The sound of the morning was an unusual one: a distant chime and then a cluster of them, faint but clear. High on a ridge near 7,000 feet, the list of possible sources was quite limited. As it grew louder, the chimes revealed themselves for what they really were: cow bells. The patchwork of meadows we'd seen since yesterday were the perfect place for a herd of free-ranging cattle to graze.
Search Results for: oregon
The Shining
Fifty miles east of Portland, Oregon, a snow-capped cathedral of glacier and stone holds a blue sky atop its broad shoulders. Even on a sunny day in August, ski lifts spin skiers to the only place in North America where turns can be had all 12 months of the year. But even that may not be Mount Hood’s most well known feature. That honor belongs to a place that has haunted people’s dreams for 42 years.
Southeastern
Pancakes, coffee, sausage, eggs, pancakes, hashed browns, and more pancakes. That's the way you kickstart a day of hiking, and our breakfast at Wild Bill’s certainly delivered. I can already picture my own look of ambivalence when faced with tomorrow morning’s breakfast protein bar.
Wind River
The day’s writing done, my light went out and was immediately replaced by starlight. Even from among our sheltered stand of trees, there was enough of a clearing to stare up at them from the comfort of my hammock while I listened to the breeze run through the tips of the pines. It's the way you dream of days ending.
A Tale of Fire
I'm on some kind of ride at the county fair, which one I'm not entirely sure. The Tilt-o-Whirl maybe, or perhaps the Scrambler. It might even be the giant swirling swing ride. When my eyes open, I don't see the lights of the midway though, only darkness. Turns out it was only partly a dream.
Gear Porn
I'm beginning to sense a pattern. Up until a few short days ago, warm weather and clear skies had been the norm since we'd returned to Montana. Two days south of Helena that all changed as the blue skies with long views vanished, replaced by a smoky haze that has stubbornly refused to move on down the road. Each Montanan we cross paths with tells the same story…
The Death of Puritanism
The world is infatuated with purity tests, or so it seems. And right when I fall into the obvious trap of thinking this must be a new phenomenon with blame to be placed squarely on the Facebooks and Twitters of the world, I stop and remember that: 1) almost nothing is new; and 2) being puritanical certainly is not.
A Clockwork Cumulus
Repetition, Monotony. Consistency, Banality. When does one become the other? Thru-hiking is about very little else if not repetition, the millions of steps that link it all together being merely the prerequisite for success. In time, the repetition becomes a foregone conclusion, the framework that allows your mind to wander and to wonder…
The Mountain that Blew its Top
Four months before I was born and a small, towheaded terror was introduced to the Brownscheidle household, an altogether different sort of terror was unleashed on the Pacific Northwest not far north of the Columbia River that divides Oregon from Washington.
Washington. Another Word for Wet
The clouds that had drifted back and forth across the Knife's Edge yesterday decided to settle in for a longer stay last night and the familiar patter of raindrops was again my lullaby. I woke up hoping that the weather system had blown through to reveal the sun again but it was pretty clear that wish wouldn't be coming true anytime soon. Only rain and a light wind filled the air.
Washington, My Home
On the last day of August, we'd finally reached the last state of the trail, my now-home state of Washington. At only about 100 feet above sea level, the Bridge of the Gods that spans the Columbia River linking Oregon to Washington is the lowest elevation on the entire trail. For fans of the book Wild, it is also the place where Cheryl Strayed's adventure on the PCT came to a close.
Eagle Creek
The third and final day on the trail with my Mom was also our final day in Oregon, and what a fitting end it was. The final 15 miles in Oregon are spent by nearly all thru-hikers, not on the official PCT, but on the alternate Eagle Creek trail. Plunging down 4000 feet, the alternate leaves the PCT and follows the course of Eagle Creek along a series of waterfalls…
Mountain Mom
Just when I thought they were beginning to dwindle, there they were: the juiciest, most plump berries we've had on the entire trail. Blue and purple-hued huckleberries, bright red thimbleberries, and golden salmonberries with their equal mix of bitter and sweet.
Mountain Relay
Today was divided neatly into thirds: 8.5 miles of uphill sandwiched between two 8.5 mile sections of downhill. It's unusual for a day to be carved up like that and for the downhill sections to have very few moments of climbing and vice versa. Regardless, the grade was always pleasant and steady and it made for easy going even for another long day.
2000 Miles
It may have been a meager arrangement of sticks on the ground, but it was meaningful just the same. A humble spot on a trail full of highlights, it didn't quite seem fitting of all that this point represented but it did make for a perfect place to reflect on all the miles that brought us here. 2000 miles.
Mini Matterhorn
The day after such an amazing highlight like Crater Lake can easily feel empty, a letdown. Though there may not have been anything quite as stunning as the day prior, the first 10 miles of the day had us rounding Mt. Thielsen, a dramatically sharp peak whose uppermost reaches conjured up the image of a miniature Matterhorn.
One More Day
I spent much of today in anticipation of tomorrow: my first view of Crater Lake, a place I've seen only in pictures despite wanting to visit for many years. Thinking about tomorrow often ignores the task at hand, however, and today's task was to cover the remaining 21 miles of trail and to camp somewhere near the rim of the crater. That first glimpse of the lake would have to wait one more day.
Blowdown
Far more often than not, the PCT is an incredibly well-maintained and thoroughly modern hiking trail that switchbacks its way up and down steep slopes, rather than taking a more direct and erosion-prone route. Today, however, the "well-maintained" part of that description was called into question.
Blueberry Forest
Since crossing I-5 outside of Ashland, I've felt closer to civilization in Oregon than any other stretch of the trail so far. The best evidence is the number of consecutive road crossings, many separated by less than half a mile, that we seem to encounter every day here.
Looking Ahead
On our first full day in Oregon, the destination was Callahan's Lodge, a small hotel next to Interstate 5 and only 10 miles outside of the town of Ashland. Home to both an all-you-can-eat spaghetti dinner and pancake breakfast and less than a mile from the trail, it's a perfect place to pickup a resupply package and wash away the layers of dirt I seem to accumulate every day…
A Golden State of Mind
Today marks my last full day and night in California, and although the trail is positively pulsing with excitement at the prospect of reaching Oregon, it would be impossible to forget the nearly endless string of beauty that has been on display as we've followed these first 1700 miles.
The State of Jefferson
The town of Seiad Valley hardly qualifies as a town at all, complete with its population of 350 and comprised only of a cafe, store, post office, and RV park that occupy consecutive lots. Aside from hosting a pancake challenge--anyone who eats 5 pounds of pancakes, gets them for free--its real claim to "fame" is…
Etna
The anticipation of getting into the town of Etna for resupply today was heightened even more by wanting to reunite with Beardoh and Sweet Pea, and to learn how Beardoh had been faring since they left the trail two days ago. Aside from getting stung by a bee during my last break of the day when I sat on some fallen timber that had a hive beneath it, it was a pretty uneventful stroll.
The Great Western Swing
Tearing yourself away from the creature comforts of air conditioning and a bed can be pretty tough when the forecast is for over 100 degrees outside, yet there we were strolling through the empty, quiet streets of Mt. Shasta just after 6am, heading for the I-5 onramp.
What Goes Down Must Come Up
The sad truth about resupply stops in town is that nothing comes for free. Sure, there's the whole looking forward to showering, doing laundry, eating, and sleeping in a bed thing, and getting there inevitably involves several thousand feet of descent from the height of the mountains.
I Am the Buffet
By the time I awoke this morning, the chill of the air overnight had mercifully chased the hordes of mosquitoes from the air. As Beardoh, Sweet Pea and I struck out for the first miles of the morning, the trail began to tilt up out of our low lying campsite into the sunlight and the warmth of its early rays.