The Oregon Challenge: Hike an average of 30 miles a day. Nearos are permitted, but they must be 15+ miles. No zeros. I had to set this goal for myself so I would keep a good pace and finish in Canada on time to get to work. I had agreed to a work contract with my usual fall employer in CA, and had a little over a month to do 950 miles. It would be cutting it close, but it was possible. If I made it a personal challenge, I would be able to cruise through Oregon and leave a decent amount of time to take on the demands of Washington. I had never been to Oregon, but I was excited to finally get out of California. Almost three months traveling through the same state can be quite wearisome for the mental game.
I crossed in the morning. If not for the small sign marking the border, I would have been unaware I was in another state; everything was still dry, the same smoke hung in the air, the same kind of trees lined the trail and valleys below, and the same kind of terrain passed by underfoot.
"Oregon is flat," they say. "It will be easy," they say. They were wrong. The hill that led me into Oregon continued on for miles and miles, and it wasn't until late afternoon when I finally reached the top. The smoky atmosphere covered up the hot sun which made it a bit more tolerable, but I was still grateful for the trail magic soda I found waiting for me at the top of the long climb. I gratefully chugged the drink before making my way downhill, finding a stealth spot that would put me close to town for the next day. Since I just made a 250 mile jump ahead, I was with a new crowd. I didn't take the time to get to know anyone, as I knew my pace would soon leave any new friends behind. I knew my trail family wasn't too far ahead, but I had no idea when I might catch them.
I hadn't originally planned on going into town and I didn't want to, but my water filter had started to smell and taste like mildew, so I figured it would be a good idea to replace it. I had risked drinking unfiltered water the past few days, unable to stomach the unpalatable flavor my filter put out. It was either risk giardia from unfiltered water or risk some sort of sickness from mildewy water. I chose the former, and borrowed other hiker's water filters whenever I could.
I made it to a lodge outside of Ashland, OR and cleaned up a bit before sitting on a plush chair to wait for a trail angel that usually gave rides to town. After waiting for a few hours I decided to just hitch, but as I made my way to the main road a lady pulled over and asked if I wanted a ride. It was the trail angel, making her rounds. She had another hiker with her and drove us to the gear shop, waited while I got a new filter, and drove me back to the lodge before heading back to town with a fresh batch of hikers. It seemed like trail angeling was her hobby. I planned to immediately get back on trail in order to get my 30 miles in for the day, but I ended up staying at the lodge to upload and download stuff, which led me to me eating a veggie burger and fries while I applied to a winter job. It wasn't until mid-afternoon when I finally made it back to the trail. I was lost in an audiobook as I climbed up the hill, distracting me from the effort of hiking. I joined some others at a spring for dinner and then pushed on to camp. The sun set behind hazy smoke and I pitched my tent in a field next to the hikers I had just met. I calculated I was getting pretty close to my former tramily, and anticipated catching them in the next few days.
The air was cool and heavy with smoke-swirled dew. I left camp early and made it to a road junction in good time, deciding to go into a nearby resort for breakfast. I sat in the cozy restaurant eating eggs with veggies, greasy hash browns, and toast. It satisfied. I picked up a bag of Fritos to take on trail and headed back out. The detour had taken a precious hour and a half, but it counted as my lunch as well, so it justified the time expense.
I hiked along all afternoon, cruising on the gentler terrain. I neared some pavement, and a black Jeep passed me on a parallel road before stopping in the parking lot ahead. A lady came out with chairs as I approached. Trail magic? I tried not to look too awkward, searching for the trail across the wide parking lot road. I didn't want to assume they were going to offer anything, as maybe they were just enjoying the outdoors sitting in a parking lot. I said hi as I passed, and they asked if I wanted anything. I took some water and we stuck up a conversation. They said they are waiting for their daughter. "Oh, what's her name?" I asked, as if by chance I would have met her in the land of hikers I didn't know. "Stretch," the woman said. It took a moment to register. "No way!" I shouted, nearly dropping my trekking poles and probably startling them. Stretch was one of the members of my group. "I'm Arrow!" I'm glad they recognize that name, or at least pretended to; from my reaction they probably figured I had hiked with her at some point. Her mom gave me a hug. I was so excited I could barely contain my enthusiasm as I discovered I would see Stretch and Steak very soon indeed. They were slackpacking SOBO that day. We figured out a plan. Stretch's parents took some of the heavier stuff I didn't need for the night. I would make it as far as I could that night and then the next day hike out to the road to meet them for breakfast. With a lighter pack I set off at a quick pace, eager to see my trail family again.
I met Stretch and Steak hiking South a few hours later. They ran down the trail and hugged me. It was a quick reunion, but we parted ways knowing we would see each other the following morning. I hiked until dark and made it to a rare shelter where I set up my tent and choked down some gross dinner, excited for better food and company that would come with the new day.
I woke early and hiked the 10 miles quickly. I got to the road before 10am, and before I knew it Stretch and Steak had picked me up in the Jeep and we were zooming down the road to the campsite where they had stayed with her parents the night before. Her mom made a breakfast feast and we hung out a bit before getting back on trail shortly before noon, all of us heading North again. It was a long uphill. I enjoyed the hiking company, but as we took turns leading I found I couldn't keep up with their long strides. I fell back and hiked alone for a while. I had done 10 miles more than they, and I was hurting. I pushed the last few miles to camp, catching up with them shortly before we found a spot to pitch our tents and eat dinner. I was happy to be among friends again, though I knew it wouldn't be for long. I had to keep up the big miles if I wanted to finish.
Must I get up? Can't I hike fast enough to make it? I lay in bed, not wanting to get up, but I had to get to Mazama in time to pick up a package. If I didn't get there before it closed then I would have to wait until it opened the next day, and I didn't have time to waste waiting for it to open. Every hour was precious. So I got up. I took only a few short breaks in the morning, pushing the pace. The terrain was rather hilly but I made good timing. I watched the land change from lush fur forests to blackened barren burn areas.
I stopped briefly for lunch, and then kept going. Must keep going. My feet hurt. Bad. My legs hurt. Bad. Must keep going. It was going to be close, really really close. No more breaks, not even to pee. I huffed up the hill, trying not to inhale the thick smoke that had recently settled into the valley, glancing at the sign that marked Crater Lake National Park before striding down the hill. I had to make it on time. Two miles. One mile. There. The road. It was empty. I ran-shuffle-walked down the road, not sure how long the road walk would be... a half mile? Then I saw it-- the black Jeep. Stretch's dad whirled around and picked me up, my package lay in the bottom of the car. Her mom had managed to get it from the post office for me. Relief. Stretch and Steak arrived later, and after showering and cleaning up we scarfed down an amazing curry dinner Stretch's mom had made. I settled into my tent, delighting at the luxury of the campground's bathrooms and running water, smoke still hanging in the air, and the hum of generators lulling me to sleep.
I allowed myself to sleep in and go to breakfast at the park restaurant with the others. I reasoned that it was for these kinds of experiences I was hiking the trial, and I could make up lost miles. It was a good decision. I dug into my food while the fire crackled in the fireplace and tourists chattered happily under the high ceiling beams.
Stretch's dad took us to the trailhead and we climbed 1100 feet up the side of the volcano, taking a detour from the PCT because it was closed for fire. Not that I minded; the detour actually cut off a few miles and skirted the rim of Crater Lake, offering a more scenic alternate. Most hikers took the detour even when the PCT wasn't closed, as the PCT itself didn't get close enough to the caldera to display any views of the deepest lake in the US.
Finally we arrived at the top. I made my way to the edge of the crater to take a look at the lake, hoping to finally see the emerald green waters sunken deep in the pit of an ancient volcano. However, the wall of smoke that greeted me soon diminished all my dreams of a beautiful post-card scene; all I could see was the rough outline of Wizard Island floating in the swirling gray. Disappointed, I turned back to the visitors center. I had already been pondering skipping around the lake as I had huffed up the hill that morning, coughing from the smoke. It gave me a headache and sore throat, and I didn't really fancy walking non-PCT miles around a lovely lake I couldn't even see. The non-view that met me on the rim confirmed the decision to just hitch around. I had no doubt I would come back and see the lake at some point in my life, and could hike the 11 miles around the rim then.
I had made my decision; it was just a matter of convincing myself it was the right one. I lingered at the picnic tables, hesitating to put my plan into action. I announced my decision to the others, half-hoping they would join me in my slacking and hitch around. I knew I likely wouldn't see them again unless they joined me. They hadn't taken a look at the lake yet, but Steak said no the the hitch and Stretch was indecisive, but finally decided against it. So I headed off to the main road to find a ride while Steak headed off to the trail. But he took one look at the non-view of the lake and decided to join me. We went back to tell Stretch. Immediately she was in. I smiled at the power of the first follower and peer pressure.
We had way too much fun trying to hitch, and after a half hour a man offered us a ride in the back of his pickup for part of the way. It was good enough, and we climbed in to watch the world fly by at 45mph. We were dropped of 2 miles short of the PCT and started to walk, thought better of it, and tried hitching again. Immediately a couple pulled over and gave us a ride the rest of the way.
The trail was amazingly flat, and we played games as we hiked. I stumbled with laughter. We made it to a road and found a lady putting out some trail magic- drinks, snacks, and sandwiches. She insisted I take 2 sandwiches, and I gladly accepted. I devoured one there, and packed away the second for a quick dinner. It would be nice to not have to cook.
Great conversation carried us up a 2000 foot hill, and I was so engrossed in the discussion that I missed the turn in the dimming light. The PCT made a sharp switchback but I went straight on a well-worn trail, unaware of my mistake. The others followed me, just as oblivious. After 15 minutes or so, Steak wondered aloud how close we were to the camp spot. We should be there soon. They checked their GPS guide, and discovered we had gotten off the PCT. NOOOO! We had gone a half mile downhill, and turned around to go a half mile back up. By the time we made it back to the PCT it was too dark to continue, and we pitched our tents on the ridge line. I wasn't too happy about the situation, as camping on the ridge meant it would be windy, loud, and cold, but as it was my mistake for putting us in the situation I accepted the consequences, and bundled up in my tent as I ate my sandwich.
Cold wind carried me all morning, as the sun was unable to cut through the layers of smoke. I made excellent timing, and stopped for lunch after putting in 15 miles. I ate lunch in my Eno, a luxury item I had recently picked up, enjoying how slowly time was passing. Stretch and Steak caught up just as I was finishing up, and we checked in. All of us were down to try a 35 mile day. I left them to their lunch, for if we were really to push that far there was no time to waste.
I was cruisin. My knees hurt, but not too bad. 35 miles seemed completely possible... until I hit the trail magic. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I polished off my second sloppy joe sandwich, and helped myself to fruit, cookies, and chips. At the angel's insistence that I take food to go, I stocked up on almonds, gummies, and skittles. I hadn't had to cook dinner for three days, and while I loved all the amazing magic, my food bag remained heavy with uneaten food. I took off again, now behind schedule, climbing a huge hill with a full stomach. I still had 11 miles to go and it was already 5:00.
I hiked until dark, knowing that Steak and Stretch wouldn't catch up and I would probably have to camp by myself. I was close enough to the destination that I was content to stop and call it a day, mostly because I didn't want to hike alone in the dark. Mountain lions, you know? As I checked out a potential campsite in the dimming light, I heard the clack-clacking of trekking poles. A hiker passed, and I decided to just follow him; he would scare off mountain lions with his noise, and two people was always a safer number. I kept his headlamp in view, as it was completely dark now, but followed at a distance so as not to be creepy. He stopped a few times, checking his phone, and I slowed down so I wouldn't pass him and end up playing the leap-frog game. (I hated that game.) Finally he pulled over at a large flat area with a sky view of the stars and started setting up camp. I wanted to camp with him but didn't want to be weird, as I hadn't yet said a word to him, so I moved up the trial a bit and found a cozy nook amongst some baby pines. I was still within earshot of the guy, and heard him pitching his tent to the song of the crickets. I hadn't made it the 35 miles, but I had still set a PR: 32.9 miles, and was happy with that accomplishment.
I slept in; I deserved it. It was a chilly morning, and the sun didn't chase away the chill until noon. I had one huge uphill that day, and one huge down. I made a hot meal for lunch because I had so many extra dinners with all the trail magic. I had planned on a quick stop at Shelter Cove Resort for some internet, a charge, and snacks, but what I hadn't planned on was that it was 1.3 miles off trail. I sighed in frustration as I took the confusing detour down a maze of roads and trails.
When I connected to the Wifi, I was blasted with outside world life, and immediately regretted turning it on in the first place. The real-world stresses interrupted the bubble of simplicity and solitude that had sheltered me the past week. My phone battery wasn't charging and it was about to die, but I diligently responded to the multitude of emails, texts, phone calls, and job applications that screamed my attention. All these things had piled up with a week of no service, and I only had a few hours to address everything on a broken phone. I could feel my stress level rise with each buzz of the phone and tick of the clock.
I had planned on seeing Steak and Stretch come in later, but they were no where to be seen amongst the crowd of other hikers milling about. I still had 10 miles to go to hit my 30 miles for the day, and it was already getting late. I was filled with impatient stress as I waited for a hamburger I had ordered but didn't really want, my phone to charge, and the others to show up.
The chili burger ended up being not-so-good, and I managed to eat half before calling the whole thing quits and getting ready to head back to the trail. I turned as I heard my name, and Steak and Stretch strode up. I was happy to see them, but they could tell something was wrong. They gave me a hug and I held back the threat of tears as I shared my woes. It was nice to have someone to talk to; when chocolate ice cream isn't enough, friends will pull you through. But I had to go, and managed to nab a spot in a truck heading back to a trailhead. It skipped a mile of the PCT, but I had walked a mile into the resort so I justified it in my mind. I said bye to the others, knowing full well it may be the last time I would see them on trial. And it was, at least with Stretch.
I flew up the hill, letting the stresses fuel me and fall off with each mile. With no service, I couldn't do anything about them now, so I pushed them away. I stopped at a lovely campsite as night fell and pitched my tent between two lakes. I was rather disappointed with my mileage for the day, and time stress weighed heavier and heavier with each distracted mile lost. Oregon was the easiest state, and now was the time to stock up the miles so I could take it easier through Washington. As I fell asleep, I was determined to make up for it. Tomorrow was a new day.
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