Blisters and Expectations

After consulting with others and our maps last night, we decided that today we would take the alternate route on the Oregon Sky Lakes Trail.  This was the old PCT and would climb less, be shorter, and take us by more available water sources.  That seemed like a no brainer.  So we snuck out of camp quietly- I teased Snickers that now people would be able to sleep because he and his snoring were leaving camp- and hiked along in the cool dawn light. 

It wasn’t very long before we were passed by Toots M’Goots and Tears for Beers. We had not yet officially met them, but we had seen them briefly at Crater Lake and saw them at camp last night.  Toot’s husband, Aloha, is trail supporting her and meets her at junctions to give her resupply and often provides trail magic.  The Two T’s knew us as The Berry Couple, and asked us about the local berries- which ones were good for eating and which should not be consumed.  Although I realize I run the slight risk of having no berries to eat if I keep telling people who will be in front of us about the berries they can eat, I also realize that most hikers are too busy hiking to pick and eat a lot of berries.  I had picked a lot of black current by the spring last night and still had some in a baggie, so I showed those to the girls and shared a few, and showed them the dwarf huckleberry. 

Dwarf Huckleberry, also called Whortleberry

I was excited for the day.  I thought that we would finally be hiking by lots of lakes and not have to carry water.  I guess I was expecting terrain like the Sierra Mountains.  We hiked along on a dry, hot trail, my blisters starting to really hurt again.  I stopped frequently to air out my feet and change my socks, and applied the 2^nd skin blister pads which Drop Biscuit had given me.  I was trying to enjoy the nice weather and the scenery, but my brain only wanted to focus on my sore feet.  The first water source, a small lake, was supposed to be just ¼ mile off the trail.  I was happy about being able to soak my feet and have fresh water, but as we approached the lake, all we found was a mudhole.  Disappointed, we decided not to muck our way through the mud to where the water was, so we turned around and headed back to the main trail, stopping to have a snack in a hunter’s camp, frustrated at having wasted half a mile.

The next water was better, still not great, lots of bugs swimming around.  We tanked up, filled our water bottles and moseyed along, still overheated, still a bit grumbly that these lakes were not the swimming sort of lakes.  At lunch time we finally made it to a real lake!  We spread out our ground cloth and began a proper picnic. I couldn’t wait to get into that beautiful lake, but a cloud cover had come in and a cool breeze was blowing.  I decided to stretch out for a little nap first, enjoying the beauty of a lazy day by a lake.  I hadn’t watched too many clouds drifting by before I realized I wasn’t watching anything at all.  I was awakened by Snickers’ movements.  He was packing up his bag, putting on his shoes.  But wait!  I hadn’t taken a swim yet.  My feet didn’t even get wet.  He was of the opinion that with the blister pads on I shouldn’t douse my feet, and he was ready to move on.  So we moved on.  Sometimes when you hike with a partner, no matter how much you love them, you have to make concessions that you would prefer not to make.  This was one of those times.  I suppose I could have hollered and caused a fuss or just refused to move on until I got my swim, but at that point it was easier to put up with my bad mood in having missed a swim than with his bad mood of having to wait for me.  Aware of the choice I was making made it easier, but still, my feet wanted a soaking.  I plugged in my music and tried to get lost in it.  Actually, after the rest, my feet felt pretty good and only my feelings were aching.

The trail was hot and dusty.  We passed a few more lakes, but not beautiful ones, and none of them close enough to get to.  I was in a mosey mood, wanting to stop and enjoy the lakes, but Snickers wanted to push on and get to our destination lake and take time there.  Ok, I could go with that plan. I enjoyed the lakes in passing, carried water in my pack and hiked.  Then the trail got rougher and dustier.  After a while it was unclear whether or not we were on the right trail, even though they are fairly well labeled through Oregon.  Someone had written PCT in sticks with an arrow that headed up a trail that was not labeled, but we trusted our map instead.  The dusty trail spilled out onto a gravel road, and we weren’t sure we were even headed in the right direction.  The gravel road led to a paved road, and the signs confirmed we were headed to Crescent Lake, but I had my suspicions otherwise.  The paved road was oily and reflected the sun’s heat.  We hiked on, our feet hot, both unhappy.  No cars came by to give us a ride.  We continued to follow the road and signs and ended up in a forest service camp ground at a boating lake.  There were lots of trucks and campers and boats, a few people wandering around.  One man was fairly friendly and directed us to the camp host site for information, but the camp host was not at home.  Downcast, we turned around and headed to the shore of the lake.  Finally, I would get to soak my feet.  I was trying not to be a whiner because I could see that Snickers was in a bad mood too, he couldn’t decide whether to water up and move on or remain there for the night. I was in favor of pushing on intellectually, as I don’t like to walk for miles and miles only to arrive at a lake populated by  cars and trucks, but my body was not so sure about moving on.  Snickers took a swim, fully clothed, while I sat on the beach and glowered.  What was supposed to be a fun day with lots of lakes had turned into a blister ruined hike where we got off track and ended up having to throw our sleeping bags down in the middle of a camp ground full of RV’s and rednecks.  Refreshed, my husband decided to stay there for the night, and I was too tired to care.  I changed clothes, went down and took a nice long swim, and came up feeling much better.  As we were drying on the beach, a woman who had been sunning in a lawn chair approached us cautiously. “Are you hikers?” she asked us, and once we answered affirmatively, we were on a different level with her.  Friendly, talkative and sweet, Earleine told us the story of their lives, how they camp here all the time mid-week, but never on the weekends, how they had met a PCT hiking woman named Katie and helped her out…  She told us their campsite number and invited us to come by later, which we did, after dinner. Steve, Earleine’s husband, offered Snickers a beer, and  Earleine offered salves and ointments for my feet.  Spirits considerably buoyed, we wandered back to our ground cloth and slept beneath the stars. Well, we slept until about one in the morning, when I started feeling big wet drops on my face.  I dug into my pack and pulled out my poncho, covered my head and most of my sleeping bag, told Snickers it was raining, and tried to get back to sleep.  Valiantly he got up, covered us both properly by staking the ponchos at the corners, and we slept snugly underneath our make-shift cover.  I was glad I had not been the brat I could have been that day.

We awoke to the chirp of ground squirrels, who were quite curious about us, and very bold.  I fed them cashews from my trail mix, sketched them in my journal and sat in the sunshine. Rather than hike on in iffy weather on sore feet, we had decided to take our new friends’ offer of a ride to our next resupply.  I think Snickers was on the verge of giving up- he kept talking about visiting his uncle in Washington or camping at Solduck Hot Springs (which is one of my favorite spots.)  Much more invested this year than in year’s past, I was not about to let some blisters get the best of me.  We played with the friendly ground squirrels- one even jumped up on Snickers’ back while I was giving him a massage- ate our breakfast, dried our laundry, then finally climbed into the truck with Steve and Earleine and headed to Shelter Cove. 

Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel (Chipmunks have cheek stripes)