PCT Day 125 – Putzing Past Ponds

Shelter Cove (mile 1907 + 2mi road walk back to trail) to Charlton Lake (mile 1925)

We leave Shelter Cove around 8am and begin the two mile rolling road walk back to the trail. Any hope of hitching seems foolhardy on this Monday morning, and indeed the only person who stops does so just to tell us he’s going only a few blocks further. So a two mile road walk it is, up to the highway, a quick dart across traffic and we’re back on the trail. Well, trailhead. We dawdle here using the bathroom and fixing things in our packs in no real hurry despite the 24 miles we still plan to hike.

I am excited about this section, with it’s promise of actual views and lakes and not just endless trees and long water carries. Southern Oregon has in many ways been a continuation of the endless pine forests of Northern California, except with less elevation gain which also means fewer views. Starman’s excitement is certainly depleted after so many weeks in tunnels of green. We further putz around at the first lake we see, filtering water, taking pictures, and sitting staring into space. A few miles later and we’re stopped again, up on a ridge we hide in the shade buying shoes via spotty data which is still infinitely better than the WiFi at Shelter Cove was. Then three miles later we’re stopped at the Maiden Peak ski cabin for lunch. We just can’t seem to get going. Or rather, Starman can’t. I can hear his reluctance in his heavy footfall.

Starman is a perennial problem solver. He sees the little things in the world that could be better, small ways in which life could be easier, and goes ahead and fixes them. He is quick to realize that things rarely have to be the way they are. This is especially true when it comes to boredom. Starman is not one to divert from hard work so long as the task is interesting. However, if the task is hard and boring he will spend considerable effort in finding a work around. He will actually spend more time and effort in an effort to be lazy than the original task might have required. Out here this trait might manifest as a desire to skip or shorten some of the tree lined miles, or to focus more on town days than trail days. I on the other hand am more likely to accept what is, which I’m not sure is always a great trait in the real world, but proves to be useful out here. If it’s hot, it’s hot, if it’s 11 more miles to camp, then so be it. In some ways the long sedate miles are what brings joy to this kind of hike. Or perhaps my longer athletic career, the fact that I’ve been camping since before I was one, means that I have a higher immunity to the specific brand of monotony that occurs when you’re outside for days or weeks on end.

I’m worried Starman is growing bored with this hike. I’m worried the PCT is losing its appeal and that he’ll want to quit. That months of the same activity, weeks and weeks of walking through trees are wearing him down. Quitting this late in the trail is not unheard of. At Crater Lake two hikers we’d recently met choose to pull the plug on their hikes. One because of nagging shin splints, and the other because he just couldn’t do it any more, his heart was no longer in it. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a dozen times: nothing ensures that your thru hike attempt will be successful, there’s no foolproof way to know if you’ll love it all the way to the end. But you can adapt as things change.

In the early afternoon we scramble off the trail onto a grey rock outcropping—the kind that might normally offer a view of an expansive valley were this not Oregon, so instead we’re looking into the crowns of trees. The light is both artificially and naturally warm, the fire smoke casting everything in an orange light, but also because the sun is lower on the horizon, signaling the arrival of fall and the fact that our trip will soon come to an end. We chat about how we might make these remaining weeks better. How we can enjoy the time on and off trail more, and what needs to change. The first decision is to shorten the length of this section by hitching into Bend from an earlier road crossing, this means fewer miles each day and a more relaxed pace. It also means that we’ll relinquish a future zero, but that seems a fair trade. We talk about how we can shift our hiking schedule to allow for a leisurely lunch break while taking advantage of the long, cool evenings. And how we can compartmentalize errands during town days so that our off trail time no longer means spending every moment getting ready to be back on trail.

Then we put on some classic American rock, music so nostalgic it can almost make you believe the good old days ever really existes, and cruise six easy downhill miles into camp. Yes, the only views are trees, but bathed in the warm golden the twang of Americana the green shines like a forest of fine silk. We pitch our tent near the shores of Charlton Lake, where a long peninsula extends into the shallow waters. There we laugh while hobbling into the water, our feet tender against the pumice stones that litter the bottom and wash the silty dirt from our legs. Paddling around in the warm water until the dust from the day sloughs away and sinks.