Awe won. Hands down. 

Sometime in the night the rain stopped. When the first light opened the day I could see to the cliff sides across the creek; it will be a brilliant day.

I was packed and walking before 8am, excited at what I could already see. Because I took a layover day yesterday, the logistics of some of those loops and lakes were taken off the table, but it is what it is. My back is feeling better, and what I can do is climb up to Horton Pass at 8,500′ and peek over the other side to the lakes basin. I need about 25+ more backpacking trips here to see all that I want to see. 

This area has a strong pull on me.

I hike up and up, the trail isn’t messing around and only has a few miles to get me to the shoulder of Eagle Cap Mountain.

Soon I can see the snow zone. About the last mile to the top will be in snow, softened just enough by the sun to make the going easy.

I’m glad I wasn’t up here yesterday. 

This is simply astounding. 

There are no other tracks, no other signs of humans, I have the world to myself today. Up top I am greeted by ridgelines shrouded in cloud wisps, lakes and snow and trees as far as the eye can see. 

After just a few minutes I turn around and gingerly follow my footprints in the snow back down down down to Eagle Creek below.

From here I just need to decide where to camp. I am due to stay with Mike and Donna Higgins in Halfway tomorrow night, but the forecast has me a bit nervous for tomorrow. Rain is coming, snow in the high country. I drove my little Honda Fit out here, and accessing this trailhead alone had me at high elevations on gravel roads. I don’t want to get stuck, so I debate camping close to the car so I can make a mad dash if the rain/snow materializes early.

As it is, I find myself mulling over what ifs and maybes all the time, especially when I’m out by myself. Planning ahead and preparing for the worst is one of the best things you can do out here. If you are prepared for the worst, everything else will be delightful! It’s very much on my mind as I am hosting a conversation this week (October 14 on Zoom – 5pm Pacific time) about safety and risk and being prepared for a backcountry adventure. I’ll be talking with two people who were on different sides of search and rescue efforts: Stacy, who broke her knee while on the Oregon Desert Trail and needed to call for help, and Tomas who found and unconscious man and needed to provide help. Should be a good talk!

So I walk out, slowly, savoring the colors and granite and marble mountains. 

I am super close to the car, and can’t find a good spot to camp, so without really thinking about it walk right back to my car. It’s car camping time! I set up diagonally across the back of my Honda fit and manage an ok night of tossing and turning. 

This was a short and sweet little hike up into the heights of NE Oregon, and it only leaves me wanting more.

I thought I would give the day a head start and lay low this morning. The rain started as I was finishing my coffee and made the decision for me.

I had 2,500’ish to climb in 3 miles. If this rain is snow up there, it could be a mild snowfall or a blizzard. Both are likely. I’ll check it out later after a morning nap.

While laying about, listening to rain drops splashing off my tent, I put on an On Being podcast episode. The topic was trees with Suzanne Simard. Suzanne did the science that proves all trees are connected, and further posits that humans are a part of that connection. 

I’m working on reconnecting presently.

It’s 10:30 am and the rain has only gotten heavier. I asked for a weather report on my InReach to find the forecast is for 100% rain this morning, tapering to 40% this afternoon and 0% over night. Tomorrow, sunny. 

Ok, decided. I dug a moat around my tent to guide the puddles of water formed in the compacted earth away from my dry things, and climbed back inside for some hot cider and reading. Thank goodness the fear I carry is boredom because I have a new book, half a Harper’s magazine and hours of podcasts in my pocket. The not walking will probably be good for my back and foot too. 

Well, the day happened, and at times the rain stopped and I could spy fresh snow above. Tomorrow will be stunning.

Can awe overcome pain?

The planter faciatus that I developed on the Blue Mountains Trail continues to plague me. I’ve made attempts (some successful) at solving the piercing pain in the heel of my right foot, but it always comes back. 

Oh, and I tweaked my back this summer for the first time. Kirk and I were up at Elk Lake for his birthday, moving paddleboards to the lake, when I twisted while picking one up and my whole lower back twinged and I had very little movement and a lot a pain. I did it again to a lessor degree last weekend when I tried to get out of my tent. 

Both are plaguing me on day one of a 4-day solo backpacking trip into the Wallowas. Maybe I can walk it off? Not likely with the heel pain, especially since I walked that one on last fall.

Ok, it is manage it then…but I’ve got to get serious about healing both. I have a 2-month sabbatical at work next year and I’m going hiking!

So to the awe: this marble and granite chunk of Mountains in NE Oregon (where I started the Blues Mountains Trail last year) is out of this world. I’m hiking (it really feels like plodding) up Eagle Creek towards Horton Pass. The golds and reds from the October fall days are piercing blocks of color against the green and silver rock of the canyon walls. 

A family out horsepacking passes me while I pulled over to eat lunch. They look prepared to set up somewhere for a few days, and when I saw their tracks headed up to Hidden Lake (my intended destination for the night) I found something lower, saving me the 1000′ climb. I’ll take it, for the views at my new camp are already making me forget my worries. 

It was a short day, relatively speaking, but I have no agenda, only loose ideas, and there are countless options for trails, and lakes, and passes, and loops, so I’m just going to take it as it comes this time. No imposing my will on the miles, instead, letting the Wallowas (and my body) impose their will on me.