Section 18 - Ashland to Crater Lake
August 2
25 miles. I'm back on the trail after 2 1/2 days of rest
and gluttony in Ashland. Our Ashland meals and accommodations
came courtesy of longtime family friends, Doyne and Connie
Mraz. Their love and generosity was overwhelming. I ate
'til it hurt and Doyne did his best to ensure that I was
never far from bursting. I healed some injuries, refreshed
my soul, and took a deep breath in preparation for the
Northwest home stretch.
Ashland is home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival--a
longtime celebration of both Shakespeare and contemporary
theater. It attracts people from all over the country
and the festival's 3 theaters are packed from February
to October. Cynthia and I managed to get tickets for Seven
Guitars--a contemporary play about post-W.W.II Black
America. It had a wonderful all-black cast and was a great
way to end the weekend.
I hosted a small PCT get-together last night at the Standing
Stone Brewery to celebrate our completion of California.
Charlotte, "Little Bear", Dana, New Hampshire
Brian, Jason, Lara, Cynthia, and I drank beer, ate food,
and relived a few highs and lowlights. It's still hard
to fathom that we've hiked over 1,700 miles.
This morning, after breakfast at Callahans--a legendary
PCT restaurant near Siskiou Summit--Cynthia dropped me
off at the I-5 trailhead. I hugged her good-bye but wanted
to hold on forever. I wont see her again until I finish
and I missed her the moment she drove away.
I climbed away from I-5, passing Pilot Rock, and then
turned north. After a several hundred mile detour, I'm
now back in the Cascades. Mt. Shasta is due south and
receding with every step. It's now a straight shot to
Canada. The Oregon Cascades are relatively flat and I'm
looking forward to lots of high-mileage days in the next
couple of weeks. Crater Lake is 4 days away.
I had lunch at a small spring. The area was fenced off
to keep the cows from contaminating it and I entered the
enclosure through a steel gate. Cattle were all around
the fence looking in and I couldn't help feeling that
I was the stock animal. A few miles later, cattle were
everywhere and I screamed at them to move them off the
trail. The dumb, lumbering beasts ambled away, surprised
that something so small could make so much noise.
I got an e-mail from Shirt and Packrat last night. Packrat's
girlfriend came out from Boston to visit and they took
several days off. They're now about 2 days behind me so
we may yet cross paths up the trail.
I'm camped tonight above Hyatt Lake. There's a resort
at the lake and the lights from the boat dock glow blue-green
in the evening starlight.
August 3
30 miles (29 on the PCT). I made it to Highway 140 today
and then detoured down the road to Fish Lake in search
of food. I got there just before the kitchen closed. The
menu was limited but I managed to inhale a coke, salad,
grilled chicken sandwich, tuna melt, and a bowl of ice
cream before they kicked me out. Given the trail food
alternative, it was worth the detour.
Last night's rest was broken at 3 a.m. by coyotes howling
in around. The echoes from the water and surrounding hills
created an ethereal symphony.
Today was the reason I'm carrying a radio. The walk was,
in a word, boring. A good day to turn up the country music
station, put my head down, and walk. Nothing but logged-over,
viewless forest until the last hour of the day. To add
further insult, the trail was deep in volcanic dust and
my legs and feet turned black. Now I know why this is
BLM land--who else would want it?
I crossed a lava field late in the day. It was long and
my feet ached from the rocks but it broke up the monotony.
The field lay just to the south of snowy Mt. McLaughlin,
an ice age volcanic dome that dominates the local skyline.
I met two Norwegian PCT hikers today. I passed them sitting
by the side of "Dead Indian Road"--an unfortunate
name, at best--and then they passed me as I turned off
to Fish Lake. They were all legs, and thin as pencils,
but they moved like cheetahs.
I'm camped on a low, rocky bluff overlooking Fish Lake,
100 feet from the noisy r.v. park. Thank God for earplugs.
August 4
32 miles (31 on PCT). Another less-than-inspiring walk
for the first 20 miles. At least the Sky Lakes Wilderness,
through which I walked, has not been logged. Finally--at
mile twenty--I ascended
a ridge and had a view. I saw what I'd been missing. The
region is dotted with little lakes but the PCT bypasses
them in favor of, well, I'm not sure. Snowy Mt. McLaughlin
rose above the landscape and I could see an eastern valley,
still flooded from the spring runoff.
The PCT then traversed a long series of ridges with great
views and intermittent snowfields. After crossing a snowy
saddle at 7,300 feet I descended to find New Hampshire
Brian, squatting by a stream, gathering water. I joined
him for dinner and we're camped together for the night.
I'm huddled in my tent as a thunderstorm rages. I'm dry
and very glad to be off the ridge tonight.
August 5
20 miles. I made it to Mazama Campground today, in Crater
Lake National Park, just before a thunderstorm unleashed
torrential rain and hail. The Norwegian hikers who arrived
after me weren't so lucky.
I've been parked inside the campground store for the
last 6 hours eating: burritos, chili, ham and cheese sandwiches,
oranges, melon, milk, orange juice, root beer, yogurt,
coffee, and pudding. I'm getting there.
Tomorrow I hope to actually see the lake. It's about
5 miles up the road but the storm was so nasty that I
lost all motivation to continue. Manana. In the mean time,
it's really nice to sit, eat, eat, and eat some more.
The National Park crowd is here in force, though the
real action is up on the crater rim. I'll walk the rim
tomorrow and then leave the park on its northern boundary.
The rim road has been open for less than two weeks, thanks
to near record snowfall, and there's still snow in the
trees at 6,000 feet. In an average year the rim gets 48
feet of snow. This year it was closer to 75. Still, conditions
are much better than I had anticipated and the snow is
melting fast. I'm looking forward to the views.
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