20 miles
Barrel gets up hours earlier than the rest of us, and quietly leaves the hotel room to go get breakfast and go to the store. I ask him to bring me back a Gatorade bottle, which is my sure fire method for dealing with a hangover, although I feel surprisingly good this morning. Ninja was able to get us a ride into Sisters from the 16 year old kid who works at the bike shop he rented from yesterday. Gus said he would be here at the hotel at 8:30 to pick us up, and as seasoned flash packers, it takes us no time to get ready when we finally drag ourselves out of bed. We all look surprisingly ready to get back on the trail, though I'm sure Barrel's wide-eyed alertness is all show.
Gus drives us the half hour or so to Sisters, and gets out to grab breakfast with us at the local bakery. We all go overboard in ordering donuts and pastries--when will I learn?!--and enjoy the delicious homemade, sugary goodness alongside a hot cup of coffee (something I rarely let myself drink when I'm on trail). We meet other hikers who are just coming into town for their rest, and warn them about the difficulties of finding a room in Bend, and share brief trail updates with each other: fire warning, PCT closures, etc.
After breakfast we walk along the side of the road, following Ninja and REI, wondering how hard it will be for us to get another hitch back up to the trail head. While the two of them get a second breakfast at McDonalds (the hiker hunger is never sated), Barrel and I head back to the road to start the hitchhiking process. Ninja Tank joins us, and I'm certain it'll be hours before we get a ride to pick us up.
For luck, I stick a wild flower behind my ear, just like Grams. I hold up Barrel's bandanna that says Hiker to Trail, and flash my nicest of smiles at the oncoming traffic. Within minutes a small car pulls off the road and we race over. It's a woman, late twenties or early thirties, maybe, and she's willing to give all of us a ride up to the trail head! Her name is Kailyn (sp?) and we thank her profusely for picking us up. We talk a little about the trail--most people want to know what our favorite section has been so far, so we talk about the Three Sisters wilderness and the Sierras. I talk about my desire to WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) in New Zealand, and she tells us she WWOOFed in Hawaii, and so I ask her all about her experience. Soon we arrive at the trail head and we say goodbye to yet another kind soul who wasn't afraid to pick up a bunch of (not as) smelly hikers.
It's already 11:30, so we plan to do about 20 miles today, so that if we average around 25 miles a day we'll get to Portland in enough time for me to have at least a day for sightseeing before my family picks me up. Our first few miles are through a burn zone, and it's already hot enough that I'm sweating through my shirt. Barrel and I are both in a weird mood, and it's clear that neither one of us wants to talk about it, so we lapse into silence and do what we've learned to do best: walk.
It starts to become obvious that Barrel isn't feeling well, and that the drinks last night are catching up to him. He takes a break every couple of miles, and as he's sitting in the shade, looking ill and saying he feels nauseated, I ask him if he's okay if I press on. I feel bad leaving him here when he's not feeling well, but I need to keep moving. I tell him I'll meet up with him either in a few hours, or at the mile marker we want to camp at tonight, and then power away. My mind is whirling and I try to out run it by walking faster and faster. The faster I walk, the quieter my mind becomes; the harder I work, the less energy I have to devote to thinking. It's a gentle incline, and I am moving fast. I eventually catch up to Ninja Tank as he's grabbing some water at a small pond, and pass him, not breaking stride for 6 miles. Enjoying the sweat that's pouring off of me; enjoying how strong my legs feel, and how far I can push them. I think I finally understand why runners run.
When I get to the first large water source, a lake in a the middle of a burn zone, I stop to eat lunch and wait for Barrel. Ninja shows up 15 minutes later and sits with me for lunch, both of us confining ourselves awkwardly in the narrow strip of shadow of a burned out, dead tree. As the sun moves, the tree shadow moves, and so we have to adjust ourselves every few minutes to avoid the direct heat of the sun. Ninja decides to leave after a 30 minute lunch, but I stay there for a few more minutes, giving Barrel a full hour to catch up. When he doesn't show, I decide to press on 5 more miles to the next lake, which isn't in a burn zone, and leave him a little message on the trail in sticks: my name with an arrow pointing north.
And then it's more burn zones. It seems like 80% of this section has previously been burned, and it's a sad, sobering sight.
The trail passes by Three-Fingered Jack, and then switchbacks down and around, over loose gravel and shale-like rocks.
I step over a somewhat grizzly pile of fur, and can't help but wonder what happened, and if there are still Mountain Lions in this area, roaming about.
When I get to the next lake, Ninja is setting up camp and doing his laundry. I still have 5 more miles to go to reach the 20 I wanted to do, and while this place is peaceful, I decide to press on after filling up my water bottles for a night of dry camping up on a ridge. I ask Ninja to tell Barrel I'm continuing on, and then make my way through yet another burn zone, and a few miles of steepish climbing up to the ridge. I step off trail to let a large group of boy scouts and pass, and they ask me how far it is to the lake, where I just left Ninja at. I continue my climb, feeling glad I didn't decide to camp at that lake, and knowing Ninja is going to be less than thrilled to have to share close quarters to a group of tweenage boy scouts.
The bugs are getting bad, and when I finally crest the ridge, they are swarming. I pull on my gear and set up my tent in record speed, jumping in to sequester myself inside for the rest of the evening. I do manage to enjoy a few seconds of the amazing view of Mount Jefferson from this vista, and remind myself how lucky I am to see these views in person.
An hour and a half later I hear Barrel's voice and am glad he felt well enough to make it up this far. He says he waited in the shade for an hour where I left him, until the worst of the hangover passed, and he felt like he could hike again. I feel talkative now, and didn't realize how much I had been waiting to tell him about my day until he showed up. I think I found the best hiking partner, and feel grateful all over again. Goodnight, Barrel. Goodnight, world.
No comments:
Post a Comment