We lingered on the last moning. With only 12 mile to go and Kirk showing up around 5pm to pick us up, we had all day to make our way around Mt. Jefferson. It was a two cup of coffee kind of start to the day.

One mile after leaving camp we entered the burn. An apt description of the next campsite said “sleeping in an ash try.” Everything was torched. The plus? Berries were still lining the trail. I didn’t know huckleberries were so resilient!

We climbed and climbed up to the start of Jefferson Park, and low and behold, much of the Park retained the lush green splendor! The numerous lakes and ponds must have kept the hot at bay, but there were incursions here and there where a patch of trees held the flames back.

We snacked at Russle Lake and enjoyed the rest, even despite the mosquitos trying to drive us away.

Then up and up some more to the next pass where NEMO had a tearful goodbye with Jefferson. This was a mountain to fall in love with.

The north side had snow fields and the trail was full of sand and rocks which acted as ball bearings as we gingerly made our way down.

It was almost the end of our hike, and our feet were ready to be done. We had visions of a swim in the lake when we got there, but when arriving at Breitenbush Lake we found blowdowns and no easy access. When we did manage to make it near the shore it was marshy with no place to take a dip. Bummed, we made our way back to the PCT and splashed off in the creek nearby and sat down to wait for Kirk.

A few hikers came by that we had been leapfrogging, and then the dusty blue pickup pulled up, early!!! Kirk brought cold drinks, fruit, and chips and I hauled the magic over to share with our new friends. More hikers showed up and soon there were 5 or 6 of us snacking in the shade.

Finally we decided it was time to leave the PCT and we loaded up in the truck for the harrowing six mile drive out on a very rough road. Once we reached pavement the going was much smoother, and we spend away to Sisters for a burger and a beer.

Oh PCT, we love you!

We slept hard. A solid sleep after a day of toil and effort is the sweetest thing.

We drank our coffee as the orangy morning light slowly lit up rockpile lake. What a way to start the day! There were four other hikers who had set up around the lake and soon everyone was up and about, rustling gear and shaking out tents. It was fun to be in the middle of the nobo and sobo rush. We were seeing plenty of folks headed in both directions, and it was a bit sad that we had to dip out so soon and leave the through-line.

The hiking was glorious! Nemo said this is what she had been dreaming about. Scrubby little lupine carpeted the ground with bright red paintbrush and yellow and white flowers joining in the medley.

Simply stunning.

Mt. Jefferson played peekaboo with us as we climbed and descended ridges, and as the mountain got closer, so did our excitement and trepidation. The big burn of the last few years loomed ahead and had torched the last 13 miles of our hike into Breitenbush Lake and the magical Jefferson Park. What would it look like a few years later? I had been to Jefferson Park several times and knew what it used to look like, what would this trip bring?

We were full-body old lady achy today, so wanted to have a shorter day. Camping was in short supply though, and if we hiked too far we would be in the burn and suboptimal camp spots.

We hopped across Milk Creek, not as milky as you might expect, and reluctantly started climbing the grade ahead. I had been hoping for some good camping at the creek, but it hadn’t panned out.

I kept my eye open. Sometimes there is a little spot flat enough for a tent or two hidden in these long climbs and descents, and after about a mile I spotted it! Just the right size for me and Nemo and our afternoon repose.

We luxuriate in the light breeze and bit of a view we had through the swaying trees. Quite sublime.

The aches are here.

We are both in decent shape, NEMO just finished hiking the New York 46ers in a burst of mountain climbing before her birthday a few weeks ago, and I backpack regularly, like last weekend. But it’s becoming clear that we are not trail hardened, and a few long days on the trail are painful reminders. My PCT memory is of flat cruisy trail, and of course it is in some sections, but more often than not it’s going uphill or down. We are passing a mountain a day in this short hike so we have to climb up on the shoulders of each one….and it takes effort.

And the effort is rewarded. You just can’t beat the views on the PCT. Sooooo incredible. And so torched. These miles have been hit by fires again and again. We walk through successive burns and small pockets of lush old growth. Lush! The ground is often damp in these sections, damp! And the flowers 😍. And the air is so much cooler. It’s viscerally apparent how important these forests are when we hike into a burn area again and there is nothing but a cathedral of burned trees in every direction with the heavy smoke of the nearby Pyramid Fire hanging below us.

The heat smacks us in the face.

I want to walk in the forest again, but there isn’t much.. I brace myself to what we will see in the most recent burn at Jefferson Park. A wonderland of lakes and huckleberries…before the fire that is…

And fire is the theme because fire is everywhere. The story map I worked on with a group called Resilient Headwaters came out recently (take a look! It preforms much better on a desktop or laptop) It’s about the recovery and recreation.  The story map covers aftermath of the Santium Canyon 2020 fires that burned through vast swaths of forest just to the west of us.

But I haven’t told you about the day! We didn’t realize what a smoke bomb we had been sleeping in until we hiked up and out to Three Finger Jack’s flanks and saw the dank carpeting the pass below.

Numerous southbounders sped past us on their quest to get to town, and the hiking, while mostly uphill, was also quite gentle.

We snacked and walked, lunched, and walked.

Three Finger Jack does impress. We walked right below the crumbly peaks and switchbacks down the northern spine. The views were stunning despite the hazy smoke look.

Up next were boulder fields and ponds nestled in the jumble. We spided the deep blue Wasco Lake and I convinced Nemo to go down for a swim. It required extra effort and I questioned my quest for a bit when the going got real steep on the way down. 500′ in .2 miles. Yikes, but when we were floating, the hurt that would hurt on the way up was far away.

Refreshed, we immediately lost that cool feeling on the climb up. But I did have wet hair and a wet shirt that helped with the hot afternoon. We had some lovely stretches of trail in small swaths of forest and finally arrived at Rockpile Lake which made a wonderful camp.

There was almost a chill in the air, so we put on layers with glee.

Lights out early tonight!

Lava was the theme of the day.

We walked through lava fields and lava flows. Through burns and one little patch of not burn  that was quite refreshing. The air was still enough and the sun bright enough that it slowly cooked our brains as we plodded through the miles of ridges and flows.

We kept hopschotching with Battery a thru-hiker from Germany we had met at the campground last night. Each time she stopped to snack, or we stopped to eat gummy worms and gummy butterflies, we got to know her a tiny bit better. By the time mid afternoon rolled around, the three of us had stopped to pluck huckleberries together. Battery was headed to Sisters from Santium Pass this afternoon, and we were stopping sooner than that at a pond that was reported to be both small and big.

As the day progressed, our feet and muffin tops felt the miles, but we were quite pleased with our 17 miles for the day. I thought we would see more thru-hikers, but we had to take into account the triple vortex: MacKenzie Pass, Big Lake Youth Camp, and Santium Pass offer hikers the delights of town, resupply and showers.

All in all, we spent the day focused on our feet, being careful not to trip and scrape our faces off on the jagged lava rocks.

Dinner was a NEMO-made mac and cheese special. Going horizontal was dessert.

Every few years NEMO and I reunite to have a hiking adventure. There have been hikes on the Arizona Trail and Northville Placid Trail, the Sunshine Coast Trail and Appalachian Trail, but this time we would be returning to the scene of our friendship. We would be returning to the Pacific Crest Trail.

We both agree…there is something about the PCT that shines a bit brighter in our lives.

Maybe it was our age?

We both turned 29 that summer.

Maybe it was the community?

With a class of only 300, 2006 was an intimate time to hike and get to know some incredible people.

Maybe it was the landscape?

Yes. It was most definitely the landscape. We walked the length of mountain ranges from the Sierra to the Cascades, and each mountain meadow and chilly tarn was more dramatic than the next.

We fell in love on this trail: with the world, with ourselves, with possibility. We can do anything, and believed it. Still do.

Nemo was out for a week, and the plan included trail and river. After a 4-day jaunt on the PCT we would head to the lower Deschutes River for a splashy few days. It’s summer baby!

I put her on a bike for a margarita lunch date and cruise along the river before we hopped on a piece of inflatable pizza for a float.

When in Bend!

The first day was topped off with some Olympics and snoozing on the couch.

Nemo threaded the needle of family vacations, summer sicknesses, and a bursting garden to arrive in Central Oregon and our smoky skies. We were in the thick of fire season, and the toxic air was a risk factor to our plans. We watched the AQI and headed out the door with levels below 100. (Not far over the mountain though, Oakridge was well into the 400s. That’s poison air).

Kirk took us up to McKenzie Pass, and planned to pick us up 60 miles to the north in four days.

Tomorrow,  we hike.

I went to bed thinking that I might regret sleeping without the rainfly on the tent due to dew and moisture and stuff in the coastal air, but things remained dry despite the early morning fog. Winning!

I had to make a trip to the beach to do my business, a beach that was all baseball-sized rocks. The drop-off into the water was sharp and I kept my eye on the ocean….it could have been disaster if a rogue wave had caught me precariously perched on that steep rocky slope of ball-bearings, but I made it through. The view was worth it!

This part of the trail has some of the deepest waters along the entire west coast. Check out these fun facts about the section of trail we would hike today:

“As you’re pinned against the cliffs, dodging waves and the occasional rock-fall, remember this: Just south of Shipman Creek, the ocean plunges into sudden depths of a channel of the Delgada Submarine Canyon. It gets deeper faster than almost anywhere else on the West Coast.

This canyon is a massive chute for sediment as it flows down into the deep sea. It is a remnant of the San Francisco Bay drainage. As the Pacific and North American plate slide past each other, it has migrated north at a few centimeters per year.” (From an online guide to the trail. There are other fun facts in there too, like the story of a hippy comune that took up residence at a lighthouse that we passed yesterday, and to get rid of them the BLM burned down all the buildings! 😯)

Back to the day…Cindy took off before we were packed up, she was feeling strong and spry…and is training for a Colorado Trail thru-hike later this summer. Lace and I walked along the hard-packed wet sand in the overcast day; it was a very pleasant morning because we had expected a slog through deep sand. Low tide was at 9:30 this morning, so we had ample exposed beach to walk. This part of the coast seemed much more abundant, and we started seeing starfish and other sea creatures in the tide pools…the tide pools to the north had been devoid of life to our disappointment. There was also a blissful absence of trash! Lace and I had only picked up three plastic bottles between us, and a few small pieces of colored plastic on the hike so far.

We dodged waves that broke on the beach when we got too close to the water, and stopped to smile at a few seals napping on rocks just off the shore.

We caught up to Cindy about half way into our mileage for the day as we walked towards Shelter Cove. The houses perched on cliffs above the sea steadily got larger, and we started talking about lunch options. Sure I could eat my last tuna packet for lunch, but I could also eat a burger in town….🤔 there really wasn’t a decision to be made 😉 we would reach the car about 11am, a hot meal was in our future shortly after.

We hadn’t been sure of our pace with the tide miles, so had given ourselves ample time to make it back to Bend….tomorrow if need be, but our early arrival at the car meant we could easily make the 9-hour drive back to Bend in time to sleep in our beds. Brilliant!

After burgers at the campground we walked over to view the coast stretching to the south and finally saw the namesake cove of Shelter Cove. We even saw whales breach the water! It was a fitting end to the trip.

Lost Coast Trail: worth the drive and tide puzzle