In theory, inviting a co-worker on a two day, one night, 46 mile weekend backpacking stroll through the woods is 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 risk 👏🏻. However, Cara and I had already bonded over hiking and ~things~ , the details of which (for legal reasons i.e. if anyone from the office should happen to stumble across this post) shall not be named. Come along as we hike south from Elk Lake to Willamette Pass on the Pacific Crest Trail!
Day 1 (84 Total)
Elk Lake to Brahma Lake, 20.7 miles (+1.3 Non-PCT Miles)
1,256.8 Total PCT Miles
To prove I am not a total kook, per the 4:00 am go-time of last week, we settle on a leisure start that sees us rolling up to the trailhead a few minutes before 9:00 am. It’s the kind of morning in the mountains that makes me giddy. The sky stretches above us, cerulean and smoke free, the forecasted afternoon rain a seeming impossibility. We’re planning to cover roughly 20 miles today, but with hardly a bump on the elevation profile (and coming off the 32 mile mega day hike), it isn’t intimidating – and thus, the leisure start. The air is fresh and warm and ahead of us lies cruisy, forested trail. Flat Oregon, let’s go!
We chat all morning as we walk. What strikes me already is how different this section is from the 32 miles going north from Elk Lake. While initially through the trees, those miles quickly open up to wide meadows, gurgling streams, and big mountain views, the terrain changing frequently from mile to mile. Here, though, we are in the green tunnel, water sources surprisingly few and far between. It’s pleasant, albeit nearly boring, but that’s why having a hiking partner is nice – with two girlies out here gabbing, the miles pass pretty quickly. Before long, we stop for lunch in a small clearing trailside. We eat our food (cheers to day one lunches that are the most fresh and interesting) and keep chatting and then we are hiking again.
We’ve been walking for no more than five minutes after lunch when Cara spots them – a large swath of huckleberries stretching off to the right of the trail.
“Do you mind if we stop?” Cara asks.
As someone who used to eat so many wild blueberries while guiding up in the Princess Louisa Inlet that it nearly made me sick, the answer to the question of stopping for berries is always and forever a resounding yes. She pulls out a container and we meander through the bushes. One for me, one for the container, one for me….and so on, until my fingers are tinged purple.
It’s not long before the container is full and we’ve also had our fill, so we set off again. In the time since we began picking, the sky has shifted above us. The bright blue of all morning has been replaced by quickly moving clouds, and I just know we will not beat this incoming storm to camp.
We walk.
The sky begins to darken and the wind picks up, trees whooshing and swaying overhead. There’s a bite to the air, the weather ominous, and suddenly it is as if we have left August and transported straight into late October. Fog rolls off the small lakes and ponds we pass, the mist descending around us.
We begin to hear the first loud rumbles of thunder. Then, the storm hits.
What wasn’t enough to prompt us to pull out raincoats is now a steady drizzle that has us grabbing for GoreTex and all of a sudden the drizzle is a downpour and then, wait – what? – it’s hailing, and the hail is the size of giant blueberries being thrown down upon us, and I’m wondering how long an August hail storm can possibly last.
Thankfully, as it turns out, not too long – just enough time to really feel spooky. Although I’ve survived The Great Spanish Needle Vestibule River of 2019, running solo for tree line to get out of a thunderstorm in 2021, and quite the array of inclement weather and sketchy moments in between, I’m still happy to not be out here alone.
The hail begins to turn back to pouring rain, then the pouring rain to a constant drip, then the dripping to nothing but silence. By this point we just have another mile or two until Brahma Lake where we will be camping. Yesterday as I was throwing together my gear, I waffled between rain jacket or windbreaker, and then long sleeve sleep clothes or skipping the extra luxe camp layers to save weight, and wow wow WOW I’m glad I went with rain jacket and warm camp layers. I’ve stayed dry beneath my Gore Tex, and the thought of being cozy at camp spurs me on.
By now, though, our jackets are nearly dried out. Clouds are still racing across the sky but every so often there’s a small hint of blue. We stop to filter water from a stream shortly before the lake, grateful that we can do so without getting soaked, not so grateful for the handful of mosquitos that surface seemingly out of nowhere. A few liters are filtered but then we’re out of there, speeding on towards camp.
Upon arrival at the lake, we rapidly set up tents under puffy clouds and blue sky. In the distance, dark clouds are rolling our way once more and it’s not long before a drippy rain sets in. We waver between cooking outside and cooking from our vestibules, eventually settling on our vestibules due to the sporadic raindrops. There is quite possibly nothing worse than getting all situated outside only to have to rapidly gather everything up and dive into the tent.
Post dinner, in between spurts of rain, we sit out on the rocks lakeside and watch the clouds, taking it all in. Then the rain’s return sends us back to our tents, content to have a relatively early evening that has been beautiful despite intermittent precipitation and a handful of bugs.
Day 2 (85 Total)
Brahma Lake to Willamette Pass, 25.3 Miles
1,282.1 Total PCT Miles
We wake up to a gorgeous morning but SHEESH it’s cold! Definitely a hike now, eat breakfast on-the-go type of start. The hikers we pass heading northbound are all bundled in rain gear. Beanies. Gloves. Extra layers. We comment on the plunge in temperature, our breath coming out in visible puffs before our faces.
Shortly after leaving the lake, we enter (dun dun dun) the burn area. Calling it simply a “burn area” though seems…too casual. We are walking through scorched earth. An apocalypse. The sun is out and the sky is blue but walking through the silence of a crispy, used-to-be forest absent of birds calling and trees swaying and small animals rustling through underbrush is bizarrely eerie.
There are really only a couple things of note from this section:
1. A lone frog
2. Bright pink flowers bursting forth from ashy wasteland
3. Not another soul in this area, probably because everyone has camped either on the north or south end of this large burnt section…
Which is why it is with a surprised hello that – upon crossing a forest service road supposedly in the middle of nowhere – we are summoned eagerly to trail magic. Having been gifted a fair amount of unexpected and sweet magic over my time on the PCT, I can say with certainty that this before us is top-tier. There’s hot food on the grill and coffee brewing, solar panels hanging off the Sprinter van and available WiFi, camp chairs and the kindest couple just stoked to be out here chatting with hikers.
They pour us some hot coffee and place a plate with a steaming bagel breakfast sandwich upon our laps, cheese oozing over the side. Hands down, this is the best bagel breakfast sandwich of my actual life – on-trail or off-trail. I feel undeserving of all of this but am so grateful nonetheless. It’s the kind of trail magic that could easily vortex a hiker. As for us, though, we finish our food + coffee, sign their trail register, and are off again, fueled by the caffeine and calories.
The day heats up, all signs of the storm gone. This section is all-time cruisey trail through the forest on a single track of soft dirt and pine needles. What more could one want?! Mile 20 hits, though, and all my feet actually want is to be done. Despite being August, it’s my first backpacking trip of the season (July backpacking is dead to me, I simply cannot subject myself to the tyrannical reign of mid summer mosquitos) and my feet are complaining about it. Mile 19? Feeling great. Mile 20-25? Bit of a drag…bit of a sun hood up, hat on, head down five miles that sees every other NOBO PCT hiker asking if we’re SOBO thru hikers. No, we’re just ready to be done walking for today. (But, flattered we can still look the part of stereotypical thru hikers).
Our final couple of miles take us past lakes that look worthy of a swim. It’s turned into a gorgeous warm day, but we aren’t convinced we could pull our shoes back on and find the will to keep going if we stopped now. Finally, at last, we pop out of the woods and into the dusty parking lot complete with a very questionable bathroom (.75/10 on the unofficially official “would I wait out a storm here?” scale).
We sit for a few minutes waiting before Kellen pulls up in his Subaru bearing a cooler full of snacks and extra water. I peel off my dusty shoes and climb in, happy to be off my feet and happy that in just two weekends, I’ve ticked off nearly 80 PCT miles. As we drive away, Kellen begins to tell us why he was a few minutes late: he gave four PCT hikers a ride up to Shelter Cove, the resort across the highway from where he has just picked us up. Bold move to have over an hour to converse with random hikers but as it turns out, he is paid for it in full with lots of great trail gossip and drama (truly, nothing beats it).
Now, there is nothing left but to sit in the passenger seat and eat snacks on the drive back to town, plans for my next adventure already percolating in my head. Until then!