asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

next time you see me i will be glowing brightly outside with the birds in the middle of the yard

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

A conclusion

Today I feel weak. I am sad to say that I have decided to fly home and end my trip all together. It’s been a wild, incredible ride.

I don’t think I have it in me to go back into solitude for a couple hundred more miles at this moment and I so badly want to go home to comforts and sleep with my cat. I think that recognizing ones limitations is a strength; and right now it’s hard for me to give myself this affirmation. There is no doubt that I am and will inevitably feel guilt about not meeting my goals of mileage on the trail, and I know I will be processing this for months to come.

I am trying to brace myself for the shock of being back to an over-stimulating, loud, fast-paced life where one can easily travel miles with such speed. A life of conveniences and accessibility. A life of societal standards and expectations. A life where it is too easy to be critical of oneself and where there is hyperawareness of how one is perceived.

Today, I walk on a moving sidewalk to my gate in the airport, reflecting, feeling exposed as I wipe tears streaming down my cheeks with my long sleeved hiking shirt. I take out my sunglasses for a little privacy. I want to throw up, I am overwhelmed with panic and fear. I will be flying over half the distance of the pct at 1610 miles from Portland to Dallas. As I board the plane, the gate agent asks me if I’m okay, I quickly nod and continue. I want to be invisible.

The sounds of phones, electronic toys, and grumpy children echo in the plane cabin. The volume feels amplified. I feel uncomfortably close to the passenger who takes the middle seat next to me. The screen on the seat in front of me displays an image of a flight attendant; she smiles assuringly, trapped within the illuminated surface, positioned next to digital entertainment options. I turn off the screen.

It feels like I have a large marble in my throat, making it hard to swallow, and my stomach is in tight knots. I have never wanted off of a plane more in my life, I try to focus on my breath, inhaling and exhaling into my tear soaked bandana. I will not have a panic attack on this plane.

I had heard of post-trail depression from hikers and that ending a long-distant hike can feel like coming down from a drug, that it can feel very shocking and isolating- after having such an intense experience that generally most people cannot understand.

It’s 5:30 am. I slide open the plane window and stare at the dimly lit, dawn sky, imagining waking in my tent. Mt. Hood stands tall on the horizon line. I miss the trail already, but no longer feel emotionally fit to continue. Am I making a mistake? It’s possible. All I know is I feel alone right now, and I don’t know that I have the emotional strength to be alone, yet I also have the impulse to hide, I feel like a burden to others; like an alien, broken, jobless, and unsure of what I want, coming home on impulse. I am battling the feeling of failure. Will I feel even more isolated off trail?

I take a reminder from the trail- that I can make this what I want. I can take this gaping hole in my chest and fill it with my worst fears and panic. I can feel upset, embarrassed, ashamed, and disappointed in myself. I can dread making decisions of what comes next. Or, I can be proud of the hardships that I’ve overcome. I can fill that hole with the love and support I have from others. I can remember that the trail will always be there and I can come back and complete sections that are unfamiliar to me in the future. I can remember that everything is temporary and life is always fleeting.

Some just aren’t as strong as they hope to be. But then again, how does one define strength? Is strength different for everyone? Is there strength in feeling weak? Is there strength in embracing emotion? I certainly started my journey thinking so. Right now, I am vulnerable; a hiker disconnected from their pack, unsure of what home is; a turtle without a shell; a soft interior, exposed.

I’ll remember being weighed down by my newly acquainted pack, hunching over, waiting for Andi to pick me up after arriving at the LAX airport before starting my hike. I’ll remember how naive I felt after completing my first section, inexperienced, unaware, and full of doubt, post-holing in snow, the hidden trail and fearing for my life. I’ll remember the light blue, milky ice lakes of Silver Pass. I’ll remember the river crossings through white water that took 30 minutes to navigate; mostly because I was too scared to do it. I’ll remember the lonesomeness I felt looking out of my tent into the vacant white landscape. I’ll remember the intense pain I felt as my blistered feet trekked my first North California section. I’ll remember the fluorescent, chartreuse lichen adorning massive pine forests. I’ll remember the incredible scents of mountain sage, cedar, sap and sugar pine. I’ll remember facing my fear of heights, hiking the loose rocky Sierra Buttes, and the vertigo. I’ll remember when descents felt more painful than inclines, and walking slow. I’ll remember hiking my first 10 miles by 10 am, feeling light and invincible. I’ll remember feeling like a bottomless pit for calories. I’ll remember my sweat-soaked, dirt-crusted clothes and salty body. I’ll remember pushing through my first over-20 mile day in the burns of Lassen National Park and camping in a thunderstorm, puddles in my tent. I’ll remember the long water carries in 85+ degree, shadeless heat of Old Station. Ill remember the green meadows freckled with wildflowers. I’ll remember giving myself the agency to speak my mind to strangers, uncensored, and in return being called critical and defensive. I’ll remember the isolation I felt in regards to my identity. I’ll remember the generosity from strangers, hitchhiking and trail magic. I’ll remember the joy I felt as I started my first Oregon section and the weep-y lichen draping over dramatic tree limbs. I’ll remember the 300 miles of aggressive, giant mosquitos in the green tunnel of Oregon; wearing my non-breathable rain jacket, steaming. I’ll remember night-hiking under a starry sky, through massive lava fields, feeling like I’m on another planet. I’ll remember the incredible blues of Crater Lake and one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve witnessed. I’ll remember hiking 30 miles in one day on the flattest section of the trail, feeling dizzy at the end of the day, scrambling to find a site to tent in the dark. I’ll remember the silver, ghostly, burnt trees; a hauntingly beautiful forest that seemed to whisper old tales. I’ll remember when I was so captivated by the tundra of Mt. Jefferson, that I briefly forgot about the mosquitos. I’ll remember feeling happy to step in snow again. Ill remember the bear, the weasel, the coyote, the many deer, lizards, snakes, jays, and the birds I could only hear and never identify. I’ll remember the loose soil that seemed impossible to hike through around Mt. Hood, and the purple lupin reaching up from the soil. I’ll remember the tiny ecosystems, like terrariums, growing on decomposing logs. I’ll remember the rhythm, the rocking and rolling, the gliding, stumbling, falling, dancing and flying. I’ll remember telling landmarks how beautiful they are as if they would reply. I’ll remember the magic of the lone hummingbirds visiting me. I’ll remember the cool breezes around the bend and the expansive views on the ridges. I’ll remember being totally present and meditative. I’ll remember my breakdowns and panic attack’s. I’ll remember the deafening silences in the night. I’ll remember the symphony of morning birds. I’ll remember the street-light moon. I’ll remember the fiery skies at dusk and the alpenglow. And I’ll remember making it to Bridge of the Gods on the Columbia River, walking halfway, against traffic with no pedestrian lane. I’ll remember the overwhelming support I’ve had from my friends and family.

I am sure I will return to the Pacific Crest Trail in due time. And I am already looking forward to my return.

Thank you all so much for keeping up with my journey. If your heart desires such a thing, I hope you get a chance to experience the trail for yourself.

With love,

Lauren (Cam)

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 52: 7/24

Zero day

Today Johanna, Kimber and I drive to the coast, toward Astoria. I have been here before, it’s always interesting to return to familiar places. Astoria is a touristy harbor town in Oregon that bridges to Washington. We walk kimber around the harbor and eat lunch.

We drive to Fort Stevens State Park, going on to the beach, which is very windy and chilly, in contrast to the burning heat in the city. Kites fly above us and people play in the sand. Though crowded, it is beautiful. There is something so captivating about Northwest Beaches to me. They are cold, grey, rocky, and most of the time- foggy. The is a thick blanket of fog on the horizon in the distance, which we watch drift in our direction. I love the moodiness imbedded in the landscape and climate.

Here is Kimber and I in front of a historic shipwreck:

Sounds of rushing waves, seagulls, and families. Often I am uncomfortable with crowded areas, but today I am happy to hear the laughter amongst the families spending time together. It is heartwarming, I feel this especially as I think of these days around Portland. To be spending time with Johanna and her beloved pup, to feel and observe friendship and kinship, my heart is full again.

Johanna and I play with Kimber in the sand. Kimber loves to dig, as referenced in one of Johanna’s incredible paintings which she painted during our time in grad school (certainly one of my favorites):

I learn that it is true- that Kimber is constantly digging holes in the shapes of triangles. No one can quite explain the absurdity, but it’s real.

We take a small nature walk in a forested area within the park. The foliage is amazing: giant ferns, lichen and moss, marionberries.

We drive back to Portland and search for dessert, and fail to find anything within reach and/or convenience, and decide on beers instead. We get cozy in wooden picnic tables in the bar yard- which remind me of bars in Denton, TX (my hometown) and talk for an hour.

It was such a fun day and I’m so grateful to have spent time with Johanna this past few days!

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 51: 7/23

Zero day

Johanna and I bike to her new temporary studio that she will use until she moves to New York in August. She shows me some great new prints and then we head downtown.

The bike ride is breezy and fun even though the temperature is in the 90’s. We ride along Willamette River, stopping to pick a few marionberries. We then head toward Portland’s wonderful and popular bookstore, Powell’s for a few hours, and then to get lunch. It is such a lovely day except I am still feeling ill, as I had felt this past few days. I know I’m not dehydrated, and then it occurs to me that I’m probably vitamin B or iron deficient. I pick up a multivitamin at the pharmacy, where the cashier suspects that I am stealing a smart water, which is actually my filthy, 6-week old smart water bottle. I forget that I look a little less-kempt from the “civilized” public, which I suppose automatically makes me suspicious. I show him the dirt crusted in the label of the bottle, and Johanna and I leave.

We bike toward the river, with the intention of swimming from the dock where several others are swimming. We stick our toes in the water and chicken out because it is too cold. We continue back to Daniel’s going through idyllic neighborhoods. There are gorgeous flower gardens lining the lawns adorned with quirky objects and statement signs.

Johanna and I go to pick up her dog, which I feel I already personally know, as Kimber has made appearances in Johanna’s paintings.

Daniel, Johanna, Kimber and I drive to Mt. Tabor park, where Kimber gets to socialize in the dog park. Following the puppy-party, we walk up to an elevated view of downtown. We enjoy some wine, Trader Joe’s cheese and crackers.

What is this spoiled town life I’m experiencing right now? Really, it’s that Johanna and Daniel are lovely hosts, thank you both so much.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 50: 7/22

2130.6-2146.8

I am so excited to get to Bridge of the Gods today and see my dear grad-school friend Johanna, who will pick me up and take me into Portland.

I walk through a lot of burn with Godzilla today (thanks to fireworks kid from last year..).

It is a hot, somewhat mundane trek. Today my body is telling me it’s ready for a few days rest, I feel like I will pass out on trail the duration of the hike. I have felt physically weak this past few days. I blame the breakfast buffet at Timberline.

Here is my first view of the Columbia River!

Godzilla and I make it to Bridge of the Gods in the afternoon and then head to a bar in Cascade Locks, where we are each given a free PBR. Godzilla treats me to pizza, which we finish within 20 minutes.

All I can think about is my next few days in Portland, a proper shower and laundry (which I haven’t had in 11 days...) and entering a new state. Washington. I have a lot of planning to do before I set back out on trail.

Johanna picks me up from Cascade Locks and I say goodbye to Godzilla.

I am so excited to spend the next few days with Johanna. Her and her partner, Daniel have generously hosted me in Daniel’s apartment in Mt. Tabor, SE Portland. I get a shower and do my laundry and we head to some food trucks, where I order a cheap vegan bowl and a beer. It is a lovely evening.

The three of us then go to the Hollywood Theater and see an incredible film, that is quite appropriate for my current journey- “Leave No Trace”- a story on a vet’s struggle with PTSD, living with his daughter in Forest Park, a public, wild park located in Portland. It is a beautiful, touching film that contrasts two ways of living, and brings to attention the realities of PTSD, and the push from society to keep people from living on public land and “normalize” by living within society.

We get back to the apartment super later for me, and I fall asleep.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 49: 7/21

2114.6-2130.6

I was very exhausted today and did not write many notes. Godzilla and I hiked through a lot of tree cover the first part of the day and eventually made it to a beautiful view along the ridge. The air felt amazing.

There is an alternate route along the PCT, called Eagle Creek Trail, a 15 mile trail to Cascade Locks (Bridge of the Gods, aka where Reese Witherspoon, aka Cheryl Strayed, finished her journey). Unfortunately, this incredible alternate has been closed since last year, when a kid started a massive fire in the area. Here is a google image search teaser of what I couldve hiked on.

Honestly, this was incredibly disappointing for me, I had been looking forward to mossy waterfalls since I started my hike. Oh well..

Godzilla and I originally had planned to do at least 20 miles today, but learned that the area we wanted to camp in was a part of the newly burnt forest (same kid who set the fire on eagle creek). We decide to cut the day short and wake early in the morning, putting us at Wahtum Lake for the evening.

I am exhausted and fall asleep fairly soon after eating my ramen.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 48: 7/20

2096.9-2114.6

Godzilla and I make it to the buffet; I over eat again.. all of the hikers decide to rest an hour after our meals to let the feast settle in our bellies before trekking out again.

We leave for the trail around 10:30, and are walking slow, both stuffed. My stomach is feeling awful, and I am regretting this mornings feast. I have a hard time shaking off the pain, it is the worst I’ve felt since starting the trail. I try to ignore it, as Godzilla and I hike and talk; me pretending I’m not suffering in the slightest. Just. Keep. Walking.

I’ve had to function regularly through my stomach issues for years. I know that the pain will slowly recede as the day moves forward.

We find ourselves in a few traffic jams, stuck behind big groups of slow day-hikers. In one particular instance, there is a line of about 11 hikers stopped, carefully hiking across a large tree trunk obstructing the trail. It feels unusual to see so many people in the woods.

It is a gorgeous day; cool, and clear. Today, I will see Ramona Falls, a waterfall I attempted to see my last time in the area, however the trail was closed. I am very excited, remembering how captivated I was by the images I had seen of the Falls.

There are wildflowers everywhere. We have a river crossing, where I cross immediately, soaking my shoes and socks, while Godzilla walks along the river’s edge, searching for a dry route over boulders. We see a few other falls on our way to the Ramona Falls alternate loop which connects back into the PCT. After 11 miles, we make it to the route, and walk about half a mile; the trail’s edges become mossy as we approach the falls.

The water disperses into dozens of thin white streams which travel around and over the many crevices of the bluff’s wall, tucked in the lush emerald forest. It is a popular site for day hikers and site seers. We take an hour break here.

It is fun hiking with Godzilla; finally, a queer friend on the trail. He is sweet, and hilarious. Godzilla, has the best trail style I’ve seen, in his wide brimmed sun hat and frog-tog pants. Godzilla is going to school in Portland this fall.

We hike another 6/7 miles to camp, following a gorgeous stream that meanders around moss-covered boulders and ferns by the trail for a mile or so. Once there, the sun is setting and beautiful Alpenglow is projected onto Mt. Hood, fading from orange, to pink, to purple. We make our dinners, talk, and go to bed.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 47: 7/19

Zero

I woke up fairly late on the crowded campground above the lodge. Only 30 minutes until the breakfast buffet would open. I debated on which buffet meal I wanted to purchase- breakfast was the most affordable buffet. For a vegetarian- the buffet included a waffle station along with a display of Swedish cream, a mountainous mound of thick, fluffy whipped cream, surrounded by a selection of berry sauces. There was a platter of fresh fruit, a decanter of berry smoothie, and the option of yogurts, potatoes, hazelnut pancakes, and eggs. I was seated by the host at the “hiker table,” near the back of the gorgeous wooden dining room filled with clean families. I imagine they try to keep the hiker smells all in one area. I ate more than I could handle.

The lodge is a three story, historical building with a log chimney running through the center of the common area. Light jazz music plays and there are many cushioned chairs near outlets for one to chose to rest after such a meal. It reminds me of The Great Northern from the Twin Peaks series. I rest my full belly in a corner while charging my power bank and updating my blog, I am sunken in the cushion. I go to the gift shop to pick up my resupply box which I shipped here and do a little meal planning/organizing. I catch up on a few phone calls. The day passes quickly despite it being mostly uneventful.

Tonight, Godzilla Omelette is meeting me here, after going south to Ashland since I last saw him in Shelter Cove. He is getting a ride all the way to Mt. Hood by this evening so we can hike to Cascade Locks together, just 49 miles away.

Godzilla gets in around 7:30, and we go to the pizza bar on the first floor, each ordering a beer and sharing a pizza. We then make our way up to the campground and talk for a few hours before headed to bed. I am excited to head out tomorrow.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 46: 7/18 (2/2)

As I get closer to the lodge, the trail becomes very lose; the ashy surface is harder to traverse than sand, and the hill is steep. I feel like I am not moving, despite my effort; 1 step forward, 2 steps back. Only .6 more miles until the junction to Timberline. It takes me nearly an hour to move through this distance because I’m am so exhausted and the terrain is almost impossible.

Here is a screenshot of navigation app- the beige terrain is very loose, and as you can see, not flat. So close, yet so far. I am at the point of tears, but remind myself how excited I am to be where I am. My emotional state is conflicting, I am so frustrated, and simultaneously so happy to be atop beautiful Mt. Hood.

I finally make it there, feeling loopy from exhaustion and set up my tent. I make my way to the parking lot, where there is a port-a-shower. This shower appears as a port-a-potty, but is a shower, and is at the same unhygienic, minimal standards as a port-a-potty. BUT it is a shower, and I desperately need one. I take a deep breath and let the frigid water pour over me. It is so cold and painful that I yelp. I debate how badly I want this shower, but decide I better just suck it up and run the water on my shivering body again. I step out into the cold, windy, mountain air and see Mona and Sagebush walk up. Sagebush takes a photo of me, because of my expression of agony as I shiver, I think he finds it funny. I suppose it is.

We walk up to the campsite just above the hotel and I make myself a delicious freeze dried curry dinner, then pass out. Tomorrow, I will go into the lodge and experience the infamous breakfast buffet.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 46: 7/18 (1/2)

2075.6-2097

Everything about the air is pleasant this morning; cool, mosquito-free, and fresh.

There is something mystical about the woods here. There are millions of tiny worlds within this large forest; new little ecosystems growing atop of old, decomposing, mossy, fallen trees. I know there are microscopic worlds everywhere, but here there is a visible physicality that is equally inward and expansive.

I take it easy this morning, I am very sore, but I still have a 22 mile day ahead of me. I will be at Timberline lodge tonight, which feels crazy to me; I was there nearly 4 years ago.

The first few miles are along the lake that I camped on. I stop where the view of the turquoise lake is clear and make myself a chai tea. The water ripples are mesmerizing.

I trek on, Mt. Hood occasionally making its appearance, getting larger and larger.

Here’s a beautiful snake I saw today:

I run into a day hiker on my break, who kindly offers me a bag of cherries. Later, Mona and Sagebush walk up, so I share the juicy wealth.

I tell them to go ahead, as I don’t like the pressure of hiking at a certain speed, and generally don’t hike and talk because I prefer to be in my own head.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 45: 7/17

2045.6-2075.6

I wake up to Nate asking me if I want fresh coffee, pancakes, potatoes, and eggs. Of course I do not turn it down. A friend I met at Shelter Cover, Amanita, a school nutritionist who appears to be very keen on identifying fungi, hikes into Nate’s incredible trail magic.

We all chat for a bit and head back to trail on our own schedules. I head out of Olallie around 8:30, planning to only do 15 miles today (this will change).

I am in an excellent mood and moving so quick. I am dancing and running in the cool, mosquito-free air. It is the first time I’m wearing one layer of short sleeves in weeks it seems.

There are huckleberries all along the trail, which I become distracted by. I stop to gather, looking up with a full-mouth, in berry-bliss, to find Amanita. We hike together for a bit and I tell him that I’m going to slow it down, falling behind. I continue to dance and mouth words to my running playlist.

After my first 11 or so miles, I run into Mona and Amanita again, who are on break. Still feeling blissful, I somewhere in our conversation decide that I want to do my first and only 30 mile day. After all, this is the easiest part of the whole trail; only gentle hills through soft terrain.

We stop at the next spring and find a bush abundant with huckleberries.

I follow behind them until we are about 7 miles out. I am losing energy, but still motivated. I feel new blisters forming on my feet, but keep trekking.

I have been under the canopy within the green tunnel nearly all 30 miles. It is so interesting to me that in 30 miles of forests, there are changes that are so subtle they are hard to identify, however there are significantly different feelings, energies, or auras (unsure of how to describe such an abstract, personal response) in these slightly-shifting woods.

I reach the lake which I will camp on, 2 miles from site. It is dark at this point, and I am delirious. I accidentally go .25 miles down the wrong trail, which means an extra .5 mile unintentionally added to my trip, which feels very aggravating when you’re 28 miles into the day and just wanting to eat and sleep. I feel like I could collapse on trail; I am so exhausted and disoriented. Once in the designated camping area, I cannot find a flat surface in the dark. I am tripping over myself, it feels as though I’ve forgotten how to walk. I don’t see Mona or Amanita, but accidentally shine my light on a cowboy-camper (camping without a tent). I set up an uncomfortable nest and am so tired I decide not to cook dinner. I eat a nutty bar that I purchased at Olallie (substantial I know) and pass out in my disheveled tent.

I hiked 30 miles today, I did it. I feel very accomplished, but I will not do it again.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 44: 7/16

2036.7-2045.6

I dart up this morning, with only 9 miles until Olallie Lake Campground. A southbounder told me no more mosquitos following Olallie. They are especially bad this morning, so I try not to be too hopeful.

Just 1.5 miles from the campground, where there is a lake, small store, picnic tables, fire pits, and a pit toilet, I run into a familiar face. It is Mona, a sweet, badass, young section-hiker who does parkour in Germany. We hike the last bit together, she tells me that she heard there is trail magic ahead.

We make it to Olallie and are greeted by an actual angel, Nate, who has a griddle set up on a picnic table and offers us fresh banana pancakes.

I am overwhelmed by the surprise and generosity from another stranger. A fluctuating group of 5-ish hikers and I hang out with Nate, as he has provided a bottomless hole of food for us.

I decide that I will take a Nero here. Nate offers Mona, Will (another hiker), and I floaties to take into the lake.

It is my first time swimming on trail, and I desperately need a lake bath. It is cold but really great in the heat. There are salamanders in the lake.

We head back to camp where a lovely older woman with long pink hair and a vibrant personality, Tracy, offers Mona and I snacks for our pack. We gratefully accept as she asks Mona and I to get together for a photo, like a proud aunt.

Nate asks me- should he catch a fish, will I eat it. I am skeptical, but agree that I will- I have never had a freshly caught fish, and the opportunity felt appropriate. Nate comes back with a trout.

Will offers to cook tonight with Nate’s provided fresh vegetables. We have incredible vegetarian quesadillas. After the quesadillas are finished, we realize the fish was forgotten about. We try to name Will, “No Fish” because of this. Things are getting a little kooky at this point, as a few beers go around. It is a fun time.

Nate then cooks up the most delectable dessert I have had on trail- banana boats; camp-roasted bananas caramelized and topped with peanut butter chips, chocolate chips, and condensed milk. It is insanely delicious and I wish I had room for another.

With full bellies, we all go to sleep late (for hikers-past 10).

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 43: 7/15, (3/3)

I reach the top, and can see over the ridge- Mt. Hood. I get a little teary- my first familiar location on the trail. It feels surreal knowing I am only 57 miles from it. I will hit a few places on the trail near Portland that I have been to before.

I hike through my first large patches of snow in a long while, passing by icy blue ponds of snow melt.

I set up camp quick, mosquito frenzy as always. I eat and rest for a few hours, I am so exhausted and overheated. I think I have myself locked in my tent until morning- but then the sun started to set. The sky is fire-y.

The mountains in the distance fade from grey, to blue, to purple, to fluorescent pink. I quickly put on my hazmat suit and clumsily exit my tent trying to keep bugs out. I run to get a better view, I am not disappointed. Of course, photos can never do a sunset justice. This is my favorite section on the trail so far.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 43: 7/15, (2/3)

I run into a section hiker who warns me, “don’t look to the left when you cross the next stream, it’s really sad.” I look on the comments of the Guthook app and it mentions that there is a dead horse in the water visible from the trail. A mile from the crossing, there is a park service notice stating, “increased animal activity possible due to animal carcass in area”. I become nauseous and anxious, plugging my nose and keeping my eyes to the right as I make my way to the stream crossing. I think of sad scenarios of how it’s possible a horse died out here. Was someone riding their horse as it fell into the stream, to its own death? Could it have been a wild horse off of the trail? How sad that the owner had to leave the body if it was domesticated.

I make it to the stream, and it is flowing strong, I am scared to cross it. I am scared to look to the left to assess how to cross. I look.. and no horse that I can see. I test the waters strength with my trekking poles, and it’s less intimidating now. I cross easily, still worried to accidentally see the horse body.

I am out of the forest burn and back into the greenery. I go up into the tundra, just below Jefferson Peak. It is idyllic. Vibrant wildflowers freckle the bright green meadows. There are patches of snow and flowing streams and ponds. And surrounding me- snow-capped, grey peaks. I am getting attacked by mosquitos, but it doesn’t hold my attention- I am in awe of my surroundings. I am so happy to be here.

I carry more water than I should, slowing me down for the final stretch of incline. I am moving slow, but I’m not concerned.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 43: 7/15 (1/3)

2019.9-2036.7

(I will divide this day into a few posts, it was beautiful and I took several photos worth sharing).

I wake up early to beat some mosquitos. The air is cool and my first 7 miles today are downhill. I’m moving quickly through the old growth forest. I pass several small ponds as I get closer to Mt. Jefferson. I can see that the landscape is vastly changing. Patches of long bladed sedge cover the floor of the tall, thin pine forests.

Fern and moss are becoming more abundant. The canopy is thick making the forest dark. The rain forest. I’m here- amongst the Pacific Northwest forests that I have been most-captivated by in the past.

The water sources are flowing strong, as the season for snow melt is peaking, which also means more mosquitos.

I run into my first Park rangers on the trail since I’ve been out here. They ask to see my permit and mention fires are not permitted near the trail.

I begin today’s climb through a forest, freshly burnt, black and wire-y. It is very hot. Red sap seeps from a few tree trunks, looking like blood.

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 42: 7/14

2004.3-2019.9

I woke up several times last night. The wind was very strong and at times I was deceived there was something else trying to break in, but I kept having to tell myself, “it’s just the wind”, instead of jolting up and loudly fake coughing or clapping to startle the imagined intruder. In the morning, there was a layer of dirt over everything in my tent. Even a tent fly could not keep out the dust.

I get a somewhat late start. The sky is clear and it is very hot. There is very little shade in the old burn forest, but it is still very beautiful.

Each burnt tree is sculptural; silvery bark, deteriorated, edged with old black char. It is a forest of old ghosts.

I pass several small ponds watching the sister peaks get smaller as I approach Mt. Jefferson.

I am exhausted from the heat and become clumsy as the trail gets rocky after miles and miles of ashy trail.

My campsite has an incredible view of Mt. Jefferson, and the mosquitos are terrifyingly awful. I quickly lock myself in my tent, and use new strategies to keep mosquitos out- carefully keeping my tent zipper tight around my arm, which is gloved with my tent stake sack, anytime I need to reach outside my tent.

My feet and legs are caked with dirt, I clean them the best I can.

Here is a brief view of the 200+ mosquitos hovering around my tent, waiting for my fresh blood. It’s not anxiety-inducing at all......

[asoftjourneythroughrigidter-blog]

Day 41: 7/13

2000.9-2004.3

My family and I share a lovely breakfast at the resort and get our things together. I have asked to be dropped off ahead to skip an especially buggy section.

We head to Elk Lake resort, a scenic drive overseeing massive mounds of lava rock and watching as the 3 sister peaks grow larger and larger. The resort is a beautiful lake that is crowded with happy visitors. I run into a hiker who’s name I sadly forgot, who mentioned that I made the right decision jumping ahead because the mosquitos were miserable during his journey. He suggests going further north.

My family and I discuss it and they kindly agree to drive to Bend for lunch, and then drop me off at the trail head 80 miles north of my last mile. We go to the post office to send some food forward and eat at the Deschutes Brewery. We head out in the afternoon, passing more incredible scenery. I am tired, but my heart is filled with warmth. I caught up with friends and family who I haven’t been able to speak to in a while, and I am so so grateful for my dad and Kathleen to have visited.

We get to the trail head within a burnt forest below Mt. Jefferson; the Three Sisters and Mt. Bachelor on the horizon. We exchange hugs and say goodbyes for now, and I hold back a few tears. I am in a great, fulfilled mood back on the PCT. I am in no rush and playing by ear. I am happy and moving slow.

I make my way up the sandy, soft trail, attempting to wake up my sleepy calves. Foot is asleep for the duration of my few miles hiking today.

My whole journey today is in a beautiful burnt forest, spotted with purple lupin and fern that is colored orange at the tips. It is breezy and the slopes are easy.

I decide to call it a day around 6, at a low mileage. I set up tent on an open hilltop and watch an incredible sunset. It is very very windy. I get a visit from a young deer and a humming bird which rests on my tent for a moment. I am feeling so so good.

I have to move my tent because the wind is so bad, I move it beside a tree and put my rain fly on. Dust and dirt still manage to blow into my tent. I listen uneasily to the creaky noises of my tent, which is shape shifting with each gust.