The rain started overnight, but was very considerate and stopped while we were packing up camp. We were out and hiking at first light…that means 7:30ish these days. Daylight savings starts tomorrow, but we’ll still follow the sun’s lead, not some arbitrary number on a watch.

We started down a section of trail that Amber had helped clear before and found a few more logs for her to come back and address with her chainsaw. The forest was dripping with rain, but flashes of blue sky still teased us from above…this would be the general pattern of the day.

Umbrellas up, Umbrellas down, rain coats on, raincoats off. We made progress and periodically had views back towards Mary’s Peak….a hiker on the C2C could summit Mary’s Peak if they wish…we did not wish, so kept moving. 

Lunch found us near one of the numerous C2C kiosks that had been installed. They all contain slips to register your hike, but I’d suggest they add a trail register note book so we could read tid bits of those who had come before us, or leave advice of our own, like: “bring more whisky for this section.” (We ran out of whisky today).

Even better for a lunch break? Sun!!! We plopped down in a rare patch of sun and had a glorious lunch and lie-down in the warming light. We have been pretty lucky with the sun on this hike…but then came the hail.

We had walked close to Harlan, a town that time forgot, (a town with no services that is, not a pizza food truck to be found) when a great rush of wind pushed a small hail storm into us. We sought refuge under a giant doug fir tree as the squall passed. 

Later we pulled over briefly to let some traffic pass….30 cows and a few cowgirls on horses that is, and kept walking.

On and on, and on and on. We plod up the road (plenty of road walking today, but also lovely little stretches of trail) and decide to skip checking out Big Elk Campground (the half way point!) and decided to make a few more miles before stopping for camp. 

We turned onto some new trail construction and got a few liters of water for the night at a stream crossing before climbing up the many switchbacks to the ridge above. The next section of trail paralleled a road, and after we crossed the road and climbed up and the road stayed level, posited that the road may be a less “oofta” inducing experience. 

Aches and pains update: my legs feel like lead weight and my feet are angry. Amber reports feet feeling like hamburger (echoing a comment I made at one point yesterday), and sore shoulders. Since I am writing this in the dark early morning of the next day, she also adds “my neck hurts because I can’t sit up in my tent and have to hunch over. ” Note to Amber: get a new tent.

We made camp right before another heavy rain storm unleashed the wet from above, but we are buttoned up warm and dry to welcome another 14-hour night.

It was February, 2020, BC (before COVID) when I last visited my friend Amber in Corvallis.

This is where I first heard about a new long-distance trail that crossed the Oregon coastal mountain range to the the Pacific ocean.

Amber was doing trail work for the almost-complete 60-mile Corvallis to Sea trail (C2C) and was putting her saw skills to the test clearing trees from the path. Amber and I met in 2007 when we were both training in a trail crew leader development program at South West Conservation Corps in Durango, Colorado. We spent days learning to use chainsaws and cutting down scores of tall pines in thinning projects for the forest service. It was back-breaking work, but we were young and the work was empowering.

When I heard the C2C had a grand opening in August of this year, I sent Amber a text and asked if she would thru-hike it with me. The only time our schedules aligned was in early November, so we braced ourselves for the short rainy days that are typical in late fall in this part of Oregon. 

On a Thursday afternoon I drove over the pass through driving rain to Corvallis. Amber and I spread the contents of our packs across the floor of her living room and proceeded to talk our way through gear choices in what was sure to be a rainy and cold four days.

  
On further examination of the weather between here and Ona Beach, the temps would be in the 50s and 40s, so not too cold, but with 90-100% chances of precipation, we girded ourselves for constant rain.
Friday morning we set out into the dark-almost light of the day from her front door. Amber only lives 2ish miles from the start of the trail in downtown Corvallis, so why not walk out her front door? 
We crossed busy traffic and as the sky lightened we could see color and patches of blue sky. Hmmm, blue was not what we expected, but we’ll take it!

I regailed her with tales of pain, stress, and heat from the month Kirk and I had spent on the John Day River this summer, and we cruised through the urban part of this trail.
Sidewalks and paved bike paths took us through Corvallis and into Philomath. The benefits of urban hiking became apparent when we took an alternate to Sissy’s Donuts. Sissy herself was at the counter, and as she filled our donut order, took curious looks at our packs.

A few minutes later we walked out with a full water supply (it will be a dry camp tonight) and our first trail magic of the trail – two donuts for the road! How wonderful! I told Sissy that she was our first trail angel of the trip, and she positively glowed. Trail community starts with lovely experiences like this! 

Then we went next door to the Dizzy Hen Cafe and ordered lattes. Multiple people stopped to hear about our plans as we soaked in the unexpected sunshine, donuts, coffee, and conversation. This is proving be to a most excellent start to the trip.

We walked out of town and turned right onto Old Peak Road. The pavement-to-gravel road wove through a temperate rainforest of dripping mossy trees in shades of neon green.

Next up was a tree-farm part of the route…one of the only sections where you need to get a permit to pass through the private lands of the Starker Tree Farm.
A few gorgeous old-growth trees remained along the road. These mind-bending beauties had trunks so big we just had to stop and take it in. This was a glimpse into a world where the forest had been filled with trees of this size. We would be walking through a visual history 200 years of logging.

The sun was still out. Can you believe it? We had sun the whole day. It was simply incredible and highlighted the golden yellows of fall in the deep green forest. We practically skipped through the forest as if our muffin-tops and legs weren’t sore. These 40ish year old bodies were a bit achy, but also lucky to be walking through the forest on a sunny November afternoon with gifted donuts in our pack. The trail provides. 

We made camp off a decommissioned spur road, and watched the last traces of day fade from the blue sky. BLUE SKY!