It rained all night and I was very grateful to
be in my tent, but as long as I was awake, I could hear the humming of the
high-tension electrical wires above me.
It was almost light when I exited my tent and
begin preparations for the day. It had stopped raining, but the sky was
still overcast; my tent was wet and the ground muddy, which made rolling and
packing the tent into its stuff sack a real pain. I put my rain pants on
to keep my pants dry while walking through the brush alongside of the trail,
and I ate a snack to get a flow of energy coursing through my body, then
plunged back into the green canopy
.
The forest is beautiful when it's wet; the
colors are more vibrant, especially the color green, of which there was an
endless variety of shades. Green moss tended to cover everything that
didn’t move, and virtually obliterated any other color in the forest except the
brown color of the trail.
As I walked, I keep looking for signs of
Hooligan’s camp, as it was starting to rain when he passed me last evening.
I was curious as to where he ended up. I was not sure he even has a
tent with him; I think most often, he just curls up in his sleeping bag and
pulls a tarp over his bag in the event of rain.
Each day brought new scenic wonders, and today I
would be treated to two of Oregon’s spectacular natural wonders – Timothy Lake
and Mount Hood.
Timothy Lake was just beyond where I camped last night
and the trail builders routed the PCT to traverse its four-mile shoreline.
The south end of the lake was encompassed by a Forest Service backcountry
road that gave visitors to the region access to the lake. Breaking out of
the forest to cross this dirt road, I found three section hikers sprawled out
on the ground, drying their tents and sleeping bags. The sun has come
out, so I followed their example and pulled my wet gear out of my backpack and
spread it on the ground also. While I waited for it to dry, I ate my
breakfast of hydrated oatmeal and crushed nuts.
Back on the trail, I passed a number of
campsites along the lake that were accessible by both boat and the Forest
Service road, which was just out of sight off to my right up in the trees. At
one of these camps, I saw several men standing around a roaring log fire and in
the midst of them was Hooligan. He was holding a cup over the fire, as
though he was trying to warm up its contents.
I didn’t think he made it this far in the rain
and dark last night, but it was possible that he approached the group of men
this morning, for whatever purpose, and they, having pity on him, invited him
to stay for breakfast. Whatever his reasons for being there, it looked
like he scored a meal.
Just beyond the north end of Timothy Lake was an
ice-cold, spring-fed lake named Little Crater Lake. It had a depth of
forty-five feet and was crystal clear, its purity being maintained by a fence
that encircled it to keep cattle from polluting the waters. There was a
small campground two hundred feet east of the lake, and was an excellent place
to camp for hikers who found themselves in the vicinity, however, don’t expect
to swim in the waters, as the average temperature year-round is forty degrees.
It was a solitary walk this morning under a
forest of shady trees. The variety of conifers was nowhere greater than
what I was encountering on this stretch of trail leading towards Mount Hood.
Although I could identify only a couple of species, my PCT
Oregon-Washington guidebook pointed out to me that scattered throughout these
forests were Douglas-fir, western and mountain hemlock, western red and Alaska
cedars, silver, noble, grand, and subalpine firs, and western white and lodge
pole pines.
There were numerous springs along the trail,
some of which were so voluminous that they formed
small streams where they
crossed the trail. And the most precious aspect of being on this part of
the trail was that it was covered with luscious, sweet-tasting blue
huckleberries. I wasted a great deal of time stopping to pick and eat
handfuls of these sweet berries that have the appearance of blueberries.
Within a short time after passing the north end
of Timothy Lake, the three section hikers I had seen drying their tents beside
the Forest Service road caught up to me; the small group consisted of a father
and his two teenage sons. I was not sure where they started, but the
Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood was their ending point. One son, Andy,
kept lagging behind as he was picking huckleberries and stashing them in a
gallon-size Ziploc bag.
The father had been on this section of the trail
before and was introducing his sons to the wonders and beauty of the wilderness
he had known and experienced in earlier years. When we came to an opening
in the trees that gave an unobstructed view of Mount Hood, the father stopped
and pointed out to all of us the tiny speck that represented the Timberline
Lodge that sat halfway up the slopes of the mountain. Even though I could
barely see the outline of the structure, I had no idea that the side of the
mountain was the location for this resort. I knew I would be visiting the
lodge to pick up a resupply package, yet from my viewpoint beside Timothy Lake,
it appeared to be so far away and the elevation gain so great as to be almost
inaccessible.
Just before crossing paved Highway 26 that
connects the vicinity of Portland in the north with the vicinity of Bend in the
south, the four of us found a handwritten note on a paper plate attached to a
road sign that read Trail Magic ahead. I knew in my heart that I was going
to find Kermit and June Bug and their bright green VW bus in the trailhead
parking lot providing the trail magic - and so it was.
I greeted both of them with a big hug, and said
to them over and over,
“I knew it would be you, I knew it would be
you.”
I was so happy to see them; they’re like old
friends, and yet I don’t even know them. Such is the wonderment of trail magic
on the trail. They had camp chairs to sit in, and provided cold, pink
lemonade, a few cookies, and pieces of fruit. It was so nice to just sit
and relax for a bit. I didn’t think the father and his two sons had ever
encountered trail magic before, and they seemed a little taken back by the
hospitality and generosity extended to them by Kermit and June Bug.
The first clear view of Mount Hood, and just below the white glacier in the middle of the mountain is the Timberline Lodge. From this point, it looks so far away, but in two days, I will be there eating breakfast in the dining hall.
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