The weekend miles continue with a solo 17 mile day hike from McKenzie Pass to Santiam Pass on the Pacific Crest Trail.
Day 1 (86 Total)
McKenzie Pass to Santiam Pass, 16.9 Miles
1,299 Total PCT Miles
A small cloud of dirt rises behind us as Cara pulls her car off the highway into the trailhead parking lot. It’s not quite 8 am – I’ve split the difference between the alpine and leisure starts of previous weeks – but I am antsy to get moving. With one last tightening of my shoelaces, I pull my pack over my shoulder and wave goodbye. As I watch Cara’s car disappear down the highway, the quiet settles around me and I am fully alone, the day ahead of me wholly mine. The plan for today is to hike from McKenzie Pass, where I now stand, to Santiam Pass 17 miles away. Originally, this section was going to be attached to a backpacking trip. When I found out it was under 20 miles though, I changed plans and decided to knock it out on its own.
I haven’t done too many solo miles lately, and am excited to have the whole day with myself. Hiking alone is good, it has been good, and it will be good. I need today to serve as a reminder that I’ve successfully done plenty of solo miles before, because I will be doing it again in two days when I set out alone for a chunk of trail. But that’s for future Kathryn.
Right now, I am only thinking about the 17 miles ahead of me and the warm breeze rolling off the lava rock. I walked through the forest for about five pleasant minutes before rounding the corner to see a field of lava stretching off endlessly into the distance before me. It’s otherworldly. Temperatures are supposed to rise into the nineties, at least, and even though it’s early enough still for long shadows and large swaths of shade, I can tell I’m going to absolutely cook today.
The first hour and a half goes slower than I anticipated. It’s already roasting, and the morning has been a challenge as I navigate dusty burn sections on trail crowded by fireweed and uneven lava rock, each step calculated. Occasionally the lava rock disappears for a few short minutes, the sides of the trail dotted with red foliage, and I optimistically think perhaps it’s behind me. Alas, it is not so. I continue hiking.
Finally, after what seems like two hundred miles but is really closer to six, the trail turns to smooth single track and I begin to fly, taking advantage of the barely noticeably descent. I am fast and I am light, my legs stretching out on this cruisiest of sections. Doing these miles going north instead of south wasn’t really a conscious decision, but SHEESH am I glad it’s the one I made. This is one of those moments where hiking feels easy. Am I earning it if there’s no suffering?
Today, I am simply receiving the gift of feeling good. Great, even. It’s the perfect day to be hiking alone. There is no mental battle to fight, no physical struggle that I have to overcome on my own. I’m just here, moving, doing it myself, thriving.
The one diversion I’ll have from the PCT today is a side trail I’ll take to Big Lake Youth Camp, where I can access the lake. Technically there’s no reason to divert – I don’t need to resupply, I don’t even need the water. But I don’t want to miss it. Purists will skip any fun side quest just for the sake of walking every single true PCT mile, and the fact is, I am simply not a purist in that respect.
So there I am, standing at the intersection to what I’m pretty sure is the side trail I want but checking the map on my phone just in case, when I catch glimpse of a hunter heading up the trail I’m about to go down. Bow hunting season has just opened and he’s not the first I’ve seen today, but he does seem to come out of nowhere (insert joke about camo here, obviously).
Before I can pocket my phone and turn down my trail, he calls out.
“Are you lost?”
“What? No. Just making sure this is my trail.” The meme of Ron Swanson in a Lowe’s saying “I know more than you” flashes through my head but I don’t even bother because I don’t particularly care to converse with this man, even if he’s just trying to be nice.
He goes on to ask if I’m hiking “the whole thing” which is honestly flattering given that I have a day pack on right now. I’m telling you, it’s the hat on, sun shirt hoodie up look that gives off the thru hiker vibe. I make a move to continue hiking but he must mishear my parting words as “What are you doing out here?” Because he responds with a very excited “I’m out here hunting!”I will my eyes not to roll into the back of my head. This man is covered in head to toe camo. His face is painted and there’s a large pack towering off his back, including his bow.
“Oh, well…yeah, I figured…” I say, trailing off and gesturing vaguely at his outfit, his backpack, his bow. After an awkward “enjoy your hike”, I am darting down the side trail, eager to get to the lake. Each step away from the actual PCT brings me further from the burn section and closer to thick trees, the air filling with the smell of pine needles. Lunch lunch lunch. Swim swim swim. Sit sit sit. Hotel, pizza – Hotel, pizza – Hotel, pizza. (This isn’t really a true hotel, pizza scenario but the chant runs through my head nonetheless).
There’s no one else on this side of the lake. I plop myself down in the shade at the shoreline, happy to be out of the direct sun. I peel my socks off first, then my shoes, propping them up on a rock to dry out. First’s thing first: I wade into the water and slip beneath the surface, letting the coolness envelop me. I could probably float with my face to the sky all afternoon if I had nowhere to be. And if my stomach wasn’t growling. But it is, so I walk back to shore. Lunch out, water in hand, I sit dripping on the rocks, chomping on my food, staring quietly out at the lake. This is good.
It’s pleasant down here by the water – perfect, even – but the last few miles of trail await me. I sit for a moment longer pulling on fresh socks (a luxury item for a day hike) and lacing up my shoes before heading back into the dust and heat of the afternoon.
I’ll be honest, this is not the most thrilling section I’ve ever done. Am I biased? Yes. Do I have a rather high bar for trails and scenery and views? Also yes. Today has just been a lot of burnt trees and crumbly lava rock and the occasional green tunnel, with one lake oasis in between. So, thrilling – perhaps not – but it’s nice nonetheless, each step new and unique to me. And hey, any excuse to cross off more PCT miles and eat caffeinated gummies, am I right?!
Unfortunately, this uninspired feeling isn’t helped by the road walk leaving Big Lake to connect up with the PCT again. By now the sun is high overhead and it’s actually one billion degrees out. There’s no shade on the road. Just me and the sun and the dusty gravel beneath my feet. Thankfully, it doesn’t last too long and I’m soon back into the trees, the trail a ribbon of dirt winding off into vibrant green beneath the clear blue sky.
The afternoon winds on, each step taking me closer to Santiam Pass. I hear the highway before I see it, a low droning rising from somewhere ahead of me. It is still hot out. The trail is somehow dustier and I am somehow still cruising right along. The trees are shorter and provide less shade. I am ready to be out of the heat. Once I make it to the highway, I scurry across, darting out of the woods like a chipmunk intent on not getting run over by the summer traffic barreling over the pass. I wander over to a trailhead sign and settle myself into its shade. More snacks, more water, contentedness. The perfect reminder that I can do solo miles; that solo miles are good.
There’s also a moment of happiness and pride, not necessarily for today’s 17 miles specifically but because the completion of today marks 95 miles done on weekends alone. And that is something to celebrate. In two days, I’ll be back here at Santiam Pass – this time, heading north to Cascade Locks (!!). Onward.