I’ve been too busy to blog until now, but made it to Crater Lake National Park.  I know of a 100-person bubble a day or less behind me, so I’m trying to rush though a Crater Lake nero, which became a zero.  Between long dry and exposed sections, and deep pine forest, can’t say much has happened.  Oregon is still beautifully scenic but nothing of note yet, though Crater Lake is around the corner.

PCT Days was fun though I think I’d skip going a second time.  Getting to and from plus my short social battery led it to be not the most enjoyable experience.  It also was the most expensive side trip of my PCT hike by leaps and bounds.  To get to PCT Days, which is held in the small town of Cascade Locks just outside Portland, from Ashland I decided to take the Greyhound.

Bridge of the Gods at night

Cross-State Logistics

In retrospect, it would’ve been cheaper and more comfortable to arrange renting a car with other hikers.  I had to get a shuttle 60 miles to Grants Pass skipping Ashland, where I had a Motel 6 room.  Walked a mile at 3 am, then rode 5 hours on the no legroom Greyhound.  I got dropped off at Union Station in Portland.  I walked 6 miles through the verdant city (by choice, as there was a tram) to Gateway Station.  Once there, I picked up the Gorge Bus which dropped me off at Cascade Locks.

Luckily, I found a ride back with a hiker who rented a mini-van, a more comfortable trip back. Though, between early morning, logistics, and reuniting with fellow hikers, I was tired before the first day of the festival.  Fortunately, I was like the fourth person on Thunder Island this year, so I got a great tent-site.  Important as I saw a few hats go into the river from the wind.

One of the salt licking menace

Broken Promises

Day One of PCT Days went well for me.  Not a drinker, so I didn’t attend the pre-festival bar party.  Chilled and charged batteries in the sparse outlets before they became overwhelmed.  Got the free breakfast the morning of, played in a hiker-golf tournament, and got second breakfast.

I had a few goals for PCT Days.  Mostly gear replacements, namely my pants.  Of all the gear I have, my pants were the only thing that truly saw every step of California.  My socks and shoes have been replaced multiple times, but my pants I’ve sewn, sewn, and re-sewn countless times.  So much so that ‘These pants are making it to Canada’ has became a catchphrase of mine.

More Than Pants

However, they got to the point where the pants were ripping from being repaired.  It truly broke my heart to replace them.  I find that in modern society, replacement is the first choice while repairing is a less common option.  I tend to operate in reverse.  Where the average phone ownership is less than 2 years, I hold onto phones for a decade.  More if I don’t accidentally drown them.

To me, items that I’ve had for a time own me more than I own them.  The ripped pants I was so reluctant to replace were more me than my fingernails.  I saw them every morning, night, lunch break, cat-hole episode.  They served me well, keeping me cool during the day, warm at night, protected from the sun, defended from the bugs.  There is no replacing the time, character, and sewn thread I’ve developed with them.  There is only replacing their function and I was saddened to do so.

A burn scar

Rest Of PCT Days

Other than gear replacement, there were some fun activities such as a cowboy camp set-up race, hang challenge, social scavenger hunt, and lots of spinning prize wheels.  Some good free items, mostly glamorized trash, some raffled off gear, lots of expensive gear sold.  Though I caught up with lots of hikers I haven’t seen since the desert. Hell Yeah, Back Flip, Bedazzle, Karaoke, Dipper, Deuce, Battery Pack, High Tide, Chinchilla, Calendar, Rocket Sauce, Margarita, Da Queen and lots more.

It’s weird how most hikers really only know their bubble, yet I felt I was acquainted with half the hikers at trail days.  But I was exhausted by end of day 1, laid in bed most of day two, crawled out, had a few interactions which landed me right back to exhaustion.  Took High Tide up on her offered ride back and stay at her place in Portland that night to get away from the crowd.

Portland

Back At It

Whilst fun, I felt ready to get back to the woods and mountains.  After a comfortable ride back to trail in the rented mini-van, I found myself in an endless pine forest trail only interrupted by other occasional dirt paths.  The lichen growing on the branches, the soft shade, sandy soil, and red stones.  Wasn’t a bad few dozen miles.  Met back up with Pack Rat, who took time off to see family.

Got to Crater Lake, or Mazama Village more precisely, last night.  Just in time before the scoop shop closed.  Though packs a little heavier from the extra weight of my old pants.  I said they were making it to Canada, and these pants are making it to Canada!

Also a shave and hair cut

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