Start point
Ashland Mountain Ski Road, mile 1712.6
End point
Tentsite at mile 1733.1
Miles hiked
21 with 0.5 mile detour to Callahan’s
Wilderness area
Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument
Klamath National Forest
Soda Mountain Wilderness
People I met
Janet Eastman
The day on trail
Early morning, one last shower, a quick breakfast from the hotel continental, a hug from Sunshine, and I was off. I walked down to the hostel and met the trail angel, who’s trying to piece together a section hike of Oregon. Ketchup got to his truck shortly after I sat down in it.
I received a message from a reporter, Janet Eastman, with the Oregonian, who writes up stories about thru hikers every year. This year it was about how to spot a hiker. She’d messaged me on Facebook, from finding me in a trail angel group there.
She wanted to meet in Ashland, but the best I could do was to meet at Callahan’s, a resort right off the trail. She said yes and offered to buy Ketchup and me lunch to say thanks.
Free food for sharing stories? Yes!
It was a couple hours to hike there. Not too bad. The side trail off the PCT crossed railroad tracks and a bunch of overgrown areas. Nothing I haven’t seen before. And it was really cool. It’s also fun to see different blazes than the white diamonds.
There was a slight road walk near some properties. One of them had a howling dog. It sounded like it was in distress, and really reminded me of my ex girlfriend’s greyhound when we’d leave him alone at the house. That melodramatic “I’m abandoned!” kind of cry. But it echoed through the area and I could hear it for a quarter mile before getting there and at least as far after passing.
But you keep walking because that’s the choice you’d committed to. It’s what you keep going for.
Properties are staked out. Trail is marked officially and unofficially. It’s kind of like our own existence. We’re supposed to fulfill certain things and we do what we can for society, yet there’s a strong impetus to make it our own: to do it our way and leave a mark. It’s almost an act of rebellion to say “I’ll do it, but not how you expect.”
Soon I came upon Callahan’s. Renowned trail stop that we hadn’t planned on going to until this morning.
Lunch was brilliant. Chicken in a cream sauce with potatoes and zucchini and a pistachio cheesecake. I was delighted. Of course bottomless Dr Pepper as well.
We are our fill, talked with Janet, got some photos taken, and were on our way. Sluggish, full belly, hiking is always a struggle, but it’s a happy struggle. And if we already started with too generous of a resupply, now we really had one, since one of our lunches was now extra.
On we went, along a road walk next to the freeway until a sign told us we could get our feet back on dirt. And a shopping bag for any town-bound hikers who needed one.
And finally some views!
Even though I was full, I couldn’t help but snack on some berries. Salmonberries are wonderful and I’ll always go gaga for wild blueberries!
Walking feels so good after three zero days. It’s so hard to not keep moving. All I want is to hike and walk. Being social is wonderful, at the same time, my deepest joy has been walking, mostly solo.
One foot in front of the other, trekking poles alternating with my feet. Soil crunching with each step, each one making a slightly different sound. A sharp crunch of rockier soil, a soft padding sigh of detritus and organic matter over the mineral layer. Small things the trail does to talk back to us.
It talks to me as I hike in silence. Or talking on the phone. Or singing to myself. Maybe I’m telling myself jokes. I’ll often rehash old conversations or have pretend future ones aloud. I pause when I see things that interest me; when my mind needs to focus and drink up what’s around me.
The beauty we see must be a reflection of what’s inside us. I have to believe that to stay hopeful.
I find a velvet ant, which isn’t an ant but a wingless wasp. It’s frenetically scurrying around, maybe startled by me, maybe oblivious to me and looking for something important to only it.
There’s a cone shaped purple flower greeting me ahead.
And a passage with long shadows getting into golden hour.
There’s a spring with some mysterious piping in it.
I continue on. Enjoying these little moments of trail I missed while in town. Golden hour getting closer and closer to blue hour; the sun speeding toward the horizon to conclude my first day back out here.
It looks like just a footpath, but it’s so much more.
I sign a trail register for both safety and to leave a mark that I was there. I, Minstrel, have passed here.
There was one more vista before camp. I took a moment to drink it in. I’m so grateful to be back out here, walking, living the life I’m meant to.
