Ashland and beyond...

After calling the PCT home for 36 days and 440 miles, a return to civilized life has its challenges. Ashland is a perfect spot for wanderers taking a pause. One passing hiker had described it as "four square miles surrounded by reality." Perhaps, but the formula worked pretty well for us. In a sweet little golden valley, it's a cute old town with great food and friendly people. The forgiving attitudes towards absent-minded jaywalking and out-of-practice hygiene help soften the post-hike culture shock.

We didn't manage to take in any of the Shakespeare Festival, which is a good enough reason to return. I'm also eager to explore the many trails of the Ashland watershed, which link Lithia Park downtown to the PCT and other sites. Nothing's better than being able to hike directly into and out of town, and Ashland's definitely got this to recommend it. Probably a much prettier way to get to town from the PCT than the road walk to Callahan's that we took.

Since this was our first ever trip to Oregon, we were pleased to also have a chance to pay a visit to Eugene to see my brother's show. Heading back south, we rewarded ourselves with a trip down the coastal highway, along the rocky cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, all the way to California to get excellent donuts in Crescent City and see the giant redwoods. Someday we hope to join up with the California section of the PCT and then find our way to Los Angeles.

Always too soon, it's time to go home and get busy with our autumn endeavors. Thanks to everyone who helped make this trip possible, and those who helped out along the way -- Sharon, US Forest Service, PCTA, Halfmile, Marilyn, Joe, Joel, Tess, Warm Springs Tribes, Jane, Rick, Jenny, Big Lake Youth Camp, Walt, Lloyd Gust, Nick, Ron and Don! And our congratulations to the 2010 PCT hikers; it was a pleasure meeting you all.

We solemnly vow to hike again! D&J

Day 36 (September 21)

Mount Shasta -- very big!

Clear skies as we emerge from our last PCT slumber to greet our last PCT morning. Our post-breakfast load has never been lighter: out of coffee, food, and fuel. Couldn't have planned it better.

This section of trail isn't much celebrated by the locals. Before the PCT was established and needed a route between Mt Ashland and Hyatt lake, there wasn't a major hiking trail through here at all. Maybe we're just lucky with the lighting, but it's pretty grand to us. Mt Shasta hovers over us in the southern sky as we stride along the low hills and ridges towards Pilot Rock, the sides of the trail thick with dewy thimbleberries. Just a few miles to go.

Ashland's down there somewhere

Around noon a thick fog rolls into the valley, completely covering our destination. It's pretty from above, but as we descend the last hill and dive below, it makes for a dreary sky. Within an hour we're standing under Interstate 5 at a crossroads of mixed feelings -- here the PCT heads west past Mt. Ashland and into California, and we head north to town. We'll miss the trail no doubt, but we're excited for what's to come.

The first thing to come, we hope, is lunch! After a short road walk we arrive at Callahan's Lodge, a hotel and restaurant highly praised by hikers for hospitality and cuisine, and the southern outpost of Ashland. We'll be meeting our friend Sharon here, ending our hike, and commencing our temporary Ashland residence.

Sharon greets us with good cheer and bad news: Callahan's isn't open for lunch during the week. Thus begins the harsh grind of civilization. Luckily there are about a hundred places in Ashland that are open for lunch, so no need to shed tears. We toast our arrival in proper Oregon fashion with responsibly-ground burgers and prizewinning microbrews. For dinner we feast on cheese and wine from the excellent food coop. With great effort we even manage to stay awake until 10, hard work, but there's so much to eat...

Day 35 (September 20)

No camp breakfast this morning -- we take a couple miles detour up the west shore of Hyatt Lake, which has a great cafe. Chicken-fried steak and eggs with biscuits on the side -- wow!

Finally a beautiful clear day, and we can see the little town of Ashland beckoning below, also a great view of Emigrant Lake. Unfortunately there's no way to hike right down into town from this side, so we have to continue circling clockwise as we descend. Not far to go though; we'll hit the outskirts of town tomorrow. We make our last camp in a scenic spot just above Little Pilot Rock.

The Dr Pepper stove cooks up our delicious final dinner: Vegetable curry and potatoes, assembled from the Fish Lake and Hyatt Lake hiker boxes, plus some surplus from Ron and Don. Goodnight, PCT!

Day 34 (September 19)

The Dr Pepper stove is cooking up our morning oatmeal -- look at it go! And just in case the HEET runs out, Ron and Don donate a little fuel canister for the gas stove, plus a few choice foods. Thanks, guys!

We brave the rain and head south once again. We're leaving the wilderness now, descending from the high mountains through scrubby forests and fields of sage. This is mostly BLM land, which is used for grazing, and the trail crosses several fenced-in areas. It's still pretty wild though -- the only things we see grazing are deer.

Day 33 (September 18)

A morning of beautiful smells, starting with a hearty Fish Lake breakfast. Hike over Brown Mountain is damp and fragrant with fruit and flowers.

We opt for a short day in order to dodge the rain again, shacking up in the Brown Mountain Shelter just offtrail. It's not fancy like the Maiden Peak Shelter, but it's a cozy little room with an old wood stove and a generous supply of firewood. Ron and Don, who are hiking north to Fish Lake, drop in to help us light the fire. Very warm in here! No need to try out the Dr Pepper can tonight since we can boil water by setting our cup right on the stovetop.

Ron and Don are friendly guys with a lot of wit and booze to share. We all tuck away into a warm pleasant slumber while the storm pelts the tin roof all night.

Day 32 (September 17)

Out of fuel! Breakfast is bars and cold coffee. We'll be at Fish Lake by lunch; hopefully there'll be some fuel in the store or hiker box there.

The morning air is pretty much smoke-free, and there's no sign of any trail closures. Good news, we'll probably never know the story. We can finally see the imposing Mt McLoughlin up close, but no time for a trip to the top today.

Down the trail down to Fish Lake we go. It's a dreary spot -- or maybe it's a cute little spot on a dreary day. Lunch is okay but pricey. We can feel a storm brewing and decide to take a cabin here for the night, expensive and shabby. (They also have slightly cheaper and much shabbier accommodations targeted at through-hikers, but so depressing I'd have rather camped and lugged the wet tent.)

The hiker box has lots of food and Coleman fuel but nothing that will work with our stove. The store is very small and has no fuel of any sort. But they do have one shelf of auto supplies with a tiny bottle of HEET, which is renowned in the ultrtalight hiking set as the ideal fuel for alcohol stoves. Following the wisdom of the internet I manufacture a capable alcohol stove from a Dr Pepper can. With an inch of HEET it boils our cup in about 10 minutes, should make hot dinner a snap. It's a true mobile internet and Swiss army knife success story!

Tonight, though, we dine on Fish Lake steak and fresh veggies, with a view of the heavy storm pounding the lake.

Day 31 (September 16)

Devils Peak - Shale Butte - Klamath Lake

Easy morning hike over Devils Peak and Shale Butte, with great views and darkening skies. To the east is Klamath Lake, famous for its algae. It's the largest lake in Oregon but very shallow.

Good water from Christy Springs. We're approaching Mount McLoughlin now but we can no longer see it through the low clouds. Smokey clouds. As we head further south the smell of smoke comes and goes with the changing wind. We can't spot any particular source for it, but there seems to be plenty, possibly from the direction of Brown Mountain a few miles further south. Can't help but presume it's another forest fire and worry just a little -- if perhaps we'll hit a closed section of trail, or even worse, a section that warrants closing but hasn't been yet.

Meanwhile our own little gas fire sputters to nothing right after heating up dinner. Looks like we may well be out of fuel; we'll see for sure come breakfast.

Our last hot meal?

Day 30 (September 15)

Fish Lake, our next likely resupply point, is about 46 miles away. Thanks to Sharon and Nick's generosity we have enough food to make it a leisurely 3-day stroll instead of the deranged 2-day sprint we'd been planning.

A fine picture that does not do justice

This means we have time for a side trip west to Ranger Springs, which had been highly recommended by Walt back in August. It's a long way down, but worth it: I've never seen so much water leap up from the earth with so much enthusiasm without being coaxed by a plumber. It doesn't leap too high -- just an inch or two -- but it's still fun to hear and watch, and very delicious.

We always pump our water through a filter; here, though, I'd been weighing the risk of tasting the unfiltered brew. The trail down has several signs instructing (even begging) riders to tie their horses a good distance uptrail to avoid contamination, but there are prominent clues, some extremely fresh, that many found the spring too tempting and refused to be kept away. So no unfiltered Ranger water for us. (This spring flows directly into the Rogue River, so now we know how those Rogue River pinot noirs get their distinctive flavor.)

We camp in a sweet spot just north of Devils Peak. The skies are threatening rain but they never quite manage to make good on it.

Day 29 (September 14)

Hot breakfast courtesy of Nick and his Bush Buddy, which is a relief since we're a little worried about our fuel. Only a few surviving clumps of iceballs to be seen as we make our way up Union Peak. It's a very satisfying rocky little mountaintop, and it's a great day to look around in every direction. Mount McLoughlin pokes up along the southern horizon; we'll be skirting it in a few days. Somewhere back there is Shasta but I sure as heck can't see it.

After lunch we return below to break camp, and then back down to the PCT. Here it's time to say goodbye to our friends, since they're heading north back to Mazama. They send us off with giant piles of food. Thanks, guys -- we'll meet up again in Ashland, no doubt.

We're southbound again, but before long we choose another scenic detour, this time down to Stewart Falls. This used to be the official PCT route years ago, and a keen eye (my right) can still spot a few of the old trail markers. Now the Stewart Falls Trail seems underused and overgrown. The falls are a little quiet, and a lot of the streams running through the Lucky Meadow are dry. So it's not quite as nice as the name would imply, but who could resist camping in a place called Lucky Meadow? Not us.

Day 28 (September 13)

Breakfast at Crater Lake Lodge is quite good. We continue down the Dalton Creek Trail to rejoin the PCT, but quickly detour down to Mazama Village campground to resupply. ("Mazama" is a sort of fantasy name for the original mountain that blew its top to form the Crater Lake caldera around 5700 B.C.) It's nearing the end of the camping season, so the restaurant here is closed and the store is a little bare, but it's still the best store we've seen on the trail so far (where "on" means within 2 miles.) Still no stove fuel to be found here.

Back on the PCT hiking south with our new companions Sharon and Nick. They're carrying a huge load. Why do they hike so fast? Everybody's faster than us. That's just the way it is, no point worrying about it.

We head west on the side trail to Union Peak and make an early camp up on a pleasant rise. Plenty of time to take it easy and relax in the sun. Nick fires up his fancy Bush Buddy woodburning stove and sets to making polenta while the rest of us stretch out and enjoy the day. I see a small white ball that must have fallen out of my pocket. That's funny, I don't remember packing a small white ball. There's another one. Must be something that Sharon brought, but why did she drop two, no, four of them by my tent? Is it food?

A couple of painful knocks in the head later, I solve the riddle: we've been visited by a flash hail storm, and soon these suspiciously spherical nuggets are falling in a mad torrent all over our peaceful camp. They're as big as gumballs and they pack a serious punch. They're not food per se, but you can eat them.

Still, I'm looking forward to the polenta. Under the brunt of the storm, Nick heroically tends the Bush Buddy without missing a beat, while the rest of us take cover under our tents and trees. I can see the thunder heads blowing slowly east... get a move on, guys. That's better. Probably only hailed for an hour, but it sure did change the look of this place. We enjoy the delicious dinner in the chilly evening air, and cuddle up to sleep to the mournful sounds of a lone harmonica.

Day 27 (September 12)

Up good and early to maximize Crater Lake time. The stove is sputtering a bit while making breakfast -- possibly something we'll have to worry about; it does feel kinda empty when we shake it. Hopefully there'll be a store or hiker box with stove fuel somewhere in the Crater Lake area, although if the fine weather keeps up we could probably go back to our old food-soaking ways.

We're leaving the official PCT again -- the PCT is pedestrian/equestrian by design, but horses are not allowed near the water due to Crater Lake National Park's stringent regulations. The official bypass is to the west, but it sounds like pretty much all the hikers take the Rim Trail right along the lake instead. The Rim Trail, though, is built for fun, not for speed. It's got the views, but after spending a couple hours climbing up and down the cliffs and bluffs we realize just how easy we've got it on the gently-graded proper PCT.

Crater Lake is an awesome sight. If you like staring into crazy blue water, you'll be happy here!

There's a bit of hubbub going on in one of the overlook parking lots, with some rangers peering down the cliff and putting up barricades. Story is that last night a couple stopped their car in a poorly chosen spot on the rim, got out to take pictures, and then watched the car roll down into the lake. Fortunately there were no people in the car. Unfortunately they did leave their dog in there. Fortunately it's a smart dog and it jumped out of the sunroof as the car tumbled down the cliff, and then climbed back up to the road. Now the rangers are trying to arrange a helicopter to haul the wreck out of the water. This is notoriously clear water, but try as we might we can't spot the car.

With some trepidation we approach the Rim Village. This whole complex is run by Xanterra, a notorious "hospitality" monopoly with whom we've feuded before. It's also, best I can tell, the single most crowded spot in all of Oregon. We're far too filthy to lunch at the lodge restaurant (and no luck checking in early to clean up), so we opt for a couple of sad $10 cold sandwiches at the gift shop. The store is utterly useless for our purposes, no fuel or food worth carrying, just junk. The swarms of tourists clamoring for their souvenir spoons and sweatshirts overwhelm the senses.

Eventually we're allowed into our room, which has (surprise!) a view of Crater Lake, which is probably the most beautiful view I've ever seen out any hotel window. Time to freshen up, because we've got guests coming for dinner: Sharon of Ashland (who is in fact our hike's ultimate destination but can also move around) and her friend Nick, who'll be walking with us for a couple days. Can't get a dinner reservation, but the lodge serves drinks and appetizers in the lobby, which makes a pretty good dinner after all. You win this round, Xanterra!

Day 26 (September 11)

There's no reliable water on the trail in the 26 miles between Thielsen Creek and the water fountain at Crater Lake Rim Village, so for the first time we pump our absolute maximum capacity: four liter bottles, one 2.5-liter bladder, and a 1.8 liter bag I'd salvaged from a carton of Ozeki Hakono Saké and sent in our package to Shelter Cove with this very day in mind. We're definitely not going to be dry on this leg.

Before we zoom off with our giant sacks of water, though, there's the little jaunt up Mount Theilsen still to do. It's shown as simple side trail on the map and described as a 2-3 hour detour including the short scramble to the top. We find the trail up and it looks like a fair number are making the ascent today, obviously a popular day trip for a warm and clear Saturday. Despite the crowd, the trail's pretty hard to follow, and quits entirely about halfway up, giving way to random scrambling up the scree and talus. Ultimately we don't make it to the actual peak -- folks with real climbing gear have strung a rope up the route to the summit, and so many mountaineers are in line to use it that it would be a long wait. The views from the waiting room, though (about 9100 feet up), are profound: Tipsoo and Diamond Peak (which we'd missed up close) with the Sisters far in the distance to the north, Crater Lake, McLoughlin, and finally Shasta to the south. It's a great day to be up high!

It's way past lunchtime when we find our way back down to the PCT, no short morning detour after all. The trail's very easy today though, and we saunter through 17 miles despite the late start and heavy load, hopefully giving us more time to enjoy the wonders of Crater Lake tomorrow.

Day 25 (September 10)

A clear and beautiful dawn at Six Horse Spring! Everything we own is out to dry in the morning sun, which makes for a late start but quite worth it for the weight savings (and the mood lifting.) The trail up to Tipsoo Peak is crunchy with frost, and as we get higher there's a fair amount of yesterday's snow, melting quickly in the blaze of today's fortune.

The trail's a piece of cake today, and the Cascade High Point is peaceful and pretty but otherwise unremarkable. A great relief to make camp without being slapped about by the rain. We stop by Thielsen Creek, right under the craggy spire of Mt. Theilsen. Crater Lake is only 26 miles away and we have two days to get there, so we plan to take a quick trip up Thielsen tomorrow morning before lunch -- the map says it will take 2 or 3 hours and provide some excellent vistas.

Day 24 (September 9)

Rain should be stopping but instead it's getting ornery and won't even give us a lull to break camp now. We're soggy and a little on edge, not thriving in these conditions. The mushrooms, however, are having a great time! They're energetically bursting through the soil at every turn as we slog down the trail, and the air is thick with the earthy odor of fungal bloom. Here are some of Deb's favorites:

Around 9:30 in the morning we pass a small crew of northbounders. When's this weather supposed to pass, they ask. Today of course, it's supposed to be warm and beautiful! Ha ha, very funny! It's actually a little jarring to see people on the trail, and counting back we realize we haven't seen a soul since Lloyd Gust, 47 hours ago. People generally don't count on much solitude on the PCT, but if that's what you're looking for, try an early September rainy spell in the Diamond Peak Wilderness and you just might get lucky like us.

We do, in fact, get a little burst of sunlight in the afternoon. Finding a tiny spot of cell coverage on Cowhorn Mountain, we try to celebrate our presumed survival by booking a room at Crater Lake Lodge, which is just a few days away now. This involves a very long time on hold followed by a challenging interaction with a Xanterra reservation center in Denver. The sun is gone again and we're freezing up here. The agent just keeps talking and talking... please, please just tell us what rooms are available! No luck, he won't give a straight answer about anything, just nonsense babbling and upselling. My battery's running low! Crap, now it's starting to hail! Have mercy Xanterra guy! ...After a solid 20 minutes on the phone in the hail, we're finally granted a room. Hope it's worth it.

Marched downhill to Windigo Pass, hail giving way to our old friend rain. Speaking of old friends, here's Gust's advertisement from the Windigo trailhead:

Camped above Six Horse Spring. Tomorrow we'll go over the highest point on our route, on the south slope of Tipsoo Peak, and it better be a clear beautiful day for real this time because if it's snowing or hailing up there Deborah will pout and refuse to move another inch.

Day 23 (September 8)

Rainy morning. Weighing the pros and cons of a permanent settlement on the shoulder of Mount Yoran, we opt instead to head to the campground at Summit Lake some 10 miles downtrail in the hopes that they'll have a shelter of some sort so we can dry off a bit. Weather's so thick that we hike right past Diamond Peak without even getting a glimpse.

Misty piney little island in Summit Lake

As we approach Summit Lake Campground a sturdy roof appears out of the mist -- sadly it's just an outhouse, no shelters here. My suggestion for a permanent settlement in the outhouse is debated and rejected, and we head to the south end of the lake to make camp. Increasingly difficult to put up a good fight against the water and mud. Our spirits are still water-tight of course -- but for HOW LONG??

Day 22 (September 7)

After B-grade microwave breakfast burritos and A-plus-grade coffee, fond goodbye to Shelter Cove. Yes it's true that even after getting the stove we've continued to drink Deb's cold instant cappuccino mix in the mornings, so it's tempting to assume that any hot coffee will seem sublime, but no, I'm going on record here: Shelter Cove has very good coffee.

Yesterday we took the scenic route over the raging Trapper Creek to get down to Shelter Cove, but for variety's sake we take the shorter road walk route back. A white car pulls up to us and the white-haired driver asks in a gruff voice: "PCT?" Well, I guess so... turns out it's none other than Lloyd Gust, the very man whom we should have called for a ride out of Sisters! He's giving a ride to a couple other hikers and just wondering if there's anything we need. What a great guy, and he obviously loves helping out hikers. I end up sort of apologizing for not calling him for a ride -- does that even make sense? A funny scene though and I'm sorry I don't have a picture; I just didn't want to put the other hikers on the spot. Probably just being far too privacy-conscious again.

oh dear...

Anyway, southbound again, and hello to the Diamond Peak Wilderness! Looking forward to some beautiful old-growth forests and hopefully even a side trip up Diamond Peak for some good views. Relaxing lunch at Hidden Lake. There's a bit of concern with the weather though: showers predicted late today, lasting for the foreseeable. In fact, steady rain begins around 1pm, so at the first good break in the rain we make an early camp, on the shoulder of Mount Yoran. Hard rain all night.

Day 21 (September 6)

Very cold night, but our many layers are up to the task. (Thanks, Rick!) Ice on the fly. Rosary lakes are still and crisp as we march down to Willamette Pass.

A half dozen northbound through hikers pass in a staggered clump. They were all camped at the Willamette Pass ski resort last night, feasting on pizza and beer. Must confess that this is a little frustrating for me. Hiking the Štefánikova Magistrála and SNP trails in Slovakia last year, we had the delicious convenience of hot meals right along the trail a lot of the time. Food got a little trickier on the less popular trails, but still available every few days. Here, there's exactly one place to get a meal on our Oregon route: the cafe at Crater Lake, which is rumored to be lousy since Xanterra downgraded it from nice fresh burgers to minimal prepackaged sandwiches. Expanding our range to a quarter mile offtrail, we add 3 more sites: the fancy restaurant at Crater Lake Lodge, the bar and restaurant at Timberline Lodge, and this supposedly delightful little pizza joint.

It was a long shot to begin with, since it's only open weekends during the summer, but somehow I couldn't quite quell my optimism. As it happens, we missed it by just a couple of hours (lost, no doubt, to our hitchhiking debacle.) These folks passing us had a little bit of fun that I can't help envying. Deb, on the other hand, much prefers camping chilly and alone by Upper Rosary Lake to being in the valley with the clump. I can see the wisdom in that. Still: pizza.

Further expanding our offtrail range to 2 miles, there are several lakeside campgrounds that will hold resupply packages for hikers. Today we pick up our last package at Shelter Cove, a lovely fishing-oriented resort on Odell Lake, just south of Willamette Pass. They also have a hiker box here, which the passing northbounders had described as pretty flush but is in fact a sad wreck -- trash, empty bottles, and leaky ziplocks mired in a half-inch layer of miscellaneous ooze along the bottom. Deborah does her best to save the food but we cannot face the task of rebeautifying the box properly, which would take about 2 hours and a high-pressure hose.

Still, it's so pleasant here that we decide to check into cabin B for an afternoon of R&R. Shelter Cove has no restaurant, but Deb whips up a dinner from rescued pasta bits and a few pricy purchases from the resort store. I can highly recommend cabin B -- clean and warm, good lake view, convenient to the store and laundry, a nice porch for airing out the airables, a decent kitchen. Also a very cool window blind on the front door, contained between the glass panes and operated by little sliders. Check it out:

Day 20 (September 5)

Cold morning at Taylor Lake. Lots of vacationers out for the holiday weekend, and still a few through hikers.

We pass the terminus of the Eugene-to-PCT Trail near Waldo Lake. Never heard of it, but what a great idea! I love it when cities are connected by trail. And by the way, anyone hiking by on September 22 should buzz into Eugene to catch my brother's show at Sam Bond's Garage at 9pm.  It's only 108 miles from the PCT, definitely worth the detour for you crazy through hikers.

We take a much smaller detour to see the Maiden Peak Shelter, one of the very few shelters along Oregon's PCT.  There used to be a fair number of three-sided lean-to type shelters scattered around, but they've gradually been removed in accordance with a revised wilderness ethic.  Probably they got trashy from too many careless campers. The Maiden Peak Shelter is lovely though, with a big wood stove for heating and cooking, and solar-powered lights to reduce the fire risk of candle burning. It's primarily for cross country skiers -- a sign inside says "the snow is your water source, don't pollute it."

No snow here today though, and we're low on water, so we have to move on. We make a blessed cold camp on the rise above Upper Rosary Lake, in the shadow of Pulpit Rock.

Day 19 (September 4)

Today we hike past dozens of high lakes, some large, some pretty, some tasty. Dumbbell Lake is the first. It just kinda very slightly looks like a dumbbell on the map. A lot of these lakes seemed to be named by their birds-eye-view shape. Boot Lake is pretty good, Questionmark Lake bizarre but believable, Horseshoe Lake is a real stretch, and S Lake looks more like a Z at best. But I'll be darned if Puppy Lake doesn't look exactly like a cute little puppy. I really wonder if the cartographer took some liberty with that one...


Most of these we don't actually get to see from the trail, though. Our favorite is Stormy Lake, but we ended up camping a little further at Taylor Lake.


This end of the Sisters Wilderness shows a fair bit of damage from the bark beetle but looks to be recovering well, with lots of new pines springing up.

In the mean time I guess I sprained my ankle just a tiny bit somehow. I don't remember it, but you can't argue with (a tiny bit of) pain and swelling. Feels good-as-new after an expert wrapping.

Day 18 (September 3)

Another beautiful hot day in the Sisters Wilderness. We pass a lot of horses (rather, we stand aside and let them pass us) on the dusty hills west of the Rock Mesa lava flow. One big group has about 6 riders and 12 pack horses; they're going to make a pretty serious camp somewhere.

Lunch at Sisters Mirror Lake, in full reflective splendor:

A huge grey ten-point buck crossing the trail just behind us -- maybe an elk? I've only experienced elk as lasagna, so I'm not sure.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound? Of course it does, anything moving in a non-vacuum makes a sound, and even if you could suck all the air out there'd still be the sound of the tree hitting the ground, which would travel through the earth. I know I'm making a lot of assumptions here, but I stand by them.

Deb's pretty cautious about our campsites whenever we're in areas of sick forest, pushing on dead trees and rating their root structure, lest we be crushed by an errant lodgepole. Thousands of downed trunks, including some real giants, attest to the possibility. Today for the first time we hear one crash down not too far behind us. We do not head back to investigate.

Despite the heat we make good distance today, 18 miles. Had actually planned another mile and a half to get to Dumbell Lake, the next known water, but happy to stop a little early after finding a small stream that's not on the map. Back to using the cookstove as it's cooling off a little now: red lentil soup with fat cous-cous for dinner, warm and elegant.

Day 17 (September 2)

Nothing but the best weather for us as we triumphantly return to the delightful Sisters Wilderness. A little snow left on the Sisters, but none to hamper us. Flawless clear blue sky. A great day for watching contrails.

We've hit the trail at a moment of magical transition from mud to dust. I don't know what you call it, but it's perfect.

The flow of northbound PCT through-hikers seems to have dried up. Not too surprising since they'd have to be really fast to make it to Canada from here before the Washington trail is snowed out, and if they were that fast they'd be further north by now, since they all
start at about the same time.

A sign informs us that we're passing through the Obsidian Falls Limited Entry Area. Taking a closer look at the fine print on the back of our self-issued permit, it looks like we need an additional government-issued permit to be here between Memorial Day and Halloween. Oops. My pre-hike research did not turn up this complication; I'd read that travel along the PCT in Oregon was free and clear. So we quickly tip-toe through, no lolling about at lovely Obsidian Falls or snatching any of the gleaming obsidian shards.

By the day's end we're so warm and sunny that we shun the cookstove, back to cool meals for us, and another delicious cous-cous cake hanging in the bag for tomorrow's breakfast.

Day 16 (September 1)

A beautiful day to get back to the trail. Both the actual weather and the weather forecast are looking calm and bright.  Now, we could have tried to arrange a ride from the hotel, or we could have called renowned local trail angel Lloyd Gust, but even with the road closed due to fire it was so easy to get a ride down from the pass to Sisters... it'll be a breeze to catch a ride back up! The westbound drivers will be falling over themselves to see who can get us first! Ah, not so...

I hate hitchhiking, especially while hiking, which is why I never intended to visit Sisters in the first place. But here we are, aping foot-powered self-reliance but begging for a ride. We're all clean and fresh, though! And the Oregoneons are so friendly! Deb can do small talk in five languages! No luck, it's just 3 solid hours of being judged and rejected, quite disheartening.

We've walked half of the 15 miles back to the trail before a couple of nice young men from Washington finally honor our hail. They're heading out on a hike themselves, the Obsidian Trail that circles the Three Sisters. Thanks, guys!

And so it happens that 72 hours after our initial camp at South Matthieu Lake, we're back in the exact same spot.  Hoped to get a lot further today but too much time walking & thumbing.

We can still make out the outline of our tent in the dirt. One thing has changed though: we're cookin' with gas! Our stove is "Primus" from Sweden. It's on the heavy side, so I imagine it was hand-forged from raw ore by some beefy Swedish blacksmith to whom grams feel like milligrams. We enjoy our first hot dinner (mashed potatoes and black beans, courtesy of the Big Lake Youth Camp hiker box) and hope for a snow-free morning.

On Koosah Mountain

Day 15 (August 31)

Deb feeds the llamas by the hotel pool

The Ponderosa Hotel is in the northwest corner of town, and features a llama farm on one side and national forest thick with bold mule deer on the other side. It's a sweet place.

We've got some business to take care of in Sisters. After yesterday's snow storm, we've decided to gear up just a tad. No big outdoor gear store here, but we find most of what we need scattered around town: a stove (heavy! Sad to bite the bullet, but we feel like the warmth is worth it) at the little outfitter store, a large metal mug (since we don't have a cookpot) at the Bi-Mart, first-aid restock at the drug store, gloves at the bike store, tall wool socks at the shoe store. The selection is a limited, but it's still more appealing than trying to get to Bend and back.

The town itself is very cute. Struggling in the 70's, they re-invented themselves as old-west-themed tourist destination spot, to great success. They host rodeos, quilting shows, fairs, etc. Building code requires that everything must be "western style" which means a lot of log furniture, wooden siding and stepped facades. Pretty good barbecue brisket to be had, as well. It's well situated for hikers, skiers, cyclists, and other tourists. We weren't planning to tarry here, but it's been a pleasant tarry nonetheless, if a little pricey.

Today the weather's warming up, and the forecast calls for at least a week of good weather starting tomorrow. At the ranger station in town, the fire risk meter has been downgraded from "extreme" to "high" -- delightful! We hear that Highway 242 at McKenzie Pass is open again, so people can get over to Eugene now. Good news, since my brother's playing a show in Eugene on September 22nd, and I hope the good people of Sisters see fit to make the trip. (He'll be in Portland the night before, and in Davis, CA the night after, hard-working rocker that he is, so there's got to be something convenient for nearly everybody!)

Walt warned us that only fools and newcomers believe the weather forecast, but we've waited long enough and we're determined to give another shot at getting through the Sisters Wilderness, slightly better equipped this time. Tomorrow we'll catch a ride back to the trail and give it what for.

Day 14 (August 30)

Woke to gentle rain that felt rather tenuous. In fact, as we broke fast on couscous-pudding-cake (a brilliant invention of Deb's that soaks and forms while hanging in the food bag overnight) the rain becomes gentle hail, and then gentle snow. Puzzled but undaunted, we pack up and march on.

Yes, Lianne, you can still get snowed on in the Sisters Wilderness in August! In fact, this snow is serious. It doesn't let up, and before long we're ankle-deep. Following the trail becomes a bit of a challenge, but it looks like there's a pair of southbound footprints in front of us, so that's a little reassuring.

A couple hours on, the snow is asserting itself as a real problem. In our lightweight boots and pants (no, Deb's not in the dress today), we're just not equipped for this. Taking shelter in a copse, we weigh our options: plowing forward, making early camp to try to warm up and dry off, or a retreat back to the highway.

Suddenly, from the next copse, we hear a voice.  Turns out it (and the footprints we've seen) belong to a local hiker named Walt, the "pistol-packing pastor," who'd planned to hike southbound for a few days but is now facing the same choice as we are. The snow storm is not letting up, so we decide to head back to the road and try to get a ride to Sisters to wait out the weather. Three hours of pathfinding, plodding, and hitchhiking later, we find ourselves in downtown Sisters, chilly and disoriented but safe. This town has a very nice public restroom, and I've never been happier to have an electric hand drier at my disposal.

Checked into the Best Western Ponderosa... nice place, and they even have a computer with an SD-card slot! Finally I can post some pictures.

Day 13 (August 29)

One impetuous pine in the lava field

Rainy night, clear morning -- wet tent, boots, socks, etc. We proceed through yet another burn zone, though this one quickly gives way to a vast field of lava rocks, courtesy of the craters Belknap and Little Belknap on either side of the trail.

If you think Oregon's nothing but a dewy green paradise, you're wrong. I may have mentioned the dust, the acreage of dead pines, the frequent fires and charred pines sticking up like a forest of toothpicks. Now the lava -- Oregon's got active volcanoes and lava seeps too, and the trail goes right through. This stuff looks pretty dormant thought.

Approaching the observatory

We reach highway 242 at McKenzie Pass -- this road goes right over the lava field, twisting around the big mounds of black rock.  Just down the road is the Dee Wright Observatory, where we stop for lunch. A strange site, at first glance it looks like a medieval ruin.  It's a little tower made from the volcanic rock, with windows for observing the mountains, not the stars.

From 242, one can go west to Eugene or east to Sisters -- except not Eugene because the road is blocked with a fire closure about 100 yards west of the trail. As the ranger had told us, the PCT is out of this closure zone, but just barely.

Luckily we're well supplied and don't need to go to town at all, so we plunge right back into the lava on the south side, which before long reverts to the dewy green paradise we all know and love. We camp above South Matthieu Lake, in a spot with some shelter from the wind. Delicious pad-thai-with-chicken-something for dinner, refreshing despite the chill and wind.