Ally Abroad

Mt. Hood and its neighbors to the north, Mt. Saint Helens and Mt. Adams are the subjects of some fascinating local native american lore.

Legend has it that the Chief of the gods, Tyhee Saghalie, and his sons Wy’East and Klickitat traveled down the Columbia River in search of somewhere to settle. When they reached the Dalles they found it so beautiful they fought over it. Tyhee Saghalie shot two arrows, one north and one south of the Columbia for each son to follow. Tyhee Saghalie then built the Bridge of the Gods, a land bridge over the Columbia, so that his sons could visit one another.

Unfortunately both Wy’East and Klickitat fell in love with a maiden named Loowit. She could not choose between them, so the two Gods fought for her favor, burying villages and forests, creating the cascades in the process. Some legends say that their quarrelling broke the Bridge of the Gods, while others say Klickitat broke the bridge so that Loowit would have to stay on his side of the river.

To punish them Tyhee Saghalie turned each of them into mountains. The prideful Wy’east became Mt. Hood. Klickitat, who is either bowing his head towards his love, or has had his head bashed in by his brother, depending on the variation, became Mt. Adams. The lovely Loowit  Mt. Saint Helens.

Yesterday ABear and I pulled a forty mile day for to arrive in time for the breakfast buffet at Timberline Lodge.

Still, ours was one of the shorter big mile days. In Oregon, where the terrain in flatter and the days longer, thru-hikers can do huge miles, hiking from dawn to dusk.The Night Stranger hiked a 63 mile day. He was trying to one-up Tomato, who had hiked a 62 mile day. Of course, after that he had to take two zero days, so he could have just hiked three 21 mile days.

We could have taken a zero day at the lodge, the buffet was so good. DIY belgian waffles and fresh squeezed orange juice. Huckleberry scones, among other pastries. Cheese plates. Bacon, sausage and ham. Plus, Timberline Lodge was gorgeous. Situated at the base of Mt. Hood, built in the 1930s by the WPA, it served as the exterior set for the movie the Shining.

This weekend my Dad drove down to see me in Sisters. Catching up has been crazy fun. Today we explored Sisters, this adorable little touist town with an incredible bakery all sorts of cute little shops. Then we caught up with Samantha, a friend of ABear’s, and the four of us rafted down the Deschutes River with a six-pack of beer. We had dinner at the brewery by the same name, before exploring Bend’s awesome bar scene. All and all, a most excellent visit. Happy birthday Dad!

We hit the 2000 mile mark today, slackpacking between McKenzie and Santiam Passes outside Sisters, OR. It was miserably hot, a seventeen mile waterless stretch, over lava fields and through burn areas. Still, I loved every minute of it. As we crossed the 2000 mile mark I was reflecting, as I often do, on how awesome this experience is. On how quickly it’s gone by, how soon it’ll be over, and how scared I am for that day.

At the 1500 mile mark I reflected on the big picture, on what to do with the rest of my life. Lately, I’ve been reminded that a life isn’t just a career and a family, a laundry list of milestones, but all those other things, the small stuff that fills in the spaces and ends up making you who you are. In some ways growing up is coming to grips with the fact that I probably won’t ever be something big, president, a ballerina, an astronaut, etc., and that that’s okay. I’ll be happier doing little bits of lots of things badly. 

There’s so much small stuff to do when I get home. I want to play my guitar. Rebuild and ride my bike, Stella. Drink beer and have bonfires. Knit and quilt like a crazy old lady. Climb high 5.10s. Write and photograph regularly.Volunteer more. Paddle in winter. Silkscreen and make buttons like a teenage hipster. Excercise my French and Spanish. Practice yoga. Read more grownup books. Cherish my friends. Etc.

Hitchhiking is one of my favorite things about the trail. While others hate it, I find it fun and interesting. I always meet the most fascinating, kind folks, and I never feel unsafe, although I always carry my protection in my right hand pocket. Not to brag, but I’ve had some great hitches. I never wait too long by the side of the road, so I’ve earned a reputation as a great ride bride, a girl who can get rides for herself and friends.

My first hitch was a golfcart, outside Warner Springs. I’ve stopped motorcycles and RVs alike. I’ve ridden in the backs of pickups and boats being towed alike. People have pulled U-turns to pick me up, fed me snacks, put me up. One woman, convinced I was homeless, gave me $20. Hitching from the Yosemite Valley to Tuolumne Meadows I met my friend John Corry, who almost ended my thru-hike. Still, today’s hitch topped them all. Today I stopped a snowplow. Take that Sissy Hankshaw!

And I mean that as the most vicious slur imaginable. Mother @#$%ing, buzzing, probiscus poking, malaria carrying, bloodsucking, scum of the earth. The past few days the mosquitoes have been unbearable. And I know, I’ve had it easier than most, finishing the Sierras just as they were hatching, and starting Oregon as they’re dying off, but we’ve had a few truly awful days.

Nothing has made me want to quit the trail more than  the mosquitoes. When you stop and they swarm so thick you can’t see skin on your hands. When you have to set up your tent for a short break, and they still get in. When the buzzing becomes like tinnitus. When you wake up slapping yourself and the imaginary mosquitoes. When 100% DEET doesn’t do anything and you have to wear your raingear in 80° weather just to keep the bugs at bay, as Hampster is doing here.

Along the trail there are registers, journals where we sign in with our names, the date and any pertinent info, including jokes and anecdotes. Recently, people have been signing the registers with Scott Williamson fun facts. Akin to Chuck Norris jokes, but they feature our hero Scott and his amazing hiking feats.  For your enjoyment, here are a few of my favorites. Don’t worry if they don’t make sense. It’s a hiker trash thing.

Fun Fact #73: Scott Williamson satisfies hunger.

Fun Fact #102: Scott Williamson doesn’t have to ford streams, he can walk on water, but he considers that cheating.

Fun Fact #146: Scott Williamson doesn’t cook. When he wants a warm meal he just holds his pot and thinks about hiking the Appalachian Trail.

Fun Fact #237: Scott Williamson used to carry a bear canister in the Sierras, but the rangers recently asked him to stop because he was shoving the bears into the canister and keeping the food on the outside.

Fun Fact #291: Scott Williamson uses trekking poles, you just never see them because they have trouble keeping up.

Fun Fact #344: Scott Williamson’s favorite color is hiking.

Fun Fact #376: Scott Williamson doesn’t actually shave every night, he’s so fast the hair just burns off of his face.

Fun Fact #408: Scott Williamson was challenged by Eric the Black to a PCT elevation profile drawing contest. Eric the Black had two years and all available data to complete his, while Scott Williamson had only two minutes and worked only from memory. Still, Scott Williamson was able to complete his winning entry in only one minute. He used the remaining minute to draw a diagram of Eric the Black being sodomized by a bear.

On the trail one of my most essential items is my MP3 player. Without it, I wouldn’t be hiking, it’s such a powerful pick-me-up. When I’m  tired or hungry, sad or homesick, listening to podcasts of John Roberts and Cheryl Waters, Ira Glass and Garrison Keillor comforts me like nothing else. I was so sad when I shorted out my Zune in a recent  rainstorm, rendering it a shiny black brick. Fortunately, my friend Shawn and the amazing folks at Zune  were kind enough to send me another one, full of new music and podcasts. I can’t thank you enough! My thru-hike depends on it.

Of course, the best music is live. For the first time in my life, I’m learning to whistle. Tuna helper is carrying a three foot long didgeridoo, while the Trek for Troops trio sings acapella. I’ve seen plenty of harmonicas and ukuleles as well. The best was hiking with Coach, pictured here at kick-off, and Plucky. Coach carried a backpacking guitar and Plucky a banjo. Coach is from Alabama, and Plucky from Virginia, and they had the sweetest southern drawls. Together, they serenaded me with Sufjan Stevens and Bon Iver when I was sad, nurtured my nascent love of bluegrass with Old Crow Medicine Show and the Devil Makes Three and sang me to sleep with Bob Dylan the Band’s I Shall be Released every night. Sadly, Coach has hiked ahead and Plucky got injured and had to go home.

A few weeks ago I catalogued everything I carry. Still, I forgot a few important things. As hikers we work to shave ounces off our baseweights, but then  I carry around all sorts of other strange and sentimental stuff.

This is Gnome Norm. Human Norm, a trail angel we met in Ashland, gave him to me. He stands about two inches tall and weighs about eight ounces. I’ve come to adore him so much I actually considered backtracking five miles when I though I had forgotten him. Fortunately, I had not.

In addition to Norm, I’m carrying a few lighter weight items. Hippoducky, a pink rubber bath toy trail angel Firefly gave me. A St. Christopher medallion my Mom gave me. A celtic knot ring my friend Mychal gave me. A few of my favorite letters from loved ones. A blue blaze I picked up, so I can go my own way. And an elk vertebrae, tied to the back of my pack, because it makes me look tough.

Clockwise from me (Bonanza Jellybean) are Deep, Money Shot, Mystic, Einstien, Censored, 12%, Trainwreck, ABear, Das Boot, Night Stranger, Dash and Blackfoot

We got these outfits for $5 each at the thrift store in Etna and bounced them ahead. Best town clothes ever.