Hello from my home state of Washington, the final frontier in this grand adventure! On August 16th, after 124 days on the trail, our rag-tag trail family crossed the Bridge of the Gods into Washington and left behind delightful Oregon.
The high Sierras will always be my favorite part of the PCT, but damn, Oregon is a close second. Where the Sierras were rugged and stark, Oregon is green, simple, and comforting. Where the Sierras were constantly hard and even a bit scary (looking at you, the North face of Mather Pass), Oregon is gentle and easy. Put simply, the Oregon stretch of the PCT is a god damn delight.
The best thing about Oregon is that it’s not Northern California.
It’s only a small exaggeration to say that I barely made it to the Oregon border. Northern California was indisputably my least favorite part of the PCT- it’s painfully anticlimactic after the grandeur of the Sierras. It’s also a bit boring, there’s nothing really to look forward to, and after literally thousands of miles of work, you’re still in California. Plus, we endured two heat waves and saw triple digit temperatures. We had to hike at night to avoid the worst of the heat, but hiking at midnight in the 80s is only marginally better than hiking at 5:00pm in the 90s. Add to that about 100 miles of desolate, shade-free, and barren burn zones, along with discouraging fire detours, and the result is a thoroughly unenjoyable couple hundred miles through Northern California. I hobbled into Burney Mountain Guest Ranch with shredded feet, shoes, and morale, and actually googled ‘how to decide to get off of a thru hike’ which led to the below questions:
The glory of a border crossing.
Good thing I’m stubborn, because better times were around the corner (*cue the Pocahontas soundtrack – “just around the river bennnnnnndddd”). I trekked across the border on a sunny day with Pickles, Treebeard, and Whitney. Us wayward and wary hikers were immediately revived as we hooted, hollered, and skipped across the border. So, in an homage to the cheery trail of Oregon, let me share with you some of its highlights.
Magic.
For starters, the Oregon thru-hiking community is unrivaled in their generosity. There is a plethora of trail magic in Oregon, sometimes twice in a day or even three days in a row. We received burgers and cold beer from Magic Mike and later Carbs cooked us pancakes and brewed us coffee. Several off-trail hikers chose to delay their return trips home to instead gift trail magic for those still hiking. Many a cooler were set out for hungry and thirsty hikers. A kind woman literally walked along the trail with an open Tupperware of homemade cookies for hikers to grab. Day-hikers would hand us snacks as we passed them on the trail. A friend of Whitney’s happened to be driving by the trail, so he met us at a road crossing with the holy duo: pizza and beer.
Oregon is also packed with nature’s own trail magic: berries. I don’t know how people do big miles in Oregon because my mph went way down as I stopped every few yards to pick another couple of berries. The trail is lined with blueberries, blackberries, huckleberries, salmon berries, raspberries, and thimble berries, each of which is sun ripened and more delicious than any store-bought berry I’ve ever had.
Lakes and dance parties.
Akin to trail and nature magic, Oregon is packed with on trail lakeside resorts that offer snacks, beer, free camping, and usually one or two dogs. Plus, a lake bath is pretty great when you haven’t had a real shower in eight days.At Shelter Cove (mile 1840.3) we foraged for more huckleberries, begged car campers for quarters for laundry and were treated to lattes before beginning a morning trek. At Elk Lake (around mile 1953.6) we enjoyed a warm meal, beer, and live music. I also took great pride in a lakeside Porta Potty with my name on it. If that doesn’t sum up hiker trash, I don’t know what does.
Later at Olallie Lake (mile 2048.3) we soaked our tired feet in the lake, inhaled some Snickers, and gazed at Mount Jefferson.
Speaking of lakes, Oregon is home to the infamous Crater Lake. Treebeard and I ventured to Crater Lake in 2019, but the weather was so terrible that we couldn’t actually see any of the lake. This time around, we were treated to rootbeer, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and gorgeous views. The actual PCT was closed due to some fires, so we had to take the Crater Lake Rim Trail alternate, which almost all hikers do because it climbs up to the top of the lake rim and yields incredible views.
Crater Lake is stunningly beautiful, as are the Three Sisters Wilderness, Mount Jefferson Wilderness, and Mount Hood Wilderness, all of which you get to hike through and ogle at. And any Oregon appreciation post is incomplete without mentioning Bend, a land where beer flows freely, and the historic Timberline Lodge, where hungry hikers seek refuge and test the limits of an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet.
Last but not least, I’d be remiss to leave out PCT trail days at Cascade Locks. It’s a three day long party with hundreds of PCT hikers who all descend on the small town and indulge in great food, gear vendors, raffles, beer, live music and dirty hiker dance parties. I hadn’t showered in nine days as I boogied on the dance floor with Rocket, Pickles, and Seven, and I had the time of my life.
Believe it or not, Oregon is not without its faults. We had some pretty smokey days on trail; some so bad that we had to hike with N95 masks.
We had one or two days of mosquito hell, and we again had to detour around about sixty miles of fire closures. There’s also an impending sense of sadness in Oregon, as you start to grapple with the reality that the trail, and one of the best adventures of your entire life, will soon be over.
Even with these few and inconsequential drawbacks, I’ll always remember Oregon as a trail of ease, enjoyment, and abundance. The moment I crossed into Oregon was kind of like the moment I found out I passed the bar exam: great feelings of elation, accomplishment, and joy. Crossing into Oregon was one of the happiest moments of the trail, surpassed only by the joy of walking across the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. I have a feeling the trail saved the best for last.
Happy trails, friends. Onward!
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