A Tough Post To Write: Fire Closures

I didn't skip a mile from the Canadian border down to Mazama Village below Crater Lake. I even added some 50 miles of trail in-between. Backpacking that far felt great, even in the hard times. 

Fires are a blazing in Southern Oregon and Northern California.  Alternates and road walks didn't seem feasible. Dad and Chris drove me down to Highway 5 by Dunsmuir (correction: not soda springs) where I got back on trail. I jumped over 300 miles. 300 miles is HUGE. How can I call myself a thru-hiker anymore? Even if I hike down to Mexico and jump back up to finish this skipped section, there is nothing thru about it. I must remember, it's not all about me... What about the people who are effected by the fires? My little hike is so small compared to someone's house going up in flames. 

I'm proud of myself for what I've accomplished, but there's a sense of shame on my shoulders. I'm writing this post to admit to others that I didn't hike the same trail as some of you. As with everything, I'm learning, admitting to self can be equally as difficult. I imagine that it's hard to understand this feeling without being on the trail for a few months. As mom always said, "you are exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you need to be doing."  

My new mantra shifted to: peace, smile, compassion, RELEASE. 

Remember, Bloody Mary, it's about the journey. You're only doing this hike for yourself.  

Smoke is clearing

Favorite Men In The Whole Wide World

My father and the love of my life drove up to pay me a visit in Ashland. What a special treat! I'm so thankful to have these two amazing souls in my life and to be able to share a little piece of my journey with them... And I love that I get my makeup, tweezers and sexy dress delivered for a day of indulgement. I have no shame about it.

When I look at the people I admire, I often think of who raised them. For better or worse, we owe so much of who we are to our parents. My father taught me how to be kind and optimistic. Some of the childhood struggles helped me become determined and brave. I'm not sure who I got the ceaseless need for adventure from, but I'm sure pops had a hand in that, too. And as for Chris, what a catch of a man. We celebrated our two year anniversary apart yesterday while I was back on trail. Every sunset I see, I'm wishing he was by my side. Nothing better in life than finding your partner in crime.

It sure was difficult to say goodbye, but this show must go on.  Thanks for dropping me off and getting me past the fire closures safely. Love and miss you both dearly! Everyday now, I'm getting closer and closer to you.

Crater Lake And Beyond

From Shelter Cove to Mazama Village in 48 hours! We missed the Crater Lake sunrise by 22 minutes, thanks to me and my pure exhaustion. I always thought Crater Lake was formed by an asteroid? Silly ignorance.

What an absolute relief to find the picnic benches ready and waiting for us outside the Mazama store. Shoes off, saddles on. The restaurant was only 100 feet ahead and we were starving, but I couldn't move. All I dreamed of was an ice cold beer and food in front of me. What do you know... Chef Miguel, from the resort, comes walking up to us with two 6 packs and asks if he could buy us a pizza. That was easy and delicious. Miguel was as friendly as a chipmunk and left me with a kitschy keychain and wad of cash. Yup, a wad of cash. The kindness of strangers ceases to shock me.

The rest of our SOBO gang arrived later in the afternoon and we hardly left the picnic table until the following evening. My old buddy, The Hoff, lost his phone somewhere on trail and hiked back to meet us, too. Hope you found it! Such great company! I fully understand why hikers don't like to move on their zero days. 

This is what a PCT family looks like

Coach and Thumper's roommate, Nasty Nate, drove all the way from Portland to taxi us past the fire closures. We made it to Ashland in about an hour; what would have taken several hiking days. Man oh man, that was tough. I haven't been in a car in so long, and watching the forest fly by made me appreciate my slow pace. But sometimes, you don't have a choice, and it was nice to be doing this with my new friends, rather than hitching alone. The night ended with a Bloody Mary to wallow in.

Delicioso

Ashland treated us well! Nothing like making new friends and sleeping on their front lawn... Showers included. I really can't thank these guys enough. The beautiful Robin helped get us a ridiculously discounted rate at one of the nicest spas I've ever been to, Lithia Springs Resort. Jacuzzi in the living room? Fruiting pear trees and grape vines strewn about? All you can eat breakfast? I was spoiled rotten again. I can't wait to be back home (wherever that will be) and return the favor when you all come and visit me. YOU BETTER COME AND VISIT!

Hiker trash!!!

Bloody Mary Does A Double-Mary

What exactly is a Double-Mary? Well, I'm glad you asked... It's when you hike the distance of two marathons in one day. That's 52.4 miles, ladies and gentlemen, in 24 hours.

I finally caught up to my first SOBO hikers (Councilman, Ghost, Thumper, and Coach) in Shelter Cove. Man, was it good to share stories with people who've made it through the same terrain. It's been over a month since I hiked with another person, so this was a nice change in routine. 

The Councilman and I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and hit the trail ten minutes later, bags soaked from the lake dew. We relied on our headlamps and GPS until the sun greeted us with a steamy view.

Early bird gets the worm

The first 33 miles were as easy as a Sunday morning. We flew down and up and down the mountains, hitting the highest point on trail of Washington and Oregon before 2:00 PM and then breaking for 90 minutes at Thielson creek. This would be our last water supply for 27 miles and required us to carry full water capacity. I know PCT hikers attempt the Double-Mary challenge in Oregon, but maybe we chose the wrong stretch? I would like to add here that I was also weighing my pack down with 2 pounds of rocks (freakin hippy) and a 5 pound camera. But hey, when else will I ever be in this kind of shape or have this kind of opportunity?

It was surprisingly easier than I had expected... That is, until the last 8 miles. My socks were full of sand, rubbing filth into my four new blisters, my energy was dropping and we were back to night hiking with headlamps. With only 1.5 miles to go, I nearly dropped off. I rested for a few minutes with a cigarette, probably the worst idea so far, and felt all the color sucked out of my body in the dark. I nearly passed out. There was no way I could give up this close to our silly goal. Mind over matter, baby, and I mustered up my last reserves of energy to make it a full 54.5 mile day before midnight. 

There is no way I could have done this on my own... now that I think of it, there is probably no way I would have ever wanted to, either. But let me tell you, I feel like a million bucks. I've been trying to earn capital letters to my bad ass status, and I think I might just be on my way.

BAD ASS

Keeps On Getting Better

What a great day! Hiking towards the Sisters, I ran into the Liverstrong couple, Julia and Philip, two other hikers part of the mYAMAdventure program. They were hard to miss with that stellar Yama tent pitched in the shade. We first met at the ADZPCTKO (kick off) some four months earlier. What a trip to see them again as they close in on the border. Thanks for the Black Velvet pick me up! I truly feel part of this community even if I've only hiked a quarter of what they've accomplished. 

A half mile later, I got the surprise of my life with the pop up trail angels, Chef and Jerry Pan. As soon as I arrived at their decked out RV, they asked if I wanted a cappuccino. What? Five minutes later and I had three mouthwatering flaxseed wild huckleberry pancakes in front of me covered with bananas, toasted walnuts, syrup and BUTTER. Yum! I stuck around for for a few hands of Texas Holdem, and what do you know, lunch was served. Barbecued chicken finished off in the pressure cooker to make the most delicious burrito of my life. Did I mention the spanish rice with fresh mango salsa? These people are my heroes. I fell in love that day with their food and generosity. I was only able to hike some 15 miles, but the company was worth being a little behind. All part of the experience.

Another Day On The PCT

Mornings have become more of a struggle recently. I can feel the temperature drop as we get closer to fall. I still wake up at 5:30, but it's taking me a few extra hours to unzip my cozy little bag and face the day. A stove is starting to sound real nice. 

One morning was particularly difficult. I hit my internal snooze button five times before packing up. It wasn't raining, but the drizzle managed to make everything wet and the wind was relentless. One advantage to hiking SOBO is that I've been through worse. This was nothing compared to the earlier storm I was stuck in up at Fire Creek Pass. I can handle it. 

Just as my morale was starting to fade, I bumped into this Bad Ass NOBO chicka with a cigarette in her hand and an ear to ear smile. We stopped for a few minutes and shared stories and laughs. She had two ankle braces and needed surgery, but that didn't stop her. These thru hikers are a different breed of human. There was no view, we were both cold and wet, but her company lit up my soul. Again, it felt like the best day ever.

People on the trail are like the vistas, both so breathtakingly special... but then you leave 'em behind, never knowing if you'll see them again. Memories. I'm holding on tight to these memories.

A Little More Wild

People often talk about the change one experiences when being alone in nature for an extended period of time. It's happening. I can't quite describe it, but I can give an example.

Hummingbirds have been special to me since my mothers passing. She said she would send them, and the day after her death, a little beauty flew into my 4th floor downtown apartment back home in San Jose. Fast forward to the start of my PCT journey... We parked at Hart's Pass and as soon as I set my pack down and lit my last cigarette (ha), a hummingbird flew right up to my nose, maybe four inches from my face, to wish me well on the journey. I know they are common out here, but every once in a while, you can feel a presence more profound.

At the Big Lake Youth Camp in Oregon, a worker found a dead hummingbird on he porch. I managed to keep it, but knew it would rot in my pack. This little sweetheart was nearly weightless and still looked alive with its glossy eyes. I held it close to me for several hours before taking a sliver of obsidian to slice off its wings and claws and then I buried its body under a tree. Uhgggg.... What kind of person have I turned into? I just mutilated a flying beauty to pack out part of its body. My hands trembled and heart felt raw. I remember reading that children who torture animals turn into psychopaths... But this one was already dead. People pay big bucks at Paxton Gate in San Francisco for their taxidermy treasures, so is it really wrong for me to carry a set of weightless wings on my journey? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know, but I definitely feel like a different kind of wild human out here after that experience.

ashes to ashes dust to dust

Lost Without You

I got lost four times since my love bug dropped me back off at Cascade Locks on the Oregon border. Four times in two and a half days. I lost my knife, too. I was pushing 30+ miles in Washington but dropped to an average of 16 since I kissed him goodbye.

Lost might be the wrong word, I was just moving in the wrong direction. I intentionally took two alternate routes (Eagle Creek and Ramona Falls), and unintentionally returned to the PCT heading North. Extra mileage and weight just makes you stronger, right? That's what I thought after the first mistake... Lesson not learned. 

I think it is his fault. I'm missing that handsome face so much; it's deflating my energy and distracting my concentration. The trail is still spectacular, but what good is that if I can't share it with my special someone?

Mom always told me, "you are in exactly the place you're supposed to be." I think this is my lesson... I know how lucky I am to have you, Christopher Nelson Landon, and I love you more every day. Thank you for being my rock and letting me become a better person as I walk the trail. And thank you for the love note you hid my tent... I needed it more than you could have imagined.

I'm a day behind schedule now, but got to see a gorgeous baby mountain mouse and fantastic sunset view of Mt. Hood. Not to mention, a delicious 3 round breakfast at the Timberline Lodge. 

OK, Oregon, let's see what you bring me tomorrow.

Oh, it's the little things that make me smile.

Where did you come from, Mt. Hood?

But I Just Walked 500 Miles... And I Could Walk 500 More

Oh Washington... why have you kept your state a secret from us? I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started the PCT, and I wonder if I would have had the same optimism and confidence from the get-go if I did. It is far more challenging and rewarding than anything I could have imagined. Thank you. 

Washington pushed my limits, taught me lessons and built me memories. Most days, I whisper to myself, "I don't think it can get any better," and then it does... over and over again. Every struggle ends with a reward. There's so much sun after the lightning, thunder and hail. I've seen indescribable vistas, too. Even in the burn areas, resilient wildflowers are reclaiming life. I'm starting to understand the unstoppable force of nature. Humbled daily.

It took me exactly 1 month to walk across the state; some 507 miles with 110,572 feet of ups and 106,351 feet of downs. I began the first 2 weeks with my safety-starter-hiking-partner, Prom Date. What a force of a woman, and straight out of High School, too. She is a true inspiration who I will hold close to my heart for life. Thank you for helping me through the toughest parts. I don't know how I could have made it this far without you. 

I'm hiking solo now... something I need and enjoy. At the outset, I couldn't build a fire or pitch my tent properly. I still have a lot to learn, but I am comfortable out here. I hike in a constant feeling of being exactly where I am supposed to be.

The love of my life and my magnificent aunt picked me up in Cascade Locks to spoil me in Portland, as I resupply for the next state. Oh, how good it feels to be in their company and see their beautiful faces. I am a lucky lady, indeed.

Rosemary infused Bloody Mary at the Tin Shed in Portland

Animals? Well, I startled a bear, camped next to a howling wolf, was woken by screeching elk, chilled with the whistling marmots, stepped on a snake and was sucked dry by the mosquitos. Animals are far less worrisome than rain, fire and water supply.

Home sick? Not a bit. I spend my days reflecting on all the beautiful people in my life and I feel you all by my side as I hike.

Food? I love camping stoveless... until, of course, I taste a warm meal on trail. I'm enjoying my food, but should probably up the calories as the pounds start to shed. 

Weirdo Creepy People? None yet... but I've been carrying my ice axe close, just in case. 

Is it meeting your expectation? Blowing 'em to shreds.

No longer a section hiker

I love you, Washington. Thank you for taking care of me and making me a better person.

Perspective

Leaving White Pass, every hiker mentioned the beautiful Goat Rocks and how amazing this next stretch would be. It was going to be a highlight on my trip, for sure. The weather was perfect, so I decided to lunch early where I ran into an older man, near tears, saying he just experienced the best day of his life. Oh, I couldn't wait. 

As I started the climb, I notice some curious clouds rolling in ahead. With miles of "up" to complete, my visibility diminished to 5 feet. Here's a photo of my spectacular Goat Rock Summit View:

If only I had insect eyes, the moisture droplets might reflect a rainbow of euphoria... But I'm not a fly. It was a complete white out. 

I love me my self timer

On the descend, I found myself crossing a large snow field with fresh footprints leading me through. Do you remember thinking, as a child, what it might feel like to sit on a cloud? Well, my friends, I know that feeling now. It was complete white all around me, not in a snow storm freezing kind of way, but in an "I've ascended to Heaven" kind of way. The sun was setting and tinted everything yellow with traces of light blue shadows. I felt my mom all around. Naturally, as I landed back down on solid ground, the clouds broke and I was faced with a perfect view of Mt. Adams.

Maybe I didn't have the same perspective of the Goat Rocks that so many spoke of, but it was still perhaps one of the best views of my life.