Eighteen hours after getting home, I threw my pack in the van with all the camping gear, and Steve, Patrick, and I headed for Madras, OR. It was amusing to be heading back to Oregon so soon, but we were well east of Mt. Jefferson, well northeast of Ashland, and far from where I was the day before.

The eclipse was incredible, and totality was unbelievable. If I couldn’t be on the trail, I’m mighty glad I could see totality, especially with my family. It was a gift.

I learned a few days later that the trail I would have been hiking out of Ashland, California Section R, was partially closed due to wildfire. Given my hiking speed, I could say with 100% certainty that I would have been in the closure zone. When an area is closed, firefighters sweep the trail, looking for hikers and hustling them to safety. Fast. I’m grateful I didn’t get caught up in that. And the air quality in Section R has continued to range in the moderate to unhealthy range, especially for people with asthma.

So it became pretty clear that getting off of the trail was even more important than I had anticipated. I’m grateful for that.

By the numbers: Section D, from Willamette Pass to Highway 138 (northern border of Crater Lake National Park), is 60 miles. I took the Oregon Skyline Trail alternate, which cuts ten miles, so I did 50 miles there. I flipped past Section C, and hiked Section B, from Fish Lake to Callahan’s, 54 miles. That puts me at 104 miles for the summer.

In some ways, I’m disappointed, because I wanted to hike straight through to Seiad Valley. Let’s face it, I wanted to get my Oregon tat, to match Washington. It’s my little bit of vanity.

But really, given where my health has been, 104 miles is a mighty fine number. And I’m learning to keep that in perspective.

I don’t know what next summer will bring. But I do know that I’m in good health. And I completed two sections, when the odds were against me even taking a day hike. I am profoundly grateful.

In August 2018, I returned to Oregon, to take another shot at the fire-damaged trail. My adventures continue here.

August 18, 2017, Home

I woke up this morning, and took some time just to enjoy being in my tent. Gratitude.

Michael and Karen and I went to breakfast together. I had awesome French toast, bacon, juice, and so on. I figure I’d end this thing right.

As it turns out, Karen works for a gear manufacturer, focusing on military, but also doing work for some of the smaller shops. Her dream is to go to her hometown of Dunsmuir, and open a gear repair shop. My jaw hit the floor. A gear repair shop *right* on the trail? That would be fantastic, and I told her so. We talked over different kinds of gear, and what she’d be able to do. I really hope she can make it work.

When we got back to our tents, Karen pulled out a pro-level repair kit, and said if I needed anything, to just take it. Wow! My pack had to be organized for a flight, rather than the trail, but I managed to get everything inside or attached, and didn’t need to take her up on her generous offer.

All too soon, the shuttle van arrived, and Karen gave me a big hug. I loaded my pack into the van. It felt very weird.

We picked up a couple in downtown Ashland, and then we headed for the airport. Again, weird.

But the weirdest of all was when I watched my pack go down the conveyor belt and out of sight. For two weeks this year, and for many, many weeks in different years, that pack has been my everything. So while I knew perfectly well that I’d see it in a few hours, I still felt naked without it.

A quick lunch later, and I was boarding the plane. I had specifically chosen the east window of the plane, so that I could see what was happening below on my dear trail.

Smoke in Oregon. Smoke in the valleys. Smoke flowing in different directions. Enormous smoke plumes bursting through. I saw Three Fingered Jack, and where the trail was, but other than that it was shocking. Washington was relatively clear, but there were still fires.

We landed, and I made my way to baggage claim and Steve. In tears, I retreived my pack, and we headed for home.


August 17, 2017, Mile 1716: Calling It

At Callahan’s Lodge, Ashland, mile 1716

It’s just not fun right now.

I developed a large bruise on my right shoulder, so I spent most of the day with my pack hanging off my left shoulder. It was painful enough to make me cuss, loudly.

California Section R, which runs from Ashland, OR, to Seiad Valley, CA, has a steep start, and right now is covered with smoke. That smoke is all over Ashland, Medford, and the Rogue River Valley. It’s hard to breathe, and is playing utter havoc with my asthma. There’s more, and worse, smoke and wildfire in the northernmost sections of California.

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Mt. Shasta, almost obscured by the northern California smoke

Going uphill is taking me longer, and longer, and longer. I understand why. I get it. But it’s sapping the fun out of my hike. And it’s draining my energy, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I don’t think I’ve got enough energy to continue, and still enjoy myself. You’ll never find a hike which is all fun, all of the time. But if it’s not fun at all, for whatever reason, it’s time to rethink things.

So I did eleven miles today, plus another 1.5 mile roadwalk, to get to Callahan’s. And I decided to call my hike for the year.

Callahan’s has been a great place to make the transition. I got to wash my clothes, and wash me. And while the laundry was going, I talked with Steve.

He listened to me for a few minutes, and then I asked if it was too late to join the family camping trip to Madras, OR. Madras is on the centerline of the August 21 eclipse. The family was planning on a trip from the 19th through the 21st. All I had to do was to make it to Seattle on the 18th.

So within a half an hour, I had tickets on a midafternoon flight from Medford to Seattle, plus a shuttle ride to the airport. My head was spinning, but it was the right thing to do.

I pitched my tent in the small grassy area at the front of the lodge, and went to have dinner in the restaurant. I had filet mignon, and the largest piece of chocolate cake I’d seen in a long time. Because it was time to treat myself. Well.

I’m sharing the lawn with Michael and Karen, his niece. They’re great, and it’s good to spend time with like minded people, before heading home.

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My final campsite, at Callahan’s

I made the right choice, but I wish I didn’t have to.


August 16, 2017, Mile 1727: Just Plain Tired

At a campsite spring, mile 1727

Slower than a snail going backwards this morning. And then I went down to the outflow stream to get water. There was nowhere simple to do this. I found a drip with icky critters, and said nope. Finally, I went downstream, scooted out onto a log, and managed to get a slow flow of gicky water. Three liters later, I was off.

Today was a much larger climb than I’ve had before. Again with the “I should be able to do this,” and then reality sets in. Even my playlists weren’t doing the trick, as I plodded up the hills, along dirt roads, through gates onto and off of private property. Like yesterday, I have no recollection of anything interesting. It just…was.

I reached my destination about six. The spring water was delicious, especially after the gick of the morning. The spring itself was under a lid, with water flowing out of all sides. It was really easy to rinse and fill my water bottles.

There were several tentsites, which filled over the next couple of hours. Mine was next to the spring access trail, so instead of directing traffic all night, I used a few branches to make an arrow in the dirt.

Heading for Callahan’s in the morning.

August 15, 2017, Mile 1739: The Last Thing You’d Expect to See

At the Hyatt Reservoir Outlet, mile 1739

I slept in a bit this morning, given my short miles. There were camp chores that needed to be done…emptying trash, rinsing socks, etc. It was nice to have access to running water, a trash can, and an outhouse!

While I was busy with my gear, one of the guys from the family came over with a cup of (hot! real!) coffee. He asked about my food, and I told him a bit about hiker hunger, magic, food choices, and so on. A little later, he showed up with bacon and eggs, plus a Gatorade. Score! I was grateful, to say the least.

The rest of the day, unfortunately, was kind of a blur. Ups and downs. Fatigue, both physical and mental. More stops than I cared to admit. I have no idea what the trail was like; all I wanted to do was just knock off miles.

And then, a treat. Imagine for a moment that you’re on the trail, hot, tired, and discouraged. Suddenly, you find a group of hikers laughing and talking, taking a sit-down break, and just enjoying life. You head over, introduce yourself, and find this.

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Ice cold, potable water! With a special touch! I drank my fill, topped off my containers, and hung out for awhile. Just what the doctor ordered 😊

I plowed on a couple more miles, and came to the Hyatt Reservoir, my goal for the day. I found a campsite by scrambling up a small hill, to an unused road at water level. The outlet made its own waterfall, and listening to it was a good way to fall asleep.

August 14, 2017, Mile 1748: A Textbook Yogi

At Klum Landing County Park, mile 1748

Everyone was gone when I got up this morning. Well, except for a doe, who was busy at the picnic table, twisting and turning her head to get every last crumb that might be there.

As always, today’s plan revolved around hills and water. The first six miles were 1200 feet uphill, fairly steep. Nothing compared to last year, but I did my best to ignore that. I chugged along, and at the crest I crossed out of the Rogue River National Forest. I grabbed a quick snack, and headed downhill.

My next water stop was two miles ahead. There was a large sign on the trail, and I traipsed maybe a hundred yards to the piped spring. This means that an actual plastic pipe had been inserted, to make it easier for hikers to fill their bottles.

I loaded up with enough water to take me five more miles downhill, to the road leading to the campground.

Klum Landing County Park has a large campground, although today it was practically deserted. The campground hosts were gone for some reason, and the only party in sight was an extended family, with a campfire, making dinner. Heh heh heh…it’s Yogi time.

I took my sorry, hungry looking self up to their campsites, said that I was a backpacker, and asked if they knew where the campground hosts were located. They said no, the hosts weren’t here, but could they get me anything? Maybe dinner?

Booyah! Barbecued ribs! To Yogi means to get food, drink, or other good stuff merely by being a grubby long distance hiker. It’s not exactly begging, more like playing the situation to your advantage. Really, it’s not begging.

I thanked them profusely after dinner and a bit of campfire time, saying that the ribs were a great improvement over “freeze dried something or other.” They were wonderful folks.

Tomorrow is a short day, only nine miles, to stage for water on the following day. I relaxed a bit, and hit the rack when it got dark.

August 13, 2017, Mile 1761: Lava and a Cache

At South Brown Mountain Shelter, mile 1761

Got up this morning, and headed for the bushes, just uphill from the campsite. I took a trekking pole, because it was just steep enough to want one. When I had just finished, I felt a sharp pain. I flung my pole in surprise, and realized that yes, while in the bushes, I had been stung by a bee, in the…ankle. Sorry, not too interesting 😉 . I immediately headed back to camp, and administered some AfterBite and hydrocortisone.

Fast forward half an hour, and I was ready to go. Except that I was missing a pole. Uh oh. So I went up the hill, and aided by a Swiss couple, I eventually found it. Near a nest of ground bees, one of which nailed the Swiss guy. I almost walked into the nest, but he got my attention, and I very carefully backed away.

I was dragging for the first hour or so, even through the nearly flat stroll up to the trail. Par for the course, I guess. It’s still really frustrating, and is almost guaranteed to trigger self doubt. What do I think I’m even doing here? It’s pretty hard to beat back. But I put on my music, and that helped.

Today’s stretch was a reminder of some of last year’s hike. Pumice! Lava! But it was much easier tread, and it wasn’t nearly as hot and exposed as the stuff in central Oregon. I actually spent some time taking pictures.

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Pumice trail
Mt. McLoughlin
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Across a lava field
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Layers of smoke in the distance

I needed to load up on water, again five liters. I knew that I’d reach a cache at the end of the day; while you *never* rely on caches, multiple hikers saying there were multiple gallons is a pretty good indicator. There was supposed to be a spring near that, a few hundred yards off of the trail, but even with some decent bushwhacking I wasn’t able to find it. Oh well, I tried.

Just before the shelter, I found the cache and loaded up. I didn’t want to retrace my steps in the morning, so I filled up with everything I’d need through midday the next day.

At the shelter trail junction, I found an awesome sign!

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South Brown Mountain Shelter has a few bunks, and a trail register. And, it appeared, a zillion mice and a few rats. So I signed the register, and beat a retreat.

There were a lot of tentsites, and an infamous pump. Apparently the pump handle has been broken all year, and the USFS hasn’t had time to come fix it. This is a pretty critical junction for water, at least for slower hikers, and the lack of handle has been mighty frustrating. Thank God for angels and their gift of a water cache!

So remember Old School? We met at the Diamond Lake trailhead four days ago. Turns out he made it through Section C, on the East Rim Drive, just as he planned. As a SOBO thru, he’s mighty fast, so he did 75 miles while I was having a zero and meandering down the trail. We talked about his hike, and found that both of us had been to Philmont. That’s always a great conversation topic!

We were joined by Josh (Just Josh, no trail name), and a kilt-wearing guy named Naked Ninja. I didn’t pursue that one, other than to say “nice kilt”. One other guy showed up just as I was crawling into the tent. It was a full house, so I skipped recording my blog entry…it gets a little awkward talking to myself. I’ll take care of that tomorrow.