Tues. July 5     Miles today: 16    Total so far: 961.9       Begin Oregon Section G

This morning was the warmest yet–50 degrees at 5:00 am!  The sky was clear, too, and it didn’t take long to reach Barlow Pass (Highway 35), which actually was the very first road ever built over the Cascades, in 1845-46, by a Mr. Barlow.  Considering the thickness of the forest and the undergrowth here, that was quite an achievement!  By crossing the highway, we officially entered Section G, the last part of the PCT here in Oregon.  Yahoo!

River canyon near Mt. Hood

We had an 1,800 foot climb ahead of us, so we started “chugging up that hill”, and finally got to timberline, with awesome views of Mt. Hood, whose sides are all carved with deep river canyons. 

Monty and Mt. Hood

We could see the skiers up high on the snow–they loked like moving dots.  The PCT became a bit of a slog, because it left the dirt behind and moved into deep, soft sand, with rock ducks to mark the way.  To add to the fun, it’s quite an uphill climb, which means with each step up in soft sand, you slide DOWN a bit.  We felt as if we were at the beach, trying to climb a sand dune!  But what was really amazing to me was that even in the sand, there were still wildflowers.

There it is--Timberline Lodge!

Once we reached the Salmon River canyon, we could see Timberline Lodge across on the other side, so when we got to the bottom of the canyon down by the river, we stopped to wash up and clean up in the icy snowmelt water.  “Ooh, how refreshing!!!” 

Spiffed up as best we could, we climbed out of the canyon and headed for the Wy’East Lodge to pick up our resupply box.  A cheery staff lady got it for us, then we went out into the hallway to sit down and go through it.    We leaned our trek poles against the wall, and had only just sat down, when a young guy who had the “thru-hiker look” came by, walking fast.  When he came up to us, he “screeched” to a halt, and said, “Hey, those are TREK poles!  You guys must be thru-hikers!”  We thought that was very funny, considering the fact that there were people running around everywhere with SKI poles, that he could tell the difference so quickly. 

Turned out he was “Hellcat”; we’d seen his name in trail registers, so it was a lot of fun to meet him personally.  He is the sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet, so I have no idea who named him “Hellcat”.  Hellcat wanted a picture of himself with us, and used a fascinating technique which we have ever since called a “Hellcat picture”, since we now do the same.  He put his head right by our heads, stretched out his long arm (holding the camera), aimed the camera, and took a picture.  Voila!  There he was “with” us! 

After sorting through the resupply and reloading everything into our packs, we had a “Wy’East Power Breakfast” and spent the rest of the morning resting and writing journal stuff.  Then we had BIG, juicy hamburgers for lunch, along with the crowds of young snowboarders (“riders” I believe is the proper term) and skiers, who were enthusiastically discussing their morning runs.  Then Bill went off to air sleeping bags, while I continued with phone calls, writing, finding information, etc.  At one point, I was “on the trail” of WHERE to mail a letter, and WHERE was the PCT register?? This particular trail led me to the Timberline Lodge lobby, where the front desk was happy to take my letter, but had no such thing as a PCT register. 

However, at a table in the lobby were a couple of Forest Service rangers, so I went to ask them about river crossing conditions up ahead.  (A PCT thru-hiker died last year not far from here while trying to cross the Sandy River.)  While I was taking to the rangers, a middleaged man was listening, amazed at what Bill and I were doing.  Finally he burst in with, “But if you just keep hiking every day, how do you find a campground every night?”  “Well,” I said, “what we do is when the sun starts to touch the horizon–about 7:30 or so–we start looking for someplace reasonably flat and big enough for our groundcloth.  When we see something, we stop and camp.”  The man looked horrified and turned to the rangers, only find them leaning back in their chairs and grinning.  “That’s how WE do it when WE’RE out in the woods,” said one ranger.  After an incredulous “Oh!”, the man scurried away.

“Chores” all done, I went off to reconnect with Bill, but could not find him.  I ended up wandering all over the place around the Lodges, especially the little tree grove where I thought we’d agreed to meet.  I grew more and more upset and worried, thinking about the Sandy River crossing ahead, and frustrated at not being able to get going on the PCT.  After some time, I finally found Bill, who was upset with ME for not meeting up with him.  Turns out we had mutually misunderstood where to meet.  I thought it was one place; Bill thought it was another place.  We were both very frustrated.  Shame on us!  Little did we know that God was at work, organizing a “perfect timing” scenario.

We headed off on the “roller coaster” PCT north of Timberline Lodge.  The trail does a lot of diving down into one river canyon and climbing steeply up the other side, ready for another dive down, over and over again.  The trailbuilders had to put in a lot of retaining walls, which have turned into rock gardens for mosses, wildflowers and ferns.  Beautiful!  Mt. Hood was wearing a wispy little “scarf” of cloud on top, but farther north we could see clouds that looked like they meant rain.  And since it was July 5, I thought it was very appropriate that there were whole stretches of trail lined with RED Indian paintbrush flowers, WHITE yarrow blossoms, and BLUE lupines!  Mt. Hood was “decorated” for the 4th of July!

At a junction, we detoured off the PCT for a bit to walk through “Paradise Park”, which is basically very steep but very green and “wildflowery”, including lots of wild lilies.  Back at the PCT, the trail went back into the trees, where sword ferns and more blooming rhododendrons decorated the forest floor.  But I was getting “scared-er and scared-er” as we approached the Sandy River.  We were following a very vigorous, rushing CREEK, which in and of itself would be a challenge to cross–what would the RIVER it was headed for be like?

When we reached the Sandy River, my heart just sank.  It was a roaring, muddy, raging torrent, with one skinny log going across between some boulders.  Bill went to get some clean water from the side creek, while I stared at the Sandy and prayed, “Oh God, please help me–somehow I have to get across that!”.  I could see a bunch of obviously-Boy-Scouts just starting to set up camp on the OTHER side of the river.  I was just wondering how the Scouts got across, when suddenly, there was a Boy Scout standing right next to me.  He asked very politely, “Ma’am, would you like some help to get across the river?”  My immediate thought was “I can’t BELIEVE this!  I’m the little old lady being helped across the street–well make that RIVER!  Oh no!”  But what I actually SAID to the polite young Scout was, “Yes, I really need help!  I hate river crossings.  They are scary.”  “You just wait here, ma’am,” said the Scout;  he carefully crossed the log and hurried to a big strong leaderly-looking man, who in short order was zipping acros the log over to me.  “I’ll take your pack across first, ” he said cheerfully, and with my pack slung over one shoulder, he easily crossed over and came back.  Meanwhile, Bill and I had both scrambled across the rocks to reach the “near side” of the log.  Bill went across by himself, then it was my turn.  One Scout leader stood on the far side ready to help me there, while the big strong leader said, “I’ll walk across with you, and I’ll hold you by the elbow.  if you feel like you are going to fall, just be sure you straddle the log.”  What he did was incredibly helpful.  He stayed so close that actually I was sort of leaning on him, and since he was steady as a rock, I never did feel like I was going to fall.  Near the other side, the other leader stepped out and helped, too.

And so the river crossing I had dreaded, where last year a thru-hiker died, was all done safely, because AGAIN, the Lord did His “perfect timing thing” as a gracious gift to me, His scared kid, in the form of Boy Scouts and their “fearless leaders”.  Now I understood the reason for the delay in finding Bill up at Timberline.  Had we left at the time we’d planned, we would have been totally on our own to get across the Sandy.  I was so grateful to the Lord, and felt TOTALLY unworthy, when I thought about how grumpy and angry I had been when I couldn’t find Bill.

The Scouts offered to share their dinner with us, but we’d already eaten on the trail, so we thanked them for all their help and pushed on for a little while before setting up camp.  It was so warm, and the mosquitoes so minimal, that we were able to take “baths” before settling down for the night.  There was a gorgeous sunset, but it looked like rain, so we set up the tarp and prepared for a wet night, just in case, and a good thing we did–the rain began a little while after we were in bed.  Bill said, “Look, God’s timing again–it didn’t start to rain till we were under the tarp”, and I heartily agreed with him.  And since we were on soft sand underneath us, we were very comfortable, and had a “good sleep” all night.

Mon. July 4      Miles today: 27.9       Total so far: 945.9          Oregon Section F

Warm Springs River bridge

It’s MUCH easier to do morning packup when we have no tarp or net tent to bother with!  We were eager to go in the cool (45 degree) clear morning light.  We hiked the couple of miles to Warm Springs River for breakfast, and ate fast–it was still a bit chilly to be eating cold granola. 

 The trail through the forest gets prettier all the time, with lots of wildflowers.  And I had lots of TIME to admire them, because poor Bill is having a bit of a tough time.  He has multiple aches and pains, and says he just feels really tired.  I found myself bounding ahead (I felt great), then realizing, “Oh no, I’ve lost Bill” and then I would stop and wait for him.  I guess it’s a tradeoff.  In southern California, I was often the slow one, and Bill had to wait for me, unless his feet were really hurting.

Wow! Really awesome PCT sign!

At around 9:30 am, we passed the 45th parallel (halfway between the Equator and the North Pole!), and we stopped to celebrate.  I also brushed my teeth (forgot to do it after breakfast).  We are really enjoying the beautifully-cared for PCT in this area, and when we reached Timothy Lake, all I can say is, “Wow!”  Every junction had beautifully carved trail signs, and there was even a “Gateway to the PCT” arch.  Lots of work was obviously being done on the trail, especially in what would have been the mucky places.  They’re in the process of creating a raised trail, which right now is more like a long raised hump through the forest.  But it keeps us out of the mud!

On the downside, since this is the 4th of July weekend, and this is a car and boat camping area, we had two very annoying run-ins with dogs.  The first was near the lake, when a large black dog came roaring up from a boat-in campsite, ears back, fangs out, and blocked the trail, growling and barking, while the owner helplessly tried to call him back.  Bill threatened to whack the dog with his trek poles, and the owner managed to grab it by the collar and drag it back, but she was very huffy and indignant because we had threatened to hurt her dog.

A little while later we met three dayhikers, each with a dog.  All the dogs were offleash, and all three of them rushed at us and blocked the trail, doing the growl/fangs/bark routine.  We were pretty disgusted, and told the owners what we thought of them, and that we would not attempt to pass till each dog had someone holding it by the collar, well off the trail.  “There is a REASON for the rule that all dogs have to be onleash on trails, ” we told them, “and we’ve got sticks to whack dogs with if we need to.” 

Bill commented afterwards that no dog which thinks it’s OK to harass people should EVER be in public, without a leash.  Even better, such undisciplined animals should stay at home.  Growling and snarling to ourselves about irresponsible owners and rude dogs, we hiked on till we found a vacant campsite by the lake where we could cook dinner and rest a bit.  And there we found MORE evidence of irresponsible people–the place was totally littered with beer cans and trash, plus an empty styrofoam cooler. 

Bill gets a swim!

We cleaned it all up, then Bill went for a quick swim in the lake, which was covered with a floating layer of yellow pine pollen.  “You’ve been pollinated!” I teased him when he came drippng ashore. “Maybe you’ll grow pine needles instead of hair!”  I was busy meanwhile cooking dinner and enjoying the pretty lake view.  Watching the antics of all the boaters on the lake was fun, too. 

Little Crater Lake--worth a side trip

We hiked on, headed for Little Crater Lake, which sounded pretty amazing, according to the guidebook.  And it was.  What a unique little lake!  It actually is the same deep,intense blue as “Big” Crater Lake, because it is so deep.  Apparently it’s actually a very large artesian well.  The water looked so good that we filled up our water bottles there.

On into the afternoon, we did a long contour through a magnificent forest, where the trail was lined with magnificent, blooming rhododendrons and the ground was covered with deep moss. Every now and then, we’d get a great view of Mt. Hood.  Shortly after crossing Wapinitia Pass (Highway 26) we met some dayhikers with a NICE dog that wagged its tail and walked politely right past us.  (OK, maybe we won’t condemn ALL dogs-on-trail after all!)  Our camp tonight is once again just the ground cloth under us and trees and stars above.  Bill says when he gets to Timberline Lodge tomorrow, he wants lots of ice cream!  I think he needs it–he’s lost a lot of weight.  And hey, I want some ice cream, too!  When I figured out our mileage for today, I was amazed–27 plus miles, even though Bill was often walking slowly.  If he’d been up to his normal speed, we could have easily passed the 30 mile mark!