Muddy Fork to Lost Lake

Day 3, Muddy Fork to Lost Lake: 11.8 + 3.4 miles

The morning came and we found that another of the Janes had left the group (leaving just the one who seemed to have a thing for Ryan). We figured she’d hang on a little longer. We broke camp and headed up a dry and rocky creek bed towards the river crossing. It wasn’t really any less scary in the morning. Ryan had to be manly so he boldly leaped from rock to rock and crossed quickly while I was more gallant and carefully carried Karen across the river. Safely on the other side we found more rocky scrambling to be done and then found a steep bank of loose scree down to an even more raging river. This time Ryan let me carry Karen across first. I assume he did this so that he could see how I picked my path. I managed to get across without Karen or our packs getting wet though I was pretty soaked up to the waist. Ryan came behind and we were all thankful to be done with all the hazardous crossings on our route.

We climbed up out of the valley towards Bald Mountain. We continued to get great views of Mt. Hood though the air was pretty hazy from the smoke blowing over from the forest fire on the east side of the mountain. We had been hoping to take the Timberline Trail up to McNeil point to do some letterboxing and then camp at Lolo Pass. This would work out well as it would have us camping just north of the Bull Run Watershed where no camping is allowed for a nine mile stretch of the PCT. But we found the trail closed for the fire. We had anticipated this possibility from the last report we had but we hoped to go up the trail anyway. An armed kid wearing a National Guard uniform at the trail intersection spoiled that plan. We didn’t really have a plan B: stopping at Lolo Pass would make for a shorter day than we wanted and the next known campsite would make for an 18+ mile day.

We walked on pondering our plan. Our options were basically taking the risk of stealth camping in the watershed or hiking down to Lost Lake. Ryan had never been to Lost Lake and asked if there was a store there. We told him yes. He then mentioned the possibility of ice cream and the plan was decided on! We headed onward and soon began to meet day hikers, most of whom were planning on going to McNeil point. With tears in our eyes, we regretfully informed them that their plans were shot.

Soon we started the steep descent to Lolo Pass, losing about 800 feet of altitude in a little over a mile; altitude that we’d just have to regain on the other side. A little depressing, though at least it wasn’t a PUD (PUD is “AT” talk for pointless up and down) since there is no flat way the trail could have gone. This is the part of the trail where I got my blisters. I had managed to go the whole time on the Barlow to Olallie hike without so much as a hot spot so I guess it was my time. I think what brought it on was that the downhill grade was making my feet slide forward in my shoes which compressed my dirty and wet toes together. It put some moleskin on but it was apparently too late.

We headed up towards Bull Run and soon began to see the signs informing us that the penalty for doing just about anything in the watershed was up to $5000 and 6 months in jail. The signs didn’t specifically prohibit peeing into the watershed so at my first opportunity to pee on the west side of the ridge we were hiking along, I did so. Don’t get too revolted, urine is sterile after all!

I don’t think that I’ve mentioned that Ryan didn’t usually hike with Karen and me. Instead he’d hike out in front of us and then stop and rest while waiting for us to catch up. This generally worked out ok, though when we got to the junction with the Huckleberry Mountain trail which descended to Lost Lake, we were surprised to not see Ryan waiting for us. We figured that he had gone ahead down the trail so we headed downwards.

It was good that we were just two miles to the lake, but the downward grade was hell on my blisters. The last mile seemed like an eternity to me. We finally got down near the end of the trail and found some really nice campsites available. Some folks at one of them informed us that these were the overflow spots and were legal and free! We had yet to find Ryan but with such a good spot, we made camp. I changed into my Crocs practically before I even took my pack off which felt even better than it normally does. Karen kept her boots on, as we were planning to walk the 3.4 miles around the lake to go to the store and to hunt a letterbox and possibly find Ryan. But my feet were done with my shoes for the day and I kept the crocs on. We hit the trail and stopped at the lake which was quite refreshing and then headed to the store. I got ice cream and a beer, which actually goes together much better than you’d think. We watched the idiots who were renting the apartment over the store. One guy was dousing a lit grill with lighter fluid and then he piled about 30 potatoes in a pyramid on the grate which was raised as high as it could go above the fire. I suspect some of those potatoes are still raw.

Leaving the store, we continued around the lake to see the incredible view of Mt. Hood across the lake. There was still a smoke haze though that didn’t keep the view from being incredible. For us, it was even more so as we knew that we had hiked from the mountain. We headed on and found the letterbox and returned to camp. Since the lake was the first water we had met that wasn’t ice cold, we took the opportunity to bathe and do some laundry. We stayed pretty modest though that didn’t stop a bunch of high school kids from spying on us. I’m not sure who – or what – they were hoping to see, but I suspect they went away disappointed.

We went back to Camp Mirage and ate dinner. We wondered about Ryan but figured he must have somehow missed the side trail and that we’d catch up with him the next day. Tired after our longest day, we went to bed.

Paradise Park to Muddy Fork

Day 2, Paradise Park to Muddy Fork: 7.5 miles

Shortly after we went to bed, the wind kicked up. It was swirling and loud. The temperature was in the mid-fifties but with the wind chill I wished that I had put up my rain fly. I slept fairly well and was awakened in the morning by the thru-hiker stomping through our area – it seems he was having trouble locating the continuation of the trail, which was odd as it was pretty obvious to me. Karen and I got up and started breakfast. I went to the creek to get more water and saw Ryan still asleep under his tarp. Well, actually I saw a collection of dust that looked something like a marble carving of a man in a sleeping bag. Ryan had set up his tarp to optimally collect the wind and volcanic dust. The campsite was officially dubbed Camp Dust Bowl.

Ryan finally got his lazy butt up and soon we were on the trail. We hiked through the rest of Paradise Park and soon rejoined the PCT. The plants along much of the trail were quite dust covered from the dust the wind had kicked up. We continued down into the Sandy River canyon which was the second crossing that was potentially hazardous. There were a couple of logs placed across the river so it wasn’t too bad. We stopped for a while to admire the butterflies. Soon a couple of men who had also been camping at Paradise Park came to the river. As the first was crossing he fell into the river and I valiantly rescued him.

The excitement over, we headed up the trail to a “confusing” trail junction. Karen and I went the correct way while someone who shall remain nameless went the other way. Karen and I soon got to the pretty Ramona falls, which, as it can be done as a day hike, was teeming with hikers. We took photos and went off in search for Ryan’s letterbox there. We found the box and headed back to the falls where we found Ryan reading his book. The group back intact we headed up the Timberline trail. I think it was somewhere around here that we lost one of the Janes. The funny thing about the Janes were that they weren't very talkative but when they did the occasional utterance, boy would it be foul!

Along the way we passed an older man with a younger girl who told us that there were some campsites this side of the Muddy Fork. They had started at Lolo pass and had camped there last night and would be doing so again before heading back to Lolo to complete their trip. We found the campsite and it was nice and near a clear creek so we decided to make camp there. Karen went down the trail away to scout the crossing of the Muddy Fork, which was the last of our potential hazardous crossings. She came back with a report that it was really scary. I decided to check it out too, and while it looked a little tricky, I didn’t think it would be that bad, especially in the morning when the level would be a little lower. We set up camp and et dinner and then headed down to a dry canyon to watch the mountain as the sun went down and to play scrabble. For those wondering why I keep saying “et” it is all a set up for the report on the scrabble game. I had already amassed an extremely large point lead over Karen in the game when I had the opportunity to play “zeal” on a triple word square. To play it though would also make an “et” on the board. I went ahead and played it and Karen challenged it. As a surprise, I had brought a scrabble dictionary with me and “et” was in it and defined as the past participle of “eat.” Karen was furious and had some choice words about the quality of the dictionary. But the play stood and I wound up beating Karen 392-34.

During the scrabble game, the older man and younger girl came to the canyon to watch the mountain too. They began to give each other back massages. Sexy massages. I would have taken pictures but the pictures would be illegal in most countries. The sun went down and we headed back to Camp Lololita. Lololita and the muddy old man started up a campfire and Karen stole the scrabble dictionary from me and took it over and threw it in their fire to end our second day.

Timberline Lodge to Paradise Park

Day 1, Timberline Lodge to Paradise Park: 4.1 miles

The time had finally arrived for segment two: Timberline Lodge to the Columbia River Gorge. The day started with snafus: The ATM at the Vernonia Sentry was broken and I forgot the second sheet of my filing papers for running for City Council that I needed to turn in before the journey. But Sharon worked her magic on the ATM and Joanne provided a copy of the filling paper that I quickly filled out. That done, Penny and I headed to Karen’s and we arrived just a little late. Ryan’s jalopy was parked out in front so I knew that it would be a threesome this time! As we were all raring to go we loaded up and hit the road.

For Penny’s sake I think we managed to mostly avoid letterboxing conversation during the drive but after the spaghetti sucking and sterile urine conversations I think Penny may have preferred us talking about letterboxing. In the rush to get out of the house I hadn’t eaten breakfast and was happy when Ryan suggested stopping somewhere along the way for lunch. So we stopped in Sandy where we all had burgers and met a lovely threesome of women all named Jane. The Janes were also apparently destined for Timberline and would wind up joining us for part of the journey. Well fed we hit the road again and went up to Timberline.

Soon we were met with a swarm of California Tortoise Shell Butterflies. As we later learned the butterflies periodically have population explosions that corresponds to their food source supply. Dodging butterflies we headed up the Timberline road to the lodge. In the parking lot we met a fine fellow named Ralph who wasn’t talkative but latched onto up group.

We ran the gauntlet of tourists as we threaded our way through the lodge and up to the second floor where we escaped and headed up the maze of trails to find the Timberline Trail, which is also the Pacific Crest Trail for several miles on the south and west sides of Mt. Hood. It was about here, while we were taking photos, that a group of 12 school children passed us. They were college students, and Ryan took bit of exception with me calling them children, but as he is just a wee child himself, that was to be expected. I figure that anyone less than half my age is a child. Penny decided to join us for a bit and we started the hike: Ryan, Karen, and I with our 30 – 35 pound packs and Penny carrying nothing and wearing flip flops. You decide who was the smart one in the crowd. Soon we came to our first water crossing. It wasn’t particularly big, we managed to cross in several jiffies but on the other side we noticed that Ralph was no longer with us (though the Janes were). Penny had seen him on the other side of the stream but he was now nowhere to be seen. We didn’t worry too much, figuring that he had headed back towards the lodge. He was a bit of a flighty fellow anyway.

We continued on and soon met the Little Zigzag Canyon. Penny decided that this would make a good place for her to turn around and after a hug or two, we said our goodbyes.

We soon reached the Zigzag Canyon and its viewpoint of the peak of Mt. Hood. While admiring the view, Ralph made an appearance! A strange one was this fellow: for the rest of the journey we keep running into him. We went down into the canyon and soon reached the Zigzag River, one of our potential hazardous crossings according to the map. It was pretty tame and we easily crossed. This was the point of the trail where the vast extent of the day hikers turn around (if they haven’t already) and we only saw backpackers for the rest of the day. At the top of the other side of the canyon we came to a trail junction where the children were resting. We were happy to see ripe huckleberries but there were very few left for us as the children had et most of them already.

There were two trail choices to Paradise Park at this junction, we waited until the children were on their way and took the other trail. We walked through forest and wildflower meadows and soon rounded a bend in the trail and got our first glimpse of Paradise Park. Words, and even pictures, cannot do it justice. We enjoyed the scenery and then crossed Lost Creek and headed to the campsite. The children had begun setting up their site and we choose a site well away from them. With camp set up and dinner et (washed down with some cider I had brought as a surprize!), we headed back to the meadow to take more photos and wait for the sunset. While waiting a PCT thru-hiker came by and we chatted briefly. Shortly later we spied a buck peering around the corner, probably hoping we’d leave so he could go get a drink from the creek. With the light quickly ebbing, we went back to camp. While bear bagging our food, Karen and I learned that Ryan simply uses his food bag as a pillow. It seems Ryan minored in bear wrestling in college and had no need to be afraid. Karen and I had our doubts, and were glad Ryan had picked a camp spot a little ways off, though still uncomfortable close. We crawled into our tents and day one was over.

Barlow Pass to Olallie Lake Continued

Day 5: 6 + 4.5 miles

I awoke early and wandered about some before seeing that our campsite had been invaded by a couple of Clark's Nutcrackers. I was enjoying the show when the noise awoke Karen and she came out to watch too. Our entertainment over, we proceeded with our daily ritual of breaking camp.

Today was scheduled to be blissfully short: just 6 miles to Jude Lake. We could have easily made it all the way the way to Olallie Lake but we were in no rush to get to back to civilization. Most people wouldn't call Olallie Lake civilaztion; it is after all a long way from any actual incorporated area and reached by gravel forest service roads. But is has a small store and you can drive to it so to us it was civilization. In addition, there were several letterboxes near Jude Lake so Jude Lake was our goal.

We arrived at our campsite and made camp and proceeded to go letterboxing. We found two in short order at Jude Lake and near Russ Lake and then proceeded down the PCT towards Olallie Lake to get two more. For this series of boxes we were actually following the clues backwards which made things a bit more difficult. The fourth, or actually, first box stymied us for a while but just before we gave up (at least for that day) I suddenly got a thought and headed further down the trail just a bit and we found the box. We headed back north on the PCT and then headed over to Olallie Meadows (a spot you can drive to) for one last letterbox. There we saw two people who had been out gathering plants for herbal cures or some such. They were friendly and shared some water (I was without my backpack and only had a small amount of water in my fanny pack). They also reported that Portland was going through a heatwave and was having 100+ F weather. We were glad that we were at a high elevation!

We left Olallie Meadows and headed back towards camp. On the way we passed Brook Lake and decided to try out the water. Karen is a nature girl and got pretty far in. I wasn't real keen on wading in without shoes especially with all the crawdads we had seen in the water. Hot and dirty though I got in a bit anyway wearing just my underwear. I didn't want to put my shorts back on and get them wet and I figured the underwear could pass as bike shorts. In the "bike shorts" and my sleeveless shirt I thought my clothes looked a lot like something Penny's regional Jazzercise manager would wear. I felt a little funny wearing my "Jazzercise costume" but as as we had not seen anyone on the trail all day and we were less than a half mile from camp, I stayed with it. Shortly down the trail, we ran into some "Muleskinners" who are an equestrian group who does trail maintainance in the area. These guys were big and burly cowboy looking guys and here I was in my Jazzercise costume and Karen in a wet t-shirt! We chatted for a while and I can't help but wondering what they though of us. Back at camp we took some nice reflections photos and then hit the tents for our last night before Olallie lake.

Day 6: 3.8 + 4 miles

Ah, the last day had arrived! Our packs feeling quite light we headed down the trail for that last little bit. I was excited to be finishing but also sad to know the hike was coming to an end. On the trail we met a northbounder, Stairmaster, who was thru-hiking the Oregon portion of the PCT. We felt like true long distance hikers and were happy to be able to supply him with about 50 miles of trail information.

At the lake, with its views of Mt. Jeffereson, we found a note from Keith telling us where we'd be camping the last night before heading home! We walked the short bit to the Olallie Lake store, and Karen eagerly bought overpriced Cherry Garcia bars for the both of us. At this point, ice cream would have been a bargain at twice the price.

We headed down the road to the campground. Keith had managed to get one of the best sites in this dusty car campground. He had all kinds of treats awaiting us: salsa and chips, berries, and ginger ale. Yum! We let Keith get back to his float tube and we hit the trail for some more letterboxes. This series started from the end of our campground and then proceeded though some forest devastaed by bark beetle and forest fire on a unmaintained trail with lots of blowdown. We walked around Long Lake and up a ridge between Long and Dark Lakes. The last two boxes were quite hard to find with the trail being practically non-existant and the landscape having changed since the boxes were hidden. With Karen's perserverance we got the boxes and then we headed back to camp for our celebratory dinner of steaks, baked potatoes, salad, and champagne. The hike was done. We'd backpacked from Barlow Pass to Olallie Lake, 54.1 miles with our packs plus another 11.5 without!

Barlow Pass to Olallie Lake Continued

Day 4: 15.9 miles

At 2:56AM I awoke to a flickering light shining into my tent. It was from a distance away and very bright – too bright to simply be a star. It looked light a car’s headlight. Perhaps it was a Q beam? Was someone coming through the woods? It was not in the direction of the jeep road or the trail – unless the trail or road made a sharp turn I didn’t know about. It was pretty consistently shining towards us; flickering away occasionally. With my dark mesh tent, I doubted it could see me but Karen’s tent was a ghostly white. I quietly listened for voices or noise but didn’t hear anything. The light seemed to be coming from a constant position. I was terrified Karen would wake up and say something out loud to confirm our presence, something I was hoping was still in doubt to the other party. The light got brighter, though was still coming from the same direction. I was really creeped out. The light kept getting brighter. After about 15 minutes, a breeze mover the trees and it allowed a better look at what was now a crescent shaped light. Ah, silly me. It was just the moon rising through the trees.

Feeling secure I went back to sleep until 5 when a rumbling and roaring woke me up. It was getting louder – very quickly. It sounded like a freight train. Karen awoke too and shortly the noisemaker stopped approaching, though it remained loud and we quickly surmised from some new sounds that we had camped very close, perhaps a 100
yards or less, to a logging site. Instead of watching the Indians create a new clear-cut we broke camp without even making breakfast. We hightailed it down to the Warm Springs River (which is ice cold) and despite the odor left by horses, made breakfast and did laundry.

We began our long gradual climb towards and up North Pinhead Butte. Highlights along the way included a lovely spring and our last view of Mount Hood. Continuing on we heard singing as we rounded a curve near the saddle between the North and South Pinhead Buttes. Ahead of us we spotted a young woman on a rock. We introduced ourselves; Pippi was her trail name, she had thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2002 and was doing a long portion of the PCT. She was hiking alone and liked to take a long break during the heat of the day. It worked out well; after 12 miles on the
day which was our hottest, least shady, and with the most elevation gain, we were happy for an excuse to stop and join her for her break. We talked shop and were flattered that she complimented us on our light packs. She didn’t know the weight of her pack, but it looked bigger and heavier than ours. I don’t think she had had the luxury of being able to buy all new and lightweight gear. As she was northbound we exchanged trail information. She was trilled to hear that we had had no problems with mosquitoes and warned us that going south, we would. It was actually during this conversation where I first pulled out my DEET. We also talked about letterboxing. Pippi actually knew about it and even had a friend who letterboxed. We gladly stamped her datasheet with our stamps! Rested up and with several miles to go we reluctantly said our goodbyes and headed down the trail.

We stopped at a campsite at Lemiti Creek. Most of the trees were dead or dying from a bark beetle infestation, something that has been plaguing much of the forest we had been walking through for a while. The mosquitoes were also quite bad. But it had water, flat campsites, and we were tired so we made do. We set up Camp Mosquito, made dinner, and quickly retired to our tents. We were treated with a nice sunset just before we dozed off. It wasn’t long though before the rain started. We learned we could put up our rain flies quite quickly, though the rain stopped just as we finished.

Barlow Pass to Olallie Lake Continued

Day 3: 10.0 miles

Nature once again provided a wake up call as the clanging of our pots woke us at 6:45AM. Taking our time again for breakfast and packing camp, we left camp both feeling quite fresh at 8:45. Knowing we would have plenty of opportunities for water all the way around Timothy Lake and wise from yesterday, we didn’t add any water to our packs and felt like we were floating down the trail. The Timothy Lake dam, which had looked so far away from the campsite arrived in no time at all. With the dam and the small parking area, there came another vault toilet. I had managed to avoid the trowel another day!

After crossing the dam we followed the southern lake shore which was generally quiet and pretty when the postcard quality scenery wasn’t interrupted by the dreaded car campgrounds. With two nights under our belts, we decided we were true veteran long distance backpackers (I’m sure actual thru-hikers are laughing here) and were obligated to look down on the car campers with their huge tents, boats, beer, real, food, chairs, tables, and the oh so comfortable air mattresses.





We continued on, passing more views of Mount Hood before we came to the junction we needed to take to head south to the Historic Clackamas Ranger Station we were intending to visit. Arriving there, just as my water ran out, we were pleased to see it open and better yet, cool and with empty chairs waiting for us. We sat and ate while chatting with the volunteers. I recommend visiting if you are in the area. Best yet, there was a nearby spigot coming from a well so we filled up with water, taking pleasure in not needing to filter the water. We showed off some of our equipment to another couple who had also been touring the historic station.
Since we knew that our camp site that night would almost certainly be a dry camp, we both stocked up on a lot of water, this time by necessity, unlike yesterday’s foolishness. I did take the opportunity to get rid of some extra fuel. When doing the planning, I had calculated that between the two of us we would probably need about a half of a liter of fuel (denatured alcohol). Not knowing how well my homemade Pepsi and Guinness can stove would really perform out in the wild, I made up three half liter bottles of fuel, one of which I had given to Karen. After two nights on the trail, we knew that the half liter calculation looked about right so I ditched one of my bottles along with some trash that we had been collecting along the way.

We left the ranger station and headed up the road to get back to the PCT and take photos under the PCT archway. We then headed southeast on the PCT which climbed towards the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. The reservation made for a bit of a change in scenery as there are numerous logging roads and clear cuts along the way. They don’t seem to log quite up to the trail, but they get pretty close in places.

Tonight we had no definitive plan for a campsite. Ideally we’d go to the Warm Springs River, or at least to a spring just north of it, but that would be a 15 mile day, something neither of us was anxious to do. The other consideration was the next night’s campsite: our plan was to camp at Lemiti Creek, the water source after Warm Springs river, which is 10 miles from the river. So we planned to go as far as we felt comfortable going and then find a place to camp along the trail. We quickly discovered though that other than the established campsites, there was a dearth of places for a makeshift campsite. We plodded along as the trail kept going up in elevation. Finally after 10 miles of hiking we took a break and decided we’d didn’t want to stop yet (which would make the next day a 16 mile day) but that we didn’t have the energy to make it the five miles to the river. Thus, we’d try for another couple of miles and hope to then find a suitable spot to make camp. But as soon as that plan was made, we stood up and took less than ten steps down the trail when we saw a cleared area with a fire ring. It was too perfect to pass by so we made camp.

This particular campsite was along an old jeep road. It was obvious that there was enough blowdown across the road going westward that no one would be driving up it from that direction but I walked it in the eastward direction to make sure no one would be coming from that direction either. Karen had been secretly packing a blowup flamingo and a feather boa and while I was out making sure that no jeeps would be running over us in the night, she was setting up Camp Flamingo. I ascertained that blowdown in the other direction was sufficient to protect us. I found some cut logs from a recent clearcut which were of a perfect size and height for tables. I also spied a heart shaped rock and knowing Karen collects them, I brought it back to camp along with the "tables." I thought it would be fun to give Karen the quandary of having to decide whether to carry the gift of the heavy rock or not. She claims that she meant to pack it but it somehow managed to leave her pack.

We had a nice dinner and were enjoying what we thought was our most remote and isolated campsite yet. The weather was clear and warm so we left our rainflies off the tents and retired to rest up for tomorrow's long day. Living out in Vernonia with its lack of light pollution, we regularly get to see the stars and milky way at night quite well. Despite that, I forced myself to stay awake long enough to see them come out that night – after all, with my mostly mesh tent and the rainfly down, I was going to be sleeping under the stars and I wanted to see them even if it was just for a minute or two. Satisfied with the first three or four stars that appeared, I went to sleep.

Barlow Pass to Olallie Lake

Day 1: 4.8 + 2.0 miles

I woke up around 7AM in order to make the trek to the Hollywood Pig Pen. I had spent the night before checking and double-checking my pack to ensure that I had everything I needed (and wanted). The end result was a 35 pound bag (inclusive of 3 liters of water).

I decided to go through the drive-thru at the North Plains McDonald’s for my last “real” meal. It made me think the freeze-dried food in my pack was gourmet. After arriving at Karen’s, I handed over her share of the fuel and her stove and we awaited for the arrival of Chauffeur Wingnut and our limousine which arrived promptly on time with Emily, our entertainment for the drive. Seeing as how there were two new letterboxes on the way up Mount Hood and that we only had a short hiking day planned, we stopped to get those. Once those were found, the only thing left to do before going to the trailhead was using our last real restroom at the Government Camp rest stop. Then, our first tragedy of the trip: the minivan would not start! Fortunately, Henry Winkler happened to wander by, and with a quick bang on the hood, all was well and we headed straight to Barlow Pass. Emily, who until this time had thought we were just out for a day trip, informed us that we were crazy for voluntarily heading into the woods for almost a week. She is probably right.







After the obligatory photos, we waved goodbye and there was nothing to do but start walking. We stayed on the Pacific Crest trail for just over a mile before heading down the Palmateer Trail. On the way we met just one day hiker, our first opportunity to look derisively at someone with a tiny day pack. We had not hiked far enough to look at a day pack enviously.




We went up the Palmateer View spur trail to an incredible view of Mount Hood and a perfect spot for lunch. Our bellies full of jerky and gorp, we continued on our business of seeking out the Twin Lakes. Along the way we got our feet wet crossing a stream and ran into two guys on the trail. We found out that would be our campmates at Lower Twin Lake. They had come from the Frog Lake trailhead and had already set up camp and were doing some day hiking - without maps or even much of a clue as to where the trails around here went. We showed them our maps and gave them advice to check out the Palmateer View and we parted ways. Karen and I quickly discussed whether there would be one or two tents set up when we got to what we would later name Camp Brokeback.

Upper Twin Lake was our first lake on the trail and what a view it provided! A short bit later we found Lower Twin Lake and its abundance of good campsites with just a single solitary tent set up. After dawdling a bit we set up camp and headed around the lake looking for Ryan’s letterbox there. The clues had us looking for a beach on the "far side" of the lake. Apparently Ryan couldn’t be bothered with identifying which is near side of the lake. We looked in vain for babes in bikinis and buff boys on a beach, immensely disappointing the both of us. Back at our campsite, we made dinner and discovered our first error in packing: we had both brought way too much food. Stuffed, and with letfovers, we bear bagged the food, an exercise which fortunately had no witnesses. At one point the rock throw bag got stuck in a branch and I needed to pull it down. Being an engineer, I knew that once the bag was released it would rocket down towards us so I accounted for that fact. However, since my last physics class was 15 years ago, I made the calculations with sine where I should have used cosine and instead of being safely out of the way I found myself in the direct line of the projectile. I did manage to mostly evade the rock, getting only a glancing blow to the side of my knee.

Camp duties complete we decided to walk around the lake in the opposite direction in a second attempt to find the letterbox. Alas, Ryan’s clues again failed us, it certainly could not have been our fault! Back at the campsite, the Brokeback Boys had a campfire going, and as it was getting pretty cool, we decided to socialize and steal some of the heat. They were quite friendly - one was a nurses' assistant and the other worked in the Portland Beaver’s laundry room. We discussed backpacking a while. They were just doing an overnight trip and yet somehow their packs weighed 70-80 pounds. We were a little perplexed as to what they had in their packs because they didn’t seem to have any luxuries like camp chairs or televisions. And they were eating MREs (where they got the MREs we didn’t ask and they didn’t tell) so they didn’t even have the weight of a stove and fuel. The night was growing colder and with a 13 mile day scheduled, we said goodnight and hit our tents and down sleeping bags.

Day 2: 13.6 + 1.0 miles

One of the good things about having pets in the house is that you can blame unexplained noises in the middle of the night on them instead of having to search every corner of the house for invisible prowlers. Thus I missed Janis during the night. I wasn’t concerned with prowlers, or even the Brokeback boys. I wasn’t really even afraid of lions, tigers, and bears, at least not directly, but I was concerned with the food and in the woods an active imagination can turn every little noise into a big commotion. It didn’t that me long to get used to it, but it didn’t happen the first night and I didn’t sleep real well. I think the fact I had fully inflated my sleeping pad contributed to the poor quality of my sleep. I made a mental note to just let it self inflate next time.

About 6AM I hear Karen getting up. This surprised me in that I know that she normally doesn’t voluntarily get up before about 3 in the afternoon. As it turns out, nature had provided a wake up call in the form of a chipmunk trying to get into her pack. This was actually a good thing since we had a long day ahead of us. We retrieved the food and Karen had her leftovers while I had oatmeal and white tea. After breakfast and packing camp we recommenced our journey. There was still no sign of life from the Brokeback tent.

We quickly climbed back up the Twin Lake trail to the PCT which we would stay on for the vast majority of the day. Soon we descended down to Wapinitia Pass and the crossing of highway 26. My schedule was working out well, as I made use of the vault toilet there. A no trowel day for me! Strangely enough, the short day and night in the woods had already made something as mundane as a highway seem like an exotic and scary thing. Fortunately we saw no traffic and had an uneventful crossing. The trail climbed back up and the trail headed southwest just below a ridge. Mother Nature had thoughtfully provided several breaks in the trees with fantastic views of Mount Hood. Not only were the views inspiring, but they afforded us excuses to take rest breaks and confirmed that we were indeed, as planned, hiking away from Mount Hood.

Soon we met our first real backpacker on the trail, another segment hiker. He was coming from Breitenbush and heading up to Mount Hood. We were grateful to hear that the trail should be clear all the way to Olallie and we were able to report that the short bit he had left should be problem free. Soon after we parted ways, Karen discovered that we had provided something else for each other – the trail was now free of spider webs! This didn’t benefit me as our hiking protocol was for Karen to lead as my natural pace is too fast for her, or even me over an extended day. I haven’t yet trained myself to hike a slower pace but I can comfortably follow someone setting a slower pace. This worked out well for me, not just for the spider webs but also I figured that if there was a bear waiting ambush behind a tree, it would eat Karen as while I ran away.

Continuing on we traversed a pretty stretch of trail teeming with blooming lupine. Our ears were greeted with a pleasant humming of the bees amidst the wildflowers. The lupines finally gave away and we found our next landmark – a small campsite with a spring. We thought this was an appropriate place for rest and lunch. Dropping our packs we followed a trail to the spring even though we had no need for water. We ate and relaxed. The permitherin on our clothes faced its first test as there was a minor annoyance of mosquitoes. It seemed to do it job as they stopped bothering us within a few moments. Karen had been lying down quietly but suddendly she was doing something which resembled sign language, though I was at a loss as to whom she may have been conversing. I eventually had to ask her what she was doing, and she had been composing haiku, the sign language was her way of counting syllables. While she went to write the haiku down, I noticed the babbling of the spring seemed to be much louder than it should have been considering the distance to it. A little investigation revealed that the actual spring was actually just a few feet from where we had been relaxing. What we had found down the trail was just where it stream had come out from under some underbrush. By this time Karen had managed to forget most of the haiku, though she remembered the one line of which she was particularly proud. Unfortunately, upon reciting it, she realized it was six syllables and would have to be discarded.

Back on the trail we descended further as we went southward towards Timothy Lake. We were mostly intent on reaching Little Crater Lake, and there wasn’t much interesting to cause us to pause other than an occasional particularly large old growth tree.

Reaching the spur to Little Crater Lake, we gratefully dropped our packs and went to visit the wonder. After using our bandanas to cool ourselves with the icy cold water
we sat and rested for a while before attempting the letterbox hidden there. While we were resting a family came up and we enthralled them with our depth of knowledge of the lake: the water is about 34 degrees and that it is actually a spring. Had they bothered to read the sign they were leaning on, they could have found this out for themselves. Feeling superior though, I decided to add the tidbit that the rangers had just finished adding the blue food coloring to the lake, something they do each Wednesday afternoon. I hope little Bobby’s essay next year at school on what he did last summer includes that in it.

As the letterbox clues didn’t involved the “far side” of Little Crater Lake, we managed to find the letterbox. It seems that the lake is a fine spot for learning as while Karen was replacing the box, I managed to overhear a little lesson a grandmother was giving her granddaughter. The little girl had asked why you can’t swim in the lake and the surprising answer was that the lake is too small to swim in. Note that Little Crater lake is bigger than most backyard swimming pools so please help me get the word out that all swimming in backyard pools must immediately cease due to the size problem.

With three miles to go, we decided it was time to get on our way and we thus left Little Crater Lake and the PCT for the Timothy Lake trail. Before we left though, we couldn’t resist tanking up on the water and we foolishly carried way more than we needed for a three mile walk to a campsite with water. So with our heavy packs, we trudged down the trail. Soon we came up to a sign with a map of the area. Despite knowing the way, and not needing to use the map, we still took the opportunity to drop our packs. There was a couple there also looking at the map. We chatted with them and discerned that they had canoed across the lake and the husband was trying to figure out how to drive to the nearby campground. He was doing this by alternately looking at the map and the road. It took Karen and I about two seconds to figure the directions, seeing as how there was a road that went pretty much directly from where they launched to the campground. Karen traced the route for him on the map. He looked from the map to the road. I helpfully added that that indeed looks like the way to go. He looked from the map to the road. They may still be standing in front of that map today.

Not to far down the trail we had to step aside to allow some equestrians to pass through. I, and not completely in jest, asked if they would carry our packs for us. A woman derisively responded, “these are not pack animals.” I responded, “Ma’am, I’ve got 27 pounds of Little Crater Lake water, 17 pounds of food, 20 pounds of gear, and that plus my weight is still about 50 pounds short of what you weigh.” She didn’t seem to appreciate that and with a flick of her reins, her horse dutifully left a odoriferous present for us all over the trail and they wandered off.

The trail then became hell for us. Oh, it was flat and shaded, but we wanted so badly to be done for the day. We were also getting anxious about finding a campsite at Meditation Point which is a first-come first-served campsite. As it is hike or boat in only I hadn’t anticipated to be a issue in the middle of the week. But we were seeing campsite after campsite pitched in unofficial spots all along the trail. Would Meditation Point be full? Finally we arrived at the trail to the campsite. We headed down the trail and the side trail to the first of five sites had a paper plate with “Reserved, Gary” written on it. Karen and I quickly decided that if the other spots were full, and there was no tent down that trail, that the paper plate would mysteriously disappear. Campsite two though was empty and looked quite nice. We dropped our packs and traded our boots and shoes for flip-flops. It was heaven! We couldn’t really see over to Camp Gary, though we could see a boat tied up down below it. Eventually we set up camp and headed back to check out the rest of the peninsula and a vain attempt to look for a letterbox for which we had lost the clues. While doing so, we found another highly intelligent human specimen who was trying to chop a large living branch off a tree while talking on a cell phone. This despite the numerous signs saying this was illegal and the fact that there was plenty of dead and dry wood on the ground. Eco-babe Karen admonished the woman and shortly later we saw her carrying a nice piece of dead wood she had found on the ground. She didn’t say so, but I’m sure she was grateful that Karen saved her a good fifteen minutes of unnecessary work.

We went back to our site and while Karen was tending the stove for the meal we would sensibly share that night, I snuck over to Camp Gary and stole a few beers. Dinner was great – thanks Gary and Mary Jane! – and we retired to our tents. I was tired, but didn’t feel sleepy and expected to just lie a while and meditate, after all it was Meditation Point. The next thing I knew, I woke to sounds from Camp Gary and my watch told me I had been sleeping for an hour and a half. Camp Gary seemed to be having a nice party, not objectionably loud, but I could hear the goings on. Soon I heard someone say, “Hey, there are three more Coors Lights!” I guess I could have taken a few more and they would have never missed them.