Crater Lake

One of the smarter things I did in my preparations this year was to send myself little gifts in the resupply boxes.  Tiny tubs of body scrub, sample packs of fancy shampoo and bags of gummy bears helped make resupply all that much sweeter.  I enjoyed a long hot shower, a nap, and a cookie from the gift shop.  My foot was still sore, but much better now that I didn’t have to walk miles and miles.  I found a spot outside that got phone coverage and called home, glad to be able to speak to my kids. I asked Lanea to send me my other Keens- I thought perhaps the sturdier soles might help.  When I got back to the room Snickers was stretched out over the bed, sound asleep, so I wandered down to the store.

There were a few hikers milling about, most of them eating or drinking some more.  One poor dehydrated lad sat in the corner on a plastic chair, his hydration pouch in his lap and the hose in his mouth.  Others had cans of soda, bottles of beer or bags of chips they were enjoying as they visited.  I wasn’t interested in any more food.  I struck up a conversation with a hiker I had not yet met, a pleasant looking man who greeted me with a big grin and a hearty hello.  We talked about the local news- the hiker who had been fined for sleeping too near the rim and the unwelcoming welcome letter.  I noticed he had a pair of white strappy pumps attached to his pack, and tried to ignore it, but eventually there was a lull in the conversation and I had to ask.  He was happy to tell me the story of a dear friend of his who had recently been diagnosed with MS, and how, after hearing about an advocacy group called A Mile in her Shoes, the two of them had established a fundraising foundation called Pumps2Portland. He was hiking from Yosemite to Portland, blogging about his experiences and asking people for donations.  One of the strategies they used was to take pictures of people with the high heels and post them on their face book page with a link to his website. We were having a rather intense conversation about his mission when we were interrupted by a soaking wet, nearly naked hiker bursting out of the shower rooms and flying by us.  His heiny was almost, but not quite, covered by a t-shirt he had gripped around his middle, and he stood dripping, frantically pulling garments out of his pack saying “no towel, no towel.” Pretty soon he realized we were all watching him, so he scooped up a bunch of things in his one free arm and dashed back to the showers, unintentionally scattering assorted socks and bandanas as he went.  Pumps to Portland and I, and all the other hikers for that matter, were smiling and laughing.  Mary Anne from Indiana came out of the reservations desk towards us.  Pumps, finally able to talk after his fit of laughter, said “well, that’s something you won’t see every day.”  Mary Anne responded, “Actually, it happens more often than you might think.”  Unused to the experience of showering, hikers often forget to take in the most important items like towels, soap or clean clothes.  Having brought so few clothes along in the effort to keep pack weight down, it is not uncommon for hikers to strip down to their skivvies, throw all their clothes in the washing machine, run in and take a shower and come out in nothing but a towel, tossing their undies in the washer along with everything else.  The more conservative types will put on their rain gear until their clothes are washed and dried. 

Sleeping on a soft bed with clean sheets was, again, a very nice thing, but now that I was more accustomed to sleeping in the woods, I missed all the sounds.  The only thing I could hear was Snickers’ snores, his very loud snores, reverberating off of the motel walls.  No moon lit the night, no fresh air circulated to keep me cool and comfortable.  I tossed and turned for a long time before I finally asked for our audible book and was able to relax enough to get some sleep.

Snickers’ feet were still very sore- the blister that had developed on the ball of his foot was pretty deep and very tender.  The day would be a zero; no miles would be hiked.  We behaved like typical National Park visitors- lounged about camp, bought snacks at the camp store, ate a nice lunch at Annie Creek. We visited with other hikers, read the trail journal to see who had already come in and left, and bought some more snacks at the store. Hikers were still talking and complaining about the “welcome” sign and where they could or could not camp, and there was a general concern about the hike out of the campground village- a 23 mile waterless stretch.  In the evening we decided to attend the ranger talk and found out about BUNS- big trees, understory, nurse logs, and snags- all qualities possessed by an old growth forest. We enjoyed the talk and the ranger, and headed back to the hotel using our headlamps. 

Snickers and Veggie at Crater Lake

Our shoes still had not arrived the next morning, so we spent another day at Crater Lake.  We were beginning to feel like residents. As new hikers came in we welcomed them, oriented them about the laundry, showers and mail, told them where to find the hiker boxes, the trail journal and the trolley up to the Rim Village.  The waitresses, camp hosts and store clerks knew us by name. Rather than spend another day around camp, we decided to take the trolley to the village and hike around the rim.  Our feet were still too sore for a complete circumference (21 miles) so we satisfied ourselves with just a few miles around one side and back.  Like typical tourists we ate in the café, browsed through the gift shop and visited the information center- which was really just another gift shop that mostly had books.   We noticed with some dissatisfaction that the services the National Park offered tended to funnel people through one very small area.  Their motto, both here and down in the hiker village seemed to say “Eat in our café, shop in our stores, take pictures in front of the landscape, then leave quietly and don’t cause trouble.”  Whether this was intentional on the park’s part or they were only responding to the public’s habits was not clear, but what was clear was that if you wandered more than a mile from the Rim Village there were no visitors to be seen.  We had seen this phenomenon in other parks as well. 

There were other thru hikers milling about, mostly getting water and food at the café before tackling the rest of their waterless stretch, and we also saw the pleasure hikers from the Sky Lakes trail again.  We made friends with the interpretive rangers on the way back down to the campground, discussing the “welcome” situation with them as well as our impression of the limited use of the park by average visitors.  They knew nothing about the welcome sign but agreed with us about the visitor thing and asked for our input. They also encouraged us to fill out a comment form, even stopping to get one for us at the rangers’ office. 

Back at the campground village we worked on the comment forms and I had a visit with That Nice Young Man.  He had another trail name, but, believing that people live up to what you expect of them, I refused to call him that.  He had come in to camp pretty rough, with a case of dysentery. Another hiker gave him some of his prescription for giardia, which seemed to be helping, but the kid was still a bit weak from days of not keeping anything in his system.  He asked for my recommendations on what he should be eating and we talked about trail food in general.  Talk got around to berries once again, indeed we were getting a reputation as “the berry couple” and I showed him pictures of the edible ones from a guide book in the store.  I sketched some of the ones unfamiliar to me in my journal.  We had a last nice meal at the restaurant- they actually had more than one vegetarian entrée- and went to another ranger led evening, this one on creatures of the night.  It was funny that though his presentation was about the night creatures, the ranger did not let the resident bats interrupt his scripted talk, even though his audience was clearly more interested in the night flyers than they were in what he was saying. At the end of the program we handed him our completed comment form, and, feeling like our job here was done, headed to the campground for a night’s sleep. 

We were hoping to take off the next morning, but alas, our shoes still had not arrived.  Our feet were a lot better though, having had two (more or less) complete days of rest.  I spent the morning cleaning out the hiker boxes- like I said I felt like I lived there, and I figured it was more a hiker’s responsibility to keep those boxes tidy than the store keeper’s.  You wouldn’t believe what some people drop into those resupply boxes!  There were packages of contact lenses, completely trashed hiking shorts, shoes, insoles, no fewer than eight half-used bottles of sunscreen and many other discarded items.  Sure, some of it could be reused, but a lot of it should just have been thrown away.  I bought a sharpie at the store and did the best I could to label and date the many unidentified baggies of grains, potato flakes and cereals.  A lot of it I had to toss. That Nice Young Man and several others headed back out to the trail, either via the trolley up to the rim or by trail.  One woman I very much admired was named One Pint.  She likes beer, she said, but can only handle one pint.  She had quit her job and, I think, sold her house in order to fulfill her dream of hiking the trail.  She was very dedicated to it and wanted to make sure she completed every bit of the trail.  Her boyfriend (I think) and a few others took the Trolley up to the rim, and she let them take her pack, but she didn’t want to skip any trail miles so she decided to hike up there with just a day pack and some water.  Every time we saw her she was upbeat and enthusiastic. It was wonderful to see someone fulfilling a dream and appreciating every moment of that opportunity. 

Finally our shoes arrived in the afternoon mail and after one last Veggie Burger at Annie Creek Café Snickers arranged for us to get a ride to the edge of the park with one of the younger employees who was heading in to town.  I was a little sad not to be walking out, like One Pint, but we had only so many days to hike, and did not want to get too far behind our schedule, having spent unplanned days off here waiting for our shoes to come.  We got to the trail head and who should be sitting there having some dinner but That Nice Young Man.  When he passed us just a while later I gave him a hug, wished him a good walk to Canada and said goodbye, sure I would not see him again. 

It was hot out, we were carrying two liters of water apiece, and we had several pounds of resupply food.  Because it was late in the day we did not do too many miles, only about six.  My feet were glad to have the new sturdier shoes, but Snickers wasn’t so sure his different ones were any better- they just rubbed in a different place! We camped in sight of Thielsen Peak and I got out my watercolors to try to capture the late afternoon shade on the mountainside.  It was nice to have the woods around me once again.  I didn’t know who was behind and who was ahead, but I knew right where I was, and that was a comfort. 

Mount Thielsen