Courtney and I faced an early season obstacle course on the Pacific Crest Trail as we headed south from Crater Lake to our exit point at Fourmile Lake
This, by far, is the earliest in the year I’ve been backpacking out on the Pacific Crest Trail since 2019. To plan a late June jaunt in Oregon and not be worried about snow, microspikes, and route finding feels nearly unheard of. Such is life after a quiet winter on the snow front.
DAY 1 (103 TOTAL)
Crater Lake Lodge to SOBO Mile 855, 26 Miles (southbound)
1,644.6 Total PCT Miles
The night before we head to Crater Lake, courtesy of certified trail angels Scott and Mary (my parents), does not go as planned. Courtney arrives at the airport but her backpack does not. Apparently, it’s somehow on its way to San Diego and we are changing our plans. Then, suddenly, it is not on its way to San Diego and we are racing back out to the airport at 9:45pm to pick it up from the flight it has magically arrived on. We are not changing our plans.
It’s a late night, much later than we would have wanted, but the trip is back on. A 5:30 am departure time awaits us.
Despite feeling tired before we even begin hiking, it’s easy to get swept up in my excitement for the day. The sun is out, skies are clear, Crater Lake is stunning, everything is blue blue blue. My parents join us for the first 2.5 miles from Crater Lake’s Rim Village (I headed north from there last year). Unfortunately for them, it’s all downhill which means they get to climb all the way back up to the car once we part ways after we take roughly 100 photos together.
The next 7 miles are relatively flowy, descending mostly, through the park. I notice pale purple flowers and the beginnings of heather. Hiking is easy, the trail is clear, the day is young.
But then, the blowdowns begin.
Pretty quickly, it becomes clear that while the national park has been logged out for the season, this next section has absolutely not been. Some blowdowns, like above, are cumbersome but straightforward. Maybe there’s a log to step on to get up onto the fallen tree, then a big step/lean/jump down. Maybe it’s straddling the fallen tree, praying for no splinters in your butt as you slide off of it on the other side. It’s annoying, sure; momentum-slowing, certainly – but it’s over fast. The messy ones – the blowdowns that aren’t just a tree but a series of trees and shrubbery with tangled branches and sticks that blocked the trail and had no way through, were what really became tiresome on these two days.
Those types didn’t involve bull riding giant trees, they involved picking some random potential path through the side brush above or below the actual trail and following it until we circumnavigated the whole mess, hopefully popping out on the other side of the blowdown without having to backtrack too much to the PCT. I’m grateful for the cloud cover. Being in a burn zone, on a hot day, navigating blowdowns, with no clouds, would send me over the edge. Oh, and the lack of bugs? A Christmas miracle. I cannot fathom having to do this while getting mutilated by mosquitos. Truly, it would feel catastrophic. The only thing that allowed for a modicum of sanity when Kellen and I faced assassin mosquitos was being able to hike fast. Blowdowns would have ended me.
We stop for lunch just under 13 miles in. It feels good to sit. Rest. Refuel. Regather ourselves.
The post-lunch miles are, quite frankly, a grind. It’s not even that there’s an insane amount of climbing. It’s just the up and around and over and under, on repeat, until we’re exhausted. With a handful of miles to go until camp, we come across a woman taking a quick break and end up hiking with her for a couple of miles. She’s only the third person we’ve seen today and tells us her name is Rabbit. I’d been wondering if we’d come across Rabbit after noticing a SOBO entry in the trail registry earlier today.
It’s fun to cross paths with her, and adds extra interest to the monotony of the afternoon. She tells us she’s 68 and hopes to finish the trail after doing a large portion of it last year with her husband GOH. Eventually we part ways, though, as we face our final miles until the end of our day. The bugs have remained inconsistent, thankfully. The occasional mosquito whines on by, but since I don’t have to reach for my head net, I consider them virtually non-existent.
I don’t think this is necessarily why there’s no bugs, but it is a particularly dry stretch. Since leaving Crater Lake, we followed and crossed a small stream about 2 miles in, and then didn’t have another water source until 23(ish) miles in. At that point, though, we just trudge on to camp and the stream that awaits us there.
Camp, beautiful camp! To say I’m glad there’s not a slew of fallen trees ruining this spot is a severe understatement. There’s not too much before or after this spot, and we picked this location specifically for the water access. The evening is quiet. Burbling spring. Golden light. Slightly slope-y, slanty camp but it’ll do. I opted to go no-cook for this outing (leftover trauma from mosquito hell and not my usual MO), so I eat tortillas with random things in them and a handful of snacks. There’s the occasional wind, a pink sunset, and then the exhausted stupor hits by 9:00. Full day behind, full day ahead.
DAY 2 (104 TOTAL)
SOBO Mile 855 to Twin Ponds Trail Junction (SOBO Miles 872.8), 17.8 PCT Miles + 2.2 Non-PCT Miles to Fourmile Lake
1,662.4 Total PCT Miles
I wake up after a fitful sleep. The cool breeze last night made for a cozy time in my sleeping bag, but it also means there’s now an extra layer of dirt over everything. I feel pretty good, considering the big day yesterday, and pack up quickly before launching myself into the chilly morning. I’m pleasantly surprised to note that while there are a handful of mosquitos present, they’re still hardly bothersome. (Yes I’m harping on the lack of bugs but you just don’t know how miraculous this feels until you’ve been annihilated by mosquitos with no way out but to keep hiking forward).
After filtering the rest of my water for today, we start out slow and steady for our morning climb up in the direction of Devils Peak. I’m grateful we didn’t pack micro spikes, as the multiple feet of snow reported from a month ago is all but gone. The climb also means we’re pulled up out of the woods and thus momentarily out of the blowdowns. Hallelujah.
We continue ascending until topping out nearly at tree line. Here, it is windy, the air chilly. I wonder if it’ll rain, but it doesn’t, the clouds just continue their racing. From here, it is back to descending and yes, back to the blowdowns. Just like yesterday, there will be very limited water sources today (at least, water sources that don’t involve voyages off trail). When we run across a giant mountain toad, then, it makes me wonder where it lives. Where does it find water?? Courtney and I briefly discuss this and then continue on, conversation ebbing and flowing.
As I wrote seven (!!!) years ago when first on the PCT with Savannah, “6:30-9:30am is reserved for deep conversation and thought provoking questions, 9-10am for personal reflections, 10-11:30 quiet hiking, and then the afternoon is for music, podcasts, and discussing trashy tv.” It still rings true all these years and all these miles later. You start the day discussing the existential meaning of life and by the time the afternoon has hit you’re listening to how Love Island UK is superior to the US version.
By the afternoon, we’re fully back into the trees and thus the monotony returns. The trail has been rather rocky as we continue to pick our way down the trail. Surprise: there’s more blowdowns of all types, too. We break for lunch in the shade of the forest and it goes like this: Foamie thrown onto ground. Body sprawled onto foamie. Eyes staring up at the trees. Fuel. Rest. Regather. Then, as always, onward into the afternoon heat.
The exit to Fourmile Lake is a dusty, exposed four way intersection. “Twin Ponds Trail Junction”, according to the map. We point ourselves down the trail, which is noticeably clear of blowdowns, and begin the two miles to the end.
Kellen, my husband and hero, picks us up at Fourmile Lake where we’ve been lounging in the dirt since we finished our section. We decide on dinner at Fish Lake Resort before facing the nearly three hour drive home.
As the sun sets and we drive through open fields filled with cows glowing in golden light, I can hardly keep my eyes open. By the time it’s dark, I’m already sleeping – waking up only on occasion to hear that Courtney and Kellen are talking about the maritime industry, or boats, or something, which is probably only funny if you know these two people. I decide I’m not needed in said conversation and at last just let myself stay asleep. Another lil’ section, in the books!
How lucky am I to have friends that say yes, parents that shuttle us hours to a starting point, and a husband that has now driven all over the state to pick me up.