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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jun 30, 2018 - 09:35am PT
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^^^
Ouch.
Remind me to introduce you to the concept of “penalty slack.”
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johntp
Trad climber
Little Rock and Loving It
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Jun 30, 2018 - 02:03pm PT
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The tale that keeps on giving a better view of humanity. Thanks mtnyoung
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looks easy from here
climber
Ben Lomond, CA
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Jun 30, 2018 - 02:26pm PT
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I think you're supposed to wait to tell me that until I'm already on the sharp end.
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johntp
Trad climber
Little Rock and Loving It
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Jun 30, 2018 - 04:35pm PT
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I think you're supposed to wait to tell me that until I'm already on the sharp end.
Isn't it not said out loud, just done?
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Mighty Hiker
climber
Outside the Asylum
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Jun 30, 2018 - 08:15pm PT
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Here's what's waiting for you in only 1,000 km or so. About 30 days steady hiking, so maybe in 2019?
Note prototype 'wall' in background, soon to be replicated on Mexico/USA border. Corruption, incompetence, racism, laundered money, bribes and grift only go so far. Bigliest wall you ever saw, eh?
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 4, 2018 - 09:36pm PT
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I started a thread on Mudn'Crud about our just-finished trip. It's titled:" Peaks, Passes, Trails…”
Here are the first two of eight days.
June 20 and 21:
This thread’s title: “Peaks, Passes, Trails…” describes a lot of what we experienced in this wonderful part of central Oregon. But it also ends without really ending. The list isn’t quite complete. In fairness the list should also include mosquitos by the ton, literally hundreds of lakes, at-times endless forest, open volcanic country and, eventually, incredible, incredible views. We also passed a pretty signifiant milestone at the end of the last day.
We’re far enough north in this adventure now that we need basically a full day to drive back to the trail. On this trip we planned to drive past our last end point at Willamette Pass, directly to a campground near huge Waldo Lake. A campground there would serve as an ideal base for three days of hiking and three nights of camping.
But the National Weather Service gets a word about plans like this. And it can supply good news and bad news. Here, the good news was that the weather looked fantastic for all of our planned hiking days. The bad news though was that on the afternoon and evening of our drive, thunderstorms and hard rain would pound the whole area.
At our age, setting up camp in pouring rain just isn’t high on our “fun” list. We checked into a motel in Chemult, on Highway 97, 40 miles from Willamette Pass (it turned out to be a good decision, it did pound rain):
Our start the next day was routine. But after this long off the trail, it was really, really nice to get going again:
Vicki walked us from the trailhead to the trail:
And then we started a pattern that lasted for much of our first four days, hiking in forests:
To and past lakes. On this first day we passed the three very pretty Rosary lakes (the dogs just love lakes):
The PCT guidebook describes the many lakes along the first 45 miles of this trip this way: “they support a superabundant mosquito population from late spring through mid-July.” Yep. It is after all mid-June and we knew what to expect before we even started. Superabundant is an ideal descriptor. The lower elevation lakes aren’t terrible, but most of the lakes above 5,000 feet are. Mosquitos. Billions of them. I didn’t take any photos.
The trail climbs briefly out of the Rosary Lakes. On the climb we gained one clear spot that provided the only “grand vista” of the day. And what a view, looking south over the Rosary Lakes, and, beyond, to the much bigger Odell and Crescent Lakes:
We also got a glimpse southward to Diamond Peak. This peak had been shrouded in smoke when we passed it last September. It wasn’t today:
Mount Thielsen from the north:
Per plan, after just over nine miles, we exited the PCT on a side trail to the Waldo Lake Road to meet up with Vicki (A short hike today to set us up for a medium hike tomorrow and a 22 plus miler on day three). Here the girls are waiting for Tricia to catch up at the “exit” trail trail-junction:
While we were hiking, Vicki drove over and set up camp (complete with a few cans of a seemingly-appropriate beer):
A great day. An easy and short hike, but smoothly executed and with great weather. Once again we were on our way!
June 22:
Often, while the girls and I hike, Vicki does “driving recons” of possible pick-up/drop-off locations or of places to camp. It’s part of how this family adventure is fun for her too. She’s been doing this now for years. We’re careful in our planning and in our preparatory discussions. And, for example, she’s never failed to be at a pick-up spot (she was an hour “late” once though - that was cause for worry).
She did such a reconnaissance yesterday. While we were hiking she tried to drive a seven mile long dirt road from Waldo Lake to a campground at Irish Lake. The campground there is just slightly off the PCT and would make the perfect destination for a 15 mile, second day’s hike.
Unusually for Vicki, this time she failed.
Vicki got two miles out on the road and turned around. Apparently the road was so bad that even turning around was an epic. Here’s a woman who’s so determined to “get there” that in trying to get to us on one trip she inflicted thousands and thousands of dollars of damage on the Expedition (that was in 2011, and we don’t talk about it). And yesterday she couldn't drive this seven mile road.
As seems often the case in life, we saw later that this failure was actually fortuitous. When we eventually hiked past Irish Lake, it was swarming with furiously famished mosquitos (whereas camp at Waldo Lake was only bad early and late in the day). Also, I ran into a “four wheel drive” enthusiast partway through the trip who laughed at any attempt to drive that road, saying he’d only ever seen ATVs there.
But for now the “failure” required a change of plans. Instead of a 15 mile second day, we’d do a really short eight mile day. And then, instead of a 22 mile third day, we’d do 27.6 miles to the Elk Lake trailhead as a backpack with with one night out.
Here's the Bobby Lake Trailhead as we get ready to hike back out to the PCT:
Lots of forest hiking again today:
To our surprise we found some snow on the trail:
First we laughed at the small amounts of snow (so different from last year’s difficult hikes). And then (in honor of those hikes) we fed it to the dogs:
With one exception, today’s hike was forest marching. The one exception was a rock-outcrop vista point that allowed great views of Diamond Peak to the south and Waldo Lake to the west (Waldo is so big that I couldn’t fit the whole thing into the viewfinder):
More snow:
Here’s a photo of Tricia changing her shoe-sole inserts. This photo matters because, eventually, these inserts made us change our plans again (the inserts were recommended by her doctor, but Tricia used them incorrectly for the first three days and her feet suffered, and as a result we had to allow more rest time and do shorter hikes than we’d intended - but even this turned out well, allowing us more days on the best part of the hike):
And finally a barely visible teaser shot of what's ahead. We got this view through the trees of a triangular peak and a snow-clad behemoth nearby. I think we were looking at South Sister (the behemoth) and, to its right, an end-on shot of Broken Top (making it look smaller and steeper than it looks from the sides). I'm still not sure that I've identified them correctly. But, whatever their names, they were big. We were impressed:
Our short day ended at Charlton Lake Trailhead. Vicki hiked out to meet us at the lake itself (so many, many lakes in this part of the Cascades!):
Things happen and plans change. We were forced to change here (again). So be it; we kept moving right along.
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ß Î Ø T Ç H
Boulder climber
ne'er–do–well
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Super stoked to see this update.
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2018 - 06:50am PT
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Thanks. I was pretty stoked to finally get back out there. Here are the next two days.
June 23:
On day three we headed back out from Charlton Lake Trailhead, north to Elk Lake near Mount Bachelor (who’s that elf in the second picture, behind the car?):
Charlton Butte burned some years ago. We got some views into the distance. Tricia loved the “Pick-up Sticks” pattern of the now-fallen trees:
We quickly passed into a Wilderness that I’ve often heard about and longed to visit:
And then lake after lake after lake. Irish Lake:
Brahma Lake:
Jezebel Lake for lunch:
Stormy Lake:
And an unnamed “lake” that’s just a puddle. No outlet and no inlet. Snow-melt that diminishes in size as the season goes by:
Am I exaggerating about the lakes? Maybe, but maybe not. There’s not a lot else to see when hiking in such forest. Here, for the discerning reader, is a photo of the area’s map. Lakes? Yeah, just a few (the PCT is shown by the red line):
Desane Lake:
And, finally, S Lake, where, after 16.4 miles, we decided to camp:
The lakes and forests we passed through seemed strangely sterile. Not lifeless, that would be silly. But we saw no fish, no mammals and only one species of bird (a grey and white beauty about the size of our Scrub Jays). Of course we were just passing through and not searching. But less diversity, less life than we expected.
Except for the mosquitos (and really, they’re not “diverse” either). The only refuge in the evening was in the tent (and then it took ten minutes to hunt and kill the invaders who entered the tent with each human):
Dinner was peanut butter sandwiches and bars (no stove needed with just one night out). With the long days of late June, we were fast asleep by dark.
June 24:
The PCT comes within 0.9 mile of Oregon Highway 46 near Elk Lake, west of Mount Bachelor. We intended to come off the trail there and meet Vicki. It worked as planned.
First, the four of us were up at the crack of dawn (along with the 20 billion local residents). Breakfast was cold, homemade “overnight oats.” Vicki and Tricia “cooked” up this idea. Normal three-minute oats combined with water, chopped fruit, a few containers of coffee cream and some agave nectar packets. Left overnight in a ziplock.
It worked as planned too. Oh, except for the part about not having a bowl or a spoon with which to eat near-liquid oatmeal. Crap. Well, necessity is the mother of invention, right (or something like that)? Did you know reader that now-empty Pringles cans will hold enough oatmeal for two? Neither did we. We know now:
More forest-hiking today past lakes:
We crossed Reserve Meadow which seemed to us quite similar to typical Sierra Nevada meadows:
Island Meadow was very big and continuous:
Early to bed and early to rise made us fast on the trail. By 11:30 we’d made the 11 miles to our exit for the day. As it turns out, the exit trail goes through recently burned areas too. For the first time we got mostly-open views of some of central Oregon’s magnificent Cascades. Here are Mount Bachelor and Elk Lake from the PCT:
And, finally, close enough to really impress, this beauty - South Sister:
Tricia’s feet were alarmingly painful by now (beaten up by the improperly used inserts earlier, she was having some trouble recovering overnight). Also, both of us had on at least 20 pounds each of accumulated mosquito repellent.
We decided we needed a rest day. We met up with Vicki and talked about options. This was a Sunday afternoon and, in Vicki’s words, the whole Elk Lake area was a zoo (no parking, every nearby campsite taken, every lake surface area in the vicinity covered with kayaks, SUPs and other types of boats as local Oregonians made full use of a glorious and gorgeous summer weekend day).
We bailed to Bend, 40 minutes away (what a fantastic town too!!).
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NutAgain!
Trad climber
South Pasadena, CA
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What an amazing legacy and experience to share with your kids, what a lesson in sticking with something. Pretty cool! Makes me smile.
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 5, 2018 - 08:11pm PT
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June 26:
Holy wow! There’s simply no question about it.
Over the years that we’ve been hiking the PCT I’ve often been asked: “what’s your favorite part?” Single favorite part? Damn, that’s a really tough question. Asking that is kinda like asking: “what’s your favorite pizza?” There’s so many good parts/pizzas, that choosing just one can, at times, seem impossible.
I suppose though that, if pressed, I’d select the ten miles south of Sonora Pass as my favorite part of the trail so far. The jaw-dropping views, the exposure, the whole feel of the area. I could hike that section every summer week and never get tired of it.
If I could add to the list, the “High Trail” from Agnew Meadow to Thousand Island Lake might come in second. On that segment it seems as if one can magically reach out across the canyon and touch Ritter, Banner and The Minarets. They look like they’re that close.
Today we hiked into the north part of Oregon’s Three Sisters Wilderness. And I’ve now got another absolute favorite place on the PCT. Holy wow indeed.
Our plan was to start late and go only a little over ten miles for the day (we think that Tricia’s feet are lightly bruised from wearing the inserts wrong and so we’re going to do this leg in three days instead of the two we’d originally planned).
South Sister and Broken Top from the drive out from Bend:
Fresh and ready to go:
As sometimes happens with human perceptions, the 0.9 mile walk back to the trail seemed half as long going in as it did coming out:
Forest hiking followed, although the lower elevation and drier conditions meant that we had only a few of the voracious winged predators for the first miles:
We got excited by this almost-unobstructed view of South Sister (little did we know that “almost-unobstructed” wouldn’t be a factor for very much longer):
And then, from the top of Koosah Mountain, to the south, nearly 80 miles away, Mount Thielsen again (I still really, really like this peak):
Mount Bachelor to the east:
On that mountain top we also started seeing signs of more recent volcanic activity:
From Koosah we dropped down into the forest (and more residual snow):
We came to the wonderfully named, self explanatory Sisters Mirror Lake (it wasn’t still enough to act as a mirror when we were there):
So much pollen that it looks like paint:
More flat forest past The House Rock:
And then it all changed. We got 75 feet onto Wickiup Plain and saw this:
Tricia and I have hiked a lot of trail together. Thousands of miles now on the PCT and hundreds and hundreds of miles off it. And yet this pumice flat, this Wickiup Plain grabbed us anyway. Dry and mosquito-free, flat and easy to hike. But mostly just shockingly beautiful. Our younger dog Halifax ran about like a wild-woman. Tricia and I found ourselves giggling. She even claims I was swearing (as in “oh my #$%&$ God”):
Next to the plain, between it and South Sister was Rock Mesa. Recent volcanic rock. Bald, jumbled and piled up. Primeval looking:
We soon came to a transition zone between the pumice and older terrain, moving into Mesa Meadow:
Here we found more beauty, consisting of green grass and trees, flowers everywhere and a full and flowing creek. And unfortunately, again, winged beasts. Well, with the better and with the worse, this was home for the evening:
Tricia napped a bit (without mosquitos) while the dogs and I looked around:
And this shot. Is it a joy or a privilege to act as a human chin rest for two wonderful friends? Or both:
Coming up, our middle/full day in the gorgeous, gorgeous northern Three Sisters Wilderness!
June 27:
I love hiking. I love hiking with my daughters and with my wife. The dogs too. I love the desert and the plains. And the mountains. Every day hiking is a good day.
But inevitably some days are better than others. And today’s hike, what we did on June 27, was absolutely “the money.” Hiking - and life - simply does not get any better than this.
Although I woke up at my customary, in-the-mountains, 5:30 a.m., I stayed as quiet as possible so that Tricia could get extra sleep (she’s a teenager and needs it). It worked; we didn’t start hiking until almost 9:00, but we had all day to go only 14 miles and Tricia got extra rest.
Easy, semi-forest walking early in the day:
Early views of South Sister:
First signs of last year’s fire:
Approaching now Middle Sister:
The day's first view of The Husband:
Sharing the trail with butterflies:
A snack break at Reid Lake (everyone we talked to called it by that name, but it’s not so designated on any map):
More sections of snow (in open, wonderful, alpine terrain):
Tricia catching up after a break:
The husband in front of The Husband:
And then we started to climb a little. Still in volcanic, open country. I looked south. And the view dropped my jaw. Diamond Peak and Mount Thielsen (Thielsen by now over 100 air miles away and, visible next to it the peaks that surround Crater Lake):
And what’s that little white blob between Diamond Peak and Thielsen? A mountain? Yes. Mount McLoughlin there and visible, what, 130 miles south of us. Unbelievable (this pixelated photo was taken with telephoto and also then blown up):
Moving right along to a point due west of Middle Sister:
By three miles later we were approaching serious lava country. Recent stuff, deposited hundreds, not thousands of years ago. My jaw had started to recover. And then we saw this to the north:
Good God! Can it get any better?
Mount Washington, Three Fingered Jack, Mount Jefferson, and yes, Mount Hood. All lined up and viewed across unbelievable fields of lava rock.
We kept hiking. No, maybe we were almost floating over the trail by now. What country. What views. What weather. More heavy lava country:
And then the view changed to this:
Now we weren’t only looking at Mount Washington, Three Fingered Jack, Mount Jefferson, and Mount Hood from this high point on the trail. There, to the right of Hood, tucked into a low point between lesser peaks was a white blob. Mount Adams. In Washington State. Here’s a highly pixelated close-up:
Now certainly floating (not hiking), we kept going across the lava:
And found “home” for the night near Minnie Scott Spring, still among substantial snow at 6,600 feet:
What a day.
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ß Î Ø T Ç H
Boulder climber
ne'er–do–well
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Nice photo- all those peaks strung out like that.
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Mighty Hiker
climber
Outside the Asylum
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Hmm, you may get to Canada sooner than I'd thought. Maybe this year?
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John M
climber
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I love the Sisters area. Beautiful country. I spent a good part of a summer near and on the Metolius river, which is just above Sisters, OR. Feeding the fish at the Wizard Falls fish hatchery is fun. And the river is beautiful, though it gets crowded. The Metolius River comes up out of a ground as a spring. The color is amazing.
Thanks for taking us along!
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Jan
Mountain climber
Colorado & Nepal
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Thank you. I love reading this thread every year!
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 6, 2018 - 07:32am PT
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Hmm, you may get to Canada sooner than I'd thought. Maybe this year?
There's actually no chance of that Anders.
Tricia's schedule this summer will limit us to one more ten day trip on which we'll likely make to the west slope of Mount Hood.
She's leaving today with Vicki for a special Girl Scout backpacking camp that she absolutely loves. Vicki will be a counselor to younger girls for a week while Tricia is part of a group that spends a few days preparing and then goes backpacking for 12 days. That ends July 25, and we'll pick her up from it on our way back north to the trail (by the time we finish that trip she'll have been away from home for one full month).
We've got to be back here on August 5 so that Tricia can try out for the girls high school volleyball team (which she also loves and will very likely make).
She'll have similar limitations next summer. So, I think we'll get well through Washington next year and then finish the trail the summer after she graduates from high school (2020).
Katie may join us on some of this next 2018 trip.
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 6, 2018 - 07:39am PT
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I love the Sisters area.
John,
I hadn't spent much time in Oregon, other than on its coast, until our PCT trips.
So far, the whole Bend and Central Cascades areas have been very, very impressive. Fantastic country and wonderful town. I'd love to look around/explore there more. I think I could see myself living there (if I didn't already live where I love it too - the central Sierra Nevada).
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 6, 2018 - 01:32pm PT
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And, finally, the last two days. What an excellent trip.
June 28:
Today we were both up early. I tried to let Tricia sleep in, but she was up at ten-after-six ready to get ready. And that was fine by me; today was another “Vicki” day. We’d start with an eight mile hike to Lava Camp, a drive-in campground where Vicki had camped the night before.
We were hiking by just after 7:00. Lots of lava fields and lots of forest. We passed north of North Sister:
Quickly we were at the turnoff to Lava Camp (we’d drop packs with Vicki, get caught up with her too, and then go back and finish the trail to Highway 242):
After eight miles done before 10:00, we enjoyed the rest of the morning in a leisurely fashion, in camp with Vicki. Shortly after noon we walked back over to the PCT. The trail now crossed pure beds of lava, and we were anxious to see how this type of trail would be to walk:
We had open views of the Sisters to the south:
Getting closer and closer to Mount Washington:
And views of Belknap Crater, which we’d pass tomorrow, on our way past Mount Washington. Oh, and a little odd bump too. It shows in the foreground of the first photo below:
In 1927 the CCC built an “observatory” next to highway 242. It was named after the man who inspired it, Dee Wright. The Dee Wright observatory isn’t for watching stars, its for seeing the surrounding area. And it’s made of local rock, so it blends in completely with the surrounding terrain.
Actually, so does the highway. We couldn’t see any of it until we were within 50 feet:
Other views of Belknap Crater showed odd and interesting “islands” of forest contained within lava fields:
We crossed the highway and kept on to the PCT trailhead a tenth of a mile further. Vicki and the dogs met us there (we let them have the short afternoon off so their paws would be a little fresher for tomorrow):
The hiking day ended with a visit to the observatory. It’s a very interesting “building.” We thought the “lava tubes” were particularly cool. In addition to the regular window-like openings on the first floor there were almost a dozen fairly narrow tunnels in the walls, each “aimed” directly at a nearby peak or crater:
After our visit we had a fine evening in Lava Camp as we prepared for the next day’s hike (our last for the trip).
June 29:
The PCT strip-map starts its description of the next peak to our north this way: “at 7,794 feet, Mount Washington is modest in elevation.” Modest? I guess that 7,700 feet isn’t actually all that tall. By Sierra Nevada standards it’d be a pimple. But it’s all relative isn’t it? When all of the surrounding terrain is at 5,000 or 5,500 feet and a peak stands out like an outright spire, it just doesn’t appear all that “modest” to me.
Our last day, from Highway 242 to Highway 20, centered on Mount Washington. We started south of it and by the end of the day it was firmly in the rear view mirror. We’ll see it again though and I’ll never forget it (or the other Cascades). What a beauty.
But first the lava fields.
We drove over to McKenzie Pass:
The hiking starts in the forest “islands:”
And then the trail crosses almost two continuous miles of lava:
Looking back at Highway 242 and the observatory:
We worried about the dog’s paws, but they seemed fine (maybe a little sore at the end of the day). Meanwhile, are they yawning or laughing in this photo:
Back onto dirt, and then to lava, and getting closer and closer to this impressive peak:
Burned-over forest on Washington's south side. And a Tricia photo of dead and sculpted wood:
Moving around to the mountain’s west side:
Last views of Diamond Peak and The Husband to the south:
As we got well north of Mount Washington, we neared Big Lake and the oddly impressive Hayrick Butte on its other side:
Looking up the trail to the north, Three Fingered Jack, the next big peak, is coming into view:
Vicki drove around to meet us at 13.5 miles into the day:
Some rest with her, and then off to finish the last 3.6 miles of the trip:
Oh, and on the way, to cross PCT mile 2,000. Two thousand continuous miles of hiking from the Mexican border. Two thousand continuous miles of hiking since the day after she turned five years old. She’s not five years old any more. The two thousand mile point:
I think it's fair to say that the PCT has been a big part of Tricia's life:
Vicki hiked south from the trailhead to join us. Once we turned around it was a quick mile to the Santiam Pass PCT Trailhead:
Mount Washington from Highway 20/Santiam Pass:
And that wrapped up a wonderful trip. A total of 95.4 miles on the PCT and 7.5 miles getting to and from it. Oh, and tons of fun!
Off we went back south:
Through Bend and back home (to rest and prepare for the next trip - coming up sooner than it seems - we’ll be at it again at the end of July).
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mtnyoung
Trad climber
Twain Harte, California
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 8, 2018 - 08:55am PT
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I posted on Mudn'Crud about our recent PCT Trip. It's under the name:
The PCT Volume 36: Very, Very Satisfactory
Here are the first two days:
Day One:
Another excellent and successful trip. We started with a long drive to Bend by way of Tricia’s Girl Scout camp near Kirkwood (she’d just spent 12 out of the last 15 days backpacking in the Hoover Wilderness).
“We” in this case is a little different than the last trip. It includes our friend Alex Dawson. Over the years, Alex and his mom and dad have joined us on many of our PCT trips. He’s now doing his own “piece by piece” hike with them (they’d made it into the southern Sierra by June of this year). He's wanted to do even more of the trail, so he’s “jumping ahead,” joining us again in Oregon.
Our morning in Bend is a little slow. First we re-organize Tricia’s gear. Then we pack everything for this trip. The drive from town to Santiam Pass is easy. It's fairly hot when we get there. And we’re starting our hike in a burned-over, shadeless area. Oh well, there’s no time like the present.
Back on the trail:
A glance south over Highway 20 at Mount Washington:
And then uphill in the heat:
On a map the first four miles up to Three Fingered Jack look easy. Here it is, getting closer:
But I for one am really feeling the heat. Those first four feel like 15, with three-day loads and all uphill. The views are some compensation. In this first photo we can see Bend (well, we can see a long way in its direction anyway):
We cool off a little as we pass “Jack’s” west side:
We reach the north end of the ridge that makes up the peak:
Onto the east side of the ridge, and, suddenly: “next view please.” The periodic views don’t seem to stop up here in the Cascades. In a matter of ten steps, there’s Mount Hood:
Distant views are nice. But so are dramatic close-ups. Looking back on Three Fingered Jack from the north:
By now we were more than 10 miles into it. Unfortunately the forested “relief” we’d had in the west-side forest ends abruptly. After coming around that formation’s north end, we faced miles more of burned-out forest in the heat of the day. First downhill in the heat. Then a break for water (not so many lakes, and no streams, up on this part of the Cascade Crest). Alex was great about running down to this pond to fill the bottles:
“Crest” is the right word too. In spite of the heat, we had long, long and enjoyable views. Here’s Wasco Lake:
Looking southeast toward Bend again (look for the strip in the forest that is Highway 20):
The Cascades to the south, from Three Fingered Jack to The Sisters:
Finally we reached small but pretty Rockpile Lake 13.8 miles from the trailhead. “We.” Actually the kids and our younger dog Halifax got there a full 15 minutes before Charlotte and me (man was I dragging; Char too).
It was late, but we made camp and dinner and still had a little time left to relax in the last of the daylight:
A good day, and a good start.
Day Two:
Today was a full day in a gorgeous wilderness. We had a couple of “bumps,” but days like this are good.
The first bump was our gorgeous and tough older dog Charlotte. She’s hiked so many miles that I couldn’t begin to count them. Her paws stay tough from the hiking and from frequent climbing trips too. And yet the temps were so bad yesterday, the sun so unrelenting, that both dogs were constantly running to shade. And this morning Charlotte is barely able to move because her paws are so sore. Uh-oh. What to do way in the back-country with a relatively immobile dog?
Duct tape is supposed to fix “all,” right? Well, we don’t have any duct tape. We've got other types though. I play veterinarian. She's calm about the whole process.
Once her feet are taped up, Char can move fairly well (and I was very surprised that she never fought the tape after it was on either). We tried to make it as easy for her as we could, and she kept going. Here’s what she looked like at the end of this day:
Other than paw issues, the morning was very nice. It was much cooler and the hiking was smoother (both of which also helped Charlotte’s paws). We hiked mostly along the Cascade Crest, with great views in all directions:
Mount Jefferson dominated our views to the north:
More ridge line above Hunt Lake:
After two thirds of the day’s hike we started to hit the creeks that flow off Jefferson’s west side. Milk Creek, named for the glacial silt that colors it:
We were cruising along by this point. We didn’t even take a break after Milk Creek - only a quick two-mile uphill to go until our intended camp, so we thought we’d “get it over with.” But then we hit “bump” number two.
Just at the last of the uphill, right when we came over the crest from the deep forest, this is what we saw:
Toothpicks. Black, tall toothpicks. Ugly, shadeless and hot as hell, with ground cover that consisted of inches deep dust and ash. Yuck. The 2017 Whitewater Fire had devastated the area where we had intended to stay. The little pond where we’d intended to camp? It was there. No shade, miserably hot, and all the flat spots nearby “poofed” with every footstep. We couldn’t stay there.
It was only six-tenths of a mile to Jeff Creek, so we hiked to it. Nope. Toothpicks and poof. On still further, although by now we were over 15 miles hiked for the day. Russel Creek? Another glacial-melt torrent this one, with warnings about the “dangerous” crossing that needed to be done in the morning, before it became swollen by snow-melt (not to make light of it too much with those quotes - people have been swept away into the gorge below with catastrophic results):
We crossed safely. But the Russel Creek canyon has no flat spots even if its whole canyon wasn’t burned. Onward.
Hot. Uphill. Nearing 18 miles for the day.
Finally, nearing the second Russell Creek, voila, toothpicks to forest within a 50 foot length of trail. What relief. Less than one more mile and we come to the perfect reward, a green, flat camping area with plentiful water and a great view:
We washed up (dust and sweat everywhere; although 13 year-old-boy Alex gets dirty just walking on pavement, even Tricia was dirty today after this last, hideous section of trail):
Although we went over 18 miles (not by choice), and we were pretty pooped, we finished with plenty of time left in the day. Time to visit with “Buzz Kill Bill” (his trail name), a through-hiker from Bishop who is also a climber (that’s his knee in the photo above of Alex laying over the top of his pack).
And time for this evening view of Mount Jefferson (now firmly behind us):
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Gary
Social climber
Desolation Basin, Calif.
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So nice.
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splitclimber
climber
Sonoma County
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Outstanding as usual Brad.
After a short backpack trip to the Sisters last year, I really want to hike the PCT section along the west side of the sisters. Looks incredible and very diverse. Must have been nice after all that forest hiking south of the Sisters.
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