August 5, Day 93
28.5 miles [1848.4 ]
Piss-poor drunken sleep, my mind was completely obsessed with leaving. Woke up in the same thought pattern I had fallen asleep to, like it was the same day. Listened to my own trail register advice which I’ve been writing for nearly two-thousand miles and Committed to packing. Gear on and sunrise breaking, I left a super-lame see-ya-later note for “Flipper & Friends”, then walked back to the restaurant with “Conflicted” for a cup of coffee. “Silver Fox”, a familiar hiker yet I’m unacquainted, paid for our brews; it was a wonderful gesture. About to leave when “Flipper” and Sam—honorarily “Sunburnt”—sat down for breakfast. Talked and hung out as long as possible, snagged a group photo for posterity sake; I can’t believe I know those hooligans from Philmont. Apologized for leaving once again, then “Conflicted” and I began hiking. I knew it was going to be smoky and thought about coming back rather than the marred view. The Lake sprawled much larger than I had imagined, much like my first visit to the Grand Canyon when I was 12—it must be even more incredible on a clear day. Tons of tourists and clean day hikers which was expected, it was fun being an utter bum and attracting looks and conversations about “those PCT hikers”. Took a lunch atop the Watchman and crushed the one beer I decided to carry, that didn’t last long. Cruised around the rim, slowly, it was at our backs. Met a total cutie at the highway water cache who only started yesterday and is planning on going to Washington; I called her “Locks”, maybe it sticks. “Brownstreak” caught up! He’s been behind since Tahoe, and not long after, “Sticky Fingers” showed up, looks like he’s not taking a zero either. Hiked behind “Goat Man” for five miles and talked the whole time about vanlife and taking life after trail to the next level—great guy. A fiery sunset swatting skeeters away. Coerced “Conflicted” into letting me use his stove for my gnocchi meal. “Sticky” gave me a spoonful of cookie butter and now I know what my first hit of heroin feels like. Tonight’s camp has faces I recognize and some I don’t.
“Conflicted” and Wizard Island.
State Highway 138, mile 1847.8.
August 6, Day 94
33.8 miles [1882.2]
Smoky night which turned into a damp and chilly dawn, my quilt had a fair bit of dewy condensation. The five or seven tents which were up last night had already dwindled to three before I was packed, strapped, and moving. It’s odd trailing a group of people “by myself”, but I guess that’s what the majority of hikers have already gone through. In the first mile “Sticky” caught up, he must have been looking for a friend too, and we did the morning-10 together. Had a good laugh beneath the base of Mt. Theilsen—”Stick’s” friend said it was “non-technical” and there couldn’t be a more sinister looking peak in the entire state; certainly Class 3 and above. Lunch with “Stick” and “Streak” where I had a pepperoni roll-up appetizer and tuna taco as a main. Kept a steady pace through meandering hills. Realized I’m going to hit 2,000 miles before Day 100 (what a positively gorgeous reduction) and I can’t stop smiling. Twenty a day is way better than counting chairs in a lift shack for eight hours. Crossed the Oregon high point which felt lackluster after all the trail’s had to offer, a fun milestone nonetheless. I pushed past Windigo dirt road after 6:20 P.M. and did another four, absolutely annihilating nearly 34 today and it feels great. Breakfast for dinner: a House biscuits and gravy, I still have lots of food left—oops, more tomorrow. Ha! Soaring spirits and another note from “Shocks”. Tomorrow, our trails cross.
“Sticky Fingers”.
Cowhorn Mountain, mile ~1878.
Sawtooth Mountain, mile ~1882.
August 7, Day 95
24.9 miles [1907.1]
Great sleep, got the lead out early and crushed 14.3 before 11 A.M. Finding my motivation since leaving Crater Lake has been an easy choice. Abundant water sources saw the vengeful return of mosquitoes which is kinda irksome. “Sticky” caught up to me by the afternoon and we cruised into Shelter Cove before 3 P.M. Despite having plenty of trail sustenance and picking up more, I was weak—like always—to resist real food and we split an absolutely FIRE chicken pesto pizza. I ate way too much, I haven’t hurt that bad since the AYCE buffet back at Harrah's. Waddled over to the lake, it’s gorgeous. Mountains are the purest form of escape but a large, secluded body of water does the trick. I realized kids who grew up in the Midwest and camped at lakes had a unique nature experience all their own, mountains or not. Uncomfortably stuffed my consciousness slipped like Altras on scree, it was warm and a cool breeze wafted through the shade; summer weather perfection. In my digestive haze, I met “Sassy-K” who remarked at my similarity with another hiker, then put it together and interrupted herself to mention that “Shocks” was probably looking for me. Adam is in great spirits and I’m stoked to see him. “Brownsteak” and “Conflicted” rolled in as well and all of us splayed out in the shade punch-drunk on mileage just like it was the Sierra. Everyone traded stories of Oregon-so-far. Decided it would be a rough night at the campground/resort and hoofed it back to the trail just as last light waned. Tipsy, full, and tired, we could have hiked another five but I found a good spot in less than a half-mile and everyone rejoiced. It feels good to hang with these four again.
Crescent Lake.
Breakfast snack.
New pad/old pad.
Chicken pesto pizza.