Under Mt. Hood

<p>Hello from beautiful timberline lodge! I finally caught up with some friends I met earlier on the thru hike in Bend and the northward movement has slowed but the fun shenanigan level has jumped up a notch or two. I think the zero day tally is almost equal the hiking day tally. After a quick reunion we finished the brewery tour I had already started and ended up spending an extra day recovering. After getting back on trail I had the first night of rain since the San gabriels in southern California.&#160;The next day was slowed by&#160;abundant ripe huckleberry bushes. The day after we rose early intending to make good time which we accomplished until being derailed by a fire and its accompanying detour. Anyways after a swim in a 34 degree spring called little crater lake we climbed halfway mt hood to historic timberline lodge preparing for our fancy buffet invasion. After clearing out the salmon, brisket and other delicious delicacies of the timberline lodge buffet we pool poached until we were asked to leave by security when a friendly guest I had met the day before came to our rescue buying us a round and claiming us as his guests. Eventually after running into a stargazing party and seeing Saturn and its picturesque rings we stumbled into a stealth camp above the lodge resting under the moonlit mount hood.

Sorry for the lack of posts guys. Thanks dad for updating everyone and putting up great content.
And now for some pictures from the phone many more to come when I reach a computer and can get them of my camera.

On Shooting Stars, a Close Bear Encounter and a Naked Hottie. All on the same day. Another Guest Posting While Dan Hikes.

This is our first view of Mt. Lassen. Look closely, she is in the background, more about her later.

Dan is been busy hiking and has passed mile marker 2000. He was last heard from in Bend, Oregon, most likely in or near the Deschutes Brewery, quaffing several Mirror Pond Ales and meeting up with other hikers Alex, Niko and Liane. I'm making another post with his permission....I think he is grateful he doesn't have to write one. I am encouraging him to post at least some pictures from the last 600 - 700 miles since I returned to civilization. Maybe he will.....maybe not......here is another post from our hike together. Dan took most of these pictures, hence the upgrade in quality from my last posting.

A neat set of clouds for Ken.

We hike up the switchbacks out of weird little Beldentown in bright afternoon sun. Our shirts and bandanas quickly soak through, but we make good time. My feet do much better with toe holes. It is hot and up, but I have my ascent wish granted.  There are few patches of shade. I learn not to stop in the sun. Fortunately, the water resources are frequent, so we can offset our heavier-than-ideal pack weight by carrying less than half a liter at a time.

We run into Southern, a sturdy, bearded young buck from Tennessee with the appropriate accent. He hikes in a kilt and eschews trail runners for traditional hiking boots. Like Dan, he can fly. He has thru-hiked the AT. Southern hit the Fat Tire keg hard in Beldentown and was hungover. He is water hopping and bleary-eyed, we pass each other several times.

[I am surprised  the third time we catch  him when he looks me in the eye. “I give you props for being out here hiking with your son.” It is the first of several young thru-hikers who remark favorably that I hike with Dan. These are not casual compliments and always catch me a bit off-guard. They come from very fit, serious thru-hikers. A mixture of appreciation and wonder (and yes, pride, I try to stay in shape) runs through me. Older people than I thru-hike and I am only a section hiker. Do these remarks come from a desire they have to hike with their parent or  is it to have their parent understand how much hiking and being outdoors means to them? I wonder.....come on now, quit analyzing old man! Accept your aged fate and get to hiking!

I realize what you are thinking: only old hikers get props just for hiking.]

Evidently  Southern can beat a hangover faster than I, he passes us once more and we see his flying kilt no more. I know you ladies are wondering……. I’ll not answer the question..…. certainly you understand the delicate nature of mystery and  wonder.

More Trail Magic



The Trail. I use the label PCT, but it is the Trail. It deserves to be a proper noun, a proper entity. For me, the Trail becomes a sort of live partner in the hike, infused in me. The outdoors always brings me closer to a deity than any church ever has. She loans her beauties. I accept. I hike her and she delivers.

The picture doesn't really show the insects very well. We were blessed to see hundreds here, back-lit and joyously buzzing and dancing. Look closely, all those little white specks are the bugs. Amazing art.

This guy had his head in a hole chasing something when we disturbed his hunt. See part of his body still down the hole about a foot behind his head? We guessed he was 6 feet or so.

We decide to camp by a lake we see on the map. We hiked up on  the crest of the cliff you see in the background of  this picture and saw this lake below. It was too inviting to pass up, even with a half mile off-trail hike down some very steep rocks.

You mentioned a Naked Hottie?

We made camp, swam (no, neither of us was the naked hottie), rinsed our clothes (we each only have one pair of hiking shorts due to weight), whooped and hollered to listen to the echoes off the cliff and generally had a grand old time. This was to be a night to remember, though we weren't yet aware. Surprisingly, we heard some voices. We quickly climb out to cover up, but needn't have. A young couple of overnighters had hiked to the lake and made camp on the lakeshore obscured from our sight by a large boulder. Shortly, they came by on their way to swim. He, a typical bearded Oregonian-type. She, a statuesque, blonde goddess. We exchanged our stories and trail pleasantries and they then went for a swim in their birthday suits.

Below is a reasonable facsimile of Dan's grin once he realized we needn't have climbed out so quickly to cover.

We are gentlemen and don't stare....though she certainly qualified as Trail Magic.

Something akin to the following conversation ensues when they are out of earshot:

Dan: I need to find a woman like that!

Me: That looks like her?

Dan: One who is adventurous and likes to hike. 

Me: That looks like her?

Dan: One who likes the outdoors!

Me: And looks like her?

Dan: Well.....(insert sh*%-eating grin)....

Now, about the shooting stars?

The only reason you won't see at least a few shooting stars each night, is if you don’t stay awake long enough. We saw plenty and it wasn't even Perseid's shower yet. Fourth of July every night.

 And the Bear Encounter?

I am awakened by the bearded guy with the hot girlfriend yelling and what sounded like a stick pounded on the ground. I can't see them because of the boulder, but I see a flashlight being shined in the woods at the edge of the lake. I turn on my light in the same direction. I hear something large in the bushes about 80 feet away. A pair of eyes shines ominously back at me. I get out of my bag, fully awake. I call to Dan. 

All I hear from Dan is silence.
The noises in the bush get closer.

Me: “Dan….Dan…DAN!!”

Dan: More silence.

One of the rocks holding down my ground cloth sails in his direction.

Dan: “What, what?”

Me: “Get the F*@# up, there is a BEAR out there and it is coming closer!”

We both shine our lights and the bear’s eyes are visible about 35 feet away, blocking our only route of egress. I am now fully aware of the lack of security planning we gave this campsite.

(I know what you’re thinking, back there in the comfort of your home……. “You didn't have a security plan?”)

We plan on the fly and seize upon a brilliant one.

Me: “HHHEEYYYAAHHHH! HHHEEEYYYAHH”

Dan: “YYYYAAAHHHH! YYYYAAAHH!!”

Me: “HHHEEYYYAAHHHH! HHHEEEYYYAHH”

Dan: “YYYYAAAHHHH! YYYYAAAHH!!”

Bear: “….Silent Stare……”

We yell more. I pick up another small rock and throw it in the general direction of the bear.

I don’t want to hit it, just scare it.

It comes closer.

Ok, this bear is serious.

I assess the situation. We are in our skivvies, no shoes on; lights, yelling, and knives our only weapons. Lights and yelling have only encouraged the beast. Why did Dan send the damn bear spray back home 3 weeks ago? I have no desire to try the knives. 

I remember our fire ring. (Not what you think Smokey, we didn’t go to sleep with our fire still burning. We had no fire. Like good scouts, we’d doused the fire earlier). I wobble over and pick up one of the large rocks we used to build the fire ring. Things are looking up. I have some decent weapons. I formulate a plan.

 I consider throwing the rock directly at the bear.

Worried he’ll charge, I ponder a high, indirect, arcing shot to its right side with the 5 pound rock. Calling upon my considerable, but long-dormant, Artillery gunnery mathematics skills, I consider factoring in wind direction, air density, humidity, wind speed, rotation of the earth, distance to target, etc. to formulate a firing solution......Nah, maybe not.

I inhale without the benefit of the aforementioned calculations, and, conjuring my best David Price imitation, I heave mightily.

The time of flight is longer than I expect. The eyes stare silently, unblinking.

The rock lands directly on the huge boulder the bear is standing upon. A thunderous CRACK, echoes across the lake and is reflected back by the several hundred foot cliff that forms a partial bowl around the lake.

The eyes disappear and we hear a full-on, branch-crashing, paw-pounding retreat.

We withstood the age-old man vs. beast challenge. We conquered with intellect, fortitude and skill!



(Well, that, and a huge quantity of good luck. That Bear really wasn't that interested in what we had to offer.)

With more mathematical wizardry, I quickly calculate the rock must’ve landed right beside that bear and scared the bear crap right out of him.

Me: “AND DON’T COME BACK!!!”……..

(Ok, ok, I didn’t really say the last line.)

The lucky bearded guy with the hot girlfriend hollers from across the lake.



Guy: You guys ok? 
Me: Yeah, we're fine. You guys ok?
Guy: Yes, we're fine.
Dan: (under his breath)Yeah, I bet he is. I'd be fine too, if I had a hot girl in my tent.

Our campsite and lucky fire ring constructed of decent weapons.

The next morning, I am dissappointed not to find any bear scat. There are no tracks because it is all rock. We hike out, the couple still in their tent. We surmise the bear had been conditioned to expect trash and coolers from campers at public campground at a larger lake not too distant.

We get closer to Mt. Lassen in the Lassen National Volcanic Park. She is a beauty and getting closer, the first of several volcanoes in a string stretching into Washington.

Our lunch time view.

This is my lunch at that view - tortillas, Nutella and Fritos!



More Trail Art.

I am happy to be with Dan when he hits the half-way pole on the Trail - 1325 miles! I whoop for him and offer congrats! He is more subdued than I expect; pensive actually. I take some pics and then hike on, letting him have some space to digest the moment as well as the Hiker log his friends and fellow hikers have filled. He lingers a while.



Dan at the half way pole.

We hike to the road into Chester and Trail Angel "Piper's Mom" just happens to be pulling up to drop another hiker off and gives us ride into town. What a treat and special person Piper's Mom is! I promise Dan a steak, beer and a hotel to celebrate his half-way mark. We end up in the Best Western and I assess my feet. Not too good but I'll survive, I have 3 nails swollen and darkening. They'll be off in the near future. I minister to my blisters. The dirt completely infiltrates each blister.

That right one is disgusting.

There is no steakhouse in Chester so we settle on a pitcher of Magic Hat #9, salad bar and pizza. We hobble back to the hotel and collapse in the beds. The next morning we eat the best breakfast I have on the trail at the Kopper Kettle. Incredible corned beef hash with eggs and fried potatoes!
Resupply, soak of the feet in epsom salts, meet a teacher who is Harleying her way through 18 states, lunch of a burger/fries/shake and we are ready to hitch. I get more head shakes at my lack of hitching skill. A short, tactfully delivered, lesson from Dan improves our luck... we catch a hitch with a visiting German Materials Science Engineering professor (that is Dan's major, so he gets the guy's card and makes a contact) and we are back on the Trail by 2.

I have one final post including a geothermal vent, lake, hot spring and the balance of my piece of the hike into Burney. I'll post that and some pictures soon. I continue to have a great time on the Trail and with Dan. I see him in ways I didn't before. I'll leave you with a picture from the last post, just because it is so damn beatiful!

Mt. Shasta!







Guest Post from a Guest Hiker



This is a guest post of a recent section of Dan's hike chronicling a section hiker joining him from Quincy- LaPorte Road to Burney (about 180 miles).  What a life highlight! I learned a few things myself and him, only some of which I'll share here. I will say to every parent: if you have the chance to experience something special, one on one, with your adult son or daughter for 12 days, or any length of time, DO IT! It is a rich, deeply personal highlight of my life.

A few things I learned about Dan:

He is an incredibly fit, fast hiker.

He thinks alot.

He knows the woods and hiking.

A few things I learned about me:

I am not getting younger.

Toenails are superfluous (relearned lesson from my marathon days).

The old goat still has some gas left in the tank.

A few things Dan taught me.

Soak up the experiences.

Enjoying moments, good or bad, is within your control.

Tomorrow is a long way off - do it today and enjoy it now.

7/6
Flew into Reno, rented a car, supplies purchased and off to Belden Hiker Haven (Big shout out to Brenda Braaten, wonderful hostess!) to drop the resupply box. I stopped and bought beer, root beer, gummi bears, a sandwich and ice from local grocery store. They sat cooling on the floor of the car and on to Quincy-LaPorte Rd. @ MM1235 to see if Dan was there. Came around the corner and saw the familiar, though now dingy, green fishing shirt sitting on a rock. Honked loudly and the green shirt turned with a HUGE smile! Jumped out with the cold beer, a root beer and gummis in hand. Amazingly, he seemed more interested in a giving me a big bear hug than the beer. We sat on a big rock drinking the beer (root beer lost out), eating and catching up. He'd arrived just 15 minutes prior after a 27 mile hump by 2:30 - what timing! We drove down to Reno to visit REI and get him some new shoes, a hotel that had laundry (yes, he was trail perfumed) and dinner at the local brewery. I had lined up a ride from Craig's List the next day.

7/7
The next morning our Craig’s list-arranged ride texted he was bailing and offered some weak apology…a**hole! Somewhat earnestly (desperately?) we searched, called lifelines in Florida and came up with Jerry of Jerry’s Taxi Service (neat, older Navy vet with a bunch of stories about Burning Man and the like) to take us back to MM1235 and off we went arriving about 3. My plan was to hump-out at a screaming pace for the first mile or two to scare the younger one into thinking he couldn’t keep up with me. Ah, the folly of an old man! Tore out for the first half mile when the reality of that folly began to crystalize. I paused to adjust my pack (the trusty, old school Kelty external frame, often regarded with a mix of skepticism and wonderment by other hikers over the next 180 miles) and he looked at me with a sly smile. "You can't keep that up."...... "Did I scare you?" I ask hopefully..... "Nope, I can't keep that pace all day, so I knew you couldn't."

  

Sorry the quality of some of the photos isn't up to par, Dan is a much better photographer than his old man. I've got some better ones for the next post.



The rookie (Mile 0) poses with the veteran (Mile 1235), old school external frame and all.






Hey, just checking my land nav, but are you sure this the way?

10 miles later it was getting dark and we selected a (barely flat) sketchy campsite. Without mosquito nets, we would have needed transfusions. Dan said it was the worst campsite he'd had, period. I wake up several times to the sounds of the woods. Some sounds comfort, some cause aprehension, but I like being out in the open. It feels vulnerable, but right. 

By the way, you can't spit through a mosquito net, trust me on that.

Some small pine cones we ran across.

7/8 and 9

A good day for a hike! The views, the smells, the dirt, the water...I'm in heaven. We talk about things banal as well as deep. My dogs begin to bark, but I don't listen. The trail provides....

Some trail magic.

Blow down obstacle.

No problem,..... well not much anyway.

Wow!

Vista after vista.

Nature's art.

Dan the Man enjoying life.

Magical bounty.

Walking through mule's ear and purple flowers.



Snow!

More trail magic.

The descent into Belden is brutal. Steep, hot, dry, poison oak everywhere and so much overgrowth you can’t see the trail or your feet much of the time. And ever so relentlessly down. The trail gives up about 4000 feet of elevation in just over 3 miles. I am slow. I should have gotten the size 14 shoes as my feet swelled and the 13’s suddenly fit perfectly. Except perfectly means my toes hit the front of the shoe wall on any descent. Each step is a pain challenge. Walking backwards helps, but I seldom am able due to the risk of falling….it is a long way down. Did I mention the relentlessness of descent?
We can see the river below. It invites, but remains distant despite my efforts to reel her in. Blisters are raging, I know my toenails aren’t long for the world. Dan is fit and well-experienced. He hides his frustration at my slow-paced hobbling fairly well. He sits and watches me hobble ahead down the switchbacks. A few times he stops and takes pictures, checks the maps/Yogi notes, dawdles. He easily catches up. I’m not terribly happy; sweaty, thirsty and I stink. I bark a bit. We continue and he puts up with me.
I am acutely aware of the gap between our hiking fitness levels. He’s a remarkable hiker. I’m impressed by him. I am slow and feeling it. Am I still tough enough? I know only that I will not stop. I just hope I can hike fast enough in the coming days for him not to regret having me along. Flat terrain finally arrives and we cross the railroad tracks to a road above the river. I want to take a swim, but my feet and toes dissuade me due to the descent required to get to the river (only about 20 feet, but steep.) That and the call of the café.

I have my first ‘trail-qualified’ town meal….what else but a big, fat, deliciously greasy burger and Fat Tire drafts….sitting outside watching the cool river. Bliss. No really, bliss. A Navy bath in the restroom, outside on a deck over the river, tired, the promise of a shower at the hostel, and sharing an earned meal/beer with my son.

Belden comes with a map/notes warning that it is weird. Can’t explain why, but I get it. Different vibe in that town: not at the Braatens, just the town.

A quick call to the Braatens and Brenda arrives to take us to Hiker Haven. She is an angel! We camp outside because it is full. I shower. My feet are a mess. I get my first extended time in the company of through hikers. They are by and large a crunchy, bulgar wheat sort. But physically tough, driven and goal-oriented. The contrast surprises me. Definitely not main-stream and different than the AT hikers I’m accustomed to.

7/10

We hike 1/2 mile to the Caribou Crossroads to wash clothes and get a good breakfast The sign boasted the best shakes on the PCT, I'm a believer. Never had breakfast with a really great boysenberry milkshake before, or any boysenberry shake at all. Back at the Braaten’s, I get out my old running shoes I’d packed as backup/camp shoes and cut holes for my toes. They feel good. My light-weight hikers are reduced to dead weight in the pack. Dan can't believe I packed extra shoes and is bewlidered I am keeping the ones that caused the toe injuries in the pack. One of many head shakes directed my way.

We unpack the supplies I’d dropped off 3 days earlier. We have too much and decide to mail a package ahead. I call the Post Office and verify they are open till 5. We create a box with about 10 lbs of food and gear. I sneak the heavy peanut butter and Nutella jars out of Dan's pack in my pack. My pack weighs significantly more than Dan’s. The Braaten’s scale says 35 lbs. Without water.
I discard several foolishly included items like deodorant. I begin to embrace my hikerness a bit. We finish packing and walk 1.5 miles down the road, dodging speeding logging trucks by stepping over the rail. My “At least it is on the road…” is met by Dan stating road hiking isn't easier than the trail or fun. He is right. He carries the box first. I take it, insisting on carrying it the rest of the way. Dan sees through me, shakes his head and tells me to quit try to prove I’m tough. I don’t give it back to him.

My feet feel much better in my new ‘old’ shoes. The post office finally appears up a hill. Closed. It is only 2PM and the sign says closed. I hit redial on my phone and a lady answers "Quincy Post Office, I how may I help you?" I realize I’d dialed Quincy instead of Belden. We face a 7 mile climb with 5000 feet of elevation gain to start today. A wildfire a few years back removed any shade. We have too much food and weight. We take the good stuff from our box, add it to our packs and add to a small pile of food some other hiker began before us. He discovers I’ve taken the PB and Nutella. Several times over the trip we each try to sneakily carry them.  We leave a lot, but ultimately, our packs still weigh more. My mistake has cost us. It is not grave, but backpacking doesn’t have a great margin for error. I knew this, but have learned it again.

We begin the ascent. I am so much better going up. My energy tank full, I yearn for all elevation gain with no descent. The trail beckons...more to come.