July 2024

July 14-16; Mile 2043-2089 Day 28I spent the morning walking through the ash and blackened trunks of the Lionshead burn scar. Five miles of recent burn lay between me and the Ollalie Lake Resort. The trail was rocky from erosion, sometimes difficult to follow, and puffs of fine ash pillowed upward with every step. Small ponds lay scattered throughout the burnt stumps, and I tried once more to imagine how the land had looked before it was ravaged in 2021.  My morning view I reached the resort by 8:30, and a

July 11-13; Mile 2001-2043 + 2.6 Day 25 My stomach was in knots as we left Bend after work to drive toward Santiam Pass. I had been monitoring snow conditions as much as possible given the few trip reports I could find on Facebook and in the FarOut app I used for navigation on trail. (mile 2014): Expect agonizingly slow, steep and dangerous snow drifts for the next 9+ miles. (mile 2017): There’s a cornice you have to punch through to get to the trail, find the path

July 4-7; Mile 1848-1909 Day 21 The car thermometer read 87 when Dov dropped me off at the road crossing along Highway 58 at 2pm. The air was hot and close, and no breeze stirred the needles of the pine trees lining the path. I was back to tackle the next Oregon section after a short three days at home spent working. The four-day weekend offered the perfect slot in my schedule for the short 60-mile stretch, but snow still clung to the slopes above, while boiling heat (112 forecast for Medford) was on

June 27-30; Mile 1715-1774 Day 17 I woke to incessant chittering in the tree above me. “What did you do to that squirrel, Stormy?” Handy called from his tent. The morning was chilly, and fog had seeped between the trees, blurring the sky and reminding me of home. Four miles lay between me and Callahan’s Lodge, the spot where Handy would begin the long hitch back to his car while I tried to find a ride into Ashland to resupply for the next 55 miles. Morning fog on the way to

June 23-26; Mile 1650-1715 Day 13 The day began with a six mile road walk into the tiny town of Seiad Valley – one of the many stops along the trail where the elevation outnumbered the population. The route paralleled the river and was quiet and empty apart from three wild turkeys that trotted quickly away whenever I got within 50 yards. The first stop in town was the Cafe: Handy and I tucked into a delicious breakfast while chatting with a few locals. I ordered