Northern Oregon - Bend to Cascade Locks

Bend, OR
Wow, we all excitedly stare in amazement slowly walking towards the front door. It's over twenty degrees cooler inside, with tile and laminate floors, flatscreen TV's, and a nice, big deck. Everyone is speechless, knowing this is the last large town we'll be in. What a great way to enjoy it! Shari heads over an hour later with some air mattresses to float the Deschutes River, and a couple bikes to get around town. She drives us into downtown, showing us some of the local attractions, and drops us off at a farmer's market while she runs some errands. We head over to a nearby burger joint for food and shakes, and plop ourselves down on the soft grass in at Drake park. We talk about others that are in town—Bob Dole's around here somewhere with Bams. Blackfoot is... Blackfoot is that you? He's fifty feet away buying items from the farmers market for his resupply! In the evening, several of us see a movie, my first one on the trail, and finally end our day well after midnight.

Trainwreck and Moneyshot show up this morning with backpacks full of groceries, including breakfast stuff.

Moneyshot and four pounds of bacon

We all fill ourselves up with large quantities of eggs, bacon, toast, and strawberries, and for the most part do nothing as we digest and rest on another hot day. At 3pm, I have yet to step outside. My grocery shopping I had planned for this morning has yet to happen. Shari gives me call, and a bit later has another air mattresses for us. She takes us to the Deschutes River, and we float through the middle of town for a good hour. The river is full of dozens of people escaping the ninety to one hundred degree heat. We exit at a small dam, a bit chilled, and decide to end the mini adventure here instead of Drake Park. Shari's returns to take us back home, enjoying the air conditioned comfort as everyone goes their separate ways. Some are engrossed in TV, eating, or simply enjoying time off the trail and a nap. As evening approaches, I get my three to four days of groceries, and start to feel the effects of my four hours of sleep last night. The one mile walk to the store for resupply has inflamed my PT tendon after taking the orthotics out for the float trip. My shoes are still wet, (but very clean!), and I didn't want to risk damaging the orthotics. The thought of walking to town doesn't excite me right now, and at 9pm, I have trouble staying awake. I think I'm done with today.

Three backpacking women friends, one in a casual relationship, one engaged to be married, and one a long-time wife, met for drinks after work. The conversation centered on hiking the PCT, but eventually drifted towards how best to spice up their personal lives. After much discussion, they decided to surprise their trail partner men by engaging in some role-playing. The following week they met up again to compare notes. Sipping her drink, the single girl leered and said, "Last Friday at the end of the work day I went to my boyfriend's office wearing a leather coat. When all the other people had left, I slipped out of it and all I had on was a leather bodice, black stockings and stiletto heels. I do not need to say more about what happened. Wow!!" The engaged backpacker woman giggled and said, "That's pretty much my story! When my fiance stopped by my apartment to pick me up last Friday, he found me waiting for him in a black mask, leather bodice, black hose and stiletto pumps. Wow, wow!! Afterwards he wanted to move up our wedding date!" The married woman put her glass down and said, "I did a lot of planning. I made arrangements for the kids to stay over at Grandma's. I took a long scented-oil bath and then put on my best perfume. I slipped into a tight leather bodice, a black garter belt, black stockings and six-inch stilettos. I finished it off with a black mask." "That must have been fantastic!" exclaimed the other two. "What happened?!" "When my thru hiker husband, Grizzly, got home from work, he grabbed a beer and the remote, sat down and yelled, 'Hey, Batman, what's for dinner?'" —PCT-L Listserve

Three Fingered Jack

Everyone is scurrying to do last minute errands this morning. Extra grocery items, going out for breakfast, or packing up. We don't know quite know how were going to get the fifty plus miles back to the trail yet, but some of us are working on that. We call local trail angel Lloyd, who is busy shuttling close to a dozen hikers around today, and he offers to take us back to the trail. At 11am, we're back at Santiam Pass, with on this much cooler day. The trail climbs up to the ridge with sweeping views of The Sisters, Mt. Washington, Three Fingered Jack, and the looming Mt. Jefferson to the north. I see Socks at Rockpile Lake, who I haven't seen since Mammoth Lakes, and we all gather water for the next six mile stretch. We reach a high saddle, with sweeping views of the surrounding valley, and the whoosh of wind in the treetops, and call it a day.

The trail traverses several silty, grey looking creeks as it bends around the west side of Mt. Jefferson. The water is from twelve thousand year old glaciers melting away that have accumulated sediments from scouring away the volcanic peaks. The weather is pleasant, sunny, with temps in the 60s and 70s.

Mt. Jefferson

It's a popular area, with quite a few day users exploring the rolling hills teeming with wildflowers and views that extend forever. The trail reaches a high point of 6,920ft today, and the glacier covered Mt. Jefferson hangs above to my south, and Mt. Hood stands sentinel to my north. I again follow around the many ponds that dot the area and finish near Olallie Lake. There is discussion about hiking an almost forty or fifty plus miler tomorrow to Timberline Lodge, and many hikers have set personal bests on this stretch. Moneyshot and Vagisil have a goal of 52 miles to Timberline Lodge tomorrow, and I'd be happy with forty. I've done some high 30s on the CDT, and that's where my foot condition started. The PTTD is under control, and if I'm ever going to try something like this, the time is now.

It's after 9am, and I've done my first ten miles. The trail's relatively flat, great tread, and easy to hike on. Before I know it, I've done twenty, and it's not even two o'clock yet. I feel like I've just gotten started. I've soaked my feet in Warm Springs Creek (no, the water is cold!), and soon twenty five miles are done, and it's almost all downhill from here. There are virtually no views today, with the trail following broad ridges that were visible far below from the lofty perch beside Mt. Jefferson yesterday.

This morning's delicious water source!

Thirty miles are soon done, as I pass by Timothy Lake. The trail is being demolished by illegal mountain bike use, with tire tracks skirting around waterbars, breaking down switchbacks, and forming ruts. Evening is setting in, with an ever darkening sky and colder temperatures. I feel great right now; the feet are a bit sore, but nothing out of the ordinary. I reach a small spring with a campsite, and peer through the dark forest to a tent. "Blackfoot?" I hear his voice, and the day's story. I feel strong; no pain, no soreness, and no lack of energy. I feel like going on another five to ten miles. Today has been a mental game—a mind game with half of me wanting to stop before I injure myself, and the other wanting to push on. As I talk with Blackfoot, the sky continues to get darker, and I decide to stay put. As much as I wanted that extra four or more miles, I also want to continue and stay pain and injury free. I've never taken a pain pill on a trail—or anywhere else—and I'm going to make sure things stay that way. What a day, 41 miles today!

As I start my day, I wonder how I'm going to feel once I start moving. So far, so good, It's fourteen miles to Timberline Lodge, and the miles are easy. I reach a trail register near Barlow Pass, and thumb through the entries. A hiker discusses his encounter with a coyote snatching a fawn off the trail twenty feet away, along with the usual finding out where everyone else is—which hikers are ahead, how far, and any comments or exciting stories they might have to share. There's a long, steady climb to the lodge, and I stare up Mt. Hood to the ski area, with skiers doing laps on the small slope still covered with snow.

Mt. Hood

I was up here last spring for a climb to the top; camping on the summit, gazing down at the twinkling lights of Portland out on the distant horizon. Now I view the peak from a whole different perspective. I've hiked over 2,100 miles to get here, and the snow has disappeared, except for the lingering snowfields that dot the peak year round. I climb up the sandy trail to the Lodge, and as you can probably imagine, hit the restaurant first.

Timberline Lodge, OR
The Cascade Lodge Restaurant has a lunch buffet, with salmon cakes, several different colors of potatoes, a roast beef station, many different types of salads, and a desert area. I join Mike and Naomi, and Blackfoot seated at a table, and spend most of my afternoon making up for the thousands of calories I've lost since Bend. Eight of us share a bunk room at the Lodge, with resupply boxes and pack contents strewn all over the floor. Some head down to Government Camp for groceries and pizza, and many of us hit the Rams Horn bar to relax and stare at Mt. Hood as it slowly fades away as the sun slides behind the horizon.

After another exhausting AYCE (all-you-can-eat) food buffet this morning, I slowly pack up and ready myself for the long descent to the Columbia River. At 11:30am, my stomach stretched thin from three gigantic plates of breakfast, and an endless amount of orange juice from the juicer machine, has started to return to normal. My food coma that has left me unable to move has disappeared. The dozen and a half of us that terrorized the place yesterday and today have mostly disappeared, with a few hikers from behind dribbling in.

Gazing back at Mt. Jefferson

I climb my way up to Paradise Park to catch views of the giant peak looming above, bathed in wispy clouds swirling above. I cross Sandy Creek, and follow a log over the muddy, silt choked churning waters. The wide streambed has its steep sloped walls stripped of trees. I head up to Ramona Falls and take in the light show as the water cascading over the rocks scatters and dances the sun's bright rays.

Ramona Falls

DQ, Man Down, and I follow the rollercoaster trail as it climbs up fifteen hundred feet and back down again heading towards Salvation Spring Camp. There's a gathering of sixteen others laughing over stories, and cooking dinner. None of us have seen this many hikers together in quite some time. The clouds that have cloaked the skies for most of the afternoon have started to clear, revealing the half moon painted in the crystal clear skies above.

We stop for a break near Indian Mountain

Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier, and Mt. Adams

and I head down the steep trail with Trainwreck, Blackfoot, Moneyshot, and Vagisil, following an alternate route that takes us to Eagle Creek. Down in the valley, the narrow footpath follows high above the creek in places, with cable handrails in place for the faint of heart.

Along Eagle Creek

There's a tunnel that skirts behind a churning waterfall, and we slowly work our way through the area, getting wet from spray, taking pictures, and following the trail surrounded by vertical walls.

Tunnel Falls

I enjoy some huckleberries I pluck from the side of the side of the trail, and we finish the 6,000 foot drop to the Columbia as we reach Cascade Locks.

Cascade Locks / Hood River, OR
We all pile in to the Pacific Crest Pub for lunch, and take up a quarter of the restaurant. with over a dozen of us here, the athletic scent of hikers overwhelms the place, and pizza and beers are piled all over the tables. Trout Lilly, who I last saw at Deep Creek in Southern California, lives in Hood River, and is house-sitting for some friends. She offers a some of us a place to stay, and I soon find myself heading to Hood River. A handful of us pile into the one bedroom home after a late night in town, and I head outside to the deck to spend the night.

My five hundred dollar orthotics I paid way too much for have been doing the job, although I may need to add extra lift under the right arch.

The $15 orthotics

These "custom" orthotics have been through it all—they've been beaten, tortured, and suffocated; exposed to unimaginable smells, and stomped to death. Thinking about this is making me hungry. We all enjoy some breakfast, and Vagisil, Censored and Twelve Percent head out to Portland, Blackfoot takes a day off for a foot sprain, Trainwreck's off to the trail, and I hit the grocery store for resupply. It's warm today, and I wait for the afternoon heat to subside sitting under a tree next to the fire station. I head over back to the Pub, and find hikers gathered around a table. B-Kat, probably the last southbounder I'll see, shares his adventures of Washington with us. I look at the clock in front of me... 2pm, 3pm, 4pm... At five o'clock, I find the will to leave. I cross the Bridge of the Gods, peering over the guardrail, and down through the metal grate deck at the river far below me. I see the Welcome to Washington sign, and a bright, wide smile covers my sun weathered face.

Continue to Southern Washington

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