Day 141: Mile 2229.9 - 2243.3

You want to know how hospitable Camp Jonah is, how generous? There are two cars parked out front: a blue SUV and a gray minivan. They're for us to use. They're not locked, the keys are in the ignition; McQueen drove one this morning, shuttling a bunch of hikers to the cafe for breakfast and, when his food came early, I drove it, continuing his tradition. Just cars, just sitting out front, and you're free to use 'em.

But for me the real realization of just how generous this place is came when I got on the bus--yep, an actual school bus--for the 10:00am shuttle back to the trailhead. Because that bus was driven by Jeff, who runs the place and, while I didn't talk to him personally, I did get to encounter--even if just indirectly--a bit of his personality. And policies and practices may be generous, sure, and I understand that. But when I meet *people* who are generous, who have that happy, giving spirit about them, well for me that's what makes generosity real. To meet people--even incidentally--is to really find out how nice they are, just from their vibe and how they comport themselves. It's experiencing nice on a whole different, very human, level. And Jeff definitely showed that in the half hour I was around him: he always had that warm smile, that consideration of others. The bus drives from Camp Jonah to the General Store to pick up hikers before heading to the trailhead, and Jeff had even stopped at the Cafe to drop off McQueen so he could ask around if there were any hikers there who needed a ride. And I admit, these places aren't far from each other--Camp Jonah to the General Store is probably no more than a quarter mile--but just the thoughtfulness, the calm and cheerfulness with which Jeff picked up folks and waited for folks, that was the thing. Just the attitude and the vibe of the guy. The mission statement of Camp Jonah is "Where people laugh, hearts change and God smiles"--that's written on the side of the bus--and that warmth emanates from Jeff.

(No wonder, then, that McQueen and Pain Perdu had taken such a liking to him and to this place. They had taken no zeros through Oregon--they just kept going, and at each parking lot people would offer them food so they wouldn't have to go into town--but when they came here, they took a zero. And when I had gotten in yesterday, McQueen had been the unofficial host, giving me the tour of the place, showing me where things were. And even this morning, he was sweeping up the mess hall before we left--for places like hostels or places that are free, especially, I like to leave the place better than I found it, he said. And that's a real barometer of generosity, I think: when people encounter it, they are inspired to be generous themselves.)

And as he drove to the trailhead, Jeff said the one requirement was that folks sing camp songs, and it happened that one of the hikers up front had worked at several youth camps, and lead us in a rousing call-and-response song about a moose who liked juice but got it all over himself and became a stinky moose, o hey-o o hey-o!

And too soon the bus ride ended and we were back on the trail. The first 8 miles from the road is a climb beginning in the woods but rapidly switching over to a burn area. But here, for me at least, Washington started showing off. Because the colors of the burn zone in fall! The burn zone here is much more lush than those of Oregon, a lot more low brush has sprung up between the white dessicated trunks even though the ground is still dusty and dry, and this brush has started to change color. Resulting in this brilliant ground cover of green going red and orange, from which bright white trunks spring, to meet the backdrop of evergreen trees behind, and behind even that the blue contours of unnamed ridges going back one after the other after the other. It's quite a splash of color, and one that I tried to capture with the camera but likely failed.

And that's even before I saw Mount Adams.

One of the benefits of burn zones is that they're open--they're exposed and the sun is bright and hot (very southern California in that way)--but you can see out. And rounding a corner, I got my first glimpse of Mount Adams. The trail walks the base of the mountain, close enough that you can feel it towering above, yet far enough that you can see the whole thing. And it's impressive. Just the glacier on the south side alone would be impressive, but then the trail walks around the west side and you get to see the western glacier. I remember back in the Sierras I had remarked how the mountains after Forester Pass (I believe) looked like the throne of the Gods. Here, on the western side, is also a throne of the Gods, just paved in snow and ice. And towards the top of the throne, you can see a cave of sorts, a gaping maw into the gullet of the mountain that just looks so intimidating. Only, evidently, it's not: evidently you can climb to the top of Mount Adams without mountaineering gear, just clearly not from this side!

I had intended to hike until 7:00pm today to get in the miles--got to get in the miles while the weather is still good, and today it was sunny and hot, then a bit overcast, then finished sunny--and I was on pace to do at 15, maybe stretch to 17 miles today, but then I came to Adams Creek. And I had heard about Adams Creek from SOBOs before: it was the one creek crossing that was tricky. And I came to it and it was rushing away, and I dropped my pack and wandered up and down the shore looking for a crossing. And there was one: a set of two branches across the first fork, then to a rocky island between the forks, then a second set of branches across the second fork. And I looked down at the branches, and at the rushing water underneath, and--I couldn't do it. Too many memories of the Sierras. But I hemmed and hawed: should I go or should I try in the morning, when the water level should be lower? (Adams Creek is glacier melt, and those are usually lower in the morning when the glacier is still frozen, growing throughout the day as it melts under the sun.) And ultimately I decided to wait until morning. And luckily I only had to backtrack a little bit before finding a spot for my tent, where I set up. And embarrassingly after I did so, all these folks from the bus came by, and they all crossed--well, not with ease, but with care, and they all made it across without getting their feet wet, while I watched from the bluff next to my campsite. So could I have made it? Probably. But I'm going to wait for the morning, even if just to see this "it's better in the morning" effect (at least that's how I console myself), where hopefully I'll have the additional option of fording Adams Creek if necessary. (Double Snacks, for example, hating walking across logs, and would always prefer to ford than to do so.) Only problem is I'm sleeping within earshot of the creek, so all night I'm going to get to hear it rushing in the background, perpetually reminding me of what awaits me first thing in the morning! Oh well, can't win for trying!

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Some notes:

-- Trout Lake > Forest Service Road 23 > Stagman Ridge Trail Junction > Round the Mountain Trail Junction > Riley Creek > Lewis River > Adams Creek

-- In the morning, I got up and wanted to take the 8:30am shuttle, but people were still sleeping and my stuff was spread out all over a bunk. And I thought, yeah I want to go, but they want to sleep, and their wants should trump my wants, so I snuck out as quiet as could with just a change of clothes, changed in the shower room, and then went upstairs to the mess hall to work on the blog. Only after everyone had woken up did I go back down and make all the noise of putting my pack back together. And sure I got a later start, but it also meant I got to eat breakfast at the Cafe, and even pick up a huckleberry scone at the Bakery next to the Cafe (and some cash at the ATM at the gas station between the two--this really is a small town!), so it was all good!

-- And at breakfast I met Freewalker, who rather enjoyed the coffee at the Bakery, and who commented that he had slept really well last night. In fact, last night he had commented to me how these bunks reminded him of the Camino: this was how many of the alberques (no, I don't know how to spell that) (no, I don't have service to look it up) were. And for me, honestly, last night I didn't sleep the best. And I think it's because in the beginning, sleeping with other people, I was afraid to make any sound, so slept very hesitantly, in and out of slumber, waking up each time I had to shift or move. And gradually I relearned how to shift and move in a sleepy fashion--there's a way to do it that wakes other people up because it's a waking-type movement and alerts them, and there's another way to do it that doesn't because it's just a sleeper moving around so doesn't incite any alarm--something I hadn't done since I had college roommates. So the sleep got better as the night went on but, no, I can't say I slept the best. Oh well!

-- And I remember Dylan once commenting that he found he slept better on trail than in town. Maybe because on trail you're in your tent and that's more familiar, Double Snacks had speculated when I had mentioned it to her once. Hmm, there's a whole treatise that could be voiced just on sleeping on trail, but I'm not going to do it here or now!

-- In the morning at breakfast, I ran into Gray Jay, who was coming into town having caught the 8:30am shuttle. And I gave him a quick rundown of town. He was carrying a resupply box that his wife had shipped to him, and expressed that he felt a bit bad: the general store here is actually stocked well enough to do a full resupply. Heck, the back right section of the store even has a sign on the shelves that says, "Resupply"! And I admit, I felt guilty too. Because it doesn't cost anything to pick up a package there: you just go to the back, look through a binder for your name, check the number assigned to your name, then go to the shelves, where all the packages are in numerical order, and pull down your package. Self service, and no fee. So, yeah, I felt bad that I didn't patronize the store, so I had bought some small things--a couple bananas, some snacks--yesterday. But Gray Jay said it was a hoot to see me, that he had talked to his wife and some of his family and they had all agreed it was a hoot to see someone in the desert in May, then see them *again* in Washington in September! But that's the trail for you!

-- And Gray Jay reiterated that, for Washington, the best is yet to come. Oh the weather will be bad, he said, but the views will be worth it!

-- And I did get to talk some more with McQueen over breakfast, and found out he works as a handyman in northern California when he's not on trail. He's not an official contractor, although he can do a lot that a contractor does, and does do that and will carry the proper insurance for it and everything, just doesn't have the credential. For lots of folks up in the remote parts of northern California where he lives, that's good enough: it sounds like it's more a place where people trust the work of other people--work is your bond (to quote very old hip-hop slang)--rather than the sign-off of the inspector. And it sounds like McQueen's work precedes him!

-- Today I met Produce, again. While shuttling people between the Cafe and Camp Jonah, I picked up a guy who looked at me and said, hey, you look familiar: I'm Produce. And I said, Idyllwild, sorting out the hiker box at the hotel. Oh yeah, he said, at Silver Pines! (Only he knew the actual hotel name--I've forgotten the exact name.) And so here's another encounter of people who met in, gosh, April in the desert, meeting again in September in Washington!

-- I had too much food in my resupply--my food bags are so heavy for just a 66 mile stretch from Trout Lake to White Pass!--and I gave some of it away. And McQueen was there while I was sorting, so I gave him first dibs, and he took a bunch. And Pain Perdu commented that I always have great snacks, and this time I think that bore out: I gave him a bag of dried mango slices--I've expanded to dried strawberry and still had a bunch--and he was eating it this morning at the trailhead and saying, mmm, this is so good, how can you give this stuff away? Well, when you've eaten as much dried mango as I had in the desert, and the Sierras, and into northern California, well, you can give the stuff away too!

-- On the trail there was much fresh evidence of horse, and after a bit a dog came down the trail and stopped when it saw me. And a little after him came three horses, ridden by some older folks. And the last of the three, a lady, as she passed she asked, you out for the weekend? Bit longer than that, I replied. You doing the PCT?, she retorted. Yep, I said. Oh, she said, her eyes suddenly growing exaggeratedly wide, good luck! And she smiled and I laughed and said thanks, and the horses and riders went round the corner I had just come.

-- Oh, and I should mention that Cookie did stay behind at Camp Jonah. By her own admission, she gets vortexed pretty easily, and they was a viewing of The Princess Bride in the TV corner that she wanted to see. She mentioned possibly coming out on the 3pm or 5pm shuttle, but that'll put her some miles behind and I still feel the need to go go go. But it was good seeing her, and great knowing that she's still on trail! I once said that for everybody who sets foot on the trail intending to do the whole thing, I always wish that they can indeed do it, and Cookie--by hook or by crook, by fire skip or by transportation skip--looks like she'll see Canada yet!

-- One final detail: tonight I had ramen, but I got to add the seaweed and the pork sung and, let me tell you: it's *so* much better! Ramen by itself has no ying yang--no nutrition as my mom used to say--and eating it bland out here, I can feel that. But add in the seaweed, and then the pork sung, and it feels so much more substantial! I could almost believe it now *does* have nutrition--almost because my rational mind is telling me, nah, let's be real, you're still coming up pretty short! But it's better, right?--it certainly *feels* that way!

-- Camping cohort: just me. Amongst these volcanic lava rocks, with a clear view of the western glacier of Mount Adams under blue skies to one side, and the sun setting ochre against haze and smoke to the other.