The first five miles went very quickly, through some forest
and some burnt forest, and then we crossed a highway. People often ask me if I
feel safe walking out in the woods- they worry about cougars and bears and
other wild animals and things that might get me. I have had to listen to countless stories
about people being attacked by bears or falling off cliffs. I am frequently asked if we carry a pistol or
at least bear mace. Here’s my answer: I
don’t worry about bears in the wilderness any more than I worry about muggers
in the city, and if you want to look at the statistics, 28 fatal bear attacks
in CA in the decade of 2010, compared
to 1,974 homicides in CA in the year
of 2011. Although this site http://www.scaruffi.com/travel/calendar.html
says that no fatal bear attacks have occurred in this decade. Yes, I feel safer
with the bears. And though I could not find a single listed incident of a hiker
being run over by a Mac Truck, crossing highways is really the only time I feel
unsafe. Well, and an occasional river crossing. And once in a great while on a rocky
ledge. But bears I do not worry
about.
I expected the day’s hike to be rocky and uphill the whole
way, seeing as we were rounding a ridge and hiking right below Three Fingered
Jack. There was a lot of fire damage
again, but being an older fire, there was also a lot of wild flowers and
undergrowth. It was pretty steep in some
places, and I am glad we did not have to hike it in yesterday’s pouring rain,
but it was not the scary ridge walk I expected.
Sometimes, when I needed a bit of a breather, I would stare out at the
landscape far below. The valley spread out like a carpet, green with trees and
then grey and black from the damage of many fires. I love days when the mist still hangs in the
air and the mountains fade out in layers of blue and purple along the horizon.
I spent a lot of time that day trying to figure out how to paint that scene, or
capture it in a quilt for my new grandchild.
Something about that particular view of blue and purple layers of
mountain is so peaceful and encouraging.
My journal says that I got a nap at lunchtime and that I
washed my feet and changed my shoes. I
do not remember the nap, I do remember the mushy little lake deep in a burn
area where I tried to get water and wash up.
The edge of the lake was so deep with ash that every step caused muddy
rings to form and ebb out. I finally
found a rock to which I could wade/hop out, where I perched to fill my water
bottle. Washing my feet was useless-
they just kept getting dirtier. When I was done fetching the water I sat with
my little towel and dried my feet clean, changed my socks and put on my sturdier
Keens. Then it was time to dig a little
hole before we hit the trail again. Finding
a discreet spot is not easy when there are no trees and little underbrush, so I
wandered away from Snickers and down to the left a little, where the
undergrowth proved a little thicker. I
was just in the process of unbuckling when I heard a whistle and then a voice. A hiker walked right by me- not more than ten
feet away! It seems that the trail winds
a bit more than I realized right through there, and though I had walked my 100
feet away from the trail in that direction, I had wound up right next to it on
this side. A few minutes more and that
hiker would have had more scenery than he might have cared for! We continued on and had a nice, uneventful
afternoon, coming finally to a lake where we thought we might make camp. To finish at Cascade Locks by Friday, though,
we would have to do twenty miles every day until then. This lake wasn’t very
picturesque, and it was only at mile seventeen for the day. We took a rest, and then decided to move
on. The next lake, Rock Pile, was four
miles away and supposed to be a good spot, so we heaved our packs back on and
headed North. It was a pretty steep four
miles, but we can feel that two days rest and know we are getting stronger when
a 21 mile day doesn’t kill us anymore.
From my previous posts it may seem that everyone on the
trail is friendly and we are all out here having a party. Not every hiker is immediately your best
friend. Two men that we met at Elk Lake
kept crossing paths with us. They were
quiet, hardly said hello, kept their mp3’s plugged in and kept hiking. We never learned their names and they never
seemed glad to see us. We had
established camp at Rock Pile Lake and were in the process of making dinner
when these two came in. We waved hello,
they nodded curtly in return. Rather
than go over and make friends we decided to keep to ourselves, too. We had a nice burrito dinner with
butterscotch pudding with ginger snap crust and listened to our audio story for
a while. A brisk, cold wind came
scooting across the lake, but we were snuggled down inside our warm sleeping
bags, watching the stars blink on one by one as the blue sky deepened and
turned to purple, then to velvety black.