Day 127-128: Lava
August 9-10; Mile 1962-2001, 2087-2089
Day 127
Rain lashed the outside of my tent as I lay in my quilt, delaying the moment I’d have to leave my dry shelter. I packed up as quickly as possible, but everything was soaked. After an hour or so the clouds lifted and sunshine poured over the trail. I paused to eat breakfast and dry out my gear. Yet as I hiked onward, clouds rolled in and thunder shook the forest, echoing between the tall volcanos surrounding me.
I passed a woman out for a short trip with her daughter, and as the dark sky rumbled ominously, she paused to say “This is kind of psyching us out. We’re pretty new at this – do you ever just set up your tent and wait out the storm?”
“Absolutely,” I responded, remembering the half hour I’d spent huddled in my tent in Yosemite while thunder filled the sky above me. I offered some advice before continuing on, but the drizzle turned to a downpour and the thunder boomed directly overhead. I decided to wait out the worst of it sitting hunched on my backpack, slightly terrified.
Once I was able to hike again, sun broke through the clouds and turned the trail into a sauna. I stopped for lunch at Glacier Creek, and enjoyed a leisurely nap in my bugnet pants and puffy and headnet while flies swirled all around. The views of Middle Sister were stunning during the brief respites from the storm, and I looked on in wonder as South Sister faded into the distance as my feet carried me ever forward.
Another peal of thunder rang out as I packed to go. While before I had been in thick tree cover, I knew there was an exposed climb ahead – it would not be safe to cross with thunder and lightning in the area. With any luck this next round would pass as the others had, and so I hiked onward in trepidation.
I reached the end of the trees and gazed upward at the crux of the day: switchbacking trail up a gulley of lava rocks, with a final ridge line to cross before descending. The trail was tucked into the gulley, and I hadn’t heard thunder in at least half an hour; the clouds seemed somewhat lighter where they billowed around the summit of Middle Sister. I decided to go for it.
With my heart in my throat I climbed upward toward the swirling gray sky, reminding myself to stay calm and go a steady pace. I didn’t want a repeat of the last time: where I’d run through a thunderstorm and injured my shin. I kept looking at the sky above, hoping the sun would break through, but it seemed darker.
At last I reached the flat area at the top of the climb and hurried toward the final stretch. Rain spattered against me as I ascended onto the ridge line. Fifty feet of narrow trail with empty air on either side; fifty feet of jumbled pumice and shifting rocks the size of potatoes; fifty feet where I was the tallest thing around. The drizzle became a downpour, thunder split the sky above me, and I took off sprinting.
My feet flew across the rocks, and I descended off the ridge and into another gulley. I didn’t stop until I reached the trees; I pulled off my pack, sat on the ground, and burst into tears. I had to fight to calm my breathing, and slowly I managed to stop hyperventilating.
Worried I’d reinjured myself, I hiked downward at a slow crawl. It was a long eight miles to get to camp. As I stopped at a lake to fill up on water, another storm system moved in, and I hurried on toward the descent. If there’s one thing I’ve learned out here, it’s that I can always rely on the PCT to head up into a stretch of trail with no tree cover when thunder is rumbling overhead – especially if the topo map shows that the trail should be heading mostly downhill.
Cold, wet and tired, I picked my way across the field of hardened lava a mile before my camp spot. The rocks shifted under foot, and my feet ached from balancing with a heavy pack. I finally reached the trailhead area with several camp spots. Yet again I found myself camping alone.
Middle Sister and North Sister stood tall against the clear sky, all trace of the storms gone. The moon rose, bright white against the pale purple of dusk, and a gentle breeze brushed past the pines. All was calm as I drifted off to sleep.
Day 128
The day began with several miles of trudging across lava fields. The black rocks were jagged and unyielding, and I tripped my way up the slope until reaching soft dirt once more. The views toward Mt Washington were excellent, and I was sorry that I’d miss hiking past it, Three-Fingered Jack, and Mt Jefferson.
I made a quick stop at the Big Lake Youth Camp, hoping that I could eat lunch early and continue on to reach my rendezvous in time. They weren’t serving lunch until 1pm though – a half hour after I had planned to leave. At least I was able to shower, but I left the camp hungry and dreaming of all the vegetables I could have eaten.
Twenty minutes later I ran into a person offering trail magic! He gave me a cold root beer and fresh fruit, and we chatted while he cooked me a hamburger. I had 4 flat miles between me and the road; I decided to cut it close and leave an hour and a half before my rendezvous time.
With a stomach full of food, I powered through the miles while listening to some music. As the orchestra swelled on one of the soundtrack songs, I saw a clearing in the trees ahead with numbers written in the dirt. Full of excitement, I raced toward mile 2000. I celebrated alone with a handful of huckleberries, and then I continued on toward Santiam Pass and my ride around the Lionshead closure.
As I waited for Muy to arrive, I talked with another hiker named Sassenach. He told me he was the luckiest man alive; he was in remission from stage IV lymphoma.
After a long drive, Muy dropped me off at Frog Lake campground, and I hiked upward into the trees once more. The landscape was noticeably different: thick moss and towering trees made me think more of Washington than what I’d seen in southern Oregon. It was getting dark, and so I found a lonely spot beside the trail after just an hour of walking. Sixty miles lay between me and Washington.
20 Comments
Dov
Aaaah is that Rainier tinted paintbrush??? It’s so pretty!
Yay for trail magic. I hope you have an opportunity to get tons of vegetables soon enough.
The Middle Sister photo is, IMO, the prettiest Oregon photo you’ve taken yet. Hope the trail keeps going well!
chasingalpenglow
Thank you! It helps that the subject was so pretty herself
Dov
I’m so glad you navigated the storm safely. It can be so terrifying to brave the elements when on your own.
Therese
I’m glad you made it through that awfully stormy day. And that trail angel’s timing couldn’t have been better! A freshly-cooked hamburger, a cold root beet and some fruit sound like a real treat. That was incredibly kind of Muy to drive you around the Lionshead burn scar closure – you’re lucky to have her as a friend. Can’t wait to read about your adventures in the great state of Washington! xoxo
Therese
And the photo you took of yourself at mile 2,000 is magnificent!
chasingalpenglow
Thank you!
Jack Shlachter
I didn’t see a twig-based decimal point in the photo of your 2000 mile achievement – how many significant figures are there REALLY in the trek so far?? What an amazing accomplishment, and you’ll have stories to tell for decades. Keep up the great work!
Shari
That storm was terrifying here in town – I listened to county fire dispatch after it passed and they were getting hundreds of calls for smoldering trees and blown power panels. I can’t even imagine being on the mountain!!!!
Pierre
Reading your updates has become a highlight of my summer evenings. I’ve shared your journal with one of my teams at work, and we spent the last half of our most recent team meeting going over your last update. A bunch of people in MN, NC, and Ontario are walking along with you. Stay safe!
chasingalpenglow
Not something I want to repeat. Ever
Tom
Your fantastic photo at mile 2000 took me back to another similar photo taken over ten years ago. Instead of a backdrop of a wooded stretch of the PCT, that particular photo of you airborne with splayed limbs was framed by the Pacific Ocean outside of LA. Little did I realize then that the photo was a prelude to an action packed decade that led you west to Seattle to live and study, led you to the Husky Marching Band, led you to Dov, led you to the mountains, led you to the PCT, and ultimately led you to mile 2000 and beyond. I am more excited each day as you near your goal of the Canadian border, and I wait anxiously for each new journal installment that so vividly captures the ups and downs of this incredible journey. Keep making good decisions! Love, Dad
chasingalpenglow
That trip definitely made me want to move out west
Ray
2000 best wishes on 2000 miles . . . !
chasingalpenglow
🙂
Grandma
Hard to realize that you have walked 2000 miles! That is amazing. Pictures are great. I hope all your aches and pains are worth it. It will be nice to see you one of these days and hear all about your adventure. Love, Grandma
chasingalpenglow
Thanks 🙂 I hope we can get together at the end of Sept!
Norene Lewis
I’m late to offer congratulations on your reaching the 2000-mile mark — keep going! Also, I am simply awestruck by your perseverance, in spite of bugs, storms and lonely campsites.
chasingalpenglow
Thank you, it was so exciting to reach 🙂
Scott
Congrats on your MM milestone! I wait with eager anticipation for each of your postings. What an adventure! What a journalist! What an amazing human being you are! Your descriptive insights into nature, and people, are impressive. If I ever had any delusions of thinking I could through hike the PCT your postings have cured me. And now, after reading your engaging posts, I won’t have to!
chasingalpenglow
Aww thank you so much! I’m really glad you’re enjoying following along, and that everyone back home gets a small taste of such a beautiful trail