A Jaunt on the PCT, Day Four

Us on Mount Hood with Mount Jefferson in the background

We woke up late on our final day, sleepy and sore— the high mileage combined with us being out of shape was catching up to us! We walked less than a mile to the campground, drew water from the creaky pump, and sat at a picnic table to eat oatmeal and watch the chipmunks and golden-mantled ground squirrels scurry around.

Although we only had ten miles to hike today, the elevation gain was more than the entire rest of our trip combined. Still, we weren't in a huge hurry, having promised to meet Gary at Timberline Lodge around four or five o'clock. 

We hiked a slightly steeper trail through the woods, pausing at a trailhead that had a picnic table and… some chin-up bars, maybe? We weren't sure what they were there for, but Zach did some chin-ups, anyway. We chatted with a guy from upper Wisconsin, ate some peanut-butter chocolate wraps, and hiked on.

Zach likes to climb stuff...

From here the trail started winding its way up the flanks of the mountains, and although we were still in the forest, we began crossing more meadows, and the whole feel of the area grew more alpine. 

As we started the steepest part of the climb, my lungs began burning and I felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen— the sensation felt like the beginning of a panic attack. We had to stop several times, and eventually Zach took some of the weight from my pack, and I walked with my chest strap and hip belt un-clipped to give my body more room to expand when I drew deep breaths.

Because of my breathing trouble, we walked very, very slowly. Soon this was inevitable anyway: we cleared the timberline and found ourselves walking across fine sand that swallowed every step. We had nothing to complain about, though: we were in a wonderland of wildflowers and dramatic views. Hood's peak loomed ahead, gray slopes of bare rock dropped off into dramatic cliffs, a few tough pines offered intermittent shade, and the trail cut a line through a meadow of tough grasses, mountain ash bushes, and thickets of purple lupine that gave the cold breeze a strong fragrance like lilac.

We paused to catch our breath and looked behind us to see a watercolor-blue collage of mountains undulating into the distance, with Mount Jefferson's peak standing above the rest, and Mount Washington barely visible behind its left shoulder. Far to the left, the blue gave way to tan, showing us the deserts of Eastern Oregon.

After a break, we huffed and puffed on, most exhausted than we felt was reasonable, but still enjoying the views. We reached the right elevation and the trail leveled out, leading us alongside the mountain peak. Now that we weren't climbing, we walked faster, and I was even able to rebuckle my straps. We heard live music drifting over an arm of the mountain, cleared the slope, and saw the spire of Timberline Lodge below us.

We ate vending-machine Fritos with the last of our hummus for a pre-dinner snack, and soon Gary came to pick us up. I melted into the car seat, aching from every muscle, but smiling.

The shower that night felt amazing, but the bed was too soft.

~~~