed my location and said they were running late and were two hours away. Another of the crew would be there in about an hour. Several of the crew members arrived, and the leaders did too, their truck packed with gear. They were Justin and Wes, whom I had met at Olallie Lake and who had given me a ride to Estacada. It was really nice to see them again.

Animals and humans settled in for the night. I decided to cowboy camp near the car as it was so dry, and I wanted to look for shooting stars, it being the time of the Perseid meteorites. The night was dark and cold. I lay in the sleeping bag  between an extra cover that I usually kept in the car, with a wool beanie pulled down over my ears, and looked up at the sky. The Milky Way resolved into its trillions  of stars.  I roamed among them and in that dark matter between, caught in the gravitational pull on my body and the levitation of my mind. Who knows which force would have won, had it not been for the occasional snort from the horses that brought me back to earth. I slept, to awaken once or twice to see a few shooting stars. It was a night of beauty and wonder.

Food Review – PCT 2015

Right now I’m enjoying my weekly cup of Starbucks Via instant coffee. I did not miss coffee, tea, or other hot drinks or hot food on the trail. I went stove less and found rehydrating most of the food to be simple and quick. 

Breakfast: was usually on the trail, a couple of hours after awakening, packing up and setting off. It was really nice to hike in the cool of the morning, then as it got a little warmer, sit down for a cool breakfast of granola, dried milk and water. This is my favorite breakfast. It is also Diana’s (she and Ken, Brandon, Will and I shared a camp one night), though she used dried goat’s milk. It was only on the last day at Olallie Lake that I realized that the rumblings and gas I had been having almost the whole trip was due to the lactose in the dried milk. Duh!!!  In future I shall consider non-dairy substitutes or lactose free dried milk. The latter appears to be only available whole sale.  Dehydrated scrambled eggs were a disaster: would not rehydrate and had the consistency of chopped leather (I’ve not tried to chew chopped leather, but imagine it might taste like the eggs). I’ll try the Mountain House scrambled eggs using cold water. They are precook and call for addition of hot water. Did not get to the boxes that contained the precooked bacon, but I have taken that on previous kayak trips and it is great, for any meal and smells really good in the wilds. 

Snacks: Pepperjack cheese sticks kept their moisture and did not melt in the heat; mozzarella sticks however lost their water and became dry. I did suck on the packet to get the salty water though. The trail mix, Kind bars and pepperoni sticks were all too dry to enjoy in the environment I was in. I had taken Crystallite   powder to make drinks with. This tastes good but is inadequate for replacement of calories and electrolytes. Gatorade powder is a better substitute. 

Lunch: This was usually flour tortillas with Starkist tuna creations. You get these in a variety of flavors now, and they are moist  and salty. Tortillas were the plain variety, as well as jalapeño-cheddar and garden spinach. Trader Joe’s dried flattened bananas were sweet and chewy. I did not rehydrate the guacamole, hummus or cilantro chutney I had made at home, as for some reason (probably the heat) they did not appeal to me any more. Back home I was once again able to enjoy these! 

Dinner: Instant mashed potatoes with anything or nothing turned out to be my favorite, especially smoked bacon/applen, four cheese and garlic. Great with thick cut steak jerky or pork jerky. Another easily rehydrated food was curried lentils (dhal), eaten either watery as a soup, or thick, with tortillas. The quinoa in ‘Thai chicken and quinoa ‘ rehydrated really well, but the little pieces of chicken  did not. In future I will use ground chicken or other meats for any meat dish. Spaghetti and ground beef was another favorite. I had read that dehydration concentrates the flavors and spicyness of foods, so had not made them overly spicy. As a result they did taste somewhat bland when rehydrated. I will prepare these dishes as normal next time. 

For dessert the instant  puddings were just the thing to end a hot day – sweet and cool, with great flavors. Pistachio….. Yuuummm! Not as great as the pistachio gelato in San Gimignano,  but just as welcome. 

(Picture taken from the Internet)

 

Haiku for the Pacific Crest Trail

July 16 2015

 

 

Creek with aerial views

From rocky perches up high,

Aptly named Eagle. 

 

 

In the forest cool

Wafted scents of wild flowers

Bring delight and bees

 

 

 

 

 

This trail, this highway

Is not one way. It cycles,

Life blood through my heart.

 

Whose castle is this

Reaching up from forest floor?

Spider, are you home?

 

 

 

Gaps in green tunnel

Inspire gasps of mountain air

Mt. Hood framed within.

 

 

 

 

 

One foot then the next

Propel me through this tunnel,

Never to return?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Small stream flowing clear

Fills my bottle; such pleasure,

Simple, primitive

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alone, night silent

How many miles separate me

And the next human?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ramona water,

Clear cool wet sweet salvation,

Quench my open lips.

 

 

 

 

 

Take  a chance on chance

Enter worlds unknown to you,

Life’s new dimensions.

 

 

Gear Review – PCT 2015- What worked and what did not.

July 14 2015

I’m enjoying trail food at home. It takes me back to those days.  I shall review food, but first gear …..

Backpack: ZPacks Arc Blast 60L. I came to love this pack. I could adjust the hip belt tension, the shoulder strap length, the load lifters and the tension on the external frame, thus changing it’s  curve. After a while of hiking I often just forgot I had a pack. The iPhone 6+ with Otterbox Commuter protection nicely fitted in the hip belt pocket. I also had a 9×6 Loksak for potentially wet situations like river crossings or heavy rain. Snacks, pencil and lip salve were in the other hip belt pocket. The shoulder pouch held sunglasses, reading glasses, whistle and Rite in the Rain notebook. There was enough room in the pack for the gear, as well as a 2-liter hoser hung inside the pack. The roll top was easy to close. Low side pockets held 2 (Gatorade liter) bottles and the poop bag (TP, spade, ziplock for used TP, and hand sanitizer) and foot care bag. Luckily I did not develop blisters though my feet got hot and sore and swelled.  The pee rag was clipped to the side of the pack, another end tucked into the large back mesh pocket that also held sit pad and Ziplock with maps. I did look at the maps almost daily to get a better overview of where I was. I used the compass once when I missed that turn after Ramona Falls, but the little magnifier did not help. For that sort of detail I had Halfmile’s maps saved in Adobe Reader. Wet clothes were also spread out under the mesh to dry. 

Tent: ZPacks Hexamid Solo tent with extended beak. The tent was really easy to set up and even easier to take down and pack away. I think I only deployed the extended beak once, having great weather, and preferring the openness of the folded up beak. I was quite confident that no critters could enter through the screen floor and didn’t see any. Condensation was not a problem in this environment, though it was stuffy inside if there was no wind. It did not rain enough to test the detachable bathtub floor. There was plenty room inside for the gear. 

Sleeping bag: ZPacks 900 fill solo down 10*F bag. It was usually so warm I used it as a quilt and only occasionally had to wrap it around. I didn’t zip it all the way up. If it got cold, I slipped my feet into the end. 

Thermarest Neoair Xlite, regular size. The regular size was rather long. I could easily do with a shorter one, and I may shorten this one.  I used a garbage compression bag as billows to blow up the Neoair and that worked very well, without those lightheaded moments. No leakages to report. The Neoair was not too noisy when adjusting position at night. 

Insulation: Gossamer Gear Thinlight foam insulation pad 1/8″. This provided only little padding, and was adequate for insulation in this weather. It tore when I shoved the pack through the roots, and I repaired it with duck tape on both sides. 

Sit pad: Gossamer Gear Sitlight pad. No problems. A nice light pad, fitted in the back mesh pocket. Many of the hikers I met were carrying foldable mattress / sit pads (they may have done without inflatable mattress pads). This may be a multipurpose alternative. 

Poncho: ZPacks cuben fiber poncho, doubles as the bathtub floor of the tent. Very light and big enough to fit over the pack, with waterproof zips on both sides. Easy and quick to pack away. No rain to test it. 

Trekking poles: Gossamer Gear LT4S carbon trekking poles. Very light, and strong enough for my needs. The locking mechanism did refuse to lock at one time but that was because I had over loosened it. I took the two pieces apart and figured it out. One pole held up the tent, and kept the tension well. 

Spade: The Deuce of Spades is very light and strong. The ground, even the forest floor, was often hard and dry. The Deuce performed well, sometimes with the help of a stout stick. 

Rain pants, rain mitts and fleece liners. From ZPacks. I did not use these. Very light, an insignificant weight and volume addition to the clothes bag. 

Gore Tex socks. (Rocky). I did not use these. I had them as camp ‘shoes’ to wear inside my hiking shoes when in camp, especially if it was wet. On rethinking this, a small light pair of water shoes (as Diana used) may work better for camp. Weight will be the deciding factor. 

Shoes: Brooks Cascadia 10. Nice light shoes, airy, and dried quickly. Wore them with orthotics for flat feet, with heel of insole trimmed to lower my heels. 

Socks: Injinji toesocks for hiking in. Having soft material between the toes increased ventilation and kept toes dry. In camp I changed into Smartwool socks. 

Gaiters: Dirty Girl gaiters. I love these because they are so colorful. The heel Velcro came off once in very dusty conditions, but I had brought the rest of the Velcro that comes with the gaiters and stuck this on at night. Good to go the next morning. 

Base layer: Smartwool mid 250 hoody and bottoms. These were comfortable and warm at  night, and even cool during the day when lounging around waiting for hiking clothes to dry. I could have done with some thing lighter like the micro 150 set. 

Down jacket: Patagonia ultralight women’s down hoody. A lovely light and warm hoody that I only used once, and appreciated. This is a keeper. 

Underwear: Ex Officio mesh underwear. Very lightweight and comfortable while hiking. Easy to wash, and quick drying. 

Shirt: Columbia long sleeved white shirt with sun protection (Omni-shade). Again light and airy. Easy to wash and moderately quick drying. 

Phone: iPhone 6+ with Halfmile’s maps and app, and Guthook’s PCT app. The phone was in airplane mode with Wifi and Bluetooth off most of the time to extend battery life. With moderate use of the camera, I only had to charge it about the fifth day. 

External battery: Anker E5 2nd generation 16000 mAh. Overkill! Heavy at 11 oz, a smaller lighter external battery would have sufficed with resupplies scheduled on average at 50 mi intervals. 

Headlamp: Petzl eLite headlamp was occasionally used at night. I was usually in bed before it got dark and up when there was enough light to pack by. 

Water purification: the Steripen Ultra is a little heavy, but well worth carrying. It nicely fitted in the liter Gatorade bottle. The tiny 3 ml bottles of Aquamira as backup were not used. 

Keyboard: Think Outside Bluetooth keyboard. The large iPhone 6+ was unstable on the keyboard’s stand. I quickly got used to one finger typing on the phone, so sent the keyboard home at Timberline Lodge. 

Heat, Depression and Loneliness on the PCT.

I had, of course, anticipated the heat, this being one of the hottest and driest summers in the Pacific Northwest, but the reality of mile after mile in stupefying heat in the green tunnel, I had not. The heat also reduced my appetite, a dangerous development in any arduous undertaking – calories and electrolytes are not replaced. Excessive water intake in this situation can lead to hyponatremia. I drank all the time, the hoser was put to good use, but I was often sweating profusely. I knew I was dehydrated if hours had gone by and I hadn’t peed. Mornings were generally cool and pleasant to walk in; as the sun reached its zenith and into early evening were the hours of intense heat. This intense heat may now be the norm and one would have to adapt to it. 

Depression cast a pall from the first day. It is not something I suffer from, and It was surprising. The anxiety of the start was, after a day replaced by this heaviness that lasted until the last day at Olallie Lake, lifting only slightly at the end of the first week. I wasn’t able to enjoy much. I lost interest in photographing flowers and other unusual things along the way. There were moments of brightness however, like the first views of Mt. Hood, like meeting Tracey and Henry, and Batb and Rob, and Bipolar, but over it all was this low feeling. I tried to analyze it. I had wanted to do this hike because I had turned 65, and loved the idea of walking and walking with all my needs in a pack, not returning home for days, weeks. Researching, purchasing and preparation had been exciting, and I had learned to blog, and was loving it. I had prepared and dehydrated trail food and loved that too. I had not tried to advertise my trip, yet the excitement of family, friends and Jazzercise buddies was contagious and boosting. I told them that they would keep me going when things got tough. 

I was doing this trip alone, and I did not expect to be lonely. Yet after the second night I knew I was. I missed my wife, my dogs and my life. One night I just wanted to leave all my gear and walk out. But to where? I was in the middle of nowhere. I still had to walk that trail to get anywhere. 

I asked myself: are you looking forward to the next section? The answer was hard to say: no.  Are you having fun? – No. Do you want to leave the trail? – Yes. The decision was made. Then the second guessing began, but I put a stop to that soon. I thought mainly about my readers and how disappointed they may be. But they were also my friends and would continue to love me and care, and encourage me on the next adventure. 

What was amazing was how much I had learned in a few days. I had seen the best side of humanity – generosity, openness, love. I had begun this journey for me but I had not travelled alone. I had lived intensely and simply, and found challenges in the environment and in myself. 

Would I have changed anything? Done things different? Yes and no, no and yes, for the very act of doing had changed everything, changed me. In the vastness of the universe, as stars form the elements that become us, what difference does one missed turn or a pause in one’s footsteps, make?  They make the difference. They change the universe. Missed turns, missteps, mistakes, they change the time-space continuum. There is no going back. Second chances are small eddies in the swirl of time and space, but the river flows on. So I embrace the journey and the misses and the mistakes for these have changed the course of time. 

Day 10 Russ Lake to Olallie Lake

July 7 2015

Milage: 4

I lay abed until 5.40, then jumped up as much as one can in a tent, and was walking at 6.15. It was an easy 4 miles, but I felt weak. The trail was well maintained. The morning sunny. It had not rained at night. A little sign nailed to a tree welcomed me to Olallie Lake Store, to coffee, rest, and cold beer. The lake was a blue expanse ringed by hills and crowned by snowy Mt. Jefferson. Time slowed at Olallie Lake. I got a cup of coffee and sat enjoying it on the porch. Dennis checked the register and said there were no cabins for tonight, but I was welcome to camp free of charge in the day use area. There were no showers, but a lovely small lake across the road to swim in.  I told him I was also looking for a ride towards Portland. 

At the day use area, there was Will, the artist from two nights ago. He had just got up and looked so vulnerable.  I had just missed Diana and Ken. Will is from Seattle and often hikes in the Olympics. We exchanged addresses. Maybe we’ll hike together soon. That would be nice. He’s a sweet lad. He showed me pictures  of what inspired him artistically on his hike. I told him of my decision to leave and gave him my extra food. He was very grateful. Borrowed a bucket from the store and washed my clothes in it with Dr. Bronner’s soap, then spread them on the picnic table and nearby trees to dry. Had a big breakfast of the last of the granola and dried milk, and a stick of cheese. Will took off to walk the 2 1/2 miles to the power lines where there was cellular reception. He returned more than an hour later, looking disgruntled, saying he had only managed to send a text message. He made ready to hike on. I returned to the store porch to finish coffee and make trail notes. A truck arrived with two young men.  One greeted me , held out his hand, said his name was Wes, and that they were from the PCTA ! They were going to  reconnoiter the trail to Upper Lake for an upcoming work party. I asked if they were returning towards the Portland area. Yes, they were, after their hike, and yes, they could give me a ride. Yoohoo!

I settled in to enjoy the rest of the day, chatting with the few hikers that passed through, had a lunch of canned herrings (from the store) and tortillas, decided not to walk to the power lines as soon I would be back in suburbia and cellular range. The afternoon passed slowly. Flies were a bit of a nuisance in the day use area, but shunned the store, so I hung out there some more. I bought a packet of mashed potatoes and a packet of spam (!) for a later supper. Wes and Justin returned, talked to the store owner awhile, then we were off. The gravel road wound through the forest, turned to paved and followed the Clackamas River to Estacada, our destination. We talked, I asked questions about the PCTA and their role in it. They arranged volunteer work parties for the trail.  Wes made organic hot sauces the rest of the year and Justin was a journalist. They sounded like they were having fun, and I felt so happy for them, that they could take time off and do work like this, in the wilds. This is perhaps the best thing about going out into the wilds: the people you meet and the permutations of their lives, shows you the infinite possible ways you could live yours. They talked about volunteering for the PCTA, again opening up possibilities for returning to the trail. This was not an end for me, these were new beginning. 

We got into Estacada early evening and they waited till I made sure there were rooms at the inn. I offered to buy them dinner, but they declined as dinner was included in their costs. 

I called Sally. She wanted to leave home immediately and come get me. I said no, she would have to feed the dogs, get a good night’s sleep (and day’s sleep. Her biological clock is reversed), leave the dogs at the boarder, then come. I would spend another night here. There was no hurry. I ate supper of mashed potatoes and spam. The spam was tasteless. Maybe it should have been fried. I showered, I blogged, I made phone calls. The room was hot. I turned up the air conditioning. I might have been cooler in the tent. I missed the trail already. I slept fitfully. 

Day 9 Campsite at PCT mile 2060 to Russ Lake

July 6 2015

Milage: 13

Russ Lake was my destination today, 13 miles away. Clouds had blown in overnight and the morning was cool. Too cool for flies and mosquitoes, and too cool for spiders – there were very few webs across the path. At 7 am I came to a forest road and found there was 1+ cellular reception. I called Sally who was getting ready for bed and told her that I was thinking of leaving the trail at Olallie Lake. She said just call her when I get there and she’ll come for me if I decide to leave. I trudged on, emerging from the green tunnel at North Pinhead Butte and climbed the rocky trail. At a breezy spot I sat off the trail for breakfast. My appetite was building. Depression seemed to be lifting. I heard voices in conversation approaching from the south. A single white bearded smallish man appeared, talking loudly into his phone mic with earphones on. His conversation ending then, he took them off, greeted me and sat down with pack still on , using it as a backrest, and stretched out his legs. We shook hands. Said his name was Bipolar because he was – bipolar. He kinda smiled when I mentioned my depression and told me he was happy on the trail for five months then went back home to Wisconsin and was depressed for seven. He told me bits about his life fighting the disease and how his wife and family had lived through it. I said he should think of moving with the sun, become a migratory bird and maybe that would help. He said he was going to, to Austin, Texas where his daughter was, though he’d rather move to the west coast. His present meds had been throwing him off balance. We chatted some more, then shook hands and parted. He had said that whatever decision I made regarding my onward journey, it would be the right one. Thanks Bipolar. 

Later in the afternoon I called my Mother to let her know I was OK, but made the mistake of telling her of my mental state. She panicked and got my sister to call Sally to go pick me up. My Mother and I have been on many “wild goose chases” over the years, attempting to visit people, not knowing where they lived. She would have sent Sally “south of Mt. Hood” to get me. 

Through the afternoon high cumulus clouds had been building in the south-east with gusty high winds. Jude Lake was muddy and uninviting. Barb and Rob had got bad vibes here – they had found a pile of neatly folded clothes topped by a pair of shoes on the shore, but no one in sight. Rob, who liked to swim the lakes, found he was surrounded by rapidly approaching craw dads. They both got the heebee jeebies and moved to Russ Lake. I did too, by a winding 1/4 mile path that led to a campsite above the lake, though close to water. As I arrived thunder sounded in the south. Quickly I set up the tent, making sure the lines were taut, stakes driven in well, and the bathtub floor was well positioned, the sides as high as they would go, and I moved everything I did not immediately need into it. Then I had a good dinner of four cheese instant mashed potatoes with thick cut teriyaki steak jerky, finished off with chocolate mousse instant pudding. Thunder continued to gently rumble, the wind gusted intermittently , and I made ready for bed, hoping that if it rained at night it would have stopped by morning. When I awoke later in the night the wind had died and it was warm and still everywhere. 

Day 8 Gone Creek campsite to Campsite at PCT mile 2060

July 5 2015

Milage: 11

The night before Rob had brought out his green maps, and I Halfmile’s maps, and we had worked out a reasonable and feasible destination for the next da, a small campsite and spring in 11 miles. My trail Angels knew the area well, and were well versed in trail lore. They had met famous thru-hikers, the rock stars of the PCT as Rob called them, and we shared a favorite – Carrot Quinn – whose blog we followed. 

So this morning, after wishing Barb and Milo goodbye, thinking that this may be the last time I see the old dog, Rob drove me two miles to the trailhead. We took pictures at the arched entrance. He tooted as he left. I started walking a few minutes after 6. I passed beautifully carved signs (Rob had told me about these) in this section. The trail wound on, not difficult, through Warm Springs Indian Reservation, past Buckskin Butte. Such lovely names.  At 9 I breakfasted just before the power lines. No one passed. Woodpeckers knocked and sang, and a few flies buzzed in the lazy morning. Much of this section of northern Oregon, apart from the Eagle Creek route, and vistas from Indian Mountain and peeks at Mt. Hood, was in forest. This gave one the advantage of walking in the cool, but also reduced ones vision to a “green tunnel ” that often was stultifying but sometimes let in a little breeze. Buckskin Butte was only a feature on the map, but the green tunnel opened out at North Pinhead Butte, briefly allowing an expansion of the senses with deep breathes of fresh mountain air. As it got hotter I took more frequent breaks and sips of water. I began to notice the huckleberry bushes that in retrospect I had been passing for many many miles. I’d spot a fat dark berry then soon more and more. I gathered a few handfuls. Earlier they were sweet and cool, later sweet and warm from the sun. Lunch was at the Warm Springs River campsite where the flies were a nuisance. I pushed on another 2 miles  In the intense heat of the afternoon I would walk from shade patch to shade patch, heating up in the sun then cooling a little in the shade. This made for slow going.  The target campsite was small but neat and nicely shaded. The little spring was a few feet away. On the way back from it I saw more bushes with plump berries, so stood a while and ate. I wanted to fill up water for the next day’s hike so took bottles down to the spring. Stepping over some mossy rocks to best fill them I lost balance, tried to find it, and ended on all fours partly in the spring, one shoe soaked and the shirt muddy. I had managed to keep my glasses on my head and had not disturbed the water too much. So I got the gallon Ziplock, half filled it and washed shirt and socks. There was enough sun and breeze to dry them by evening. The shoe was dry next morning. 

Evening was very quiet. Only one group of hikers passed on the trail above. During the day I had met some of the first thru-hikers. One was powering his way intently focused on his destination, the Canadian border. Another was a quiet calm kind of guy who greeted me and pointed out the huckleberry bushes. I wished him the very best. 

This evening  I realized how lonely I was. It was only one day since I’d had company. A wild idea to leave everything and walk away occurred to me until I thought again – I still had to walk to anywhere. The night was very quiet, and cool. Not a sound. My movements did not seem to disturb anyone or anything. 

Day 7 Camp site at PCT mile 2080 to Gone Creek Campground, Timothy Lake.

July 4 2015

Milage: 8 miles on trail, 1 mile off trail 

Up at 5 and walking at 6. Pretty flat trail then downhill to a large creek flowing into Timothy Lake with a pretty bridge over it. This end of the lake is swampy. The trail is shared with a bike path that diverges to climb the hill. Views expand to expose the lake now large and blue, the shores populated with campers and boaters. Breakfast is at a campsite with a view of the lake. I carry on, meeting hikers, trail runners,  dogs and horses. There are several designated campsites along the way. A party of riders approaches, led by a dog with bells on, that was obviously taking his job of leading the pack, seriously. Though friendly with his tail wagging, he wasn’t going to stop to say hello. The trail rounded a corner, and there was Oak Fork Creek, flowing into the lake, and a lovely breeze blowing upriver. I stopped to rest and take a photo. A voice asked me if I was on the Pacific Crest Trail. It was a sweet, petite energenic woman. I told her my story and where I was headed. She said she and her husband had hiked the PCT in 2011 and had had to stop at Timothy Lake because of heat exhaustion. They camped here often and invited me to visit them at their campsite, rest, have a hotdog and maybe stay the night. She was out hiking and looking for berries and showed me the huckleberries she had found, and told me how to recognize the bushes. After she left I debated whether to take her up on her offer. It was only 11, but very hot. I could visit briefly then move on. I thought about other chance encounters and the roads not taken, and decided to visit. The walk along the lakeshore to the campsite was extremely hot and I almost turned back at Oak Fork campground when #45 turned out to be empty, then remembered they were at the next campground, continued and finally reached their site. Her husband was in a camp chair reading (an article on the PCT in Backpacker) and did not seem surprised at my appearance. He gave me a chair and asked if it wasn’t the most wonderful thing  to sit in a chair. I couldn’t agree more. He was taking care of Milo, their old, dying Golden Retriever. He asked if I was hungry (no, too hot to eat), and brought me iced water. What dimension had I entered? He told me of their PCT experiences and I told him of mine. He was curious about my equipment and asked lots of questions. His wife returned and was surprised and delighted to see me. She said they had invited several hikers to their campsite and I was the first to accept. Barb and Rob wanted to be Trail Angels. I was  happy to be the first recipient of their ministrations. And what angels they were! I was waited on, served food (hotdogs, chips and a huge wedge of Marion berry pie), drinks (the beer flowed : Rob and his brother had a beer brewing business), a basin of hot water to wash my underwear in, clean shorts and T-shirt to change into for the lake.
Milo and I snoozed in the shade. Then we went down to the lake and after floating around, sat on the shore chatting and drinking beer. I met their friends. Everyone was so open and friendly and just accepted me as part of the group. Barb and Rob offered me complete and unrestricted access to their camper. I marveled at their hospitality. Barb made several trips for beer, made their young friends apply sunscreen, looked after Milo, in between marinadeing the chicken for dinner. Dinner was salad, barbecued chicken and garlic mashed potatoes, with beer. I just couldn’t do any more pie. As it got late  I demonstrated setting up of the tent and showed them my gear. They were astonished at the lightness and intriguied at the new concepts in ultralight  backpacking. Rob, a gear geek, was delighted at it all.
I asked Milo if he wanted to sleep in my tent tonight. It had been a very hot day for him and at bedtime he seemed reluctant to move from the hollow he had nosed out for himself in the dirt. But when I approached and asked if he wanted to go to bed, he got up and headed for the tent. I felt I really let him down when Barb took him to the RV and helped him up the ramp.
The night was cool and I slept well, waking a couple of times to pee. 
Barb and Rob were now fully fledged Trail Angels. Look for them at Gone Creek campground. 

Day 6 Timberline Lodge to Campsite at PCT mile 2080

Friday July 3 2015

Milage: 14.4

I checked out of the Lodge at 5.30 and climbed the slope behind the lodge to the PCT. Coarse and fine, grey volcanic dust was thick on the ground. Puffs of powdery dust arose at every step. Looking back, the mountain was dark against the morning sky. Vegetation was sparse with grass tufts, lupine and stunted pines. The descent was quick and soon I  could hear Highway 35 below. At Barlow Pass I crossed the highway to a parking lot and had breakfast at the picnic table (granola, dried milk and water, my favorite), then set off on the trail. It was easy walking with just a little up. Lunch brought me to a spot from where I could look back at Mt. Hood. I hoped to make the small campsite with a seasonal stream.  I had passed the campsite before I knew it and had to backtrack a fraction of a mile. I looked for the  stream and found only a wet patch. I had less than a liter left and reckoned that would be enough, but would have to conserve it. Supper was mashed potatoes that tasted so good. No dessert as that would have  used more water. I was writing my blog when two hikers arrived. They were a welcome sight as I was feeling lonely. I explained the water situation and at once Ken went to look. In about a minute he was back with news of a flowing stream and a catchment pond inhabited by small frogs. Saved again! They were a married couple, perhaps in their fifties, both teachers on sabbaticals. She was also launching a line of cosmetic products, made by her with her chemistry background. They were seasoned hikers and had insights into and advice about hiking. Two more hikers arrived, young men, one an artist. With plenty of water available I was able to have dessert – pistachio instant pudding. Yum mm!  We all talked till it got dark. It was very quiet. I slept well. It had been a good hiking day. 

Day 5 Zero day at Timberline Lodge

July 2 2015

Milage: 0

The morning sun shone on Mt. Jefferson. At breakfast were two women section hikers, NoBo. One was celebrating her birthday and got a surprise visit from a companion hiker. It was already too hot after eating, so I got my boxes from the Wy’East Store and then stayed almost the whole day indoors, sorting out the contents. Inventory of this leg’s food consumption showed I had eaten only about a third.  So I drastically cut what I would carry, dumped the old and some of the new food, and sent the rest home, together with items not used or unlikely to use. Typing the blog on the iPhone has been satisfactory,  so the Bluetooth keyboard and extra batteries went home. The lodge was very kind and gave me a box to send by UPS, and it will go tomorrow. A big weight off mind and back. 

The evening is cooler. I have caught up blogging with this post, and with telephone calls. It’s been lovely talking to family. Soon the pack will be ready, to leave early tomorrow. 

Day 4 Camp at Top Spur Trail junction to Sandy River Trail

July 1 2015

Milage 6.5

This day had been planned as there were approximately 14.6 mi. to Timberline Lodge and I hoped to complete about half of that today, arriving at the Sandy River crossing, via Ramona Falls, mid-morning. I jumped up when the alarm rang at 5, packed quickly, and started hiking at 5.40. It was all down hill, parts quite steep at times, but soft forest floor underfoot. No flies or mosquitoes, but I destroyed lots of cobwebs. Muddy Fork came up pretty quickly. A large log with a rope tied to it made crossing easy. On the other side was the clearly marked Ramona Falls Trail, wide and sandy, obviously well used. I love this type of terrain, like a dry river bed – open, sunny, with lots of clear spaces to camp. The trail pretty soon paralleled a rushing stream and wound around sandy hillocks, the sound of rushing water increasing then fading, until the falls came into view, tumbling down rocky steps set back in a large grotto. A lady named Ramona with cascading silver locks, her face turned away. Who was she? The water was cold and clear, and tasted so good. I filled a bottle with Ramona water and got going. It was downhill again thru mesquite like country and soon I could hear the Sandy River.  It sounded scary. I don’t know how I missed the turn off to the PCT river crossing. It was just 0.4 miles from the falls, but I kept going 1.5 miles along the north bank of the river  until the junction with the Sandy River Trail. The signs were confusing, but I decided to follow the PCT sign which led directly away from the river.  After consulting maps and software, and still confused, I backtracked, and met a group of women. One of them told me where to cross the river, what logs to look for, and how I’d find the PCT. It kind of sounded like what other hikers had told me. A precipitous path led to the river bed, an angry mess of logs, hillocks and ravines. I looked upstream then downstream slowly getting to the main flow. It was hot and soon I was dripping sweat. I could see several possible log crossing, but I couldn’t get to them. Then there was this enormous root tangle at the base of two trunks. In between the roots was sand (of course), that crumbled away when I tried to clamber up. I shoved the trekking poles through and hoped they wouldn’t fall into the water. Then I took off the pack and shoved that through. Then I pulled and kicked myself through the hole in the roots and got to the base of the trunks. Phew! Shouldering the pack and using the poles to steady myself I walked the logs over the river to the sand on the other side. More was to come. I now had to scrabble up the other side. The two parallel logs that the lady described came into view and again lots of clawing and kicking got me up. I just had to rest. After a while I searched for the path. There was none to be found. Upstream was thick jungle, downstream looked hopeful. After a minute there were voices. I was saved! We worked out that I was now on the Sandy River Trail a popular path to Ramona (remember her?) Falls loop. To get back to the PCT I’d have to go back across the river to the north side, then backtrack 1.5 miles to the missed turn off, then cross the river again to the south bank. I just couldn’t! I was done. I would get a ride to Timberline Lodge. The 10 missed miles of the PCT could be done another time. At the trailhead parking lot the first person to appear was a woman and her dog. She was returning to Portland, in the opposite direction to mine. I lay back down at the picnic table. But she stopped as she left the lot and said she would take me to Timberline Lodge. Was this Ramona of my day dreams? No, it was Tracey, and Henry. After loading the pack and poles, I got into the front passenger seat, displacing Henry. During the ride Henry inched his way toward my lap, was gently pushed back by Tracey, and kept trying. He didn’t whine like my Bella would have, but licked the salt off my  dirty face and kissed my ear. Then he settled into his back seat bed. Tracey and I chatted and exchanged particulars, discovering lots in common. Isn’t it amazing how sometimes you make an instant deep connection with someone? At the lodge parking lot it was surprisingly sad to say goodbye. She hugged me once, then again tighter, and looked like she was going to cry. She asked for my blog address and I gave it to her. I felt churlish leaving her in the parking lot. 

Waiting for my room to be ready, I received a comment on my blog from Tracey, inviting me to visit Portland. Isn’t the spontaneous life wonderful?

Day 3 Camp at PCT mile 2119 to camp at Top Spur Trail Junction

Tuesday June 30

Milage: 10

The night had been good. There were three dots on the cell phone and I called home. Woohoo! Left camp at 6.30. The two men had departed an hour earlier to make their morning coffee at 6 am. and get to Cascade Locks where their wives awaited. Lost Lake at last came into view, the sun strong off its surface. Mosquitoes and flies were horrible in the woods and Topknot (my name for a fellow SoBo) said they had been terrible last night. The path was mostly soft pinewood floor with some rock falls. I filled up at a small stream crossing the trail just before Lolo Pass. The power lines hummed and sizzled, so I didn’t wait around. The trail was dry and hot, then entered the forest again to begin a series of switchbacks that seemed endless but did eventually get to the campsite near Bald Mountian at 2 pm. A popular spot, a meeting of several trails. The PCT was all downhill from here but that would have to wait another day. Day hikers kept passing through, the last when it was close to dark. A chipmunk had visited the camp for leftovers and some crows flew low. The night was quiet after the last flies left. 

Day Two. 7 1/2 mi. camp to PCT mi 2119 Camp

Monday June 29

Milage: 11

Up at 5 and hiking at 6. The first three miles were gentle. A drumming blue grouse sounded very close, but remained hidden. Met a PCT hiker who had just come down the ridge from Indian Springs – said it’s very steep. Well that’s what I have to go up. The trail had been in shadow most of this time, but as I turned a sharp corner the sunlight hit me. It was glorious, and a lovely place for breakfast of granola, dried milk and water, all shaken together. Soon after that the steep ridge began, 2000 feet elevation gain in2 miles. It took 3 hours to complete. I was glad to see running water at Indian Springs, and to hear voices and hammering. There were two forest personnel, posting campfire ban notices. The thunderstorm of the previous night had ignited 3-4 fires in the area. The lady forester was so concerned for me, asked if I was carrying Benadryl for bee stings, and gave me a teabag as it was ‘the only thing she had to give’. What kindness. Tried to rest in the shade and eat a little. The scrambled eggs were an utter failure. They did not rehydrate. It was like chewing leather and as hard to swallow. Washed a few clothes and dried them together with the ones from the night before, as well as the tent that had condensation, in the hot sun. Then packed up and continued, wanting to make it to the camp at mile 2119. Just out of Indian Springs the trail opens up on Indian Mountain to a gorgeous view of Mt. Rainer to the northwest, and the Cascade Range to the southwest. Beautiful spring flowers all along the trail with lots of bees.  Got to camp at 6.30 pm making it a 12.5 hour hiking day. The camp was on the top of a ridge overlooking Lost Lake that I couldn’t see, and a stiff breeze blew most of the night, calling for warm clothes and a dive into bed. Two north bound hikers camped there too, retired gentlemen who were thankfully completing their hike at Cascade Locks. One of them had been swept downriver at Russel Creek and managed to kick off the bottom and swim to shore with a waterlogged pack. He gained some of his confidence back on the Sandy River crossing. They had hiked three weeks with only 1 1/2 days break. They had much advice for me. 

A cool night, and a good sleep, without pee interruptions. I was not well hydrated. 

Day 1 Eagle Creek Trailhead to 7 1/2 mile camp

Day 1 June 28 2015.

Eagle Creek Alternate mi 12.2 to 7 1/2 mi camp. 

Milage: 7 1/2

The night before, we got to Cascade Locks late and found space in a dinky RV park, but we wereglad for it, exhausted from the drive and the heat. So glad we hadn’t brought the dogs. The tension of the start of the trek had been building up in me and I had little appetite. By the time we settled in, all the restaurants were shut, and the little grocery store was about to close. We bought a few sandwiches and bananas. 

After a quick shower in a really dingy bathroom, it was off to bed. So tired, but the tension was increasing. Still, I slept well. Next morning delayed the start by an hour and got to the Eagle Creek trailhead at 7 am. Really tense now, with a knot in my chest and belly. What was I doing? what had I got myself into ?Sally was so encouraging, said I could change my mind anytime, just call her. She later told me she had almost run up the trail to call me back.

The river kept me going. Waterfall after waterfall. Series of cascades each ending in a pool, some huge holes in the earth, eroded by the water, others smaller, in rock. The trail is rocky, the rocks sharp and hard on the shoes and feet. There are many day hikers, this is a popular trail. A few are swimming in the shallower pools. An intrepid camper is way down on an island in the river. I have an eagle’s eye view of their tent. I dont know how they got there. The great attraction is Tunnel Falls where the river plunges over a cliff to a pool at least 200 feet below. A tunnel is carved into the rock behind the falls, water drips down from the roof. Along the more  precipitous parts is  cable, attached to the rock wall by large pitons. It is advisable to hang on to the cable if you are at all afraid of heights. After the falls are a series of cascades where most day hiikers stop for lunch, and dip in the river.

My intebtion is to get to Indian Springs, but I know its a steep climb, and takig the advice of a friendly hiker, decide to call it an early day at 1 pm, and stop at 7 1/2 mile camp, by the river. I am the only camper. I set up camp and do a fow chores, like laundry and making trail notes, but am too tired to blog and can’t think straight. Think I have forgotten to bring the headlamp and envision various scenarios, but it’s in the electronics bag where it should be. The long afternoon draws on. The noise of the river drowns out all but the birds. But the river speaks. I hear sounds like voices, but seldom see anyone. I know I have no wildlife to fear here. There are flies and mosquitoes, but nothing is biting. 

I am very tired, and in bed by 7. During  the night I see lightening, and hear thunder not too far away. Only a few drops hit the tent. I sleep very well, though its rather warm and airless.

Food, Food, Food

This is my food, from breakfast on the left to desserts on the right.

I’m going stoveless. Hot drinks and food I can indulge in at the resupply spots and towns along the way. I have dehydrated home cooked meals, and and bought instant foods such as mashed potatoes and pudding, and will rehydrate in the screw-top 0.5L Ziplock container a few hours before I need to eat. My choices are:

Breakfast: Granola, with or without dried milk and water
Scrabbled eggs with tortillas. Bacon (pre-cooked bacon that lasts a few days after opening the package)

  

 

Lunch: Hummus. Guacamole. Cilantro pesto. Tuna (all these with tortillas). Jerky

Dinner: Madras lentils and rice
Spaghetti and meat sauce
Thai chicken and quinoa
Jerky
Instant mashed potatoes.               Lentils (dal).                                                     Thai shrimp and noodles.

Dessert: Instant pudding. Chocolate

Snacks: Kind bars. Trail mix. Chocolate. Freeze dried cheese                    ( Muncheese ).  Pepperoni sticks.

I will supplement these foods with fresh vegetables and fruit from town.

Anatomy of a Resupply box:

 

USPS regional rate box made to look distinctive ( and pretty), so it can be more easily recognized among the hundreds of other resupply boxes.

UPS and USPS boxes ready to be closed. I will include a SASE to send back maps, notes and anything else I don’t need anymore.

Now to pack myself off.

 

 

POTTY IN THE WOODS

WARNING – this may be TMI for some.

This is the second time I have tried to write about peeing and pooping in the woods. It’s hard to know how much to say. There are knowledgable articles about feminine hygiene in the wild ( links below), and discussion groups that I found quite factual and helpful.  I want to expound on anatomy and physiology, and  philosophize on the zen of relieving oneself in the woods, but I am just going to put it out there, and wax rhapsodic or otherwise later.

PERIODS: I am postmenopausal, so don’t have to worry about THOSE.  YIPPEE!!

PEEING : I shall be using Ex Offficio underwear which have long lasting antimicrobial properties and are quick drying. Pubic hair has been trimmed so there is not as much wetness. After peeing I’ll dry off with a pee rag, mine being a cotton bandana that between times will be tied to the outside of the backpack, drying,  and being sterilized by the sun’s UV rays. At night I’ll clean up with baby wipes. I am not planning to pee in my tent at night, however cold it is. Previous attempts to pee in a bottle using the FUD ( Female Urinary Device) during kayak trips had been disasterous. I shall let you know how this works out.

The FUD   

POOPING:  Squatting does not come easily to me anymore. The Asian squat looks so easy on You Tube. I tried it, but being top heavy rolled onto my back, legs stuck in the air like a turtle. The dogs looked askance at me,

 but did not laugh. They just turned away.

 

 

 

 

 

I am practising squatting exercises, remembering to stick my bottom back so as to lessen the strain on the knees (potty in the woods, as we were taught in Jazzercise). Some previously tried maneuvers include using a fallen log as a toilet seat, with the bum just resting on the edge, or back resting against a tree, or grabbing a small tree trunk and leaning back, then lowering oneself. Or the half-squat, with arms resting on thighs.

Poop will be buried in the best cat hole I can dig with the ultralight ‘Deuce of Spades’. I shall be using toilet paper, but am considering using water to wash after pooping (more on this below). Used TP is placed in a separate ziplock bag to be carried  out. Hand sanitizer finishes off the job.

To improve colonic function, I have purchased a ‘Squatty Potty’ :

The potty stored…..

And deployed….

 Squatting helps relax the puborectalis muscle, decreasing the bend that the sigmoid colon makes with the rectum, and thus allowing defecation with reduced pressure. Squatting is thought to prevent and improve hemorrhoids.

Being of Indian heritage, and growing up in East Africa, I am well aquainted with squatting, but at home we had a ‘Western’ toilet. TP was generally not used. It was a luxury we could not afford, and I do not recall any of our friends having it at home. A bucket with a dipper or a handy low faucet provided water to hand wash our bottoms. A nearby sink, soap and towel worked for hand cleaning. Water is so much gentler and soothing, especially after hot spicy Indian meals!

As mentioned, we had a ‘Western’ toilet, and rather looked down from our privileged position, on those who squatted over a hole in the ground. Finding muddy shoe or foot prints on a toilet seat was intensely irritating, a sign of those who did not know how to use a toilet. So, here I am today, squatting over a toilet (granted, feet are not on the seat), and soon I’ll be squatting over a hole in the ground. That’s karma.

Links to some further reading: The Three P’s: Peeing, Pooping and Periods in the woods,

Female hygiene, a backcountry guide and tips,

Peeing outside at night – an e pert’s guide,

Girl Talk. Peeing in the backcountry,

Leave No Trace.

We are still in May…

We are still in May, and …

the snow is almost gone off Klahane Ridge.

I’m wearing shorts! Yoo-hoo!!

the planting season began weeks ago. I’d normally wait till June.

the robins have been feeding on the lawn, and the humming birds buzzing me, for months.

the poppies, blood red and orange, are coloring the road sides and other wild places.

a state-wide drought emergency has been declared.

three women encountered iced-over snow on the PCT in Oregom, and had to be rescued.

we’ve had SUNSHINE, SUNSHINE, SUNSHINE !!!

it is exactly a month today before I start my hike.

 

Getting Ready

I am planning to hike the Oregon section of the Pacific Crest Trail, solo, from north to south, starting at Cascade Locks and ending in Etna, in northern California. A tentative start date is July 1st, but I may leave a few days earlier. Being retired now, I can afford some leeway in planning.

I am getting really excited, with tiny moments of panic.

Up to two weeks ago my training had been rather sporadic, interrupted by taking care of my mother, and trips to Canada. So I started again in earnest, with a fully loaded backpack weighing 20 pounds, and was feeling good……, when I fell off the porch landing on my knees on the cement floor. The left knee got the brunt of the fall.I did not thing anything was broken, and was able to put weight on it. Its been slowly improving, and I did do a trial short hike without a backpack yesterday, with only occasional pain and catches in the knee.

My favorite spot for short hikes is the Dungeness Wildlife Reserve in Sequim. Sequim is in the rainshadow of the Olympic Mountains, and most of this region is savannah- like and I think I am back in Africa there. Yesterday there were two raptors, circling low over a marshy field, possibly hunting the ducks that have taken to the pools of water accumulated since the heavy rains this spring. On a previous hike I had stopped to rest, air my feet and enjoy the view on the hill opposite where I stood today, and was delighted by the sounds of ducks splashing and quacking as they bathed, unseen, in the same pools. Today they were silent, hiding from the menace above. Later, the path I chose took me through tall grass, besides  pine trees and I stopped, and dreamed of how the Pacific Crest Trail may be, just like this, and how sublime it would be, to be there, to walk, to stop to rest, to set up camp, to have everything I need right on my back. To simplify my life to the absolute essentials. Perhaps to be a shepherd boy in some distant past, laying in the tall grass while the sheep grazed, to return home only when dusk fell. Aah….. dreams.

While my knee heals, we have walked the dogs as usual every day. Molly the miniature   poodle is getting old, and arthritic, so we take the stroller and put her in it when her limp is more pronounced. But she wants to walk with the ret of her pack. She’s a real trooper, and I am inspired by her,

I got my very first tattoo two days ago, on my right calf. It’s a sea otter with urchin, in the style of the Coastal native American art. See photo on Instagram.

I have just about ordered all my gear, and am awaiting the arrival of the backpack and a few others. I shall list all my gear on a separate page. I have been preparing and dehydrating meals, and dividing others into portions. I am surprised at how much fun this is – planning the dish, cooking it, dehydrating it , then dividing it up and labelling the sacs. As usual, I think I will have too much food. I have two, conflicting anxieties – the greater is having too much to carry. My aim is to carry 20 pounds or less (base weight + food + water}. My other anxiety is not having enough food. I usually overestimate food amounts when cooking by a factor of 2 or 3. However my energy requirements on the trail will increase, maybe by the same factors, so the food estimates may be accurate. I can always discard extra food in the hiker boxes.

This is being typed in bed, on the Bluetooth keyboard that I must get used to. My blog needs lots of tweaking to get it ready for blogging on the hike. It’s all so new and exciting. I am so so lucky. So privileged.

iPhone post using free WordPress app

Just downloaded this app to use on the phone and try mobile blogging. This is one finger typing, but I may get a Bluetooth keyboard and see how that works.
My lovely Olympus camera with extra lens and chargers weighs about three pounds and there is no way I’m taking that on the trek. The phone is multipurpose being camera, GPS, blogging tool, will have Guthooks apps, music, maybe audio books. All for a fraction of the weight of the camera. Dang! I had so wanted to have the camera, but my priorities have shifted – carry the least weight and use multipurpose items whenever possible. That’s my new mantra.

Sumas Mountain Hike

Saturday October 11

Awoke at 6.30 am to get ready for the hike. Only J and L turned up, so it was just five of us and three little dogs. It had begun raining fairly heavily before we left, and when we reached the trailhead, was heavy enough to don rain wear. The path up the mountain was sodden, and rough – rocky and gnarly, and steep, with few switchbacks to break ones ascent. “This is the new normal” I kept telling myself, and it worked. My shoes and socks were soaked, but warm, and did not feel wet.Two and a half hours after starting we came to the first forest road, 2.5 km from the start, a ridiculously slow pace. We had only done a third of the distance to Chadsey Lake! We walked along the forest road and admired the view of the Fraser River and its valley. Patches of sun lit the valley to the north and east, and heavy grey clouds swept over the hills to the west of us. We ate a little lunch, took a group picture, and decided to head back. There were many different kinds of mushrooms and fungi, some bright yellow to red, and lots of moss, and fallen  maple leaves, hiding the rocks and stumps on the trail. Chipmunks chattered warnings that incensed Bella. She was on the alert, and full of pep. Poor Molly  and Bruno had a harder time of it, and looked exhausted. We got back to the car in two hours, wiped the dogs down and gav them a treat. We took another way home, along the river. The day had improved immensely by now, the countryside all green and fresh in the sun. You would think it was spring again.

Dot bought cakes for tea, then we went to the Indian restaurant for dinner to celebrate Mom’s birthday.

After a post-dinner tot of brandy, everyone went home. Nuli is staying the night and is sharing Mom’s bed. I am in the camper with the dogs and S. It’s 10.30 and we are all ready for sleep.

Moving on.

Wow! After many frustrating hours yesterday I finally added a link to my Instagram account. Yoo hoo! And it works too! This is getting exciting now.

It’s  a sunny day today and Mom and I will drive up Sumas Mountain to scope out the trailhead for Saturday’s hike (in the rain).

Did so, without Mom. The road is asphalt except for the last half kilometer. I would have missed the trailhead (tiny post marking a hole in the forest) if I wasn’t following directions from trail reports [ http://www.vancouvertrails.com/trails/sumas-mountain/ ] There are many mountain bike trails, but only one (Centenial) hiking trail.

So far, so ….

OK, world, I’ve managed to publish a post, and yesterday I uploaded the picture of my favorite flowers – cornflowers. These were wild cornflowers growing besides the path at Carrie Blake Park in Sequim. This is October and the California poppies are blooming like it was spring! It’s been a great summer and fall is living up to its reputation. I am fiddling with this blog. It is not as easy as the tutorials say. And yet it is easier in some ways. My aim is to create a simple, very readable blog with as few bells and whistles as possible. Wish me luck!

The Story of My Journey

This is my very first attempt at blogging. I can’t wait to see what this first blog looks like, and I won’t see anything until I start. So here goes.