Author: Marcus

I had such big plans today. I was going to fuel up at the Timberline’s all-you-can-eat breakfast, then get going and cover 30 miles.

There was a famous alternate up ahead — the Eagle Creek Alternate — that I’d wanted to do since before I started the trail. It added 5 miles, such that a 30 today would leave me 25 tomorrow, when I’d arrive in the town of Cascade Locks. I needed time in town, so 25 miles was all the time I could spare tomorrow.

But, the Timberline was warm, and the trail was cold and windy. And there were many things I needed to check on their Wi-Fi. And then there was the museum.

Nevertheless, I eventually got going. But not until 10:30.

Even though it was a weekday, the lodge was full, and there were many short-distance hikers on the trail. About 7 miles from the lodge, I ran into an exhausted, sweaty one-day backpacker.

“Is there any more uphill?” He panted.

I checked the Halfmile app. It showed 2200 more feet of climbing for him.

“Well, it goes up and down for a while,” I said.

The trail was going up and down the ridges of Mt. Hood. This made for good scenery.

I took a small alternate to Ramona Falls, since it’s popular and doesn’t add any distance.

As I proceeded north, views of the other side of Mt. Hood appeared.

As it got dark, it got more and more obvious that I wouldn’t make 30 miles. The terrain here didn’t lend itself to dispersed camping (there were solid bushes everywhere), so I set up camp in 25 miles rather than 30. I’d have to do 30 miles tomorrow and get into Cascade Locks late.

There was another hiker, Tank, already making camp there. We chatted about the upcoming trail. He didn’t seem concerned about getting to Cascade Locks early. It was only 20 miles, he said.

I looked back at the Eagle Creek Alternate’s distance. It subtracted 5 miles, not added. I’d have no trouble getting to Cascade Locks on time.

When I woke up, it was just too cold to get up. The depression of the lake near me probably made this an especially cold site. I laid in bed more than an hour before I ventured out.

When I checked the thermometer on my backpack around 7 in the morning, it showed around freezing. It had probably dropped well below freezing last night. This was a big problem, because I hadn’t put my water filter in my tent last night. Sawyer filters, like mine, are made up of microscopic tubes, with water inside them. If the water freezes, it can rupture the tube, allowing larger objects through the filter.

So, for now, I’d need to treat my water with tablets, which is time-consuming. I guess summer really is over, I’m really going north, and freezing temperatures are something that can happen again.

Once again, I started late and cold — around 9:30. But, because of yesterday’s long miles, I only had to cover 20 miles today, so a late start was not a big problem.

Yet, I was slow all day. Maybe it was the long day yesterday, maybe it was just that I’m eating too much Nutella. But my pace was slow, and I felt tired. I didn’t even take many pictures.

Eventually, the trail began to scale Mt. Hood, and I got clear views.

And, soon after, I reached the Timberline Lodge. I had a resupply package there, and I wanted to take a look at the building. It was a beautiful WPA-era building in a scenic setting.

After sorting my resupply and examining the building’s history placards, it was getting dark, so I went back up to the trail and pitched my tent.

The stars were out in full force, with a clear milky way across the sky.

Note: This post is out of order. It is from earlier in my hike when I didn’t have time to keep my blog up-to-date, so I’m posting it now.

I had a slow start today. I needed to figure out how to carry my bear can. In the position I’d carried it in yesterday, it’d slipped out, so I needed to find a better way to attach it to my backpack.

I tried several ways, but decided on just a slight change to the position I’d used yesterday (as shown in the Kennedy Meadows picture). I tied some orange cordage onto the side of my backpack, connecting the body of the pack to the lid, such that the bear can could no longer slide out the side. It was clearly homemade, and wouldn’t last forever. But, it didn’t need to last forever, it only needed to last until Sonora Pass, where the National Park Service’s bear canister requirement ends.

But there was lots to worry about before Sonora Pass.

After crossing the bridge over the the Kern River fork that we’d slept by, we started a climb. The Kern River water wasn’t very good, there were cow pies next to it, but it tided me over to the next water source, Cow Creek (much better-tasting, ironically, because it didn’t have any cow pies nearby).

Elizabeth finished filtering her water before I did, and she wanted to go faster, so she went ahead, and we split up for the rest of the climb. I finished my filtering soon after, and started uphill.

I reached the pass (Olancha Pass I think?), and noticed we were above 10000 feet — a taste of the high passes to come. The treeline should be not much higher.

The vegetation seemed different up here. Dead tree trunks, at least, had a distinctive spiral pattern in their wood, as if they were twisted very slowly as they grew.

Descending from the pass, I asked another hiker if he’d seen the woman in the bonnet pass by. He said about 20 minutes ago. I hiked a couple minutes, and asked another hiker the same question. He said 10 minutes ago. Then, about 30 seconds later, I saw Elizabeth sitting on a rock, finishing her lunch.

I started setting up my own lunch, but something was wrong. Elizabeth wasn’t moving. Then, she slumped over, and dropped her food.

She came to quickly, but described symptoms like seeing the wrong colors, dizziness, and nausea. She fainted again (again, only briefly).

We rested. She asked if the people we camped with last night have all gone by, one was a medic. I wasn’t sure. We rested some more.

An hour or so later, the medic came by. He checked her symptoms, and thought it was altitude sickness. He suggested rest, then to camp at the lowest altitude we could easily get to tonight.

We thanked him, and he started hiking away. I quickly said, “Just a second — I didn’t get your name. I’m Town Food, this is Pitter-Patter.”

“I’m Professor Kind” he said, and walked off.

Soon afterwards, we were ready to go. Our new destination for the night was the lowest campsite nearby, Death Canyon Creek. Elizabeth seemed to be hiking fine now — we passed most of the people who had passed us while we were resting.

(N.B. I now think Elizabeth was not having altitude sickness, since it didn’t happen at the right time. I think it was blood-sugar related, and caused by food.)

We arrived at Death Canyon Creek in the early afternoon. It’s a popular campsite — maybe 15 hikers were there.

Being at a campsite this early in the day was a different experience, with people taking their hike at a different pace from us. Somebody was practicing throwing rocks with a sling. Someone was sunbathing. Other people set up their tents just for midday, then cleared out in the afternoon.

We took our time setting up tents, filtering water, cooking dinner, chatting with the other hikers, etc.

Someone made a campfire later in the evening. We sat nearby and chatted with the other hikers about everything. Elizabeth tried a dinner experiment where she mixed fried snack peas into instant potatoes. It was a culinary failure, but it did turn the potatoes greenish.

Soon enough, it was time for sleep. We’ll see how Elizabeth feels tomorrow.