Day 133: Mile 2083.7 - 2103.5
So here I am, sitting in my tent, as it's raining outside, where it's cold (although thankfully not windy). And I'm ensconced in this little cave I've built out of my sleeping bag, partially to keep warm, and partially to (somewhat) muffle my keyboard and so not bother my campmates as much. And while I was setting up my tent tonight, it was sprinkling--my inReach predicts 10% chance of rain tonight, which seems to mean it rains 10% of the time, and I'm just *that* *good* at picking times--so the inside of my tent got wet, and this is *bad*. But even so, today was a good day, because today 1) I put in a fix for my backpack issues, and 2) I got a warm, cooked buffet-style meal.
Let's start with the backpack. We got started early, with Double Snacks heading out around 6am, and me following behind with a 6:30am departure. I would catch up with her at Highway 26 (where I would also make use of the pit toilet), then she would head out in front of me again. And that was further complicated about an hour later when I managed to get some cell signal and stopped to call up ULA. I had composed an email to them about the backpack last night, sent it early this morning as soon as I got first signal, and now was calling just to go over it with them. And I spoke with Peter over there, who read through my email and said, are you really loading it with 45 pounds? Yeah, I said, something around there. Can you load it with less--it's rated for 35 pounds and, honestly, that's peak. If you're putting 45 pounds in there, that's a large increase percentage-wise, and that'll break the bag. When I assured him I couldn't reduce the weight, he said the best solution would then be to move to the next weight class--the ULA Catalyst. He would be willng to send me the Catalyst, and then I could send back the Circuit (which they would fix, refurbish, and ultimately resell) and I would only have to pay the difference. Can I keep the Circuit, I said, I'm kinda attached to it for sentimental reasons (i.e., carrying it on my back for 1700+ miles!). Sure I understand that, he replied, and we eventually came up with the plan that I order a new Catalyst on the website, and have it shipped to me in Cascade Locks. It's Thursday today, and I anticipate reaching Cascade Locks on Sunday. But the post office there is closed over the weekend, so I'll have it sent to the Ale House (which accepts hiker packages) so I can grab it on Sunday when I arrive (I want to get it as soon as possible to maximize the amount of time getting used to it). That's a fast shipping turnaround time, and to best guarantee that it arrives by Sunday, we settled on Next Day Air by UPS, which is expensive, but the pack should arrive by tomorrow, Friday (normally, UPS doesn't deliver on Saturdays). As for my old Circuit, I'll ship it back to them on Monday morning (post office opens at 8:30am), they'll fix it (no charge), then they'll mail it back to my place in Irvine. This way I keep my old Circuit bag and my sentimentality remains intact, and I get a new, bigger, heavier-weight capacity Catalyst by Sunday. It'll be a rush job for sure, but Peter assured me it should be doable, and that he'd watch it to make sure it happened. (And, as of this writing, it looks like the new pack did indeed ship, so it looks like it is indeed happening.) I'm quite thankful that I got some cell signal and was able to call Peter when I did--he was between Zoom meetings--and that he spent the time going over various backpack options and shipping choices with me. He even asked about sizing for the Catalyst, immediately noting, wait, you're thru-hiking, have you lost weight? Should we reduce the hip belt to a smaller size? And then waited patiently while I buckled my current bag back on, estimated the difference the edges of the hip belt paddings (about 3 inches), let him know, and ultimately advised reducing the size. But thinking that the hip belt size should reduce in the first place?: that's proof he's worked with thru-hikers!
So that got resolved, or at least a solution got started. Which is a load off my mind, because all today I could feel the bar of the frame again pushing against the bottom fabric of my bag (even with my new packing scheme!)--not as badly as before, but enough that a slight shift could spell trouble.
The second thing was the big push of the day, which was to reach the Timberline Lodge by 1:30pm for our reservation at the lunch buffet. It was for that that we woke at 5am and Double Snacks got started at 6am (I got out of camp late, at 6:30am or so). And then I stopped at Highway 26 to take advantage of the pit toilet there (relatively clean--not as nice as the one at Dee Wright Observatory, which was a prince among pit toilets) (that's a mathematics reference for those who know their mathematicians), and then I stopped for 45 minutes to handle the backpack thing, so I ended up cutting it close to the Lodge: got there at about 1:20pm, with about 10 minutes to spare. And got ushered into the buffet. Which was good: it's a buffet, so I could eat as much as I liked. Only problem was it was a "fancy" buffet, so every other dish was covered in cheese. The salad?--cheese strands throughout. The broccoli (and I like broccoli)?--au gratin and covered in a cheese and cream sauce. The pasta salad (now I'm just looking for something green)?--also covered in a cheese sauce. I think the only vegetable available to me was the mashed potatoes and, well, I get plenty of that on trail! (I did have them, though: they were ok.) And then the protein--a tri-tip--again very fancy!: in a wine reduction. sigh. So I ended up eating a lot of breaded fish, and bread rolls, and I had a big waffle (because, waffle!), and the fruit and some sweets (brownies and cookies for desert).
But the real benefit of heading into Timberline Lodge was to get out of the cold and wet. Because as the day turned to afternoon, and as I ascended up the slopes of Mount Hood, the mist started coming in. And while I was in the woods this wasn't an issue, the last couple miles to the Lodge are exposed, climbing up near beach-esque sand (complete with a steep slope where every step up slid back at least 50%), and with the wind starting up, everything got wet. So just getting into the Lodge, where it's warm and dry and filled with tourists (no vacancies!) was a nice reprieve. And when we left, the rain had stopped--a brief window--and there were even hints of blue skies out east (of course we're heading west), so we got in 5+ miles of hiking without downpour, with the rain only starting as we were setting up our tents.
Ah, but that brings up the scenery! Nothing special up to Timberline Lodge--lots more woods, a couple highways to inspire paranoia when crossing (my trick for highways is actually to listen for--rather than see--cars, and to cross when it's quiet as much as it is clear; a trick that works, I think, until electric cars become more prevalent!). I think the ascent up to Timberline would be impressive, but it was pretty foggy so I couldn't see much. Coming out of Timberline, the scenery changed some--there was a switchback section of trail where it seemed the trail was constantly being overrun by little streams and creeks runoff-ing on by, which was a change to a more technical trail--and there was a dicey river crossing or two, especially over Zigzag River (I say dicey, but realize that after my little adventure in the Sierras, many easier streams now look dicey). So there's a change in the works, perhaps. But even Mount Hood, which we're basically walking around the base of: I couldn't see it for all the low clouds, so the scenery was only so impressive. Plus these days I seem to be more focused on getting from point A to point B than seeing pretty things--it's the way I get through the green tunnel nowadays without frustration, for example--so maybe the scenery is actually quite beautiful and I just don't notice.
But today: getting a quick solution to the backpack issue, and getting a warm and dry place to come in out the rain and eat a big meal; those two incidents alone make it a good day! So I'll let the rain come and go outside--it's pounding the tent a bit now--but won't let it bother me: today was a good day!
-- Spring > Highway 26 > Barlow Road > Highway 35 > Timberline Lodge > Zigzag River > Lost Creek > Campsite
-- Today I met Sundae. Double Snacks knew her from a long way back--back in the desert I think--and so we ended up sharing her table at the buffet. Sundae had gone to the party in Ashland and had gotten COVID--had subsequently quaratined for two weeks, the first few days of which she felt pretty fatigued. Like go for a half hour walk then come back and have to take it easy for the rest of the day fatigued--and that's from a thru-hiker! Then she took another week to travel a bit in San Francisco and Napa, and is just today getting back on trail. She was working on polishing her resume and finishing a cover letter while at the Lodge--a rare injection of the real world in this thru-hiking world--and I commiserated with her about how much working on both of those sucks. She hiked out the Lodge after we did, but as Double Snacks, Spielberg, and I were jawing away into the evening from our respective tents, she said hi: she had managed to hike out and get to this campsite! So good for her, getting back into the swing of things, and on a day when the weather was, shall we say, not so nice.
-- I say after "we" did, because after the buffet, I headed downstairs to use the (public) facilities, and who should I see sitting on a bench near the entry rotunda but Spielberg. And I told him to head upstairs where Double Snacks was and say hi--I would be there in a minute (or more like 10-15 minutes--had to shed some base weight). It was good to see him again, and to hear his stories about what he'd been up to. He had been to Portland, and to Bend, and then back on trail, and one of his Uber drivers on one of the longer legs had started out with great conversation about the trail, but eventually degenerated into vax and anti-vax deliberations. Which is kinda bad if you're stuck in a car with the guy for an hour and a half! But Spielberg had gone to Trail Days, and took some time off to work on some of his videos, and now was back on trail. He did say something which I found helpful: looking at the rain, he said he hoped this was a passing thing, that we'd get two more weeks of nice weather, and that he'd expected more of this sort of weather for the two weeks after that. And I realized I didn't have such a perspective: when I hike through rains like this, my mind tends to think it's going to be this way for the rest of the trail. Of course it isn't (I hope!), but to explicitly list out two weeks of better weather, two weeks of cold and wet--that's a better way to think about it. Because now you can hope for better weather when it's rainy today, and after a couple weeks, every day that's not rainy will seem like gravy!
-- Another fall today. In that technical section, descending the switchbacks with the little streams and brooks flowing into and down the trail in parts, it gets muddy. Well at one point, stepping down, I lost my grip, my legs slid out from under me, and I found myself sitting on my butt in the middle of the trail. Pretty innocuous fall--nothing broken, nothing even bruised (other than my ego), but just reminds me that, as terrain changes, I need to change my pace appropriately, and not try to rush things. Lest my next fall become a much more dangerous one!
-- After my fall, Spielberg asked how many times I've fallen. And I said 3 at the time, but after some reflection that's wrong, I can think of at least 5:
1. Falling when I first met Tina B and Heather, and Heather was chanting don't fall don't fall, and I didn't, and so I did.
2. There was snow on trail for all of 20 yards at Muir Pass (I think it was). I crossed it, and promptly fell into it.
3. The fall trying to cross Silver Pass. The Bad one.
4. The slow-motion fall at Crater Lake.
5. This slip and slide fall, that teaches me to take it slower and more carefully on these technical sections!
Are there more? Yeah, probably, but those are the major ones I remember.
-- So after leaving the Lodge, we had to cross the Zigzag River, which was flowing pretty good. There was a log across most of it, but Spielberg stepped on it and declared it a bit slimy, so he looked for another way. I wandered up and down the river looking for a better way, but couldn't find one. Eventually, Spielberg tried to cross by a rock hop, but ended up stepping in the river and that was it, he just waded across. I eventually took the log--did it tightrope style, with the feet pointed not along the log, but more at 45-degrees angle to the log, and got through ok. Double Snacks, it turns out, hates crossing on logs, so she eventually pulled up her pants, peeled off her socks and insoles, and waded across barefoot-in-shoes-alone. Which is not a bad idea: wearing shoes while wading is good to maintain grip, but I'd never thought to take off my socks and pull out my insoles to try and keep more things dry. I good trick!--and one to keep in mind!
-- A strange thing I noticed today: it always seems to be sunnier towards the east. It happened at Highway 35 right before the climb up to Timberline: the highway clears a path through the woods so I could see the sky and, yeah, over there to the east, there were blue skies! And even at Timberline: as the rain seemed to clear up for a small window, the clearing seemed to be coming from a blue patch to the east. Oh, and it was that way around Three-Fingered Jack too!: on the eastern side was blue skies, on the western side was overcast, misty white. Maybe I'm just noticing it at select times, but why does it always seem the sky is bluer to the east, and why does it always seem the PCT is going west?
-- Today's peanut M&M color is red.
-- Camping cohorts: Double Snacks, Spielberg, Sundae.
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