Day 123: Mile 1894.8 - 1911.5

Yesterday was a bad day. Today was a good day. So decided Double Snacks and I, as we sat on a log eating cold pizza (packed out from Shelter Cove) overlooking Middle Rosary Lake, the moonlight shimmering and dancing across the water. (The Road to the Fae, I called it, which opens at the Witching Hour. It's 9 o'clock, Double Snacks said. The *hiker* Witching Hour, I promptly amended.)

We woke to a clear morning sky, blue and yellow sunned. But we still smelled smoke, so it wasn't until the trail looped around a ridge then walked to some overlooks that we realized: the smoke was gone. At least here, looking out and now seeing miles and miles and miles--it looked like it was possibly still gathered in the valleys far south of us--here, the air was clear, the views were far, and the sights were beautiful. Oregon, it turns out, really is a pretty place, if you can see it. And we could: from the ridge, we looked out and saw blue ridge after blue ridge tesselating to the south, the spaces between whitened with either fog or smoke; we saw lakes hiding out between the trees, their waters placid and silvery against the dark of the conifers; we even saw the Three Sisters, far to the east, their peaks dappled with snow. It was an amazing sight, to say the least, to look out and see the land laid out before you. And in theory this was land that we had traversed, even if I couldn't see where that had happened, and couldn't line up landmarks (hard to line up landmarks that you didn't see when you actually passed them!).

And when we got water at Mountain Creek, just a couple miles down the trail from our campsite, we looked up at the mountains we were walking on, the nearby ridge, and it was amazing as well: across the top ridge were scattered all these fascinating rock outcroppings, juts and jags, and cliff and face, the shapes so strange and almost foreign, yet rationally, all perfectly natural. Even the creek itself was picturesque: it sprang out from under some stones just a bit upstream from the trail, then burbled out amongst a flat rocky channel surrounded by meadowing grass.

And just like that--just clear the smoke so I can *see* what I'm walking through--just like that all the rancor and disappointment of yesterday dissipated. As Double Snacks would say later in the day: this makes me want to hike again!

Our goal for the day was Shelter Cove, a resort that's a little over a mile off trail, on the shores of Odell Lake. It's a popular spot for PCT hikers--they have a free camping area, a general store (for resupply), they accept packages (I had one sent there, for example), and they have a shower and laundry. The latter two was what Double Snacks was most excited about, so we hiked through more woods, but now also past ponds and around little meadows, but now also occasionally sneaking a glimpse of the nearby mountain ridges or the faraway mountain profiles through the trees, but now also getting to see some of the beauty of Oregon. And eventually we came to Peyna Pass Road, where we turned right and headed down a dirt road to Shelter Cove. The way crossed some railroad tracks, then connected to a paved road, which we walked towards the lake.

And just before we got to Shelter Cove proper, as we were crossing the bridge over Trapper Creek, who should come up but Wetfoot--she was leaving Shelter Cove even as we were going in. And we talked a bit and she advised going to the bathroom here, by the creek, because they had just turned off the water in Shelter Cove that morning. Hmm, so chances were we wouldn't be getting those showers and laundry after all! But we went in--both Double Snacks and me had post to pick up--and when we got there we promptly headed over to the PCT tent.

Over by the water, there were some picnic tables, covered by tents, and that's where all the PCT hikers were. And there were even outlets for charging and a hiker box, but more interestingly, there were hikers, and lots of them! And I saw Jessica, who I had last seen at the rockslide on San Jacinto so many months ago, and she goes by the trailname Maps now. And she was so surprised--and happily so--to see me. And I asked about Mel, and Jessica just said that Mel had met a guy--and gave a knowing look that I didn't quite get but whatever--and the guy had gotten hurt so they were waiting for him to recover. And Jessica noted that I had seen her at her lowest point, but that the rockslide hadn't been the scariest thing on trail--it had been since topped! Rather, coming out of Etna, she had evidently been caught up in the thunderstorms, and had witnessed a  lightning strike pretty close that actually started a fire! And they were *right* *there*. They called it in, sure, but then scrambled to get away from it. So that--watching a forest fire start right next to you--took the cake from the rockslide.

And I saw Tina Burrita there (she was heading out as we were coming in), and then Crystal (or Slayer, or whatever her current trail name is) came in, and I even met someone new, Chicago, who was taking a zero since his ankle tendon was acting up. And he mentioned that he had been speaking to a bunch of SOBOs, and how they had said, oh, you should divert to see this, or take that little side trail it's beautiful, and how Chicago had said, no, I'm not doing any of that. But how can you miss all this beauty, they would ask, shaking their heads. You don't understand, we're so close to the end, it's just end on the prize, replied Chicago, and he's right. That willingness to explore off trail, to indulge either a pause to take in a scene, or an outright zero somewhere on trail, that's gone by now, streamlined away into a laser focus on reaching Canada. Because it's so close now.

And so it went, with conversations and more conversations around the picnic table, with occasional breaks to head over to the store to grab an ice cream, or pick up packages, or buy resupply. And it was a great time. We ended up leaving later--Double Snacks had a package that wasn't delivered until in the afternoon (and it contained cookies, so it was worth the wait!)--and towards the end we decided to buy a pizza to pack out. And we did, and just as the pizza was ready and I brought it back to the picnic tables, a trail angel had bought a bunch of Costco pizzas and dropped them off, along with bananas and chips and drinks, a vertiable feast! And the hikers were very happy, and in that festive mood we headed out, to get back on trail and get some miles in.

I had talked to some of the SOBOs, and they had recommended heading up to Rosary Lakes, of which there are three, and they recommended camping between the northern-most two, because there the wind would be less. So that's where we headed. And it was a climb, and it was warm so it was a sweaty climb (at least for me), and on the way I got to talking with Double Snacks about this and that. And I found out she has a younger sister, by about two and a half years, who lives out in Rhode Island and is a bartender, and has even competed in some contests where you make your own drinks and then a judges' panel tries them. Her sister also works as a menu consultant nowadays--she helps fashion the menus for bars and eateries--and she's pretty plugged in to the art scene out there too. And we talked about long distance trails, and she commented that she would be down to do 1000 miles, but for these really long trails like the PCT the pressure to finish is always there and she would prefer it not to be. (And to that I will say that Ismael--and Martin back at Splinters Cabin--had mentioned once that he like thru-hiking for the freedom it gives--you can do whatever you want this day--but I personally never figured that out. For me personally it seems almost the opposite: every day is set and lacks freedom because every day you have to make miles. Whereas a shorter hike, with shorter mileage per day--something like the Trans-Catalina Trail, or the Tahoe Rim Trail, or just a backpacking wander through the Desolation Wilderness--these would seem to be more free, because with less demands of mileage I *could* go wandering, I *could* set up camp and then check out this or that. Doubtless Ismael and Martin, though, have a way of looking at thru-hiking that I haven't quite figured out yet, but would like to: their way sounds pretty fun!)

And so the day ended, eventually, at the campsite between the northern Rosary Lakes, where there is indeed a spot pretty much between the two lakes. And it is indeed less windy than it was down at Lower Rosary Lake, although not by much. And we set up pretty close to dark, and had dinner on a log overlooking Middle Rosary Lake in the dark, and I must say, today was a good day!

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Some notes:

-- Campsite > Mountain Creek > Pengra Pass > Shelter Cove > Pengra Pass > Highway 58 (Willamette Pass) > Lower Rosary Lake > Middle Rosary Lake

-- I did take one thing from the hiker box: a larger fuel canister. I usually use the smallest ones--least weight--but from the comments on Guthooks, it seems that fuel may be in short supply up in Washington, or at least hard to get at the little gas stations and convenience stores along the trail. So I figured I'd get the next size up, the middle size, and was planning to do so *before* Cascade Locks (the comments suggest Cascade Locks only has the big size). And it turns out there were actually two mediums in the hiker box, each about half full, so I grabbed them, siphoned one into the other, and am now carrying an (what feels like) almost full medium fuel canister. I hopeful it'll last until the end of the hike--I think Double Snacks (who carries the medium) used hers since Kennedy Meadows South, so that's over 700 miles!

-- Today I met Mossy, who was a trail angel helping out Little Ralphy, a hiker. Mossy was sitting at the picnic tables and waiting, so I got to talking to him. Turns out he's an ex-marine who's just finishing an MBA program. So we talked a bit about San Diego--seems like he'd been stationed there for awhile--and how that town is basically retiree or military. But he enjoys surfing, so had enjoyed San Onofre, and Tressel Beach, and all the little spots up and down there and even further up the coast, up by the Port of Los Angeles (there's a famous curl up there that neither of us could remember the name of). Is there good surfing up here in Oregon, I asked. And he just shook his head and smiled, no, not really. These days, though, he's thinking more about the MBA program, which was finishing up this Friday. The classes and credits were all completed it sounded like, so all that remained was to hear the results of the job interviews. Which are coming out this Friday. He had enjoyed interning at Nike, so was hoping they'd offer him a full-time position. Are you stressed about it, I asked. Well, you can't control it, so why worry, he replied. That's an attitude equally applicable to hiking, and that I should probably apply more regularly myself! But a nice guy Mossy, quiet but very friendly, and with a certain confidence and poise that I imagine comes from being ex-military: you know what it's like to have someone shooting at you, so you know what the big stresses are, the big issues. That gives a certain bigger perspective, I'd imagine, so a lot of these other things--while important, make no mistake--just don't seem as pressing, as urgent, as big. 

-- There was actually a slightly touching scene when the pizza arrived. I was busy packing up my resupply, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Double Snacks go to get some of the Costco pizza, and then bring it to Crystal. Because Crystal had been at the party in Ashland, and had spent a lot of time with Spot who had subsequently tested positive for COVID. So Crystal was being much more cautious, masking up a lot, and I'm guessing she didn't want to go grab the communal pizza in case she were to contaminate it somehow. So Double Snacks got a piece for her. A small thing, just a quick little interaction, but still a touching one, I think.  

-- We didn't get showers nor laundry at Shelter Cove--the two chores we wanted--because the water was off. Heck, we didn't even get to use the bathroom! And the plumber was working on the problem all day--even had to send for extra parts from Bend--and of course just as we were leaving, it got fixed and the water came back on! Ah well, so it goes!

-- I've realized that Oregon is definitely green tunnel, and that's very different from the desert, which is wide open. But more than that: one of the things I like about my day-hikes is seeing the distances. To look up at some far away peak and say, yeah, that looks far, but in a few hours, I'm going to be up there. And then *doing* it. Or to look back and see some far away parking lot and realize, wow, I've come how far? And then continuing on. I relish those feelings of distance, they help motivate me to keep going. And in the desert, even though the PCT is good at hiding itself, I could still get a sense of that, and look around and feel that distance. But in the green tunnel, I have no idea where I am or where I've come from or where I'm going: it's just trees trees trees and a trail--immediate--between them. No sense of place, no sense of distance, no subsequent positive reinforcement. So I'm going to need to come up with another way of getting positive reinforcement in the green tunnel.

-- On our way out of Shelter Cove, we stopped by the public campground next door to get some water and use the restroom. And while we were there, a sedan drove up and the driver lowered the window and asked, are you PCT hikers? Yep, we said. How do you guys get from the PCT down to Shelter Cove, he asked. Turns out he was there to pick up a PCT hiker, but didn't know where to find him amongst these paved and dirt roads in the woods. And we gave some instructions: there are multiple ways down, but they all inevitably go over the train tracks, then drop down a gravel drive to the paved road, so that would be a place to wait. Ok, he said, then: oh, do you happen to know Sheldon? Oh yeah!, we said, we know Sheldon from back around South Lake Tahoe! And it turned out this was his dad and sister, here to pick him up and take him into town. And when Double Snacks and I got to the train tracks ourselves, here came up a sedan driving right up that gravel road, and it was Sheldon's dad and sister again, only now they said they were so thankful for our help that they wanted to give us something, and gave us each a banana, a nectarine, and some of Sheldon's mom's homemade banana bread. And we thanked them and said if saw Sheldon up ahead we would let him know they were waiting, and we continued up the dirt road on the other side of the train tracks and, after less than 10 minutes, who should we see coming down than Sheldon! And we talked with him a bit, and let know that his dad and sister were waiting for him just down there, around the corner and over the train tracks, and apologized if we had ended up taking all the banana bread (oh don't worry, I'm sure there's a lot more in the car, he said). And it was pretty amazing to bump into someone we hadn't seen since northern California, since before the Dixie Fire skip, and to see not only them but to meet their family as well? Ha!: only on the trail!

-- Oh, and we had the banana bread for dinner and, indeed, it was really good. Props to Sheldon's mom. The banana and nectarine, though, I'm saving for the morning!

-- Camping cohorts tonight: Double Snacks, Wild, Roller, and one other guy who we never talked to, he was always at the other lake. (Double Snacks keeps a journal, and mentioned that she always puts who she camped with in her entries. And I thought, y'know, that's a good idea: helps spur memories. So I'm going to try to do that myself!)