Day 124-126: Sisters

August 6-8; Mile 1839-1847, 1908-1962

Day 124

The day dawned cold and clear, and I shivered in the quilt I was borrowing from Dov. There were only eight miles to go until the road where I’d meet Dana at 11, and so I rolled over and waited for the sun to climb a little higher before dragging myself out onto the trail. The path led through the pumice desert, where the ground was sand and grit, and where water sources were 20 miles apart.

Two hikers – Shepherd and Viking – were trying to hitch into town, and soon the three of us were joined by a Portland guy who was picking up his friend. He and I chatted about mountaineering in Washington as the other two finally found a ride. Another hiker named Orange Crush (off trail for a short stint) showed up to offer fresh fruit and cold drinks to folks as they reached the road and the beginning of the next fire closure. Dana arrived to whisk me away to the tiny town of Chemult for sandwiches before we drove another hour north to the other end of the fire closure.

As we whizzed along the highway, we passed hikers doggedly walking along the side of the road to maintain a “continuous footpath.” At least we were able to give a ride to two other hikers on their way out of Chemult – their fourth hitch for the day in order to get around the fire closure.

Shelter Cove was a beautiful resort on the shore of Odell Lake. I picked up my package and had a delicious lunch with Dana by the shore. With azure skies all around, it was hard to believe that a wildfire raged nearby. At least, it was easy to ignore until we pulled up to the trailhead at Willamette Pass. There the yellow-gray plume of smoke hung heavy above our heads, and I glanced worriedly upward as I wondered whether I was making the right decision. The weather report had said the wind would be blowing smoke away from the trail the next day, but I still had to camp nearby for that evening. I said goodbye to Dana – for the last time if all went well – and started up the trail.

When I reached Rosary Lake, I had to stop and jump in. The water was cool and clear, the shore a perfect stairway of tumbled rocks, and there were no rotting logs in sight. I hiked on, up past Nordic ski signs and over the high point of the ridge. The smoke began to get worse as I descended on the western side, and I could see shafts of sunlight through the trees where the air was full of fine particulates. I checked my map and saw that I was within ten miles of the fire, and so I did something unheard of: I backtracked a mile to the other side of the ridge where the smoke had not been as noticeable. There had been a cute campsite with a nice view over the Rosary Lakes, and I stopped there instead of descending back to the lakes. The detour meant I was a bit short on water, but it beat sleeping in a cloud of burnt trees.

Day 125

Clear skies greeted me the next morning, and I grudgingly hiked the same mile for the third time. The trail led down past mosquitos breeding areas: pond after pond, intermixed with the occasional lake. I kept my bug net pants on all day and still got bitten.

When I reached Charlton Lake, I was pleasantly surprised. This was a lake to make Minnesota proud, not another pond masquerading as a lake. I joined a few hikers for lunch, and a group of us waded into the clear water and swam around.

The trail led through a burn area, while to our west the Cedar Creek fire churned out a thick plume of smoke. It was eerie and sad to be walking through a burn zone while a few miles away another section of forest was being destroyed. I had hoped that the burn scars would be fewer and further apart after leaving Northern California, but it seemed that Oregon was just as scarred.

I hiked on into the Three Sisters Wilderness and was greeted by my first view of South Sister. Earlier when I was planning where I’d camp that night, I had noticed on the map that the trail led past Stormy Lake. Sadly the mileage was a bit short of my goal for the day, but I made sure to stop for a break at my namesake lake, and in turn I was greeted with booming thunder and drizzle. As the shore disappeared behind me, so too did the storm; what a well-named lake.

My planned camp spot was full, and so I pushed on for another half-mile, my back and feet aching, until I saw a lonely spot among the undergrowth. It would be my sixth day in a row camping alone. It sometimes seemed like my only company in Oregon was the mosquitos.

Day 126

Several folks hiked past me in the morning as I lay dozing in my tent, enjoying the slow start to the morning. I walked past several ponds and small lakes, the mosquitos ever present and ever annoying, until I reached an actual flowing stream! For days the only water sources had been stagnant lakes and ponds, and so I stopped at the stream for lunch so that I could soak my feet and wash a bit.

A hiker named Easy stopped by to filter water, saying “You’re the first person I’ve seen in two days!” We wondered aloud about the emptiness of the trail – where had everyone gone? He carried on while I napped in my puffy, bug pants, and headnet to escape the biting flies and mosquitos. The sky drizzled occasionally, unable to make up its mind, until finally the rain came sheeting down in blinding streaks as the sun shone. Everything smelled of petrichor.

I began a steady climb up to a high point where thunder rumbled in the distance, but it was far enough away that I was able to enjoy the amazing views of Mt Bachelor, Broken Top, and South Sister. Then it was back down into the forest, where the bugs were awful and hikers asked enviously about my bug net pants.

The trail emerged into open meadows with stunning views of South Sister, and I felt my soul sing. My feet flew past 22, 23, and 24 miles, adrenaline coursing through my veins, a grin plastered across my face. My friend and I had climbed South Sister four years ago, and it felt good to be back among familiar terrain after so many months of unknowns.

I hurried on to Mesa Creek and set up my tent among the trees near a group of other hikers. As I drifted off to sleep, rain pattered against the top of my tent and lightning lit the sky to the east. Sleepily I rolled down the doors of my tent and secured them against the storm before falling asleep to the sound of rain.