Day 134: Mile 2103.5 - 2119.4

In a lot of ways, today was, I think, what will be a pretty typical day going forward. We woke to a cold foggy morning that gradually burned off--it was still a titanic struggle between Cloud and Sun at noon, but by mid-afternoon Sun finally won out. (There was a couple we met at the Lolo Pass parking lot who commented, they say you're supposed to get off the mountain by 2pm--thunderstorms and whatnot--but around here the skies don't clear until 4pm!) So we ended the day under clear skies, although we couldn't necessarily see that what with all the tree cover. When we made camp, it started getting cold and, yes, it's cold these nights up here in the mountains, especially when there's a bit of a breeze--I've taken to wearing my puffy when making dinner. But I'm guessing that's how the days will be: cold and overcast in the morning (although hopefully not as wet and misty as this morning), with the clouds burning off around mid-afternoon, a bit of warming, then cooling to cold by the evening and sleepy time. As long as it stays that way--and doesn't rain or otherwise get wet--then I'll be perfectly fine. It's when it's cold and wet that I start having problems.

But I can talk about the weather all day: what about the trail? Well we started in the mist, which was noticeable at Rushing Creek--there the trail opens up into a sandy canyon typically of this region, and ostensibly we'd have views up the mountain, but the mist obscured all that. We continued through a lot of woods until we came to the Sandy River, the first major river crossing of the day. Spielberg and me were hiking together--we were the last out of camp--while Double Snacks was ahead--she was the first out of camp--and when we arrived, we looked downstream to see her fording her way across the stream. Same technique as yesterday: socks off, insoles out, pant legs rolled up, shoes on, with poles (important in this river as it's pretty silty, so it's hard to see the bottom), working her way across. For me, I saw a two-part log bridge across the water--in part one, a parallel of four logs went from the shore to a big rock, in part two, two long logs crossed from the rock to the other shore, in both parts, the water was rushing quickly beneath the logs--and carefully worked my way across those. I will say I am definitely more gun-shy crossing rivers these days, and that creates an interesting balance. On the one hand, I have to suppress my fear--ignore it, really--to get across. On the other hand, my fear is an important element in determining where to cross. For example, on this river there were some other potential crossing spots upstream, but my fear kicked in strong on those and so I didn't attempt them. So there's this balance between listening to and respecting my fear, and then suppressing and ignoring it.

After the crossing, it was only a little bit more to the Ramona Falls junction. There are a few popular alternates in this section. One is to Ramona Falls. Here the PCT and the alternate form a sort of parallelogram, with the PCT taking a long and short side, and the Ramona Falls alternate taking the other long and short side. Double Snacks and Spielberg took the alternate. For my part, I chose to take the alternate to the Falls proper--about 0.4 miles--then double back and take the actual PCT for the rest.

And that was, I think, a good idea, because Ramona Falls was pretty amazing. I've seen it before in YouTube videos and whatnot, but in person it's even larger than those videos suggested, towering up above. A huge cascade of black rock, with edges and faces aplenty, then sheets upon sheets of white water flowing down them, finding every nook and cranny, dropping and falling onto ledge after ledge after ledge, all the way down. And at the bottom, the rocks covered in a green moss so vibrant it seemed almost flourescent. Spielberg and I ran around with our cameras, me trying to catch good still shots, him taking video, trying this and that angle, this and that composition. He noted that standing up close to the waterfall, almost beneath it, was an entirely different energy and he was right: it changed from something beautiful and complex and varied, to something powerful and awesome and a bit scary.

I lost track of time at Ramona Falls; I think we ended up staying for quite some time! By the time we left, the day-hikers had started flooding in--many doing the Ramona Falls loop--and Double Snacks and Spielberg continued down the alternate while I headed back to the PCT. And was happy with my choice, since I got to talk to a few of the day-hikers coming up to the Falls:

* There was this couple, older, with their dog, hiking up and as I passed he turned and asked, are you hiking the Pacific Crest Trail? Yes, I said. Where are you coming from? Timberline Lodge, I said, but ultimately Mexico. How long have you been on trail? Since April. Wow, they said. Did you know there's a cabin over by Zigzag, he said, I used to work at the Zigzag Ranger Station and there's a cabin out there for PCT hikers, but it's not marked on the maps, hmm, bet you would've liked that last night! And I laughed. I always wanted to hike the trail, he continued, and back in the day me and my brother came *this* close. Well, it's still here, I said, pointing at it suggestively. Yeah, but my knees aren't!, he replied. And I laughed.

* There was a younger couple, who I met at Falls, and she was wondering which way to go. They had come up the PCT way, but were seeing the alternate and wondering if that went back to the parking lot. Well I went over the map on Guthooks with them, which showed the loop but not the parking lot, and after some planning, they decided to take the alternate, take a left at the junction to go around the loop, and hope it got to the parking lot. Well, as I was going around the loop, I stopped at the Sandy River (so-called on Guthooks, actually it's just a small tributary of the Sandy River which is a little creek rather than the big river we'd crossed earlier) to gather some water, and who should I see coming up to cross the bridge there than that couple! And they recognized me and said hi. And I was able to say, yep, you *are* going the right way, the junction to the parking lot is just up ahead, just take a right. That was a good feeling.

From there, the next bit was a crossing of the Muddy Fork River, which was also rushing, but there were two fat logs set up high above it, one lower and one higher, meant for you to shimmy sideway across the lower while holding onto the higher, although I didn't realize this until near the end of the crossing. So that ended up being scarier than it needed to be. Then it was the climb. There's a long climb up to the Top Spur junction--about two miles--but luckily in the woods so not as hot. Still, it was a long climb, and I was still passing some day-hikers, mostly coming down. One stopped on the side to let me pass even as I did the same. Come on up unless you want to take a break, they said. Well, I just took one, I said, and slowly lumbered up past them. You can always take another, they said, and I smiled: true. I would take a lot of mini-breaks on this climb, take just a slow pace, and wonder a bit about how I would fare in Washington where, I presume, the whole trail is like this!

At Top Spur I finally caught up with Double Snacks and Spielberg, and we headed out to Lolo Pass, a place with a gravel road, and where we stopped to lay out our tents to dry in the gravel parking area. And here we bumped into an older couple who recognized me: didn't we see you, wait, was it yesterday or the day before? And they looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place the day either. But they went to the road around the corner from the parking lot, and stared up for a while. You should take a look, it's clearing up, they said. And I went and was treated to a great view of Mount Hood, the mountain we've been traveling around the past couple days, and that I only got to see now. So we've been going around *that*?, Spielberg said, I never knew! We would see more views of Mount Hood when we continued on the trail, just a solitary spike of a mountain, still covered in large patches of snow.

From there, it was a hike through various woods to the campsite. And on this section, I got to talking with Spielberg some more. And we talked about various things, including YouTube since he does YouTube videos. He did the AT about 5 years ago and put a bunch of videos up on YouTube, and was doing the same with the PCT this year. (You can check out his channel: I'm told it's under "Craig M", or just search for "Spielberg AT" or "Spielberg PCT"--I don't have service so can't check them myself out here.) But he had lots of observations about how YouTube channels work, how they become popular, how you feed the algorithm. Like how you need to keep posting--he stopped after the AT and wondered if he had continued on, if his channel might have blown up. Or like on style: how you can do the videos where you show the trails and views, or videos where you show the hiker (the selfie-stick type videos), and how he prefers the former (and how that distinguished him when he was on the AT--the latter was all the rage back then). Or like how many hiking channels will migrate to gear reviews, and how those are very popular (makes sense: people looking for something are more likely to be looking for a 15-minute gear review, rather than a multiple-hour thru-hiking series). But I think most telling is that he explained why he does videos. Well, it's because it's fun: he enjoys making them. But even more important than that, for his AT videos, he'd get emails from viewers afterwards saying your video convinced me to go outside and hike. And that's the fulfilling part: if his videos can get one person to get outside and experience this, then he'll feel his videos will have done something. He'll feel that he's given back to this community and to this experience that ultimately changed his life. His first big hike was the Camino, and he didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't speak Spanish, and for the first couple days he ate solely out of vending machines because he was too intimidated to order food, and he was just so scared that he got to the top of Pyrenees and just prayed because he was in over his head. And he heard this voice say, hey, are you hiking the Camino?, and it was this Spanish guy who had just spent a year in the States, and they ended up joining up and hiking the Camino together. And in that hiking, Spielberg realized that he could *do* things, bold things, and it helped build courage, enough that he would eventually do the AT, and then retire early and now do the PCT. So he's convinced of the transformative power of hiking, of being out here--everyone out here is having a spiritual experience, he says, whether they realize it or not--and he wants others to experience that as well. Hence: the videos.

(There's a natural question that comes up here, which is why do I write this blog? And I admit it's nothing as meaningful as Spielberg. The immediate reason is to document my trip, because otherwise I forget things so quickly--never had a great memory. Too dependent on writing!, Plato would fuss. The next is so friends and family know what's going on, just to help satisfy their curiosity. But I don't think there's anything inspiring in my writing, I don't think it'll convince anybody to go outside and explore some. Especially of late, the writing has been about mostly negative things, about tough times and me struggling to get through them--*that's* not convincing anybody to go anywhere! So is there a more meaningful reason I write? Maybe, but I'd have to think about it some more. Right now, I write because, well, that's what I'm doing, and it's a lot of work--I sometimes think what I would do with two extra hours of sleep a night! (that's about how long an entry takes to write)--but still, it's what I do. Nothing more than that, really.)

And that was the hike!

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Some notes:

-- Campsite > Rushing Creek > Sandy River > Ramona Falls Divert > Sandy River > Muddy Fork > Lolo Pass > Campsite

-- Today I definitely noticed the plantar fasciitis starting to kick in. I had sensed it yesterday, but yesterday also had wonky weather so maybe it was just a reaction to the cold and wet. But no, today I felt it as well: a dull ache in the heel on some footfalls, followed by some arch pain, all mostly in the left foot. But this is ok, since I should be getting new shoes in Cascade Locks on Sunday, so I only need to hold out for a couple more days before relief arrives!

-- There were other people at Lolo Pass, including a driver in an SUV who first came up the road, then went down the road, then came back up the road before finally figuring out where he was going. Another couple, older, was walking about, and lived near there. According to them, it's been extremely dry--that little sprinkling passing through last night notwithstanding--and it's looking to be drier. I certainly hope so: cold and dry I think I'm getting used to, but cold and wet--that's still my weakness. And I talked to Spielberg about it--he's done the AT and started in March in Georgia when it's cold and wet for a month. And he said, well, you push through it, and whenever the sun comes out in the afternoon, you forget all about it. And I think that is the way it goes: it's miserable until the sun comes out, then all is forgiven and you just remember the happy parts. I don't know if there's hope to be found in that cycle, but I think I'll get the chance to hunt for it!

-- Spielberg would ask at the end of the day, why am I feeling so tired? And implicit in his comment was the commentary: we didn't even hike that far! Which we hadn't. And I said that I think Ramona Falls took something out of me, just emotionally. Running around getting shots, sure, but just psychologically, it did take something out of me, that change in mentality, change in outlook, from hike-through-green-tunnel to just-wow-and-spectate. And that change, that delta, did make me tired, in a strange way. At least that's what I think, because I don't think the terrain was necessarily that tough--tougher than what we've had the past couple days, but not that tough--so it must be some X-factor, and Ramona Falls is one heck of an X-factor!

-- Spielberg and I got to the campsite first--Double Snacks had stopped to do some inReach messaging--and there are about 5 campsites here. And Spielberg tried to guess which one Double Snacks would like--she usually has the most considerations whereas he and I just go with whatever. And I said, I don't guess, because I've tried in the past and I can never tell which one she'll pick. But he guessed anyway. And she came up, and picked the one site that he said, well, she'll never pick this one--it's too close to the trail! So yeah, can't ever guess which one she'll find the most appealing!

-- Oh, an observation. It looks like a lot of the slopes of Mount Hood are pretty sandy, as in almost beach-sand sandy. I'm not sure where this comes from--maybe they're the result of receding glaciers? Anyway, these sandy slopes seem to then be undercut by the rivers flowing down from the mountain, resulting in landslides when the bottoms are too heavily receded, and yielding these steep dropping slopes. It's especially evident at the Sandy River proper, where on the southern side, the river is bordered by what looks like a near vertical tall wall of sand, its tops decorated with trees right up to the edge. Regardless of whether my explanation has any merit, the effect is pretty stunning to look at!

-- Camping cohorts: Double Snacks, Spielberg