Kindness at Elk Lake

It rained through the night but was sunny the next morning.  We packed our bags and left camp very early, wearing our ponchos to let them dry.  We passed over a bridge and through a misty meadow. The sun began to beat down and Snickers heated up, so I put on his poncho until it dried. We were huffing our way up a steep hill when I began to overheat too and stripped down to just one layer.  There were a few tents still up at the lake where we first stopped for water, but no one seemed to be stirring. Whoever they were they were missing another beautiful morning. 

The vegetation began to change as our elevation changed, from fern covered slopes beneath a dense forest canopy to sparsely vegetated vine-covered forest floor.  Gone were my friends the huckleberries, and in their place were thimble berries (which are equally tasty but not prolific) and other plants I did not know.  I was busy checking out and trying to sketch the new plants when it started to sprinkle.  The ponchos went back on in a hurry.  Soon the rain began to get serious and thunder boomed above our heads.  Some of the peals were so loud we startled and looked at each other in surprise.  I was delighted! There is something magical about walking in the rain as long as you are dry and comfortable, and the thunder and lightning provided an added sense of awe. The first hour was amazing, and the second hour was still magical. The rain let up a little and we found a semi-dry bouldery spot upon which to have our lunch and dry out our ponchos.  Another cell passed over us and we quickly grabbed our ponchos and hit the trail- I didn't even take the time to put my socks back on, and they were wet anyway. The wonder of walking out in the rain, smelling the fresh wetness of the trees and bushes began to wear off in the third hour. By the fourth hour the trails began to be small streams, full of floating duff that kept getting stuck under my feet and between my toes. The Velcro on my poncho kept coming undone whenever I stepped too wide or the hem got caught on something.  And, being well hydrated, I had to keep stopping and taking care of that problem, too, which was a little harder to do beneath the poncho. 

A boy scout troop passed us, going in the opposite direction.  A few of the beleaguered boys, clad in all manner of ponchos and rain gear, asked us woefully how far it was to Island Lake- their destination for the night.  I just sort of shrugged my shoulders, not having the heart to inform them we had passed there nearly two hours ago.  Before I had to stay anything, one of the leaders answered “you don’t want to know boys…” and encouraged them to keep up with the others.  I guess the wonder had worn off for them, too.

After 16 miles, most of it slogging through the wet trails, we started to look for a place to camp.  Two main obstacles prevented us from being successful in the quest- it was only 3:00, and everything was soaked.  We knew it would be a wet night and our “tent” was already thoroughly soaked.  Only a thin groundcloth would separate us from the soggy ground, and I expected that it would be a long, cold night.  A lone hiker, with his tent’s rain fly pinned to his hat and wrapped around his pack, strode on by, noting that it looked like it was lightening up.  We got tired of searching through the forest for dry, level plots of land big enough to put our tarp out on, so we decided to push on through the upcoming meadow and to the other side.  While I stopped to clean all the junk out of my shoes, Snickers found a spot with good cell reception and called down to a nearby resort to see if they had available cabins.  By the time I got down to the meadow the sun was out, everything was green and sparkly and Snickers had his sites set on Elk Lake.

The next three miles were sunny and nice, but my feet were no longer freezing and the numbness wore off.  Walking was painful. Snickers marched boldly on, lured by the thought of a hot meal and a warm place to camp, but I was pretty pokey and whiney.  After hiking for twenty miles I didn’t really want to hike the extra mile down to the resort, especially since the manager had told him there wasn’t a cabin available.  My iPod was out of charge and I couldn’t hide myself in music, so I lagged behind and sang to try to cheer myself up.  Snickers was visiting with a pair of day hikers when I caught up to him; they were all smiling and laughing. I was not smiling or laughing. I was tired and wet and bedraggled and must have looked pretty pitiful. I did visit with the nice people for a few minutes, and then before we knew it we were at Elk Lake.  Quaint and rustic, the dining room was also bar, store, ice cream parlor, and, I think, dance hall.  A few hikers were out on the porch, talking, drinking and eating, but I marched right on by them without really even saying hi.  Many of them were planning to hitch in to Bend, and one was creating a hitch hiker sign on a scrap piece of cardboard.  When I paid attention I saw that it was my friend that Nice Young Man, but by the time I decided I should go say hi to him, he was gone.  

Dinner was great- Snickers actually had a hamburger that was too spicy for him and decided to order another.  I enjoyed a cup of mushroom soup and a green salad.  One of the hikers, a woman that had passed us early in the day, asked the people at the table next to us if they wouldn’t mind if she charged her phone at the plug right next to their table.  They ended up visiting for quite a while, talking beer and trail, and offering her a beer, a ride into Bend, and a beer tasting tour at their son’s restaurant.  By the time we finished dinner I was in a much better mood and we headed up the road to check out the campground. I was teasing about sleeping in the cabin we walked by (I thought it was the bathroom) when a man called out to us.  It was the day hiker Snickers had met on the way in to the resort.  He asked his wife if they could give us the cabin, saying he felt guilty sleeping dry in the nice warm cabin when he knew we had been out in the wet all day and shouldn’t have to sleep in the rain too.  Apparently I looked as pitiful as I felt. She agreed, but didn’t think they had to give up their cabin in order to host us; there was a loft.  Humbled by their generosity and thrilled that we didn’t have to camp in the rain, we gratefully accepted the offer, warning them that Snickers snores loudly.  They didn’t care and took us in anyway.  Tucked in our bags under the rafters we listened to the rain hit the roof.  It was hard to get to sleep; it seemed like we were already dreaming. 

Drying out our rain gear at the Elk Lake cabin.