Odyssey 2008 Journals

Want to do the remaining 76 miles to Tuolumne in two days plus, so gotta get my tent pitched and hit the hay--4:30 comes early.

Sunday--July 6, 2008
Trail Day--066
Trail Mile--31.7/1049
Location--Above Wilmer Lake

Camped on Sonora for the 4th time last. The place is getting to be like home (not).

I'm up at first light, wake Gordon so he can see me off, pop a Pop Tart, break camp, then at a little before six I'm out and climbing, from the Pass up to the crest.

When we were waiting here for all our friends to come in a week ago, we could see where the trail crossed two good-sized snow patches way above. They're still here, and I must cross them, but they've shrunk a bunch. I do believe summer is finally here.

The hike this morning, in these northern High Sierras, is one of the most spectacular of all to date. From the crest, at nearly 11,000 feet, the highest point since Donohue Pass, the trail weaves back and forth through wide-open notches, saddles and passes. Hundred-mile vistas abound full around, and they're heart-stopping stunning. The bit of far haze keeps the distant-most snow covered sharp-tops dancing the dusty blue, such mirage-like fantasy enough to make one wonder, to doubt if they're really out there at all; a mysterious thing, as if enough mysteries weren't already lurking beyond the horizon.

The trail soon drops from the high ridge to descend Kennedy Canyon, the first of countless canyons through which the trail will make its way for the next forty-or-so miles. Down a thousand feet it goes, to ford the ice cold stream below, then right back up it wends again, usually a thousand feet--and then some, to repeat the exercise over and over (I'm hiking south now, entering the High Sierras from the north now!). The tread today is mostly rocks and boulders, heaped upon heap, rugged, difficult, making for very slow and cautious going, the only way to keep from busting it, what with the ascents and descents totaling over 7,000 feet for the day.

By eight (14 hours on the trail) I manage the 30. Rocks, boulders, fords, climbs, and the largest, most amazing hatch of mosquitoes I've ever dealt with (even worse than in the Florida Everglades).

It's been a day. And what a day, one to remember awhile, for sure.

"The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer..."
[Amy Lowell]

Monday--July 7, 2008
Trail Day--067
Trail Mile--30.4/1079
Location--Virginia Canyon Creek

I climbed far up the trail from the canyon last, in hopes of rising above the mosquito zone, but to no avail. Tried ignoring them while pitching for the night, Ha! Then tried cooking my evening gruel by reaching out my tent, Ha, Ha! Very uncomfortable night, what with the zipper on my tent door broken. Skeeters out here in the High Sierras work three shifts. They stay at it (at me) 24/7.

I'm up at first light; the early morning shift is here. I skip the Pop Tart, break camp and move out. You'd think, wouldn't you, that by hiking briskly along one might be able to outdistance the little spitfires, but no such luck. The elbow and back-of-the-leg demons move the fastest. One of the northbounders I chanced to meet yesterday (well, I really didn't meet him) lamented in passing, "These mosquitoes are just crazy!" I returned with, "Hi!" but that was our total exchange--kept his head down and continued plodding, an entire squadron encircling him, two in hot pursuit. Headnet, Deet, my attempt to thwart their search and destroy mission. Again, no help.

More canyons, more climbing the heap of rocks, but hey! fewer skeeters today.

In Lower Kerrich Canyon, near Bear Valley Trail I come on this northbounder standing on a rock, waving his arms and screaming to high heaven. When he sees me approaching, he hollers and waves to me to "STOP! There's a bear over there, there's a bear over there." He keeps hollering "Hey bear, hey bear," but apparently the bear isn't buying it and hasn't moved. I look, can't see him. Sure enough see him, though, when he climbs a tree 15 yards away. Had my camera at the ready, already. Oh yes, I get the shot, totally unobstructed. Remarkable, just a remarkable bear sighting!

The guy finally quits hollerin. I pass the bear. The northbounder follows along with me--40 yards back to where he'd dropped his pack.

I've been hammerin' on another 30 today, but the miles are grudging and tough. The canyons have their own charm, the cold browns and grays, the heaven-high spires, the ridges with their rows of lined up sky-piercing needles. Crossing over to each new canyon, and with unlimited views across, each pass sets me to wondering, totally bewildered as to how the trail will ever get through such a confusing jumble. Ah, but as always, one look at the trail data sheet reveals the 1,000 (more or less) climb up the far canyon wall. I hope for the low spot, and that's usually where the trail goes--just that the low spot isn't really low. For this day, today's trek is certainly "Over the hills and far away."

The day is done, a satisfying one. I'm sure done, energy totally spent.

"We shall remember, and, in pride,
Fare forth, fulfilled and satisfied,
Into the land of Ever-and-Aye,
Over the hills and far away."
[William Ernest Henley]

Tuesday--July 8, 2008
Trail Day--068
Trail Mile--15.6/1095
Location--Tuolumne Meadows, then back north to Echo Lake, to continue on north

One of the best campsites last. Great cooking and warming fire, few mosquitoes (still picking dried up ones out of my nose).

I think that today I've forded my last stream, for awhile. Faced now with mostly rock-hoppers. Dry feet for a change.

I've a short hike today and am most anxious to finish this southbound trek, to return back north to Echo Lake where I'll be hiking north again.

I'm up and out before six.

Toward Tuolumne Meadows the trail levels out, fewer rocks and boulders, and I haul. At Tuolumne Falls, the trail turns, to climb right beside the falls, then the rapids, then the swift running river, all the way to Tuolumne Meadows. What a spectacular bit if trail, certainly impressive--plenty of snowmelt yet.

Gordon is waiting for me at the very spot where I bid farewell to my friends almost two weeks ago.

We've a long drive back to Echo Lake. First stop in Bridgecrest for lunch. As luck would have it, we end up with a long detour around, clear into Nevada, then back to California--semi wreck on US395. Mid-afternoon, we make a stop at Topaz Lake Campground for showers and laundry. Then after, to McDonald's in South Lake Tahoe for our evening meal.

We're back up the mountain before dark, where we call it a day at the Echo Summit Trailhead.

Sure glad to have this southbound segment behind me. I've prayed for this day, this success; thank you, Lord!

I'll resume hiking north again tomorrow--alone.

"Prayer is not a weakness but a strength.
Its benefits are insight, patience, endurance, and the power to cope with anything."
[Franklin Graham]

Wednesday--July 9, 2008
Trail Day--069
Trail Mile--32.9/1128
Location--Route 3, Barker Pass

Today will be a very long day, so I'm up, out, and hiking at 5:45. Echo Lake (Lower), also Middle and Upper Echo are picture postcard lakes, with many small, unique cabins reachable only by boat. I can't resist taking a picture of one of them. The owner, architect, and builder--all likely one in the same person. Neat place, the kind of cabin we've all dreamed of owning one day.

Past Echo, the trail soon enters the Desolation Wilderness. Isn't it interesting how Ma Nature has her way with beauty, even the most stark and forbidding aspects--and the brooding silence always there! Rocks and water, not a hint of green, just cold, grey rocks--and water. The Desolation Wilderness soon ends, but the Desolations go on. Much uphill climbing today, especially the long pull to Dicks Pass.

My time soon becomes occupied with gazing the many picturesque lakes, like Lucille, Suzie, Velma, Margery, Heather, Gilmor, Tamarack, Aloha, and Lake of the Woods.

Since Tuolumne Meadows the PCT has been sharing tread with the Tahoe-Yosemite Trail (TYT), and there's been much traffic, both ways, both trails. Towards day's end the TYT and PCT part ways, the TYT heading for Lake Tahoe and the PCT continuing north.

Gordon is patiently waiting at Barker Pass. He loads me, then we drop off the mountain for Tahoe City and a good hot meal. Late evening, but not yet dark, we're back up the mountain to Barker Pass Trailhead.

The couple I met earlier today, Philip and Wilma from Switzerland, have made it in and are camped in the meadow. Mosquitoes not so bad for a welcome change.

"Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us,
Let us journey to a lonely land I know."
[Robert W. Service]

Thursday--July 10, 2008
Trail Day--070
Trail Mile--29.3/1157
Location--Old Donner Pass, then to Pooh Corner, Bill and Molly Person, Trail Angels, Truckee

I'm out at 5:45 to another long day, with a long climb to the crest right off. Get to meet Scott Williamson as he cruises by. Scott's a speed hiker on a fast trip up the PCT.

More lung-choking smoke from all the fires. Also much ash in the air.

I'm faced with more long climbs as the day progresses--through the Sierra Nevada rocks. Stumbling through sets my right foot to complaining again, but nothing like before. There's a couple of snow patches to cross, but they're very small. The snow is nearly gone now, the traverses fewer and farther between. I'll be entirely out of the snow before long.

Today the trail seeks then follows the crest for a good while. I've grown accustomed to stunning vistas, but the haze/smoke prevents seeing the far-distant mountains I know are out there.

My lungs become dry and scratchy from the stifling smoke.I must slow my pace to breathe easier.The Data Book shows long, waterless section toward the end of the day, but there are numerous small brooks along with plenty of water--the snowmelt isn't over yet.

By late afternoon the trail drops from the crest to Old Doner Pass, where Gordon is waiting with an iced down coke. A call to Bill at Pooh Corner and we're invited to enjoy their hospitality for the evening. Great meal, lots of thru-hikers, laundry too.

It's dark before we get back to Donner Pass, from where I'll be able to get going early.

"The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail."
[Louis L'Amour]

Friday--July 11, 2008
Trail Day--071
Trail Mile--31.4/1188
Location--FR70 near Jackson Meadow Reservoir, thence to Pass Creek Campground

Don't know why I didn't go ahead and hike the other three miles yesterday evening, from "old" Donner Pass to the rest area at "new" Donner Pass (at I-80). We ended the day, before heading to Pooh Corner, by shuttling a couple of hikers over to the rest area. Could have had Gordon wait there for me; just didn't think about it.

We camped last at "old" Donner, so it's an easy out for me this morning. We were welcome to stay with Bill and Molly at Pooh Corner, on Lake Donner in Truckee, a lovely home-turned-hiker-hostel (all provided by and through the kindheartedness of Bill and Molly Person), but they really had a house full, and I needed to be out and going early, to get the 31 in on up to Jackson Meadow Reservoir, so after supper (a super hiker-stokin' meal prepared by Bill and Molly) we thanked the kind couple and headed on back to Donner.

Many branching trails just north of I-80. I take the wrong one. Never would have believed it'd be possible to get lost on the PCT, but this morning I manage--hike the wrong trail for over three miles (and 1,000 feet elevation gain) before I realize my error. Bummer! Told Gordon I'd be finished for the day around 5:30-6:00, but no way now, with a 37 starin' at me. It's head-down-and-haul time for sure. No time to stop and dally. Be lucky to finish before seven now.

Lots of climbing, again, and rocks, but better arranged rocks. 25-30 horsemen out. Pulverized trail. Two inches of talcum consistency dirt with rocks mixed in; slow, careful churning it through, for five or six miles.

It's nearly seven, and Gordon's left a note posted where he'd been waiting for me. "Gone to check the other crossings, be right back. 6:00 Gordon" Dang, I knew he'd be worried. My last time to get lost on this hike? Probably not.

"It is one of the blessings of wilderness life

that it shows us how few things we need in order to be perfectly happy."
[Horace Kephart]

Saturday--July 12, 2008
Trail Day--072
Trail Mile--30.2/1218
Location--Small brook near county line crest saddle

Rough day last. Gordon had gotten me a sub and chips for supper--and a case of Coke. I was so dehydrated that I chugged five of the Cokes, one right after the other. Would have downed more but ran out of ice. A delightful stay at Pass Creek Campground, near Jackson Meadow Reservoir. Managed a fine fire and worked journals for a short while before nodding off. I was weary and very tired after doing 38.

I'm up at first light this morning; get Gordon up at five. Not as smoky or hazy today. I've three segments of hiking to break this day up. First, 11.5 from Jackson Meadow Reservoir to the road down to Sierra City. Noticed something strange coming down to Sierra City Road--a leaf carpeted trail, oak trees all around, the first oaks in hundreds of miles. Gordon is waiting at the crossing and runs me down for a great breakfast at the Red Moose (beat the 10:00 a.m. cut-off by ten minutes). Second segment, 9.8 from Sierra City to FR93 above Packer Lake Lodge. A short section but with an incredible climb up the wide open Sierra Buttes. Gordon is waiting again at the end, and this time drives me down to Packer Lake for a couple of cold ones.

I make ham and cheese sandwiches for tonight and tomorrow, plus I put together some snacks and energy bars for the overnighter. By hiking a few miles off tomorrow's longer section--doing it today, I hope to shorten up the time needed to reach Quincy/La Porte Road where the fire closure/roadwalk begins. As to the fires: There are a number of active ones. First, the BTU Lightning Fire (38 separate fires). Second, the Canyon Complex (50 separate fires). And finally, the Cub Complex. These are the fires responsible for 100 miles of trail closure. It'll take a 74-mile roadwalk to get around them and back to where the trail's open again.

All three segments today--pleasant hikes. Lots of mosquitoes, though, on the last. Makes for fun pitching. Do manage to set my tent, roll in, swat mosquitoes--and down the other ham sandwich.

"All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is and God the soul.
[Alexander Pope]

Sunday--July 13, 2008
Trail Day--073
Trail Mile--32/1250
Location--End of PCT (for now) at Quincy/La Porte Road, (Roadwalk, first nine miles around fires)

Managed to make it last to the water source just below the crest near the county line. The mosquitoes were fierce. I'd made two ham and cheese sandwiches at the van earlier, so as mentioned, I downed one for supper.

I'm up at first light, along with the mosquitoes. Over the years I've pretty much learned to live with them, but they're a blessed nuisance this morning. I break camp with haste and get moving, the mosquitoes in hot pursuit.

Got a 20 to finish this section to the point of closure where the Forest Service has posted "Trail Closed" signs, $5,000 fine for violating the closure order.

More ups and downs, and rocks, but I make good time until the last mile-and-a-half. The Data Book shows a gentle down, but I begin climbing, over 400 feet, with no letup. Must be lost again. I finally turn back and backtrack over a mile (and scuff off the 400 feet) as I try finding where I made a wrong turn. Then I see a PCT marker on a tree indicating I've been on the trail all along--just erroneous trail data. So now it's hike it back the mile, and up the 400 feet, then on in to Quincy/La Porte, where Gordon is waiting. The screw-up cost me an hour--and 1,200 vertical feet.

At the van I down two Cokes, then head out on the roadwalk. Get another nine miles in by six.

Gordon loads me again and we drive down to Quincy and the local Mexican place. Good steak and fries--and two cold frosties. We find the motels way too expensive for our budget (California for you), so it's back up the mountain to pitch in at parking area/trailhead near where I'll resume the roadwalk in the morning.

"The feeling remains that God is on the journey too."
[Teresa of Avilla]

Monday--July 14, 2008
Trail Day--074
Trail Mile--25/1275
Location--CA89 past Keddie, thence to Taylorsville County Campground (Roadwalk)

Recent early starts have been beneficial. And so today I'm out and hiking the roadwalk down Quincy/La Porte Road at 5:30. Must keep my hands in my pockets awhile; oh yes, a very cool morning.

Smoke from the many fires proved very bad early yesterday, but it's tolerable this morning.

Gordon meets me at the CA70/89 junction around eight and we head back to the little Mexican restaurant in Quincy for breakfast.

While in Quincy I stop at the drug store to speak with the druggist about a possible topical anesthetic for my right foot. Oh yes, the barking doggie is still at it, just haven't mentioned it recently. I ask him if there's such a thing as Anbesol (for toothache) for corns. Ha, end up with Anbesol! He says, "Apply it to your toe; it'll help." I also get a pair of shoe inserts, but find out right away when I try them that they're no good.

At Church Street Laundry, Keith refers me to Ardell Waters, a seamstress he knows where I can get my pack repaired. There are no serious structural problems with it, but I want to make sure it keeps going. I told Glen (Glen Van Peski at Gossamer Gear) that I'd try to make it all the way with the little seven-ounce wonder, and I want to give it its best chance. So I have Ardell stitch around and patch it up for me.

Oh, and what a remarkable and interesting lady, Ardell Waters. She just celebrated her 80th birthday. Family and friends held a party for her, 140 of them!

She shows me pictures of her family. She's proud of them all, but especially of two of her grandsons. One, Chris Hoke (recognize the name?) is defensive tackle for the Steelers. She's got an autographed Christmas card (signed by the entire team and staff) on her mantel/bookcase). I take the card out and show it to Gordon. He looks at it and looks at it, shaking his head in disbelief. And Luke Adkins, grandson--recent graduate of Annapolis, another of the many 8X10 mantel photos. Shiny-faced, bright-eyed young lad, parade dress. Proud grandma? Oh yes! Ardell's got a big mantel/bookcase. Good thing! "Had a hunch I'd meet someone special today; that's you." she beams (same bright eyes and shiny face--at 80).

As I rise to go, she gently takes my hand, in both her hands, and softly prays the most thoughtful and caring prayer for me. What a joy meeting you, Ardell Waters!

A detour to the bank and I'm back on busy CA89. I've been in rough traffic before, but the rush and roar that's CA89 is crushing--logging trucks, hundreds of logging trucks constantly coming and going. Narrow road, no shoulder, blind curves, and rock bluffs right up to the white line. Scary, very scary and dangerous; never walked anything like this, ever. Already I yearn for the quiet solitude of the mountains.

I manage to knock out 25 for the day, then we head over to Taylorsville County Campground for the evening. We both take showers. I hand wash clothes, then work journal entries till after ten.

"When from our better selves we have too long been parted
by the hurrying world, and droop.
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
how gracious, how benign in solitude."
[William Wordsworth]

Tuesday--July 15, 2008
Trail Day--075
Trail Mile--24.8/1300
Location--CA89 at Lake Almanor, thence to Sandy Point Campground (Roadwalk)

Another glorious day to shoulder my pack and hike out (and into the teeth and jaws of it). Most hikers hate roadwalking. I (usually) find much enjoyment in it. But what a roadwalk this morning! More logging trucks, three to five every minute, plus empties coming back. And no shoulder to speak of, the white line only a couple of feet from the vertical rocks. Tough as any roadwalk I've ever done, and I've hiked a fair distance down these-here roads!

At all the U.S. Forest Service campgrounds we've been able to use our Golden Age Passports, which saves us half. The fee at Sandy Point is $18.00, so I seal up nine bucks and drop the envelope in the pipe. In awhile the campground hostess pays us a visit--to inform us that this campground is indeed federal land, but that it's managed by a concessionaire. So guess what? Our Passports aren't honored here. Yup, time to fork over another nine bucks. During the conversation I mention that I'm hiking the PCT. "Never heard of it." says she. Give her my card, and Gordon hands her a PCT brochure. Hour later, her husband comes by. "Since you're hiking such a very long distance, you'll stay at Sandy Point tonight for free." says he, big smile. Hands Gordon back the 18 bucks!

Less than 15 miles of roadwalk left. Somewhere up there, in the closed section of trail, the Sierra Nevada Mountains end and the Cascade Range begins. Oh, and I'm nearly half-way through this journey now.

"I prefer the...star-spangled sky to a roof,

the obscure and difficult trail, leading into the unknown, to any paved highway,

and the deep peace of the wild..."
[Everett Ruess]

Wednesday--July 16, 2008
Trail Day--076
Trail Mile--30/*1354
Location--Lassen Volcanic National Park, Warner Valley Campground (Remainder of Roadwalk)

First light comes later each morning now. It's still dark at five when I roust Gordon. Very quiet here in the campground, not a soul stirring this early. We break camp quietly and head out. A cool, crisp morning, first time for gloves and jacket in awhile. I'm back pounding the tarmac a little after 5:30. The loggers are also up and out pounding the tarmac--a little after 5:30. Tough, dangerous roadwalk. No emergency lane, blind curves, overhanging rocks--and logging trucks coming and going, steady, a very busy road.

Another segmented day. First, a six-mile hike to the junction of CA89/36. I arrive before eight. Gordon loads me and it's down to Quincy for breakfast, a grand affair. Second, the final 5.7 miles of roadwalk up to where the trail crosses CA89/36. And finally, it's back in the woods for an 18 on up to Warner Valley Campground.

An okay hiking day, but very little redeeming value ("Some days just better..." applies here). The highlight for this day is Drakesbad Guest Resort. A hiker friendly place, even though they cater to an entirely different crowd. Free shower and use of their natural, thermal-heated pool. Evening meal for only ten bucks (after guests have been attended). Tonight's fare consists of a 14oz steak, baked potato, salad, corn on the cob, and an assortment of desserts--and all the wine one could possibly care to enjoy with dinner. An absolutely superb meal, with cheerful staff to boot. For sure, it put a happy cap on this day--for this old man!

A little before dark we head up to Warner Valley Campground, where many thru-hikers have pitched for the night.

*mileage adjusted for roadwalk

"I believe that God put us in this jolly world to be happy and enjoy life."
[Baden Powell]

Thursday--July 17, 2008
Trail Day--077
Trail Mile--20/1374
Location--FR32/12 near Twin Bridges Campground, thence to Old Station

While at Drakesbad, and dining the evening last, I chanced to speak with a thru-hiker who, at the time, had just finished hitchhiking the road around the fire-closed trail section, and was there where it crosses CA89/36 when Scott Williamson and Tatoo Joe came out of the woods. You will recall my mention of meeting Scott as he cruised by me a few days ago, and that I commented that he was on a speed-hike up the PCT. What I didn't know at the time was that he and a (hiker trash) friend named Tatoo Joe were attempting to break the PCT thru-hike speed record. I'm not sure what that record might be now, or who currently holds it (My friend, David Horton, did and still may). I believe David's run was supported. Scott and Joe are hiking unsupported.

Anyway, what's interesting is how this whole exciting adventure of theirs is unfolding, the fact that they defied the U.S. Forest Service trail closure order, hiked on past the signs, into the fires--and got caught.

Both emerged covered (scorched) with soot and char. Both had fried shoes and burned feet. Scott had a burned arm and leg. Joe suffered severe eye pain from hot cinders. Incendiaries had been dropped from above them on the fireline, to start backfires. Apparently they were right in the middle of it.

When the Forest Service became aware of their reason for hiking through, they weren't held back. What the authorities ultimately might do, I'm sure, remains to be seen.

In the meantime, the two adventurers have cleaned up, have sucked it up, and are speeding on north. Good luck, Scott and Joe. I hope the trail proves a little less bumpy from here on.

My hike today is through the Lassen Volcanic National Park. But as is customary with the trail, it passes some distance from all points of interest. It's almost as if the PCT thru-hiker is unworthy of such discovery and enjoyment--without sidetracking, sometimes great distances, off-trail. And so, Lassen sounds like a very neat place to hike, but the trail through, such as it is, proves totally unredeeming, and will quickly be forgotten.

I'm now in the midst of the swell of northbounders, the "wave" as it has become known. Taking ten days off to recuperate has set me back and in with the masses. So now, from day-to-day, I'm hiking with many other northbound trekkers.

Early afternoon (I dearly need some time off-trail) Gordon loads me a few miles short of Old Station, and drives me on down to the motel there. Hot shower, clean clothes, a night's rest in a soft bed--oh yes! For sure, I'm a total lazybones compared to Scott and Joe.

"Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired."
[Jules Renard]

Friday--July 18, 2008
Trail Day--078
Trail Mile--24.5/1399
Location--FR22, Hat Creek Rim

Good start today. Well, good meaning we got to sleep in till eight. And now we're down at the J&J Cafe for their full breakfast. Back at Hat Creek Resort, we beat the eleven o'clock checkout by ten minutes. A short drive back to the trail and Gordon has me out and hiking at eleven.

Got a 24 to do today. Two segments: First, an eight miler to CA44, where Gordon will have a fresh case of Cokes iced down. And the second, a moderate climb up and onto Hat Creek Rim, where I'll be hiking most of this afternoon and evening.

Neat the way these last two days are working out. Did a 20 yesterday; will do a 25 today--and we've had most near an entire day off. Now how did we do that!

Thought by now we'd be past the smoke, but no such luck. Guess the wind has changed because there's as much, perhaps even more smoke now. Visibility is very limited and the smell of smoke fills the air. Sure hope we get by this soon. The orange sun casting eerie yellow-tan shadows is eerie.

The first eight miles pass quickly, and I'm at CA44 a little before two. Iced-down Coke hits the spot.

My Therm-a-Rest has totally given it up. It sprung a leak some 400 miles back. A patch and it held a couple hundred miles before it started leaking again. Patched it again, and now it's leaking again. So, finally took time while resting a few minutes with Gordon at CA44 to call my dear friends at Travel Country Outdoors in Altamonte Springs, Florida. Ah yes, a new sleeping pad is on the way; thanks, Ryan!

The short climb up to Hat Creek Rim has me tripping through volcanic rock, sort of like those encountered in Acoma-Zuni along the CDT in New Mexico--but not nearly as extensive. On the Rim, the trail is a cruise, following the edge of the rim along, for miles. Take my first video in days. Not much to see, though, what with all the smoke, limiting visibility to perhaps no more than six to eight miles.

Much of the area I've been hiking through today, the nearly flat terrain, the lose, deep sand, and the scattered longleaf pine with its understory of scrub, it all reminds me of Big Scrub, the Ocala National Forest in Florida. Just no palm or oak!

Wow, has the rest yesterday and this morning done wonders for my hiking attitude and my energy level. The recent stack of long mile days, especially the mental fatigue caused by the crushing roadwalk had taken their toll on these old bones. Ah yes, I'm hiking with the lightest step today--and no barking doggie, so far.

By seven-thirty I've knocked out the 25. Gordon is right here waiting at FR22. He gets the van setting level in a little pull-off next the trail. I find a soft spot to pitch under the pine.

Ah-ha, don't have to cook tonight--Gordon surprises me with a foot-longer from Subway! Another fine day, just the way I like it.

"A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night

and in between does what he wants to do."
[Bob Dylan]

Saturday--July 19, 2008
Trail Day--079
Trail Mile--24.4/1423
Location--Burney Falls State Park

Gordon gets to sleep in this morning, as we set camp right next the trail last. I need my little Micro-Light now to get my stuff together and break camp as first light is noticeably later each morning. As the day dawns I'm out and hiking. Much less smoke this morning, but there's enough still present to close the distant mountains down.

After CA22, which crosses the Rim, and where we camped last, the trail climbs again, as Hat Creek Rim climbs again. There's still plenty of Rim left, and the trail seeks the very edge of the precipitous escarpment, following it along till where it drops to the volcanic jumble of rock in the high desert floor below. Water alerts on the data sheet warn of no water along the trail for most of this day. I've brought extra, and I'll sure need it as the day really gets to cooking.

Today I diligently concentrate on not tripping, as countless toe-stumpers scatter the trail, firmly fixed jutters Joe Dodge has affectionately referred to as "jeezly rocks." Despite my best effort, I do little better with the process. So I decide, if I must stumble, to try and stumble a little more gracefully--doesn't work either. Okay, I know when to give up. Listen old man, just try to keep from falling; that's the plan now.

There are hundreds of burn-over areas all across the mountains of California this season and I've just entered one of them. The terrain here is desolate to begin with, but after everything has burned, the scrub, every tree, it's absolute, total desolation. Pulverized rock, gray-black pumice, and deep, loose sand defines the trail. I hike (churn) through this wasteland for the better part of two hours before I'm able to see anything green, anywhere.

Mid-afternoon now, the trail descends gradually to Burney Falls State Park. I get off track coming in (yup, nothing new) and waste nearly an hour finding my way across to the park. Gordon is waiting, anxiously. We decide to stay the night; get a site, cook some hot dogs, and call it a day.

"Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o'er the ranges,
Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through?
Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes?
Then listen to the Wild--it's calling you."
[Robert W. Service]

Sunday--July 20, 2008
Trail Day--080
Trail Mile--38.9/1463
Location--Grizzly Peak Road before Pigeon Hill

Lots of folks making lots of racket last night but all was quite by ten.

Thru-hiker Nitro Joe came by for awhile, then ended up pitching at our site for the night. Also, Wiz Kid stopped to chat. Talk was mostly about pack weight, their 30+, my 7-.

Shortly after leaving Burney Falls the trail descends to the dam at Lake Bretton. Just across, the climb starts at 2,760 and never lets up until 5,410, an elevation gain of almost 3,000 feet. Another, a 1,000 footer late afternoon, and after just shy of a 39 mile head-down-and-hammer day I hang it up at Grizzly Peak Road.

The day's highlight--first sighting of Mt. Shasta, some 60 miles to the north. Shasta is a snow covered sharptop standing all alone. Most impressive. The day, otherwise, hasn't been the smoothest or the most memorable.

"We do not go to the green woods and crystal waters to rough it,

we go to smooth it. We get it rough enough at home."
[Nessmuk]

Monday--July 21, 2008
Trail Day--081
Trail Mile--28/1491
Location--Road in saddle above Squaw Valley Creek

Hike along some yesterday with Gator from Gainesville, Florida. He'll be remembered as the young chap who carried the backpack guitar the whole way. Actually, he's from Melrose, home of my dear friend Edna Melrose Octogenarian Williams. Gator also knows Edna well; they've been friends for a long time. Make sure and say HI! to Edna for me, Gator.

Getting some downhill in today, but it's bound not to last. Water availability has been an issue off and on recently and today is no exception. On the ridge there's no water, and the trail continually seeks the high ground--above the water. A nearly 14-mile dry stretch, and it's hot, hot. Brought an extra 20-ounce Gatorade bottle. Today I fill them both at every opportunity.

There's no decent road anywhere along here where Gordon can get up to the trail for almost 70 miles. So today I'm carrying my full pack, plus a few extra pounds in food.

Plan is to hike the distance in two days. Ah, and today I'm well on my way. An energy sapping one, though. I'm tired and totally beat by seven-thirty. But the day's been a satisfying and rewarding one; I've given it my best.

"Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment.

Full effort is full victory."
[Mohandas Gandhi]

Tuesday--July 22, 2008
Trail Day--082
Trail Mile--15.3/1506
Location--Castle Crags State Park

A short day, relatively. Just want to get into the park and call it a day.

Pack's up and I'm haulin' by a little before six. Decent climb right away, 1,500 feet to the ridge. But it's a cruise, almost five miles to pull it out over beautiful graded trail.

The views of Shasta are supposed to be some of the very best from this vantage, but the smoke's moved back in, dropping its shroud over the entire area. This smoke is no doubt coming from the complex of fires north of Etna. I'll have another roadwalk around again in a few days.

After the climb to the ridge, the trail wiggles its way down the other side--all the way to Castle Crags State Park. On the way down I get a momentary glimpse of the crags, very strange and mysterious looking in the smoky surrounding.

I'm down by 11:30. Gordon guides me across the tracks and under the interstate, to the end of the section. We load and head for Dunsmuir for breakfast, then to the park for a campsite. Plenty of hot water to chase the dirt, then to hand wash my hiking garb.

Great day, a short (and sweet) saunter!

"Now these mountains are our Holy Land,

and we ought to saunter through them reverently..."
[Muir]

Wednesday--July 23, 2008
Trail Day--083
Trail Mile--24.7/1531
Location--FR26, Gumboot Trailhead, Trinity Alps

Oh my, I've overslept this morning; don't often have this problem. By five I usually have Gordon up and am ready to hike. But this morning it's already five-fifteen and I haven't even rolled out. Gotta get a move on.

A few weeks back, at Pooh Corner, I weighed myself on their bathroom scales. Was alarmed to find that I weighed only 142 pounds. When I had to leave the trail, Slider and Greybeard moved on. They did all the cooking. Since, unless Gordon and I have been able to get into town, meals in camp have pretty much amounted to hot dogs, a pretty sorry diet for both of us. Recently, during long hiking days, and especially in the afternoons, my energy level has been way down and at times I've felt lightheaded--and I know why: I'm not getting enough nourishment. Gotta change this program, and soon, or I'll end up sick and off the trail again, like in 2005. I've talked this over with Gordon and this morning he takes charge by getting me slowed down long enough, at his insistence, for me to make a couple of sandwiches, one for now, and one to take along today. Also have doubled up on the Pop Tarts and will carry more energy bars. For dinner tonight we're switching to beef stew and chunky soup!

Despite getting up late, Gordon manages to get me back to the trail and heading north by a little after six.

The hike today will be relatively short, twenty-four plus, but I'll be faced with one of the longest continuous climbs so far, nearly 5,000 feet, and as a result, I've allowed extra time and have told Gordon not to expect me in much before four.

The climb starts out easy enough, a gentle grade that holds steady. Once climbing, and to my surprise, the easy grade continues for nearly five miles, making for an effortless ascent.

From Castle Crags State Park, the trail climbs up and into the Trinity Alps, appropriately named for the jagged peaks all around. The smoke is dense again today, limiting visibility to perhaps less than eight to ten miles. But its presence adds a mysterious over-glow to the scene, by dimming what would otherwise certainly present as utter starkness.

My path has crossed recently with that of Packman. He catches up with me and we climb together. Other thru hikers I see today are Mercury and Gator.

By four, I've got the day's hike behind me. Gordon is right here waiting for me at the paved road. Down the mountain a short distance is Gumboot Lake--and down we go, for a cool swim and a waterfront campsite.

Climbed to near 7,000 feet today. There will be few remaining days now, where the trail climbs above that altitude.

Thursday--July 24, 2008
Trail Day--084
Trail Mile--35.1/1566
Location--CA3 at Scott Mountain Summit

I'm up at 4:30, get Gordon up, we break camp and I'm back on the trail at 5:30. That's great as I've a 35 to do today.

From Gumboot Trailhead the trail starts a long, steady climb, nearly 1,200 feet, up to over 7,000. It isn't going to be the last time I'll be above seven, but few times remain, mostly in Oregon along the rim at Crater Lake.

A few miles into my hike this morning I pass a backpack laying on a deadfall beside the trail. A closer look and I see the name, Billy Goat. I've been hoping our paths would cross, as I knew he'd be hiking south this summer, from Seaid Valley to Castle Crags. In just moments, here he comes down the trail. We share great conversation, then it's time for pictures and an interview! The interview video turns out great. It'll be up in a week or so; make sure you check it out.

I had mentioned to Mercury yesterday that we should be seeing Billy Goat soon and to keep an eye out for him. The two have been the best of friends or years, hiked many a mile together. But wouldn't you know, when I catch up with Mercury, he hadn't seen his friend; somehow they missed each other.

The trail between Deadfall Lakes and Parks Creek Road is busy today. First I meet a family headed for Lower Deadfall to do some fishing, then comes a couple with a pack train of Llamas. Get another neat video.

I'm hiking most the entire day on sideslab trail, not the most pleasant treadway. But here in the Trinity Alps, the mountains so remarkably steep, there's really no other way to get through.

Smoke from the many wildfires is much thicker today, limiting visibility to less than two miles. Not much to see from any of the vantages along, so I just put my head down and plod.

A long, difficult 35 miles. Make it in by six-thirty, set up camp, fix a good hot meal for the two of us, and call it a day.

"Do not pray for easier lives, pray to be stronger men."
[Phillip Brooks]

Friday--July 25, 2008
Trail Day--085
Trail Mile--19.9/1586
Location--Forest Highway 93 at Carter Meadows Summit

Great stay last at Scott Mountain Summit Campground. Flat spot to pitch plus a great warming fire!

Gordon had brought much food from town, mac salad, fruit chunks, cans of stew, soup, and vegetables. Oh, and ice cream, plus cheesecake! Inchworm and Freedom came in and camped with us; just a great evening.

Another day begins with a steady climb of over 1,600 feet. I've entered the Trinity Alps Wilderness once again. Incomparable, rugged beauty, what I can see of it, with the dense wildfire smoke. Sunrise this morning comes a little after six, but it takes over three hours for the sun to burn a hole through the smoke, enough of a hole that is, for it to cast eerie orange-tan shadows all about.

The climb which began this morning continues, to over 7,000 feet. At this altitude alpine vegetation prevails. I stop, marvel, then snap pictures of many delicate, miniature wildflowers clusters, all perfectly content in this harsh environment. I linger the longest time knowing the beauty I'm taking in now--this will probably be near the last for this journey.

Gordon gave Slider a call the other day. Slider had broken his backpack again and repaired it--again. Developed a sore on his side from the pack problem, which became infected. Had to go to the clinic in Etna and have it lanced. Relieved to know he's back on the trail again, somewhere in Oregon now. Slider is strong of will and of body; I knew he'd be okay.

"...we grow strong or weak and at last some crisis shows what we have become."
[Brooke Foss Westcott]

Saturday--July 26, 2008
Trail Day--086
Trail Mile--20.1/1606
Location--Somes Bar-Etna Road at Etna Summit (Beginning of Roadwalk)

What a fine camp last, at Carter Meadows Summit. A primitive site, large and level under the tall pine, rock fire ring, even a stack of firewood, and not five minutes down the mountain from the trail. Plenty of daylight to set up. Pulled the table out, Coleman cook stove, and chairs to sit around the fire. Spaghetti, mac salad, and hot dogs (diced up in the sketty) for supper. Gordon worked our days/mileage schedule for Oregon, studied and marked maps where he'll be able to meet me--and we just sat the delightfully warming fire the remainder of the evening.

I think I mentioned that my Therm-a-Rest gave out miles back, that I've been unable to give it a permanent fix. Called Travel Country Outdoors in Altamonte Springs, Florida. The kind folks there (one of the old Nomad's longest and most steadfast sponsors) pulled a new pad down and they've got it in the mail to me. Should be waiting in Independence, Oregon when we get there in a few days. In the meantime Gordon's loaned me one that his sister, Sue, used for years. I'm in (like) Best Western again, thanks Gordon!

It's light enough to see the trail by five-thirty, and I'm out and truckin' a few minutes later. The morning begins a bit on the crisp side; got my short sleeve, long sleeve, jacket, and gloves on. Another climb first thing, over 700 feet to regain the crest. That gets the old jitney up to normal operating temperature in no time!

Yesterday I departed the Shasta/Trinity National Forest to enter the Klamath, where I'll be till I reach Oregon. Another wilderness today, the Russian, one of Billy Goat's favorite sections of trail. Others who've hiked the PCT have also told me that the hike through the Russian Wilderness will be memorable. As I pass the wilderness boundary sign, and in only minutes do I understand what they've all been talking about. Immediately does the Russian present its most imposingly rugged side. Seems I scarcely get moving that I stop, then stop again, to marvel, and to take photo after photo. Here these mountains stand, not so tall as the Sierras, but every bit as grand. Unmistakable evidence of the near cataclysmic forces of ice--jagged pinnacles, vertical walls, scoured cirques, such breathtaking features presenting all around. In the shrouded veil of the ever-present wildfire smoke is there created such a mystical, dream-like aura--silent, still, the grey-white stone (one spire appropriately named "The Statue"), the softened green sentinels, the tan sky--not the least forbidding but certainly not the familiar mountain place I've come to know, that's befriended me for so many years.

Much climbing, as the trail continually seeks the crest, past vertical granite cliffs, only to plunge to the next saddle, and from there to pass the other side, through the most amazing jumble of boulders and rocks--and on and on. And snow, still patches of snow across the trail.

It's late afternoon when I reach the road where Gordon is waiting, where wildfires have closed the trail. Roadwalk time again tomorrow, early.

"The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far away the road has gone,
And I must follow it if I can."
[J.R.R. Tolkien]

Sunday--July 27, 2008
Trail Day--087
Trail Mile--20.3/1626
Location--Etna, thence to Migginsville, Quartz Valley Road (Roadwalk)

When I'd completed my hike yesterday, Gordon loaded me right away and we headed down the mountain to Etna and the Alderbrook B&B (Hiker Hut), owned and managed by Dave and Vicky Harrison. Neat bunkhouse with internet, shower, kitchenette, laundry, and a full-sized motorhome out back to handle any overflow. Vicky gave me the tour, showed me around. I chose the motorhome.

Gordon had checked with the postmaster--where to get some sewing done. More repairs needed on my little seven-ounce pack. And my tent, it'd be a blessing to get my tent repaired, especially a new zipper; clothes pins to hold the no-seeum door closed just don't cut it with the mosquitoes. My lucky day. Called Claudia Russ (postmaster's friend). Got her first thing. "Bring your pack over, I'll see if I can fix it." Kept her on the phone. Three minutes later she's guided us directly to her place. Easy fix, pack and tent. Claudia even had the right size and length zipper to do the tent fix. "Be ready later this afternoon." says Claudia. What an absolute stroke of luck, and what a blessing!

Time then for some good hot grub, preferably steak and baked potato. The local mom-n-pop is Bob's. We headed for Bob's. Top sirloin and baked potato. Oh yes, pure high-octane jet fuel!

Today we've planned a day off, except to get in twenty of the forty-mile roadwalk.

Up at 4:30, Gordon at 4:45--we're back up the mountain at 5:30 and I'm hiking the diverged path (a paved road) down to Etna--along with Flop (who's with us today).

We've got the ten to Etna knocked out by 8:40. And, oh yes, back to Bob's (right on the way) for a tank-stokin' breakfast, three eggs, short stack, biscuit's 'n gravy. We're hiking again a little before ten. Want to get another ten in by two, which we manage easily.

Ah, and now, back to Etna, and Dave and Vicky's place, to relax the remainder of this day. Neat trail town, Etna. Kind, friendly folks here. So too, the Harrisons.

"...Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
[Robert Frost]

Monday--July 28, 2008
Trail Day--088
Trail Mile--19.6/1646

Location--Lover's Camp

What a luxury, sleeping in. I hear Gordon drive out at six with Flop. He'd ask Gordon to take him back up to the point where he ended his roadwalk for the day yesterday. I went back to sleep immediately and didn't wake again till 7:30. Oh yes, pure decadence!

Gordon returns a little after eight and we head back to Bob's (one more time) for their grand breakfast. Sparky and Doc tag along.

Back at the motorhome I work journals and get caught up on my correspondence. Don't get loaded till 11:30, to head back to where Gordon picked me up from my roadwalk yesterday. A trip to the post office on the way and we're off. Tangent, Jelly Bean and Carbo are along. They skipped the roadwalk but want to get back on the trail where it's open again. So, after Gordon drops me off at Mugginsville, where I resume my roadwalk, he hauls them on up the mountain to Lover's Camp where they'll catch the trail back up to the crest. After I've done my final twenty on this roadwalk today, I'll end up there too, and Gordon and I'll pitch at the trailhead for the night.

Even though I'm not back hiking till noon, I make good time, arriving at Lover's Camp a little before seven. Gordon backs 'er up to the picnic table. I set up the kitchen, fix coffee, get an evening fire going, then prepare supper--Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

Had most the morning off and still got in a twenty! Mighty fine day.

"Going to the mountains is going home"
[Muir]

Tuesday--July 29, 2008
Trail Day--089
Trail Mile--30.2/*1656
Location--FR46N66, Grider Creek Campground

A really fine evening at Lover's Camp. We sat the evening by the fire, right at the picnic table not ten feet away. And I was able to easily reload the coolers, cookstove, kitchen bins, as the van was right by. Yup, a fine evening.

I'm up way before first light. Seems to take me forever to get organized and break camp anymore. I try not disturbing Gordon, but I must get in the van for a minute, and in the process I wake him. He wishes me a good day and I'm off, up he mountain, at a little before six. With the ever shorter days, I need to use every bit of daylight.

Most thru-hikers are not only skipping the roadwalk, but are also passing by the Marble Mountain Wilderness section I'll be hiking through today. A bus runs from Etna to Seiad Valley, so it's easy to get back on the trail there, and that's what many have chosen to do--but I will tread the different way.

On the climb out of Lover's Camp I see my second bear this trip, a little cinnamon colored fellow. He was walking down the trail, right toward me.

I'd be in Seiad Valley now but would have missed Marble Mountain Wilderness.

By ten-thirty the wildfire smoke completely socks in again.

As usual, there's a climb up--to 7,000 from 2750.

I'd like to make good time, get in the miles today, but there being many different types of trail to slow you down. Connectors--hammer out like Scott Williamson. Grider Creek Canyon--cross bridge 3 times. Long day. In at 5:30. Another neat campsite.

"The trails of the world be countless,
And most of the trails are tried;
You tread on the heels of the many,
Till you come where the ways divide..."
[Robert W. Service]

Wednesday--July 30, 2008
Trail Day--090
Trail Mile--21.6/1677
Location--Cook and Green Pass

A very peaceful night last--campfire put me to sleep. Since I'm hiking out right from camp, Gordon gets to sleep in. I'm out and moving a little before six. From Grider Creek Campground, the trail is a roadwalk for six and one-half miles into Seiad Valley. A few homes there, and a general store, that's about it--cafe on one side, post office on the other.

On the way to Seiad Valley, the trail crosses the Klamath River via CA96. A pleasant roadwalk; Gordon and I both reach the Seiad Valley General Store about the same time--time for breakfast!

Many thru-hikers, perhaps as many as 15, have already beat us to the cafe. Specialty--pancakes, and they're the best. A full inch thick, dinner plate size. If you can eat five in two hours, they're free. No takers this morning. I'm sure not going to try, what with the near 4,500 foot climb out of Seiad Valley first thing--nope, sure not going to hurt myself that way!

After a fine breakfast (not quite two, but almost two of the super pancakes, and a couple eggs) I'm able to shoulder my pack and get going again--a little after ten. On days when Gordon is waiting the end of the day, I'm able to eliminate a number of items from my pack, like my tent and sleeping pad. So my pack, on such days, may weigh no more than two or three pounds. With the long climb ahead, all are envious. Gordon has been listening in and he offers to slack (haul packs up to day's end) for those interested. Eight take him up on the offer, Milk Jug, Dewey Duck, Noel, Bear, Tenderfoot, Moondog, Gil, and David.

The climb is not the least unpleasant, a steady grade with a few switchbacks over an eight mile distance. I reach the crest around one. There should be grand views from up here in the Upper and Lower Devils Peaks, but the smoke has returned, limiting visibility to less than three miles.

From Devils Peaks the trail descends steadily to Cook and Green Pass, my destination for the day. Gordon is here. We set camp right in the pass, and build a fine fire in the fire ring. One-by-one most of the hikers who were at the general store come in--and linger by the fire. A memorable day--and evening.

"Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend."
[Christina Georgina Rossetti]

Thursday--July 31, 2008
Trail Day--091
Trail Mile--33.6/1711
Location--Long John Saddle

For this day we'd planned around a 25. Problem is: That would leave another 25 tomorrow into Ashland. We dearly wish to get there early afternoon, even before if possible. The "we" are Flop and the old Nomad. We've been hiking together the past couple of days; Gordon's been slacking him, and with only a day-pack, he's a strong, fast hiker. Anyway, today it's heads down and hammer; hopefully we'll be able to get in a thirty-plus, which would leave a relatively short day tomorrow.

We get off to a good start a little before six--and as customary, it's up, and up some more first thing, a pull of near 1,000 feet.

This is a special day, a day we've all been hiking toward for months--our final day on the PCT in California. For me it's taken 91 days to cover the nearly 1,700 miles. I reach the state line a little after one. Others are with me: Flop, Carbo, Jelly Bean, Tangent, and Bear. It's a happy time of whooping and celebrating.

In Oregon, the climbing continues, just Oregon climbs now instead of California ones. By three, Flop and I have reached Jackson Gap, where Gordon should be waiting--no Gordon. We spend the next hour looking for him, and waiting anxiously. Not a good time. He finally comes bouncing up the cobblestone-like road at quarter after four.

Flop and I decide to hike on another hour or so, thence to find a flat area where we can all pitch for the night. Ah yes, as luck would have it--the ideal spot, Long John Saddle. We repair the fire ring, get 'er fired up, set camp and call it a (long) day.

"Walk away quietly in any direction and taste the freedom of the mountaineer."
[Muir]

Friday--August 1, 2008
Trail Day--092
Trail Mile--15.4/1726
Location--Old Oregon Highway 99, thence to Ashland, Oregon

Shed-the-crud day--Ashland here we come!

I've gotten to where I can break camp in the dark, the routine being so, well, routine, a task repeated day in, day out. Oh, I might need my little Photon for a minute or two to make sure I've got my left sock left and right sock right (They've mirror image arch sections and the toebox angles are a little different), but that's about it for needing light. By quarter-to-six there's enough daylight to hit the trail. Flop's ready, I'm ready, so we're off.

Plans are to meet Gordon at the old highway next to I-5 and from there, beat it to Ashland where we'll split a room for the night.

All through the last couple of sections there's been much horse traffic. Horses absolutely pulverize the treadway, leaving loose, shoe-top-deep, powder-consistent dirt. Tripping along brings up a constant cloud of it, which totally engulfs and encircles you the whole long day. Remember the ever-present dirt halo suspended over Pigpen, the happy little fellow on the Peanuts Show? That's us!

The trail is mostly down, after one more climb over 7,000 feet near Mt. Ashland. We're at I-5 before noon. First stop is breakfast, a real sit-down, hot, cooked breakfast--washed down with pots of steaming coffee. Then it's to Ashland Motel for a room.

Ashland is a university town, a preppie, hob-knob sort of city. Sushi bars every corner, two Starbucks, Ben and Jerry's (mostly freezer burned--yippee!) at all the jiffies--you know the sort of community. Had hoped by the time we reached Oregon that the "cost of living" might be a little more within my budget range, but no such luck. Ashland sure ain't it! Don't get me wrong, I liked California a lot, the people, the mountains. But figure double, though, then add some, and you'd likely hit the price of everything pretty much spot on. California's way overpriced--the end result of "Uncle will take care of us." mentality, I suppose. Too rich for my blood for sure. I'm hoping Oregon and Washington will be better. Recall from my Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail odysseys that around the Portland, Astoria areas, food and lodging were much more affordable. Anyway, FLOP and I split the room bill, each paying about what it should have cost us both.

In the room, de-crudded, feet up now--not too far behind on journal entries for a change, but much correspondence to get caught up on. And I'll be loading my Webmaster, CyWiz, up with a bunch of additional work. I want to create a new page for our website, a page to be known as "Nimblewill's Great Western Loop," or something to that effect. Tell you more about it in the coming weeks.

A very relaxing day, capped off with a trip to Oscar's Steak House. Time to stoke the old fuel tank with a steak and baked potato. Ah yes, I'm a happy camper--life is good!

"The virtuous man is happy in this world,

and he is happy in the next; he is happy in both.

He is happy when he thinks of the good he has done;

but he is still more happy when going on the good path."
[Buddha, The Dhammapada]

Saturday--August 2, 2008
Trail Day--093
Trail Mile--17.5/1744
Location--Highway 66 at Green Springs Summit

Unbelievable how filthy all my clothes were. I had to wash everything in the motel room sink, then rinse three times to get the water looking halfway decent, and that was before running them through the washing machine! A joy having clean clothes again.

Back to Wild Goose Restaurant at I-5 for breakfast--then to the post office. Gordon and I both received mail. My new Therm-a-Rest arrived from Travel Country Outdoors, and a dandy care package from girlfriend, Dwinda. Back to the motel now; checkout is eleven. We check out at eleven. Gordon has me back to the trail and I'm hiking by 11:30. And I'm finally headed the right direction, as the trail's finally headed the right direction, north--for the first time in weeks. Discouraging hiking the wrong way, but that's what I've been doing since south of Mt. Shasta. To get around Shasta the trail turned west to make a big horseshoe curve to the north and east. So, today, my shadow is being cast the right direction, left of me in the morning, and right in the afternoon.

The trail starts out as usual today--up. I've a steady pull of 900 feet over the shoulder of Pilot Rock. A cool morning though, with a gentle breeze, which makes for an easy climb.

No smoke today! Great views from Pilot, perhaps 20-30 miles to the hazy blue. Standing in silence, looking and trying to understand such a mysterious tugging--the wanderlust that dwells deep within us all.

A short, pleasant day, only six hours of hiking, the last three mostly down to Green Springs Summit.

"The land of the great woods, lakes, mountains and rivers

is still mysterious enough to please anyone who has eyes to see and can understand."
[Norman Collie]

Sunday--August 3, 2008
Trail Day--094
Trail Mile--25.2/1769
Location--Dead Indian Road

Didn't have to set camp or cook last evening. Directly down the mountain from Green Springs Summit is Green Springs Inn--cabins, rooms, even a restaurant. Oh yes, we head straight down to the restaurant. Good folks, great food.

We had planned on staying at Hyatt Lake Campground last, but being Saturday, summer vacation days in full tilt, the place was totally packed, not an campsite available anywhere. So back up the mountain to Green Springs Summit we went, ending up at a small dirt trailhead there. I maneuvered Gordon till he had the van reasonably level, then I found a spot under the trees to stealth camp. Not a bad night at all.

A cold morning, low 40s at five. Got 25 to do today, so a Pop Tart down, I'm out chasin' my dreams, the old jitney crankin' along a little before six.

The hike today, and for the next number of days, will be through one of the least scenic sections of Oregon. That's according to Jeffrey Schaffer, author of Pacific Crest Trail, Oregon and Washington. In the introduction he writes, "Section B will certainly be shunned by many and its trail will likely be taken mainly by long-distance hikers passing through to a more scenic section."

Well, Section B certainly lacks in scenic quality, which makes other sections more popular. However, I think Section B has been given a bum rap. To me, I've found it offers a certain charm not found elsewhere. And the trees, the forests here are among the most magnificent anywhere along.

And my hike today takes me in and out of the forested mountainsides, some climbing, but not to the extreme as in other sections.

The day is broken up nicely, first as a result of finding a camera (Sam's) lying directly in the trail, then lunch with Gordon at around the 17 mile mark. A ham sandwich followed by a blueberry muffin trumps the usual Pop Tart and an energy bar any day!

Getting out early makes for finishing early. By a little after three I've the 25 in the bag. There's a gravel trailhead at Dead Indian and we set up right there. Sam comes in and spends the evening with us. A satisfying and rewarding day.

Concentrated very hard on not stubbing my toes today, and my (still occasionally barking) right doggie greatly appreciated the effort.

"Not many people really get to chase their dreams.

Not many people get to do something no one else has done."
[David Horton]

Monday--August 4, 2008
Trail Day--095
Trail Mile--11.5/1781
Location--Highway 140, thence to Fish Lake Resort/Rogue River Recreation Area, Fish Lake Campground

Gordon's got a schedule worked out for me. It'll put me at Manning Park just inside the Canadian border around the 17th or 18th of September. The ALDHA West annual get-together takes place the 19th through the 21st at Snoqualimie, Washington, and I want to attend. Purpose being: I'll get my little bit of fame--the Triple Crown Award. They're handed out annually at that event. Gordon and I will also get to see many dear friends we haven't crossed paths with for a long time.

So today, I've only an eleven and change, into Highway 140 and Fish Lake Campground, a short, very leisurely sort of day.

I get out as usual this morning, around sixish. That's so I can finish the day's jaunt in time to hit Fish Lake for breakfast. Don't you just love it when a plan comes together--hike's done, we're here at Fish Lake, breakfast's ordered, and we're having seconds on coffee--a little after ten!

The highlight for this day, what will remain in my memory--the remarkable treadway constructed through miles of glacial terminal moraines. Where the glacier stopped pushing millions of tons of fractured earth, and dropped what was left as it receded, created the most jeezly jumble of boulders, rock, and gravel one could ever imagine. Well, then imagine building a trail through such obstacle fields for miles, all by hand. Amazing how it's been done, a perfect pathway winding and wending it's way. Treadway so incredibly smooth, one could rollerblade it. To me it's just nothing short of amazing. Check the next photo album in a week or so and you'll see what I mean; got some neat shots.

Also amazing is the fact that anything could possibly grow in such barren rock, let alone enormously tall trees. But between the rock fields are lush stands of spruce, beautiful sentinels all, green and thriving.

Yes, a very short hiking day, but one to be long remembered--oh waitress, more coffee, please!

"Bids me dream and bids me linger--
Joy and beauty are its goal;
On the path that leads to nowhere
I have sometimes found my soul."
[Corrine Roosevelt Robinson]

Tuesday--August 5, 2008
Trail Day--096
Trail Mile--34/1815
Location--Just past trail to Ranger Springs

The next two days I'll be hiking nearly 50 miles, with a full pack. Sounds like a long distance, but not really. I expect to knock it out with ease--perhaps a thirty-plus today, which will leave a short hike on in tomorrow.

I'm off to a good start a little before six--into a climb first thing as usual. But this one, amounting to a pull of over 2,000 feet, will continue throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, a distance of some 25 miles.

The gentle, continuous climb goes well--well that is, till I reach the junction with Sky Lakes Trail. A confusing intersection, I take the wrong path--to follow Sky Lakes Trail for almost two miles (descending when I should be climbing), until I finally figure it out. On the way back I meet Drew, who's out for a day hike. Coming to a halt, then shaping me up, he asks, "You Nimblewill Nomad?" (inquisitive grin). Find out he's also a friend to Billy Goat. "Billy Goat speaks very highly of you." says Drew. Ah, such good energy--sure makes this off-track diversion all the worthwhile!

I've been totally frustrated, trying to keep track of where I'm at any given time. Been that way for the past number of days. Seems the folks who put this PCT Data Book together have made a conscious effort to use obscure or nonexistent reference points. I know you've oft heard me repeat what my momma said--"Son, if you can't say something nice, keep your mouth shut." Okay, okay mother; suffice to say that I'll sure be glad when I reach the Washington line at Cascade Locks. Erik's new Washington Atlas will be waiting there at the post office for me (and I won't have to rely on this [expletive deleted] Data Book any longer).

This entire section, for nearly 50 miles has little water near or directly on the trail, as the path continually seeks the high ground--the crest. Honeymoon Creek, where the trail drops to cross it at 30 miles is dry. Both my water bottles are empty. I hike on hoping for the best--a small pond, a spring-fed trickle, anything. But no luck.

It's now seven and I've been going for 13 hours on 40 ounces of water. I did chomp on some snow from a lingering patch near Devils Peak, but that's been it for hydration. I've more climbing to do, back up to 7,000, close to the elevation where snow remained earlier. So, as I climb, hope-on-hope, I'll find more snow soon. Ah, and what luck, back to near seven again I find one ever-so-tiny snow patch--and the trail crosses a small saddle. Hey, flat ground! Double-the-luck, I've water and a comfortable spot to pitch as well. Soon a fine warming (and snow-melting) fire is glowing in the fading light. Camp set, dinner cooked, plenty of water for the night. Yup, my lucky day. Thank you, Lord, thank you for this day, a day devoted to the exercise of patience, then to one You've so lovingly turned to a day of satisfying reward.

"Everything that slows us down and forces patience,

everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help."
[May Sarton]

Wednesday--August 6, 2008
Trail Day--097
Trail Mile--15.4/1830
Location--Highway 62 near Mazama Campground, Crater Lake National Park

Around 3:30, as usual, the "Old Man Syndrome" kicked in and I woke to lightning flashing and illuminating my tent. No thunder, just lightning. My duty done, and concluding the flashes were heat lightning, I went back to sleep. But at 4:30, thunder not so far distant got me up. Half yet in slumber, I'm thinking, "There's no thunder with heat lightning; this is the real thing." A storm is definitely approaching, not a good time to be making or breaking camp.

I'm up, reluctantly. By five I've struck camp and have my pack shouldered. I clamp my little Photon Micro Light to my cap bill, and I'm off truckin' the trail. In no time the wind starts really driving, bringing rain. Surprisingly, the downpour quickly turns to gentle and steady. In another 30 minutes the trail and everything near it is wet, including me. The rain continues, turning very cold. In yet another 30 minutes my fingers quit working, a scary deal. Soon, I just gotta take a whiz, but aww, what great difficulty unzipping my fly. Finally manage, but then have trouble putting my hands through my stick straps again. As the rain continues, I'm able to hike through it, making reasonably good time.

I'm not whining, certainly not complaining. This is the first rain since passing through the desert in Southern California.

More climbing, and some rocks today, but it's a short pull, and the hike quickly concludes near Crater Lake (Mazama) Campground. Gordon is waiting at the road, we load and head for the campground.

Hamburger and left over noodles, not a bad meal for the evening, prepared by yours truly. Come to find, Gordon'll eat most anything!

"I'm a feather for each wind that blows."
[Shakespeare]

Thursday--August 7, 2008
Trail Day--098
Trail Mile--22.5/1853
Location--Highway 138, Cascade Summit

I'd hand washed my clothes yesterday afternoon, but rain threatened all evening and we had drizzle off and on. Certainly no warm sun to dry my wet laundry. So this morning I'm chillin' out with very soggy hiking garb.

I've a short hike to reach the rim at Crater Lake. Want to get it done, then head to the lodge for breakfast by eight. Good plan. Gordon has me hiking by six and I've got the short climb behind me by seven-thirty. Off to the beautiful old lodge atop the rim. Reasonable prices and great food. We have three egg omelets--plus a couple pots of coffee.

I've been excited for the longest time about the remainder of the hike today, actually since deciding to hike the PCT--I knew the trail followed the rim around Crater Lake for a fair distance. I recall vividly my childhood visit to Crater Lake. We used to take a trip west almost every summer. Mom, dad, sis and I always looked forward to that time. When I was around nine or ten, that summer our vacation included a trip to Crater Lake. Year-to-year we'd done a lot of touring out west, and I'd seen some pretty amazing places, but that trip to Crater Lake has always remained as one of my fondest memories, a very special time and place. So, I've never forgotten that day we all peered down from the overlook, here by the lodge. The enormity and starkness of the crater, the sheer cliffs all around, the most perfect-blue water I'd ever seen. And Wizard Island, I just stared at it and stared at it for the longest time.

So now, after nearly 60 years have I returned to Crater Lake. Can you imagine why I'd be the least bit anxious and apprehensive about being here again? How will these old eyes perceive what that child's eyes saw back so many, many years ago? As I look down from the overlook once again, what will my reaction be? Will I be disappointed, or will I see as a child again! Will there be the hushed silence as I stare in disbelief, or will my reaction be world-weary and jaded? Who will stand to look, the humbled child or the hunched old man?

Well dear friends, I must tell you that my childhood memory of Crater Lake has not failed me, nor has that excitement and awe faded, not the least. As I gaze once more across the wonder of it, do I marvel at its vast, magnificent, heart-stopping enormity. Crater Lake has not changed, nor has my reaction to it changed, the shudder and overwhelming impact of being here--not the least change, not a bit in 60 years. And so, am I now reminded of a quote by Maurice Brooks: "...Blessed is the land whose fulfillment is greater than its promise."

The hike out from the lodge takes me along Crater Rim Trail, around the northwest edge of the lake. Rain had threatened earlier, but the day has turned perfect, just enough cirrus and cumulus above to lend the perfect backdrop--for a bunch of videos and a hundred or so pictures. What a spectacular hike, probably the most grand and scenic six miles I've ever trekked.

Another ten or so to close out the day, down from the rim to the forest below. The day ends at Highway 138 where Gordon awaits. More thunder--we beat it to Crater Trailhead where we set camp for the night.

An incredibly emotional day, fresh new memories to heap on the old, unfaded ones--enough memories to last another 60 years.

"At the first view a dead silence fell upon our party.

A choking sensation arose in our throats, and tears flowed over our cheeks.

I do not pretend to analyze the emotion, but...to me it was a revelation."
[Frances Fuller Victor, author, describing her 1873 visit to Crater Lake]

Friday--August 8, 2008
Trail Day--099
Trail Mile--30.4/1883
Location--FS60, Windigo Pass

Rain again threatened toward the end of my hike yesterday--dark skies, lots of thunder, and driving wind. I hastened to reach the highway, to load, then get to our campsite. Then as quickly as the threat came, did the whole thing blow over, not a drop of rain from it. The evening ended perfectly--a dandy warming fire and flat ground to pitch.

Another 30 coming at me today. That means hit the trail early, and haul. Gordon has me back to the road, my pack's up, and I'm in the woods a little before six. Trail magic first thing. Large shopping bags loaded full with all kinds of treats, from trail mix to energy bars, to jerky. I choose the trail mix. Thanks, kind and generous trail angel.

Not a mile into my hike today comes on the breeze an old familiar smell--smoke. I'm hoping it might be someone's campfire. But after an hour, the smoke has become more intense, limiting visibility to less than three miles. We've had much thunder and lightning the past two days, and I fear that nearby wildfires have been started as a result. I'm able to reach Gordon by cell phone to have him check with the USFS. In awhile he calls back. My hunch was correct; there are a number of fires, but none are threatening the trail. What a relief to know I'm not hiking into one!

A scenic and enjoyable hike today. Dramatic views of Mt. Thielsen, Sawstooth Ridge, Diamond Peak, and Mt. Yoran. Plenty of climbing too, but the trail is well graded, making for easy going.

A few miles from the end of the day's hike, I have a blowout. My left doggie starts really barking. I stop, take my shoe off, and give it a look. No blisters or hot spots, just a small lump on the top of my second toe. I tape it, put my shoe and sock back on, and I'm out and moving again.

Gordon's waiting at the road. We load, then head for the trailhead by Windigo Pass. Bumpy gravel road, remote spot--but flat, fire ring, and toilet. Ah yes, this is home! How do you find these places, Gordon?

Saturday--August 9, 2008
Trail Day--100
Trail Mile--30.9/1914
Location--Highway 58, Willamette Pass

Pretty amazing, how Gordon finds these places--our campsite last. Up a narrow rutted-out road. Strange deal though, as the ruts lasted for only a couple-hundred yards. From there a fine graded gravel road lead off to a hunter's camp, complete with pull offs and fire rings. Oh, and right next, a clean, well kept toilet. Yup, had the whole place to ourselves, and no scrounging around for firewood, like at the fee area campgrounds where every twig's been scavenged. Just a great spot, perfect evening.

And to make it even better, just before dark who comes strolling in other than Sam. Sam's a really nice young lad; always a joy seeing him. He's the chap Gordon and I managed to get the camera back to at Hyatt Lake. Sam sits the fire a spell, then accepts our invite to camp the night. Oh yes, just a perfect evening.

My hike today takes me through the Diamond Peak Wilderness. Here, again, there's no lack for climbing--up and over the shoulders of three remarkable sharptops: Cowhorn, Diamond, and Yoran. I've easy treadway to Diamond. But from Diamond, I encounter many small snow patches and a respectable snowfield, with plenty of rocks in between. Getting over the shoulder of Cowhorn requires a climb above 7,000 feet, the last for Oregon.

Sam and I hike together some, off and on. He's young, much stronger, so he ends up way out ahead most of the time.

Smoke still lingers. I can see waves of it drifting through the forest canopy. Visibility as a result (and unfortunately) is limited again to just a few miles. However, by one a southerly breeze clears it out nicely. Great views of all the sharptops around, most still sporting their pure-white ridged veins of snow. Plenty of picture postcard shots--and a very scenic video from the alpine zone below Diamond Peak.

Another long, hard hiking day, 31 miles--to the next road crossing at Willamette Pass. I sure prefer carrying a light pack (around three pounds without certain of my gear). Having support offers that advantage. So, hoofing the miles to the next road crossing as opposed to doing less miles and carrying my full pack with a day's food for the overnight is a no-brainer. So it's head-down-and-hammer. Hiking fast and covering the miles doesn't compromise my hike, so don't misunderstand. If that were the case we'd sure have a different plan. Believe me, I am seeing and smelling the flowers along the way. Here's how I see it: Through these long, same-old, same-old sections, and there will be more, the sort of treadway designed and intended to get the hiker from one place to the next, getting through them in good time is actually hike-quality enhancing.

Thought I'd be way off pace today, but to my great surprise I'm at Willamette Pass before 4:30, a ten and one-half hour day for 31 miles. Not bad for an old codger, eh!

Gordon's right here. Iced down Coke, just the ticket. "How about prime rib and a baked potato tonight?" asks Gordon with his usual broad-faced grin. "Duh," is my reply. Oh-ho, we're sitting the dining room at Odell Lake Lodge in less than fifteen minutes.

All the major roads, where the PCT happens to cross have trailhead parking, and for thru-hikers (and their support crews) there's no hassle about plunking down for the night. I pitch not 20 yards from the morning trail out, and Gordon will be sleeping level in the van. A great day, just a great day.

"There are always flowers for those who want to see them."
[Henri Matisse]

Sunday--August 10, 2008
Trail Day--101
Trail Mile--18.4/1932
Location--FR5897, thence to Willamette Pass Inn & Chalets, Crescent Lake Junction

A short hiking day today; happy for that. I came in very tired last, my feet especially so after two thirty-mile days back to back. Today, my left foot, the one that suffered the blowout Friday begins complaining. Neat in a weird sort of way--having some other problem bother me more than my right foot for a change.

I want to finish early so I can have the afternoon off. Have already made reservations at Willamette Pass in for tonight and tomorrow. Oh yes, I'm finally going to take a day off, after many a day and many a mile.

Plenty of climbing, along the ridge mostly, thence to sideslab the taller and more rugged crest-toppers. Lots of water for a welcome change, plus a bunch of snow patches to get over.

The hike goes well and I've got the 18 in by twelve. Gordon is waiting for me at the road. We load and head straight for Crescent Lake Junction, and AJ's for lunch. Super spacious room at the Inn. Got near everything, even a fireplace plus wood to burn. Welcome time of rest.

"Without weariness there can be no real appreciation of rest,

without the ancient responses to the harsh simplicities of the kind of environment that shaped mankind,

a man cannot know the urges within him."
[Sigurd Olson]

Monday--August 11, 2008
Trail Day--102
Trail Mile--00/1932
Location--Willamette Pass Inn & Chalets, Cascade Lake Junction

A well-earned day of rest, a zero-mile day. And not a finer place to spend it, the Inn at Willamette Pass. Dianne, the Inn's kind owner, listened patiently while I explained my plight to her (my meager budget), and that I dearly wanted to stay two nights. She was very sympathetic when Gordon brought me to talk with her Saturday evening. He'd also stopped and met with her earlier that day. "Come in when you finish your hike tomorrow. We'll work it out for you to stay the two nights." Warm smile from Dianne! And so I did. And so, her generosity, just as promised. Thanks, Dianne, you cannot know how much I appreciate your kindness!

What a blessing, being clean, having clean clothes (hand washed them yesterday afternoon), having my feet up and keeping them up, catching up on journal entries and correspondence, and just relaxing for a day--such a welcome blessing.

"The invariable mark of a dream is to see it come true every day."
[Ralph Waldo Emerson]

Tuesday--August 12, 2008
Trail Day--103
Trail Mile--28.2/1959
Location--Elk Lake, Island Meadow Trailhead

Our stay at Willamette Lodge and Chalets, Crescent Lake Junction, was the best. Dianne, lodge owner, made sure we lacked nothing. Having a real wood fire in the fireplace both nights was such a treat. Yes, our room had a fireplace! I could long remain content sitting a glowing fire, as I did these last two evenings--but I would soon long for the silent contentment only found deep in the wildwood. Thanks, Dianne, for your kindness and generosity!

A bit of a bumpy start this morning. Get Gordon up. Clear the room as usual. Get everything loaded and ready to go. It's five-thirty. Gordon turns the ignition key--errr, errr, clickety, click, click. That's it. Dead battery. Push the van out in the parking lot. Raise the hood. In and out of the van, slamming and banging around. Dianne's boyfriend apparently hears the racket and comes down in his robe. Luckily, Gordon's got jumper cables, and we get the thing started.

The drive back up the mountain takes nearly an hour, so I'm not on the trail till almost seven. Not a problem though, as I've a relatively short day today, less than thirty. I head up the mountain; Gordon heads down the mountain--to the auto parts store.

I'm hiking in the Three Sisters Wilderness today, rugged and remote, a land of pristine, placid lakes. And mosquitoes, countless mosquitoes. And they're everywhere. Endless swarms all through the cool forest. Even up on the dry, hot ridge do they persist and dog me. No stopping at the lakes to look or rest. Don't have my headnet. Don't have my DEET. Gotta hike faster!

Surprising number of folks on the trail today, mostly day hikers. Did see a couple of thru-hikers, though. One, Guardian Angel. Hadn't seen her since the desert in southern California.

This is BBB day, blowdowns, bugs, and burnover. The trail passes through two very large burn areas, both having occurred long enough back for the snags to be rotted--enough to fall. Don't think I've ever seen so many blowdowns in one place before, hundreds of them beside and over the trail. Crews have been through, but to keep the trail completely clear would require daily sweeps. So, lots of climbing--over blowdowns. As for the mosquito count, only the good Lord could ever know.

I'm able to stay on trail and make good time. To meet Gordon, I've got to take a spur trail about a mile down to the trailhead. I'm down by 4:30. Gordon's waiting. "Want a steak and baked potato again tonight?" beams Gordon. Hey, hey, ten minutes later we're sitting the bar at Elk Lake Lodge. Great steak (and a couple cold ones). High octane jet fuel. Burn that off tomorrow.

"I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on."
[Eleanor Roosevelt]

Wednesday--August 13, 2008
Trail Day--104
Trail Mile--32/1988
Location--Lava Camp Lake Trailhead

Glad I decided to do a day hike yesterday and hike the mile down to Elk Lake Resort rather than carrying three days of food and hiking through. Certainly much easier, and the time spent at Elk Lake Resort (great steak dinner) was singularly worth the trip down.

So, this morning I've got the hike back up, then 49 to do in the next two days, which will require an overnight. I'm carrying enough food for today, along with some snacks for tomorrow. I'll be shooting for around a thirty today, which will leave twenty or less for tomorrow, setting me up to finish around one.

I'm a tad late getting out, and with the mile back up to the trail, I'm not covering any trail distance until after six-thirty. The climb goes okay (there's almost always a climb to start the day), but up and over and starting back down I run into one of the largest trail-blocking blowdowns I think I've ever encountered. Trees the diameter of your dining room table wind-rowed across and blocking the trail for better than 50 yards. Up, over, and through is the only way. Heading in, I try to keep track of the trail below through the tangle of limbs and huge mounds of dirt (root-wads). Finally, unable to keep the trail in sight, I concentrate on the climb, crawl, and scramble through, hoping to find the trail again on the far side. I get through fine but am unable to locate where the trail comes out. I climb up the mountain, then down the mountain--no trail. Could it be the trail did a switch-back somewhere under the pile of trees, and simply came out below on the same side? Convincing myself that the trail could not possibly be above where I had climbed, or below, I work my way back through the heap. Sure enough, 50 feet below where the trail entered the downed maze, I find the trail. Had I known of the switchback I would not have even needed to enter the maze. Cost me nearly an hour--and much energy.

Many lakes to pass again today, which means more mosquitoes, lots more. Gordon has loaned me his headnet, and I have bug repellent with me now, both of which I use, to little avail. There are so many mosquitoes, seems they're almost pushing me around.

I'm hiking once more in the Three Sisters Wilderness. I passed one of the sisters yesterday. And today, the other two, plus a husband and a brother. On north sister, there's a glacier. I'm hiking well below it, but am able to get some good pictures.

The feature of this day, well, there's two actually. First, another wildfire ahead, which I can see burning on the east slope of Three Fingered Jack. And second, the special treat and excitement of hiking into the Belknap Crater lava flow. Jumbles and piles of lava, the trail weaving through. Much slow going just at the end of the day.

A short side trail, less than half a mile, leads over to Lava Camp Lake, a neat campground just off McKenzie Pass, which is closed. So there's no one around. Fine campground beside a small, crystal-clear lake, toilet, picnic table and fire ring--and mosquitoes!

It's dark before I get a fire started, take water from the lake, and get my tent pitched.

"To me, this lunar-like landscape...

is one of the most remarkable natural sights I've ever seen,

beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

It looks like the earth exploded yesterday."
[Karen Burger]

Thursday--August 14, 2008
Trail Day--105
Trail Mile--18.5/2007
Location--US20, Santiam Pass Trailhead

I did the long-mile day yesterday so today would be fairly short. Hopefully, I'll be able to finish around one. Oh, but I hadn't figured on such a long, circuitous trail through the lava fields, two dandies. The second one also involves a pretty steep climb to boot. A distance that could otherwise have easily been covered in less than an hour takes well over that. No use rushing through though; no use fighting it. Nature has chosen this harsh and utterly wicked place to tell an enlightening story--that of eternal creation. One need only pause and listen.

Coming up from the lava field, the trail turns abruptly west, then north--to pass Three Fingered Jack on the west side. What a relief, as the wildfire I mentioned previously is burning on the east side. Hopefully, the trail won't be affected.

Mosquitoes don't seem so bad today--no water to speak of! Have carried an extra 20 ounces, but that's quickly gone. Only twelve more miles in; I'll get by.

Less than a mile from day's end I head off on the wrong trail, and end up at the Hoo-Doo Snow Park. Neat place, but not where I'm supposed to be. A call to Gordon and he gets me straightened out. Waste only half an hour getting to the trailhead to end the day.

During the evening we see Mercury, Carbo, Jelly Bean, and Tangent. It's ten before I'm caught up and ready for the sack.

"There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks.

Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story."
[Linda Hogan]

Friday--August 15, 2008
Trail Day--106
Trail Mile--33.1/2040
Location--Whitewater Creek, Mt. Jefferson Wilderness

At the kiosk above Santiam Pass the USFS has posted a notice asking all PCT thru-hikers to skip the Mt. Jefferson Wilderness and hitch on up to Lolo Pass. The notice comments on the unusual amount of snow and about the treacherous conditions there, especially in Jefferson Park. I have many friends who've already hiked the Jefferson Wilderness and all have made it through in good order, some having done so weeks ago. As I age, it is becoming harder and harder to scare me--I'll hike through; I certainly do not want to miss the experience of witnessing Jefferson Park.

As usual, I've a climb first thing, nearly 2,000 feet. A gradual grade and kind treadway makes for an easy go of it. At the first overlook I get some great shots of Three Fingered Jack.

The forecast for the next couple of days is for warm to very hot conditions, but up here (on high) it's very pleasant this morning.

I'm out with just my long-sleeve, following Mercury's footprints--to finally catch up with him around eleven at Rockpile Lake. From there we hike together on up to the Escarpment where we stop to rest and have lunch. Great place to relax and just take it all in. What an eye-popping view of Mt. Jefferson--in all its presidential glory! Met a group of young folks from Outward Bound here. They'd just climbed Mt. Jefferson--a remarkable accomplishment!

At altitude 6,000 feet and above, which the trail seeks out today, I'm in and out of lingering snow patches, none of which are of any consequence. I'm able to find and follow the trail easily.

Mercury stretches lunch. I hike out--to promptly take a wrong turn, down the Pamelia Lake Trail, an old PCT route. I stay the Pamelia. Doesn't take long to understand the reason for the PCT reroute; this Pamelia Lake Trail has seen its better days. Rutted-out tread, rocks and roots, all compounded by neglect, resulting in an overgrowth of brush. The hike, though not unenjoyable, is also one I'd not return to anytime soon. A degree of redemption though--the section along Pamelia Lake, a large, most impressive recreation area. Lots of families camping and enjoying one of the few remaining summer vacation weekends. A short climb and I'm back up to the official PCT.

The remainder of the day goes quickly. A climb to ford Milk Creek (first wet feet since back in the Sierras), then Russell Creek, which turns to be an easy task, as I simply cross it over a large snow bridge.

At Whitewater Creek, the last ford (there's a footbridge over this one now), I decide to call it a day, as there are restrictions on fire use along the trail above. I want a cooking and warming fire for the evening, so it's stay below Whitewater for the night. I take water from the river and pitch in a pleasant, secluded cove back in the spruce.

"As a man grows older it is harder and harder to frighten him."
[Jean Paul Richter]

Saturday--August 16, 2008
Trail Day--107
Trail Mile--13.4/2053
Location--FR4220, Skyline Road

I get out and on the trail later this morning than anytime in weeks. The temperature really plunged during the night, down in the 40s this morning. I hiked out without my gloves yesterday--dumb. Told Gordon when I decided to leave them in the van that I'd probably regret it--yup. Had a time talking myself into breaking camp. Didn't want to get up and face the cold. Almost seven before I'm moving back north again.

From Whitewater River the trail climbs to Jefferson Park. It certainly is a park, a place of amusement, just a different kind of amusement. In Jefferson Park there are no Ferris Wheels or Merry-go-rounds, just Mother Nature's best alpine show: lovely (as if groomed) meadows, and crystal clear ponds and lakes. Above Jefferson Park looms Park Cirque, a semi-circular cathedral up and into which the trail ascends. On the rim, Park Rim, there's a spot simply referred to as "Viewpoint." In my opinion, Viewpoint is one of the most spectacular overlooks anywhere to be found. Looking south, and framing the skyline looms Mt. Jefferson, with Jefferson Park presenting below in full grandeur. Turning now to the north do I have my first view of Mt. Hood, sitting the hazy-blue horizon. Yes, a stunning panorama. Remember to check out the video in a week or two.

It's taken me awhile to get past Mt. Jefferson; not like Mt. Washington and all the other sharptops to the south. Seems folks out here in Oregon hold a special place in their hearts for Thomas Jefferson. Back in Siead Valley, folks there claimed they lived in a locale simply known as the state of Jefferson! Certainly understandable; hadn't been for Jefferson, his foresight and leadership in acquiring the Louisiana Territory from France, might not be a state of Oregon today, let alone a state of Jefferson!

Interesting that Mt. Jefferson was first seen (and named) by Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. They saw the majestic sharptop during one of their exploratory journeys into the Willamette Valley. That was in 1806. As you may recall, Lewis was sent by President Jefferson to explore the Louisiana Territory (and points west--today's Oregon and Washington).

Down from Park Rim, the snowfields obscure much of the trail. Tracks go every which way. Many of my friends had difficulty finding the trail here, and this is the area warned about by the USFS. But today, I have a relatively easy go of it as I am passing through much later, and there's been enough snowmelt to reveal numerous sections of the trail below. I must scamper over and down through the ice and snow, but this is pretty much "old hat" to me now, after traversing the snow-choked passes back in the Sierras.

Down and into the forest below, clear of the large snowfields, I sigh a deep sigh of relief. For some reason I had become very anxious with each passing day as I listened to reports and rumors about the difficulty I'd face in the snow and ice on Jefferson. Don't know why I feared. Perhaps my increasing age. During my hikes in Canada, in Forillon, and in the Chic Chocs, especially, I was constantly faced with much worse snow conditions--and thought nothing of it.

A very short hike today. I'm in by a little before one. I load and we head over to Olallie Lake where we find a campsite and squeeze in for the evening.

"An area unexcelled in the Pacific Northwest as a natural alpine garden

sprinkled with lakes and streams,

above which rises graceful glacier-hung Mount Jefferson...

a fascinating land of picturesque and friendly beauty."
[Clinton Clarke]

Sunday--August 17, 2008
Trail Day--108
Trail Mile--54.1/2107
Location--Timberline Lodge

Olallie Lake Campground was jammed, what with the great weather we've had, plus this being summer vacation time--in full bloom. We did manage to squeeze in. Had camp set, fire built, and supper cooking nicely on my old two-burner Coleman when, at a distance, we could hear thunder. We hastened to get through with supper and load everything back in the van as the thunder intensified and drew nearer.

I no sooner had my tent pitched for the night than the rain came. After all the thunder and commotion it lasted only 20 minutes, what little there was of it.

No one is stirring; it's still dark in the campground as Gordon gets us out as quietly as possible this morning. It's a short but bumpy ride back to the trail. With a thirty staring at me, and with the expectation of more gnarly tread, as was the case coming in yesterday, the need is to get haulin'. I've my pack up and am hiking right at six.

To my surprise, the trail is most-near interstate, smooth and wide, the least variation in elevation. I'm moving along nicely and really covering the ground when the smell of smoke comes drifting the breeze again. In no time visibility is down to less than five miles, then two. he lightning of last evening has apparently started more fires. I hope and pray they're not burning across the trail. I'm unable to reach Gordon, to find out about this one. Choppers have been passing over since mid-morning. The smoke persists and remains heavy until early afternoon, then finally dissipates and clears out. Flags have been flying at half mast recently for firefighters lost in a helicopter crash. This has been a very bad fire season.

Early this morning I entered the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. Through here the trail is remarkably well maintained. By noon I've had to climb over only four blowdowns. Here on the reservation, the trail crosses a number of logging roads. Just past one I meet an Indian woman and her child out picking huckleberries. The low bushes are full and so is her basket and gallon can.

I reach Warm Springs River by twelve, over 20 miles in six hours. By three I'm at Highway 42 where Gordon is waiting. I've hiked thirty miles now in only nine hours.

Ever since the beginning of my backpacking "career" I've always wondered what my personal best day might turn out to be mileage-wise. Never dreamed, in my wildest dreams, that it'd be such an astounding and amazing number, or that I'd accomplish it on the PCT in Oregon with a backpack on at near age 70. Sure had no thought of going for my personal best when beginning my hike this morning. But now, finished up by three, I know this is the time to go for it. I'll hike on for who knows how many more miles. This will be the day, my longest-mile day, ever.

Just after setting out this morning I started seeing familiar footprints in the rain-settled trail--Mercury's. I was thinking then, "I'll probably catch him around noon, like on Friday." But noon came and went, and no Mercury, his footprints still right there ahead, marking the trail. When I reached Gordon at three, he told me that Mercury had made the same decision that I'd reached--to go for it! I finally catch him late afternoon, by a blowdown beside the trail, slouched down against his pack, appearing exhausted. "I think I've got well over forty in now." he says, sounding dejected. "You can do better." I reply. "Come on, get up, lets go." I move out. Mercury's up, pack shouldered, and he's right behind.

I've hiked into the high 40s on a number of occasions, all roadwalks. Not a fifty in the bunch, though, and today I want to break 50. From Olallie Road to Highway 35 near Barlow Pass/Government Camp, where Gordon can meet us again, it's 49.1 miles, a scant nine-tenths short of 50--not good. Past Barlow, the next place Gordon can get in is up at Timberline Lodge, another five miles distant--and nearly 2,000 feet up Mount Hood.

I give Mercury the news, "We're hikin' it on up to Timberline. I think we can make it in before midnight." Mercury gives me a nod. In a short while we pass Gordon again. He's come around to Barlow Pass. Looking anxious, he expresses concern that I might be jeopardizing my hike. I calm him and we move on through.

Pitch black now, lights on, we're movin'--when the little flashlight Gordon loaned me blows a bulb. My little Photon is really dim, having been used almost every evening (and morning) since Campo, to set and break camp. Nothing else to do but stumble along behind Mercury. At half-past-eleven we see Gordon flashing his lights from the Timberline Lodge parking lot. And by twenty-to-midnight, we're in.

Ah, and so folks, the old Nimblewill Nomad has hiked this day from Olallie Lake to Timberline Lodge, a distance along the Pacific Crest Trail of 54.1 miles. What an absolutely amazing accomplishment (Remember what Walt Whitman said--"If you done it, it ain't bragging"!). As I think of such a distance, write down that number and look at it, it's simply astounding, like a dream--a dream that's come true.

Thanks, Mercury, for sucking it up, for coming along, for your help, and for being part of one of the most thrilling times in my life--thanks!

And thank you, Lord, for this remarkable day, for my good health and strength, for the determination and resolve, and for the tenacity you've instilled in me--thank you!

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
[Edgar Allen Poe]

Monday-Tuesday--August 18-19, 2008
Trail Day--109-110
Trail Mile--00/2107
Location--US30/I-84, Columbia River Gorge, Viento State Park between Cascade Locks and Hood River

Cold and windy on Mount Hood/Timberline Lodge at midnight last. Much to celebrate, Mercury and me, but we're both exhausted, so we tarry little.

Congratulations, Mercury, your 50 mile day! Oh, and hey, what are the odds of us ever experiencing another day like the one we shared Sunday? Uhh, probably way less than 50/50, eh!

I pitched last on the "No overnight camping" crown just above Timberline Lodge parking lot. Mercury went back on the mountain; he's gone. And so, dear friend, should our paths not cross again, it's been one memorable time, Mercury, a pure blast!

Time now for a couple days rest. Thought for sure this morning (Monday) I'd be stiff and sore, my poor old doggies barking, but I'm feeling fine. And so, first things first--breakfast at Timberline. Then it's down and off the mountain, 5,000 feet down and off, to Columbia River Gorge, there to bask awhile in the sun, reflect a bit, and try to number (though infinite the number) the countless blessing, the daily bounty of goodness and mercy God has seen fit to bestow this old man.

In the Gorge now we soon find just the place to rest and while away a couple of days--beautiful Viento State Park, off US30/I-84 between Cascade Locks and Hood River. We know we're home when, on the park entry kiosk we read: "Showers for non-campers, $2.00." Hey, we're campers here. That means we'll get squeaky clean without dumping four quarters in the slot just to reach hot water, another four quarters to soap down, and a final four quarters to rinse! Oh yes, we're home.

In awhile the ranger comes by in her Mule, chains up to a dead snag and pulls it down. Well now, free firewood even! Gordon goes over and dices it up with his bowsaw and we're good for firewood.

Cascade Locks lies only a short distance west; we head there, to the post office where I've mail waiting. Then we're off to dinner. Returning to our campsite it's soon time for a warming fire, to end a most restful and carefree day.

Many trains pass during the night, but the clatter and racket disturb me only the least.

Tuesday, another day of rest. Some chores, like doing laundry, and a pass by Wal-Mart in Hood River. Supper, can't wait--Dinty Moore prepared by Chef Nomad on his sputterin' old Coleman. Time then for another fine warming fire--to rest some more and close 'er out.

"Beyond the last horizon's rim,
Beyond adventure's farthest quest,
Somewhere they rise, serene and dim,
The happy, happy hills of rest.
[A. B. Paine]

Wednesday--August 20, 2008
Trail Day--111
Trail Mile--00/2107
Location--Timberline Lodge parking lot

A most welcome and restful sojourn in the Columbia Gorge. Time now to head back up to Timberline and the trail, from there to hike it back down.

The rain began just after supper last and continued, gentle but steady the entire night. It's still at it this morning, so no rush to start back up the mountain. We're finally out and on our way by nine (slackers), to stop in Hood River for breakfast. While there, it begins looking like the storm system might pass on through--some patches of blue above. But the mountains, the high ground both sides of the Columbia are still enveloped in the shroud.

We head back up around eleven anyway. Not far into the climb we're right back in the clouds. And what's the least unsettling now (say scary) are the swollen streams that we see rushing down, all a dark shade of brown, running bank-to-bank, not good. Along the 18-mile trail section just ahead there are numerous stream crossings. If any are like the ones we see here they'll be difficult if not near impossible to ford.

Back in Timberline parking lot now, we wait, as the soup thickens and the rain intensifies. As we're waiting, it's becoming windy and cold. Time is slipping away as to getting in an 18 today.

At one, reluctantly, this hiking day is scrubbed. Gordon levels the van for the overnight stay, I head for Rams Head Bar for a couple cold ones. Patience, old man, patience. Canada will be there for you.

Evening now, the rain still coming through in sheets, driven by the cold, relentless wind, I decide to improvise a bunk (the two front seats in the van) and move in with Gordon. Good decision as the driving wind and rain rock the van all night.

"Knowing God's own time is best, in patient hope I rest."
[John Greenleaf Whittier]

Thursday--August 21, 2008
Trail Day--112
Trail Mile--00/2107
Location--Timberline Lodge parking lot

The gloom isn't beginning to lift, no bright signs. The cold rain and wind continue, to greet us once again this morning. Indeed, this is a time for and an exercise in patience.

I slept well all night, in my makeshift bunk across Gordon's front seats. The Ford Econoline is a large vehicle, plenty of width, so I was able to stretch out completely. Warm and dry, a blessing. Thanks, Gordon!

It's three in the afternoon now; this storm is not going away. Forecast is for improvement tomorrow, but we'll see--tomorrow. Looks like another day and another night here at Timberline Lodge, in the parking lot.

During the days remaining, this odyssey, and from time to time, I'll be taking a moment or two to tell you about the great folks who support this old man and his ramblings about.

They are companies and people I've sought out, people that provide superior products or services, or both. These are the folks that are the best of the very best. I'll start with one today (please see below), my longest and most steadfast sponsor, Travel Country Outdoors (TCO).

Another night at Timberline. Another night in the van. This storm has got to let up soon.

"Do not save your loving speeches
For your friends till they are dead;
Do not write them on their tombstones,
Speak them rather now instead."
[Anna Cummins]

And so, I will introduce you to, and "Speak them rather now instead."--the companies and so many dear friends who've supported the old Nimblewill during his many and varied odysseys.

TCO has been with me since the beginning, since I first shouldered a pack and headed off into the unknown. Based in Altamonte Springs, Florida, and now with a complete online store (www.travelcountry.com) they've got travel country and the outdoors covered. Anything I need, anytime I need it, they've always been right there for me. Latest example: My Therm-a-Rest gave it up a few weeks ago. A quick call to TCO did it; a new one was in the mail to me--and waiting right there at my next mail drop. Thanks Mike, thanks Ryan! It's been not only your unflagging support, your enthusiastic encouragement, but above all, it's been your friendship that has meant so much to me over these many years. Thanks, dear friends, thanks!

Friday--August 22, 2008
Trail Day--113
Trail Mile--17.6/2125
Location--Lolo Pass

The storm was supposed to break during the night. So hopes are we'll wake to a clear morning. What we wake to, however, and this is amazing--Gordon's van was one of perhaps seven or eight vehicles in the lodge's 500+ lower parking lot when we rolled in last night (I crawled in the van again to get out of the cold rain). This morning when we wake, the entire lot is full! Oh yes, we're right in the middle of some kind of event, but we don't know what.

And the storm? The storm's finally cleared out. Some lingering local clutter still passing, but that'll burn off soon enough.I try to arrange everything in the front of the van the way I found it before converting the place to a bunk. Then I venture out to see what in the world is going on.

Come to find this is the weekend for one of the biggest relay races anywhere, The Hood to Coast Relay. Teams here from every state around, all age groups. The first wave is off the line at eight.

Gordon and I had planned on hitting the breakfast buffet a good lick again this morning, but now, I'm just wanting to get back up the mountain and on the trail, as Gordon hopes to get down the mountain, through all the runners and traffic, to his turnoff to Lolo Pass. I'm on the trail and out of the confusion by 8:30. Sure hope Gordon gets through headin' his way.

I'm about halfway around Mt. Hood on the west side now. Ahead will be a number of water crossings, including a couple of rivers that are fed by the glaciers on Mount Hood. In so passing, the trail will climb and drop as it works its way north past these drainages.

I was expecting to get wet feet right off the bat, but the smaller crossing are rock-hops, and the glacier-fed rivers are crossed by bridges, so my feet stay dry the whole day, yippee!

By eleven the local clutter has burned off leaving the most serene cirrus-dotted sky, the perfect backdrop for some amazing shots of Mount Hood, which is sporting a fresh cape of snow clear down to timberline.

My energy level is down today, don't know why, just haven't been able to get crankin' as usual. Tired legs, tired feet. Told Gordon to expect me at Lolo Pass between 2:30 and 3:00, but I don't come tripping off the mountain until after 3:30. Only an 18 for the day, but happy and relieved to get it done. Hood is in my rearview now, also happy for that.

A grand evening at Lolo. We set camp not thirty feet from the trail. Everyone coming through, and there must have been at least twelve or fourteen, everyone stopped. Gordon handed out Gatorade to all, then cranked up Walkin' Jim. Wonderful fellowship, great evening. Check out the video in a week or so.

"If you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain."
[Anonymous]

Saturday--August 23, 2008
Trail Day--114
Trail Mile--15.5/2140
Location--Wahtum Lake, thence to Wahtum Lake Campground

I had much difficulty sleeping last, stopped up sinuses, sore throat, a dull, nagging headache. The whole mess hit me around ten. And so explains my lack of energy during the day.

This morning I load up on regular aspirin, also enteric coated, as my lower back invariably locks up during these cold/sore throat episodes. I'll be able to hike today, but at a slower, more deliberate pace. Sure glad Gordon's got a short day planned. Okay old man, quit whining, get your pack on and go.

From here to Columbia Gorge the crest winds down but there's no lack of climbing this morning, from 3,420 at Lolo Pass to Buck Peak at 4,500. The trail then stays the crest, side-slabbing the more rugged, steep sections.

Around nine I have the good fortune of catching up with Rachel, a petite young lady who's hiking the Oregon section of the PCT. Our paths have crossed a number of times since first we met at High Point a week or two ago. Since, we've been working on a trail name for her, and this morning the decision is reached. In a most formal ceremony, with much pomp, the old Nimblewill (in his official capacity as Grand Trail Sorcerer), christens Rachel (henceforth and forevermore to be known as) Little Bit.

Just past a spectacular viewpoint, which offers a breathtaking 360 of snow capped Mount Hood, Mount Rainier, Mount Adams, and Mount St. Helens, the trail finally drops off to pass Wahtum Lake, and there the spur up to Wahtum Lake Campground where Gordon is waiting. My energy is totally spent but I have managed and have endured the day arriving Wahtum a little before one, thankful to have this day done.

A side-hill campground, Wahtum, but we manage a flat spot for the van right next a flat-set picnic table, a fire ring--and toilet. Oh yes, this is home for this day.

"If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on.'"
[Rudyard Kipling]

Sunday--August 24, 2008
Trail Day--115
Trail Mile--15.4/2155
Location--Trailhead, Highway 14, Near Bridge of the Gods, Washington
*Sponsor acknowledgement

I slept so much better last after loading up again with both regular and enteric coated aspirin. A little slow getting up and going this morning, but manage to hit the trail a little after six-thirty.

I'll be hiking the official PCT route for only two-tenths of a mile today--backtracking to the junction with Eagle Creek Trail; I'll be hiking it instead. The two trails are near the same length, but Eagle Creek is much more scenic, what with the largest concentration of waterfalls along any trail anywhere. I'm dropping to the Columbia River Gorge, over 3,500 feet, so Eagle Creek Trail is down, and down some more. From Whatum Lake to the most spectacular of the falls, Tunnel Falls, the trail is poorly maintained, many blowdowns and much overgrowth. But once at Tunnel Falls, an amazing bit of trail work, the trail is wide and beat down.

Eagle Creek Gorge is not such a big place in relative terms, but it's certainly one of the most picturesque of any so far. Shear rock walls, the trail blasted from them, the tumbling, cascading creek, very special, very scenic.

Around twelve, who do I meet coming up the trail but Belcher and Navigator (Dawn and Paul), friends from Tagart, Washington, near Portland. Happy greetings, then a grand hike together down to the trailhead, all four of us (Dawn is expecting in just weeks). Near the trailhead, we meet Gordon, who's also hiked up a ways. He's getting around much better now.

I hike the three miles on up to Bridge of the Gods, Cascade Locks, where we have a long, leisurely lunch at Char Burger.

I've Oregon behind me now; less than 500 remaining. And today I've also completed "Nimblewill Nomad's Great Western Loop." A special "bragging page" (featuring this accomplishment) will appear shortly.

Day by day, do I feel more confident about this journey, that my trek o'er this trail is, indeed, within my grasp. A rewarding and very happy day.

"The Constitution only gives people the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself."

[Benjamin Franklin]

*I'd like to take a moment to thank Leki USA, another of my longest, most loyal sponsors. Every year they insist on me starting that particular odyssey with a new set of trekking poles. And every year, just as I think they've perfected the hiking stick, Leki makes them even better. This year I'm sporting a pair of their remarkable Carbonlites, lightweight, yet strong and stable. Thanks Chris and Lindy, dear friends, for your continued support and encouragement.

Monday--August 25, 2008
Trail Day--116
Trail Mile--31.2/2186
Location--FR43, Trout Creek

I'm getting used to the trains shaking the ground during the night. They run both sides of the Gorge. Our stay at Viento State Park last week was right beside the tracks on the Oregon side. Last night's camp was right beside the tracks on the Washington side. Can pretty much sleep right through the clatter and shake now.

My introduction (say initiation) to Washington took little time. The storm clouds set in and the rain came just after supper last. Barely had time to pitch my tent, which became soaked immediately. And it's still raining off and on this morning as Gordon drops me at the trailhead by the north side of the bridge. Five minutes up the trail and I'm totally soaked from my hat right down to my shoes, as the first couple of miles of trail follows a power line cut overgrown with weeds, then the edge of a clear-cut, also overgrown with weeds. Wet shoes and socks, wet clothes, wet pack, wet me. Welcome to Washington, Nimblewill!

There was an amazing bail-off yesterday, down Eagle Creek Trail to the Gorge. Today comes the climb back to the crest, over 4,800 feet.

I've a 31-mile day planned, but have asked Gordon to meet me at County Road 2000, 19 miles out, just to be on the safe side, in case my energy becomes spent from the first climb.

I manage it and the miles in good order, arriving Road 2000 at 1:30. A change to dry socks, a couple of energy bars and I'm right back out for the remaining 11 miles.

This morning, after becoming totally soaked, I thought myself fortunate to be warm. By the time I reach the crest again it has become very cold. Wet and cold, I thought myself fortunate that the wind was calm. In just moments, and as I reach the crest again, the wind starts kicking.

The sun makes a show for an hour or so, then the next wave begins driving through, bringing more cold rain. Before becoming totally soaked, I stop and dig out my poncho. More wind, more rain. But I am content with the weather, with the wind and rain. Such a blessing given, these days, to this old man. To the distant whitecaps, the far horizons, the breathtaking vistas, be they the climber's reward. But the rain brings everything nearer us, to sharpens our awareness of the close-by. Our senses must shift lest we miss the rain washed sheen so masterfully created. On those farsighted days we raise our eyes. On these nearsighted ones we must gather in.

Second climb for the day behind me, I follow the trail down to Trout Creek where Gordon awaits--again.

Neat picnic area just down the road, complete with pavilion, picnic tables, charcoal grill, and toilets.

As the rain comes once more, we remain warm (got a fire going in the grill) and under the pavilion we also stay dry, to enjoy supper. I drape everything around to dry, including my tent. A most enjoyable evening.

"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."
[Roger Miller]

Tuesday--August 26, 2008
Trail Day--117
Trail Mile--21.4/2208
Location--FR60, Carson-Guiler Road

What a great find for camp last, Trout Creek Picnic Grounds, complete with running water, flush toilets, and a fine pavilion. With off and on rain still, we set up shop under the pavilion. Level picnic table, perfect for preparing and enjoying our supper. With a nice warming fire in the charcoal grill right next, we relaxed in the warm and dry.

A relatively short day today, so I make no great effort to get up and going. Finally heading north around seven. Another day of climbing, nearly 4,000 feet to the ridge near Grassy Knoll. Stunning views back toward Mount Hood, and east to Mount Adams.

A high pressure ridge is coming in, bringing cool, clear weather. Supposed to hold the next couple of days. Carried a dry pair of socks today, figuring my feet would become soaked again, but the trail is wide, clear--and dry.

After climbing most all morning, the afternoon is spent descending back down--to FR60, where Gordon is waiting. Another successful day completed in this amazing adventure. Thank you, Lord, for the determination and will to see it through.

Right by the trail are picnic tables, fire rings--and a toilet. This is home; we share the early fire and the afternoon with many dear northbound friends as they pass.

"We never become truly spiritual by sitting down and wishing to become so.

You must undertake something so great that you cannot accomplish it unaided."
[Phillip Brooks]

Wednesday--August 27, 2008
Trail Day--118
Trail Mile--17.2/2225
Location--FS24, Indian Heaven Wilderness
*Sponsor Acknowledgement

Weather up here in the great northwest (Washington to be exact) comes at us pretty much as expected--rain and cold. Beautiful evening last though, not a cloud in the sky, heaven full of stars. But by four this morning the rain comes again, slow at first, a few drops to start, then steady and stubborn--to stay.

In the van this morning we listen and listen for the weather report, but no luck. Finally, at 8:30, I shoulder my pack and head into it; another day of adventure--toward a great future.

Overdose came in after dark last evening and today we end up hiking together. Steady climb, steady rain. All who came through last are still in their tents this morning as we pass them by. The clouds and wind stay with us, especially where the trail passes to the west side of the crest.

Huckleberries are now ripe, but we shan't pick them. A handshake agreement made with the Yakima Indians in 1934 protect the Sawtooth Berry Fields, spiritual ground to the Yakima. I suppose, to them, huckleberries would be what we know as manna.

In the evening, and returning from a great supper at KJs down in the little village of Trout Lake, and by the road, we pass a snow park complete with warming hut. "Pull off Gordon."

Ah, this is home! Double-barrel stove, plenty of firewood around, picnic table situated center-room. A glowing-hot fire in no time, and in no time a warm and cozy hut! Lantern for light. Pegs to dry everything out, a neat place. I roll out my Therm-a-Rest and sleep on the picnic table.

"The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating.

The paths to it are not found but made,

and the activity of making them changes both the maker and the destination."
[John Schaar]

*A great new sponsor this year, most generous: Mountain Hardwear. They let me choose most anything my heart desired from their online store. I had sought them out because they make the very best in outdoor clothing and gear. Their name is not just some catchy play on words. Their products are the toughest of the tough, unbelievably durable. I'm decked out from hat to gaiters in stylish, lightweight Mountain Hardwear gear, and it's lasting me this entire trek.

Thanks, Chris, thanks Suzanne, for your great sponsorship. How is it possible--You've made this old man look really good!

Thursday--August 28, 2008

Trail Day--119

Trail Mile--34.0/2259

Location--Muddy Fork

*Sponsor Acknowledgement

What a great night at the snow park hut. I was comfortable on the picnic table right next the fire, which I kept going all night. Cozy, warm, and dry.

The sky remained clear all night (old man makes numerous trips out), but by daylight the clouds have already began arriving.

We're back to the trail by seven, me and Overdose, first to tarry and chat again for awhile with Billy Goat. He's hiking south to Cascade Locks this go-round. Great seeing you again, Billy Goat!

Gordon is able to get in and meet us for lunch at 14 miles, at which time he informs us he'll be unable to support us this evening, as the road he'd planned to come up is closed. So Overdose and I sort our food and other needs for tonight and tomorrow night, seeing we've now some forty-plus miles ahead of us before seeing Gordon again. We're back hiking north with heavier packs around one.

We're in the Mount Adams Wilderness now, below the most impressive glacier. By late afternoon we're faced with crossing three of the glacier drainages. Late afternoon is the very worst time to cross these streams, as the warmth of the day swells them to capacity. We make it across Lewis River and Adams Creek with little effort, but late evening we hit Muddy Fork, which brings the day's trek to an end. A narrow stream, yet is it running deep and incredibly swift, way too risky to ford. Indeed, this is not your normal or usual babbling brook! So we pitch for the night at a nearby campsite. We'll tackle Muddy Fork early morning when it's much more manageable.

We try building a warming fire, but there's not a dry twig to be found. Despite out best effort, the fire sputters and dies.

Overdose no sooner sets his tent than a mouse comes to check out his food bag. Funny watching him chase the mouse away, just to find the little rascal scurrying right back again. The little fellow isn't the least interested in me, but manages to annoy Overdose the entire night.

"The babbling brook doth leap when I come by,
because my feet find measure with its call."
[Jones Very]

*Glen Van Peski, formerly GVP Gear, now Gossamer Gear, has been a dear friend and one of my most steadfast sponsor for years. Glen is an innovator with extraordinary vision as a designer of functional, durable, and lightweight gear. He insists I have a new pack to begin each odyssey. The little Murmur he's put me in this year is incredibly lightweight (seven ounces), yet durable to the extent that I'll finish this year's trek with just one of them.

Thanks, Glen, for making my load bearable. God Bless you, dear friend!

Friday--August 29, 2008
Trail Day--120
Trail Mile--32.6/2292
Location--Lutz Lake

We had judged the stream crossing situation correctly; glacial runoff is diurnal, being much less during early morning than late evening. The creek is at least a foot lower this morning, perhaps two, exposing a blowdown, across which we're able to pass easily.

Another enjoyable morning hiking with Overdose. We chat as we hike along, about everything from his love of Jeeps to how he might reduce his pack weight.

By late morning we've covered good ground. Overdose stops for a break and I hike on, as I'm concerned with the beginning cloud buildup. My hike up and into Goat Rocks Wilderness will carry me above 7,000 feet, which can be risky if undertaken during bad weather.

This section of the PCT is regarded by many thru-hikers as the most memorable of their entire trek. In short time I can see why. Above 7,000 feet now, I'm in the alpine zone, with open views across to Mount Rainier, and up and into the pinnacles that are Goat Rocks, a sawtooth sculpted ridge that forms the crest.

By four I'm hiking the exposed ridge--into rapidly deteriorating weather. Comes now driving winds, pushing wave after wave of local clutter through. I must work to maintain my balance along a very narrow section known as the Knife Edge. Above Packwood Glacier the weather takes a turn for the worse--30-40 mph winds that are driving rain intermixed with hail. In a small lee I stop to don my poncho, which proves a half-hour ordeal, what with my wet, cold sticks-for-fingers, caused by the freezing rain.

Climbing still, then rounding a very large pinnacle above Packwood I'm faced with a very narrow (and scary) side-slab along a treacherous section of trail, which crosses a 60 per-cent slope replete with nothing but loose scree and dirt. Here an amazing thing happens. A rock dislodged from a snowfield some 50-75 feet above careens directly down to strike me in the right elbow and shoulder, knocking me silly--and clear over the side. I could hear it coming, the noise of it reverberating above the wind--clankety clunk, crash. I had not an instant to turn or look, no chance to dodge before the incredible, explosive impact. Somehow, could there be the least good fortune in this, I land heads up, such that I'm able to stick in the loose dirt and rocks. However, every time I try stabilizing my position, I just keep sliding further down the slope. Finally, slowly, and totally deliberate, I'm able to kick in a small toehold and slowly work myself back up to the trail. Damage control shows no serious injuries, nothing busted, just a cut-up and badly bruised elbow and shoulder. Thank you, Lord!

The wind and rain intensify, which slows my pace even further. The Knife Edge traverse seems interminable. By the time I'm able to begin descending to timberline, I'm totally soaked and very cold. It's pitch black when I finally reach Lutz Lake. Very worried for Overdose, also for Inchworm, Freedom, and the young section hiker with them.

I manage to cook enough 33 degree water to hydrate a hot meal using two Esbit tablets. A cold, rainy night, but I'm warm and snug in my Mountain Hardwear Phantom 32 bag--in my little Nomad Tent.

Dear Lord, this day I will remember. Thank you for lifting me up, for carrying me through.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
[Psalm 23]

Saturday--August 30, 2008
Trail Day--121
Trail Mile--12/2304
Location--US12, White Pass Village Inn

A short hike today, on up to White Pass, but with a 1,600 foot climb it'll surely be late afternoon before I'm in. I've a stiff arm and shoulder from the rock blow of yesterday, that split-second incident that knocked me off-trail and nearly unconscious.

And now, please forgive, please grant this old man just a moment--a little time for thought and reflection concerning that fateful occurrence. For it must serve as a reminder to me, a reminder of my frailty as a mortal being, how life as we know it can so easily be snuffed and ended at any given moment. Had that deadly projectile struck me just a few inches higher, in the temple, or had I landed on that near-vertical slope in any position other than upright, well, from this moment on I'll never take life for granted again, never again. Rather, and moment-to-moment, will I more fully live each and every day. Ah, and do I know, and have known, without the least hesitancy or doubt, that this old man has been granted such remarkable longevity, such good health, stamina, and a passion to live life to its fullest--by the grace of God.

The rain of last has passed, but a cold front is dogging its way in. It's 40 this morning as I shoulder my pack to depart, with little warming as the day wears on. Remarkably, I'm able to grip and dig my hiking sticks in with little difficulty. By early afternoon the cold rain returns. Arriving White Pass, the Village Inn, I'm fortunate to be offered, to share, a room with Irish, Flop, and Mercury. In the evening, Gordon's friends, from here in Washington, Troll, Oblivious, and Anchor, stop by to give us a visit. We prepare spaghetti and potatoes for dinner in the little kitchenette; plenty for all.

The evening remains cold as the rain continues; so glad to be in and out of it for the night.

"Your dreams die before you do, so pursue, pursue,

before your stores of time and energy dwindle...

There are not enough lifetimes to apply

to the 'could-be's' of the truly driven."

[Will Landon]

Sunday--August 31, 2008
Trail Day--122
Trail Mile--00/2304
Location--US12, White Pass Village Inn

At seven I raise my head to check the time. Comes then a knock at our door. Stumbling over I swing the door wide--to find Troll standing there, big smile. "Ready for some breakfast!" he beams. Everyone hears; everyone's up. Great meal, prepared right here in our little kitchenette, potatoes, eggs, wieners, toast and gallons of coffee. Thanks, Troll, Anchor, and Oblivious!

By eleven, Irish, Flop, and Mercury have returned to the trail. Gordon and I decide to burn a day. That'll give me a little more time to set my mind straight--as to the trauma of Friday--and back to the great feeling of joy that is this PCT trek. Angels have long rested both my shoulders. This I know for certain. Then how could I ever have doubted God's purpose, ever?

At three we move to a smaller room, then put out the word that we've empty bunks. By late evening the room's full, and takers keep coming. First, Hops, then Rabbit and Tumbleweed, Laces, and finally Parkbench. Easy fix for supper, right in our (very) little kitchenette. Fine company, great evening.

Gotta get ready to go first thing in the morning, say sixish; I've a 27 to bang out tomorrow. Zzzzz.

"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands."

[Isaiah 55:12]

Monday--September 1, 2008
Trail Day--123
Trail Mile--29.4/2333
Location--SR410, Chinook Pass

A fine evening of fun and laughter (and lots of popcorn), the six of us. Lights out at eleven and all is quiet.

I'm out the door by 5:30, to roust Gordon in the van. A cold morning, clear skies. Hops gets out too, and Gordon has us back on the trail by 6:45.

A moderate climb to start the day, over tread totally plowed up by horsey-back riders. For sure, horses can well enough mess up a trail when it's dry. But when it's wet, look out! This morning we deal with it. Mud a foot deep, five wide, pitiful. Oh yes, and don't we find as the morning wears on, that the horsey-back folks have stayed the PCT all the way up, as I churn in their wake (say mud)--all the way up. C'mon old man, get your mind out of the mud. This'll pass; set your mind to better thoughts!

Just as the sun rises to warm the day the blue skies disappear, and the variegated gray returns. I stay bundled up to keep warm, even with the exertion from the mud-churning climb. Got my short sleeve T on, over that, my long sleeve, then my down vest, wind jacket, and finally, my rain jacket. Oh, and mittens, too; they stay on all day.

The trail meanders forested slopes and glens most the afternoon, passing many glistening lakes. A few lingering weekenders remain about, today being Labor Day, the last hurrah for the summer.

Dang if I'm not still half in a trance, still shaken, my mind muddled and befuddled by the trauma of recent past. I just can't shake it, although I know right-well that I'm in the Lord's safe keeping, that God is ever with me. Late afternoon now, concentrating not the least better, seems I'm going the wrong way. So I retrace my path a mile or so back to the last intersection only to find I've been on the right path all along. Add two more miles to the 27!

It's late evening as I arrive Chinook Pass. Gordon awaits patiently. There's no place to camp nearby, so we head down the mountain to a horsey-back trailhead where we find a mostly-flat spot. Here we hasten to set our evening fire and fix supper--and call it a day.

"Frequently remind yourself that God is with you,

that He will never fail you, that you can count upon him.

Say these words, 'God is with me, helping me'."

[Norman Vincent Peale]

Tuesday--September 2, 2008
Trail Day--124
Trail Mile--23.2/2357
Location--FR787, Near Government Meadows

*Sponsor Acknowledgement

The horsey-back trailhead (with a large enough flat spot for the van, a fire ring, and my tent) worked just fine. By supper, finished, the evening turned very cold, so we huddled the fire for the longest time.

I find it hard to get up, out, and going on cold mornings like this. There's definitely frost on the pumpkin (and my little dink tent). It's eight by the time Gordon deposits me back at Chinook Pass.

As usual, the day starts out with an "up," the climb this morning being in excess of a thousand feet. But there is joy to be found in it, as the skies are clear, visibility unlimited. Nearing the final pull and rounding a ridge spur does there open this stunning view back toward Mt. Rainier. Rainier is a massive mountain, commanding the sky about and nearly the entire horizon. I take picture after picture as vistas continue opening along.

Friends have told me that I'd like Washington, but until today I've found little to crow about, what with the rainy days, the churned up tread, and the traumatic rock incident. Today though, with the sweeping vistas and the kind trail as it now seeks and follows the crest, well, Washington will be grand.

By ten I'm able to remove my jacket, vest, and mittens, and by one I catch Hops once more and we hike along together. There are other folks on the trail today too--hunters scouting the ridges and coves. Elk season opens soon.

I'd been concerned about Gordon making the long climb up the mountain, by the gravel road to where the trail again crosses. But should I not have known--he's right here when I arrive a tad after five.

Ah yes, Washington and these North Cascades, my final days here along the PCT, they're sure to remain among my most memorable. They will be...

"Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day...[Ah, and] Of all the fire mountains which like beacons, once blazed along the Pacific Coast, Mount Rainier is the noblest." [Muir]

*A short word now, of appreciation and thanks to David Allen, President/Founder, LRI Photon Micro-Light. The Photon-Micro-Light uses LED technology to produce light that is bright, long-lasting, and compact (about the size and weight of a quarter). The Photon Micro-Light II, which David's provided me for this trek is serving all my needs for light-after-dark, from setting/breaking camp, to hiking the trail. It's a perfect complement to my ultra-lightweight gear. Thanks, David, and all dear friends there at LRI; your sponsorship, support, and encouragement over these many years have proven a true blessing!

Wednesday--September 3, 2008
Trail Day--125
Trail Mile--27.0/2384
Location--FR54, Stampede Pass

We camped on an open crown last, there to enjoy the remaining late afternoon sun and it's warmth. However, what neither of us had counted on in the bargain was the arrival of a cold wind. When it came to stay, we made haste to finish our outside chores, Gordon to the van and me once more to the "comfort" of my little tent.

A cold night, no frost, but this morning the temperature continues hovering around the freezing point. I fumble and have great difficulty breaking down my tent. Sticks-for-fingers again. I hasten to finish, climb in the van with Gordon, then crank the engine to get the place warmed up. I do manage, somehow, to get out and on the trail by seven--bundled up in every item of clothing I've got: Short sleeve T, long sleeve T, down vest, wind and rain jacket. My mittens are on too, but when my hands are cold to start with, they do little good.

The trail begins a run through clearcuts, lots of brush and overgrowth. There's dew on everything, and I'm not on the trail five minutes before I'm completely soaked from head to toe. Not so good a start. Comes now the typical climb, around 600 feet. But again, as yesterday, are there presented good views back south, toward Mount Rainier. And to the north, the North Cascades, the main range, where I'll be hiking after leaving Stevens Pass.

As the day unfolds and as I journey forth, do I find my attitude greatly improved. Indeed, there is much joy to be found here, along this path, high in the North Cascade Mountains of Washington. Ah, but this trek is winding down. Calculating my current rate of progress, there remains only 11 more full days, less than 300 miles to reach the Canadian Border.

This has been a beautiful, warm, cloud-free day. Oh, for just two more weeks of such fine hiking weather.

"The greatest discovery of any generation is
that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitude."

[William James]

Thursday--September 4, 2008
Trail Day--126
Trail Mile--18.4/2402
Location--I-90, Snoqualmie Pass

I'm out and going in good order by 6:30; would like to make Snoqualmie Pass before one, get a room, get cleaned up--and caught up, laundry, journals, correspondence. The plan's working fine till about four miles from the Pass, my destination for this day. Stopping to talk with some southbounders, and wanting to get their picture, that's when I realize my camera's gone. I simply can't believe it; I grope and grope the little pocket in my pack where my camera's kept--but it's not there--it's gone. I lose it, right in front of the dear folks.

This afternoon, resting comfortably with my feet up, plans were to edit the 200-300 pictures and many videos, then get the 2-GB card in the mail to my Webmaster, Cywiz, to create and upload probably what would have been one of the best and most impressive albums yet. But all is for naught, all is gone now, all the pictures, all the videos since just past Mt. Jefferson, all the great shots of Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier, and the amazing videos during the storm on Goat Rocks--all gone.

So much for closing this day out before one. I've just finished an up, over, and down, a thousand foot pop and drop--up a thousand, down a thousand, for the last seven miles. Regardless, it's turn around and head back south--up, over, and down again--looking for my camera. And so I trudge the seven miles back to where I'd taken my last picture--no camera.

After retracking the seven miles north again, plus the last four to Snoqualmie, it's dark. Gordon runs to fetch a couple sandwiches from the store cooler as I set up camp by the trailhead past I-90. He soon returns; I down the sandwiches, trying not to look too glum or dejected in front of him, while I resolve to hammer the remainder of this trail, daylight to dark, every day till its done.

I'm whispering under my breath now, "Dear Lord, what is happening here?" Sorry folks, but the fun's clear gone out of this journey. So much for the recovering good attitude. Something really weird has been and is yet developing--and now floods over me very bad vibes about the remainder of this trek. The cannonball that knocked me silly, took me off the mountain, nearly doing me in, losing my Therm-a-Rest (yup, walked off and left my new pad two days ago), this camera incident. And today, also, if you can believe this: A bird came out of the bush and tried to knock me down. I'll get my mail tomorrow, hit a bank for a little cash, pick up some groceries for the remainder of this long (lost) journey, then hit the trail to hammer out the remaining 250 miles.

My trail life has been one of joy, total connection with Nature's God, and more recently, great inspiration to so many because of what I'm still able to accomplish at my age. But right now, I'm not fit to be around. Never would have believed I'd ever be one to whine, "Why me, Lord?" but I'm in that mode, and I'm a total basket-case. So, it's to the trail, away from everyone--to try and get my confused and jumbled mind straight--and to climb up and over these last remaining mountains. I'll get these North Cascades done, or they'll get me done, one or the other.

Please, dear Lord, have mercy on my soul.

"Every path hath a puddle."

[George Herbert]

Friday--September 5, 2008
Trail Day--127
Trail Mile-- 21.6/2424
Location--Lemah Creek
*Sponsor Acknowledgement

This trek seems to be coming apart, and I'm having much difficulty with that reality. Last night proved fretful, very little sleep due to the anguish--facing up to the reality of losing my camera and all my precious pictures and videos. The Devil is sure enough dealing and I'm not used to such dealings. All dear family and friends, indeed, all you who’ve followed along know that I've been blessed so very long, every day on the trail, with angels resting both shoulders. But, so it seems, Lucifer has sent them flying when that rock sent me flying off the mountain up on Goat Rocks.

I camped right next the trail at Snoqualmie trailhead last, so I need only break camp to move back up the mountain this morning. But returning to the trail will take awhile, as there's much to do today, a trip down to North Bend to the grocery, to the post office, and the bank. We’ll also take time to tape up "Lost Camera" notices around.

It's 12:15 before we’re back to Snoqualmie Pass, where I bid Gordon a half-hearted farewell and head back up the trail. I’ve a 54-mile stretch from here to Stevens Pass where Gordon will be unable to provide support. So I've at least a two-nighter here on the mountain, more likely three, before re-supply.

I'm carrying my heaviest pack (four days worth of food), since the High Sierras, and as usual, there's a hard pull up, over 2,600 feet to start the day. Upon reaching the crest, the trail bounces up and down through the rocks, from 5,000 to 6,000 feet all afternoon. Numerous vistas open and close, toward Glacier Peak and all around, offering stunning photo ops. It’s sure strange just passing these places without stopping to capture the scene. Today I see my first elk this trek. Missed that shot, too.

I’d planned on staying just below Chikamin Pass, but arriving late afternoon I discover there's not a flat spot to be found. So I hike on, into dark, my little Photon lighting the way, all the way down to Lemah Creek. At Lemah, I'm able to squeeze in next to a group of section hikers. It’s been a long, frustrating day.

Each morning is a new beginning of our life.

Each day is a finished whole.

The present day marks the boundary of our cares and concerns.

It is long enough to find God or loose Him, to keep faith or fall into disgrace.

[Dietrich Bonhoeffer]

*GoLite is a world leader in lite-weight outdoor equipment and apparel. They manufacture hiking and climbing gear, including shelters, sleeping systems and clothing, all designed to be incredibly lightweight, yet functional and durable. For this trek, GoLite provided one of their latest innovations, the new four-ounce Ether Wind Jacket. I’ve worn it nearly every day, sometimes all day. It’s sure carried its weight! Thanks GoLite, for your support, your sponsorship. Especially, thank you, Kevin and Colin, for your kindness to this old man!

Saturday--September 6, 2008
Trail Day--128
Trail Mile--29.6/2454
Location--North of Swift Creek

I'm out and on the trail early. The goal today is to knock out a 30, but that’ll be very difficult. To do so I've two 2,500-foot pulls to deal with, separated by a 2,500-foot descent, nearly a mile-and-a-half of vertical elevation change, mostly through the rocks.

The North Cascades are rugged terrain. But gnarly tread most always makes for incomparable mountain scenery--so this day. I’ve my first clear view of Mount Baker to the north, piercing the clear-blue sky.

I manage the 30 by late evening, to search for water and a flat spot. I’ve wanted to get past Swift Creek, as Erik's Washington Atlas lists it as a "difficult ford." The USFS has also posted alternate routes at junctions each end with a "closed to stock" notice to equestrians warning that Swift Creek crossing is impassable by horseback. Just after seven I manage the crossing, over a makeshift jumble of rocks and a precarious pile of blowdown logs. Indeed, there are places where horses cannot go--Swift Creek is one of those places. I find my campsite for the evening, an elk bedding area sheltered in the spruce just north of Swift Creek.

This has proven one unforgettable day, the most physically demanding since the High Sierras. Oh, am I trying with all my heart to return my mind and my thoughts to the gladness of this trail. The angels, they will return, they will return.

When a man feels throbbing within him the power to do what he undertakes as well as it can possibly be done, and all of his faculties say "amen" to what he is doing, and give their unqualified approval to his efforts, - this is happiness, this is success. [Orison Marsden]

Sunday--September 7, 2008
Trail Day--129
Trail Mile--22.6/2477
Location--US2, Stevens Pass, then to the home of Jerry and Andrea Dinsmore, trail angels, Skykomish

*Sponsor Acknowledgement

Not so much a climb this morning, a couple more stream crossings (more gullies, like Swift Creek) then a short pop up to Deception Pass. From Deception, the PCT heads northeast, dropping to cross Deception Creek then a number of its tributaries (more gullies). At Deception Lakes, a shortcut leads up and over Surprise Gap. And no surprise, the trail is overgrown and difficult to follow. Descending the Gap, quickly do I realize why the official PCT goes another way--as a bail-off ensues, straight down through an incredible and precarious jumble of boulders and rocks. I’m relieved when the shortcut again joins the PCT. Looking back now, doesn’t seem that big a deal. But from the upper vantage, and looking down a short while ago, did it seem an entirely different matter.

More beautiful, rugged mountains today, glorious views across Glacier and Surprise Lakes toward Lynch Glacier, Mt. Daniel, Mt. Stuart, Mt. Index, Mt. Baring, Glacier Peak, and Three Fingers.

Late afternoon, the trail finally descends past Josephine and Susan Lakes, to return to civilization under power lines and chairlifts, to four-lane US2 at Stevens Pass.

Dependable Gordon, he’s waiting patiently. Glad to have this rugged, remote section behind me. ‘Twas a time for introspection--that life as this old man knows it could sure be a lot worse. Indeed, these mountains have lifted me and my spirit!

Life, the way it really is, is a battle not between Bad and Good
but between Bad and Worse.

[Joseph Brodsky]

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