Author: Marcus

I awoke in the otherworldly camp site, and took a few pictures before getting going. Even with better light than last night, I couldn’t really capture the atmosphere.

There were only 25 miles remaining to Santiam Pass. It could be an easy day depending on the terrain.

After a few miles of lava rock, my hopes of good terrain were low. I approached McKenzie Pass, and was surprised to find a water cache there. There was supposed to be a good spring in a few miles, according to the PCT Water Report. It sounded refreshing among the hot, dry lava rock.

A few moments later, a now-familiar “Coppertone is here” sign appeared, and I stopped briefly and chatted. None of the other hikers had heard of the excellent spring a couple miles out. I headed out.

I reached the spot where the excellent spring should be, and sure enough, no spring. There wasn’t any evidence that a spring had ever been there — it was just piles of lava rock. A local passed by, and said he’d never heard of a spring anywhere near here.

I had a few swallows of water left at this point, and about 5 miles to go to the next water, in the heat of the day. This is not a terrible situation, just unpleasant, and the next water was a warm, stagnant pond, instead of a cold clear spring. I met several southbound hikers who had been planning on stopping at the spring. Lucky for them, Coppertone was just a bit further south, and he had tanks of water.

After an unpleasant five miles, I reached the pond, and it was stagnant as reported. It would surely clog my filter more, but I was almost to Bend, where I could replace it.

The water came through my filter frustratingly slowly, and it was quite brown, but eventually, I wasn’t thirsty any more.

With that, I just hurried on to Santiam Pass. The lava rocks soon cleared up, and I made good time. Tap water awaited!

I woke up to a rain fly and quilt that were soaked with condensation. The lake had not been kind to me. It did make for a scenic morning, though.

The mosquitoes remained aggressive, biting me through my gloves, and getting inside my head net unless I cinched it really tight. I’m going to be itchy for quite some time.

The terrain this morning took me through a lot of Oregon’s standard environments, and then began to introduce dry, volcanic scenery.

Later, the trail entered the Obsidian Limited Entry Area, a picturesque part of the forest that had piles of obsidian sitting around.

As it got late, I had to decide between a nearer and a father campsite. I chose the later, and was frustrated to find difficult lava rock flows made up the majority of the trail on the way there. They were starkly scenic with the sunset, though.

There was a brief valley with soil instead of lava rock, and a small spring winding through it. Something about the environment made the trees grow with wavy trunks, like in a children’s story book. Altogether, surrounded by the dead lava rock, it was like an oasis on Mars.  I set up there and went to sleep.

I woke up a bit late today, and wasn’t moving down the trail until after 8. My plan was to have breakfast while my phone charged at the hut yesterday’s hiker has recommended, so I set out with no breakfast.

The hut was quite nice. Clean, well-built and maintained, and was an octagon.

After a thorough search of the hut, I determined the adapter he’d mentioned had, indeed, been stolen. I dejectedly ate my breakfast with an under-charged phone.

I packed up my backpack, tightened the straps, put it on, and heard the sound of a strap breaking. One of the straps that held the lid on my pack had broken. I repositioned some other straps to hold the lid in place, albeit crooked. I could carry the pack this way just fine, but I’d look silly. Maybe I could get it fixed in Bend. This side-trip to the hut had gone badly.

My dad had just finished a hike in the Swiss Alps, where he went from hiker hut to hiker hut each night. There, the government keeps the huts stocked with food — they even helicopter in beer — and you pay on the honor system by leaving money in the cabinet. I was jealous.

All things done, I wasn’t out of that hut until 10. I was going to have to speed up an awful lot if I was going to do 30 miles today. I’d only done 3.

And speed up I did. The rest of the day was uneventful, just a lot of walking, really. A song was stuck in my head, which helped (“Home”, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes). I’d whistle or hum, and vary the tempo to match my hiking speed.

Lunch was by one of the many lakes in this area. I was in a hurry, but it was right on-trail.

After lunch, I picked up the pace, and, for some reason, the high pace stuck. Maybe I should eat a brick of cheese with every lunch.

Late in the day, I came across two tiny, quivering chipmunks. They were standing in the trail, apparently unafraid of me.

One approached my shoe, and started to rub against it. I think they must’ve been young, fallen out of a nest, looking for their mother.

But, having been warned about catching plague from these things, I moved my shoe away and continued down the trail.

As it got later, I sped up, and the mosquitoes came out in force. I wore my head net and kept my hands on my pockets. One flew into my pocket and bit my palm.

I hiked until it was just about dark, then set up by a lake, and ate trail mix in my tent for dinner, so I wouldn’t have to expose my head to mosquitoes. I’d gone about 32 miles today.