Oregon, Pilot Rock

Saturday, August 10

Tucked nice and warm in the cozy little wooden surveyors’ cabin we were hardly aware of the storm that blew in last night.  The morning air was clean and sweet smelling, the sky a beautiful blue. The clouds were pink and shiny, streaked and smeared across the morning sky.  I wish a camera could capture all the beauty of this morning- the sweet smell of dewy grass, the rare light, the contrast of the green trees against the blue sky.  I tried, but pictures are so flat. 

Wrangle Gap Hunters' Shelter

Mountain Goat claimed he was going to sleep in this morning, but as usual, he caught up to us before morning snack.  It’s nice to have him along. He loves the outdoors as much as I, and although he hikes a lot faster than I do, he slows down to visit with me.  He can keep that slow pace longer than I can keep his fast pace, but eventually he has to hike his own speed.  He started trying to figure out how and where he could meet us later today and he and Snickers came up with a plan whereby Mountain Goat would hike ahead, all the way down to where his car was parked about twenty miles from where we started, then drive up to the Mt. Ashland resort and pick us up. That would save us five miles and allow us time to go for dinner in Ashland.  So we said so-long to our buddy and hiked by ourselves most of the day. 

We walked through some amazing beauty today, especially Mt. Ashland Meadows, a spot very popular with local hikers, and for good reason. Day hikers and weekenders meandered along all the paths, especially the PCT, which seems to be the main thoroughfare.  One group of middle aged hikers made me feel like a celebrity.  They had never talked to a thru hiker before (perhaps my silly grin and awestruck expression made me seem approachable)  and even though I explained that I wasn’t doing the whole trail, the fact that I was doing all of Oregon was pretty impressive to them.  In fact, maybe they were more impressed because 400 miles in a month seems just outside the realm of possibility for the average person, whereas 2,650 miles in a summer seems just insane to most people. They were very encouraging, telling me how much they wished they could take a trip like that. We talked pack weight, gear, miles per day, food and footwear (one of them also wears Keens) while Snickers trudged ahead and assumed an impatient stance on the trail, waiting for me to finish my conversation and catch up. Having admirers to talk to was fine by me; this was not a place through which I wanted to hurry!   I said farewell to them after a bit, and hurried along.  The Monk’s Hood and Larkspur were blooming above my head and there was an abundance of bright orange columbine, my favorite wildflower.  Little streams and creeks cascaded down the mountainside, sometimes across the trail, and I wanted to stop and scoop up water with my Sierra Cup every time I saw it. In the end I only stopped for water once because Snickers was in a hurry.  I didn’t take any pictures or press any flowers either, because I figured this was still the first few days and there would be many more areas like this later down the trail.  There were not. 

The bottom of my right foot felt a little hot, and there was a rock or something between my toes.  I tried to shake it out of the shoe and walk on the outside of my foot, but the pinch remained, and I finally had to stop and empty my shoe.  Only nothing fell out.  Trying to keep up with Snicker’s restless pace to the Mt. Ashland resort in order to meet Mountain Goat by 2:30, had given me a blister on the bottom of my foot, and another between my toes.  Instead of stopping to take care of it, I joined Snickers in the mad dash (we must have been going a whopping 2.6 miles per hour) hoping it was just a little blister and not much to worry about. We turned off the main trail and headed down the trail to the Mt. Ashland resort, when Snickers thought he saw some movement in the bushes ahead.  We weren’t sure what kind of animal it was until it jumped out and laughed at us.  You guessed it, Mountain Goat, up to his usual tricks.  He had hiked the 19 miles, washed up and driven his car up here in the amount of time it took us to do fourteen miles.  He had then hiked up to meet us because he was concerned about the lady who owned the Bed and Breakfast there, she was complaining about all the hikers and foot traffic and how her dogs were reacting to it all.  Mountain Goat said he never heard or saw the dogs- we didn’t either.     We all hopped into his car and drove down to Callahan’s resort.  We could have had a free place to pitch our tent out on their back lawn, but decided to get a room instead.  The hot shower felt fantastic! After we had cleaned up and visited with Sharkie, Be Bo and some other hikers for a bit, we drove into Ashland to the store for tortillas and some fruit, then out to dinner at a Brew Pub.  Snickers got a burger, of course, and I found some sort of vegetarian fare.  I really just wanted salad. 

We had a nice meal, tried to tell our waitress apart from all the other dread-topped hipsters with their hair tied up in swaths of wine colored cloth, paid our bill and drove back to Callahan’s. We found the other hikers in the bar, having drinks and visiting, and joined them at a table. The mood among the hikers was light-hearted and joyful.  Bellies were full, hands and faces were clean, the seats were soft. Callahan’s resort offers a special bottomless spaghetti bowl for hikers, and even though the plate was huge, a couple of the boys ordered a second helping.  I found out that Sharkie loved blue grass music and that Be Bo had taken a hard fall on some lava near the Hat Creek Rim, broke some teeth and had to have stitches in her lip.  She had also broken a few ribs, but kept plugging away at the trail, and even though Sharkie had to lift her pack to her back, she could still carry it.  I was impressed with her tenacity; most people would have quit after getting hurt like that.   

Back in the room we sorted through our resupply box and filled our food sacks. After that was done, we used the jetted tub, not only for ourselves, but also to do some laundry. There were large velour robes hanging in the closet, a nice little luxury which we were quick to try.  Soon clean, wet socks, shirts and underwear were draped about the furniture; hopefully they would dry by morning. When you haven’t slept in one for a few days, a bed feels really great.  I like sheets better than sleeping bags- they don’t confine your feet and twist around your middle in the night. The hikers’ head lamps out on the lawn blinked out one by one, and we fell asleep to the sound of the fountain outside our window; it sounded just like sleeping near a creek.

We actually slept in a little in the morning, but were down to breakfast by about eight.  Other hikers were there too, of course, and we joined Sharkie, Be Bo and Highwalker for a nice pancake breakfast.  A few other hikers were coming in for their pancakes as well. Most would go in to Ashland for the day as several had to put together resupply boxes for Oregon or Washington.  We were headed back to the trail though- no “zero” day for us.  Mountain Goat had decided to head back home last night rather than stay. He was tempted to hike with us a few more days, but has a business to run and felt he shouldn’t take any more days off.  Since that meant we had no access to a car, one of the employees offered to take us to the trailhead.  While we waited for her I found some paper and envelopes since there were no post cards here, and sent letters to my kids and grandkids.

We set out once again. Our packs were heavy, but we had clean clothes and new food, so we didn’t mind too much.  I had not gotten any water, thinking we had easy access today, but Snickers informed me that we had eight miles before we made it to the next spring.  Right after that a family came round the bend and stopped to talk to us.  They had just hiked out for a day or two with their son, Messenger, and were returning home.  They made sure I had plenty of water and some fruit too!  We were passed by a few other hikers, an Australian girl named Mok Mok and another who we had seen during breakfast.  The pancakes, he said, were still sitting in his belly making it hard to walk.  He didn’t seem to have any trouble passing us though.  I said I hadn’t gotten his name, and he replied, “That Asshole.”  Oh, no wonder I hadn’t gotten his name before.  The eight miles to the spring went by pretty quickly, thanks to my son’s iPod and some blue grass music by Kenny Thacker.  The blister on my right foot popped and was hurting, so listening to the music got me through the rough part of the day.  The water at the spring came gushing out of a big pipe, from the look of the mud all around it was well used by animals, hunters and hikers.  We made lunch and rested, then pushed on in the heat. 

The fun thing for me that day was Pilot Rock.  We began seeing it in the distance before we made it to Callahan’s and today would be the day we passed it. Standing on the sky line like a big beacon, this basaltic peak guided early pioneers heading to and from California.   As a teacher, I have read stories to my students over the years that included this noticeable land mark, and it was a little unreal to be standing in its shadow. Even though I longed for my prairie bonnet, smock and dress, I made Snicker’s stop and take my picture a few times, pleased that I had the experience to add to the authenticity of my history lessons.  We only made fourteen miles that day, but we had started late and my feet were hurting.  We ate dinner a little early, burritos again. I had smuggled a nice ripe avocado in my sleeping bag.  It was delicious!