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October Memories 2003

Published by
Dawgma   Oct 14th 2011, 4:33am
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                              The Precious Birdlegs

                                           Gazette
                                                                                                      October 27th 2003
                                                                                                           Vol. 1, No. 9
      It was a cold, clear day last Friday, morning, October 25th, 2003 as I waved goodbye to my bride in the second story window of Timberline Lodge. We had stayed the night so that I could get and early start on my great adventure............the one I had dreamed of for the last month since the McKenzie River Trail Ultra.
It was my semi-walk-run-crawl.............what ever I had to do on my own power to get from Mt. Hood to Mt. Jefferson (60 miles) in two days and possibly another 30 miles to Santiam Pass in three. The weather had finally given me a 3 day window of sunshine (not necessarily warm, but clear). I had put together my list of the bare-minimum equipment that I would need to stay fed, watered, and warm for 3 full days............it came to about 22 pounds, minus the 4 pounds of water that I would need because of scarce water at this time of year.
      We drove to Mt. Hood after I had taught my last student on Thursday night and I was tired. The thoughts were already starting............"what are you doing this for.............alone, without your favorite navigator (your wife)............alone...........it gets darrrrk at night..........it's 12 hours long, now...........you have no sleeping bag or pad..........you, you have no coffee..........withdrawal..............alone.........in the woods...........the Hansel and Gretel woods............the wolf woods?" I was hearing "Peter and the Wolf"............especially the wolf theme.
Suddenly Timberline lodge looked reeeeal good..........I began to attempt an "end run" with my wife, ever so gently hinting about how nice the whole weekend would be at the lodge........toGETHer. It was hopeless, she was on to me............I had failed in the art of............well...........whimping out.
      Before I could say anymore, I heard, "forget it Hubel, I have sacrificed a lot to support you in your little dream here, and I even reserved a room for us so you could get an early start. We're HERE now, and you're GOING..........and don't call me tomorrow or tomorrow night to come and get you.........don't call until Sunday." That was it.......I had crossed the burning bridge that I alone had set on fire..............and it was burnt to a crisp........yeah crisp.
      Crisp was the air at 28 degrees as I headed up Mt. Hood to catch the Pacific Crest Trail this morning which I, in no uncertain terms, was committed to traveling for the next 2, maybe 3 days depending on the state of my birdlegs...........by myself. The trail headed downhill along the edge of the rugged ravine of White River Glacial moraine. It was beautiful, and I could see all of the peaks of Mt Jefferson, Three Fingered Jack, Mt. Washington, and 2 of the Three sisters. I noticed how small they were.......... which made me think of how far I had to go, but, then, it was downhill and I was happy to be out so late in the fall season, in clear weather, watching my breath vaporize in little disappearing whisps before me. I began running. The woods were darker than usual with the low riding fall sun.
      The rustic old PCT mileage signs came and went and I watched with anticipation for the next sum of miles that I would need to get behind me. Even though I had seen two people, I began to feel and face my 2 worst fears: one, of being completely alone in the wilderness, and two, of facing a long moonless night without a tent, sleeping bag, or pad. I knew also, that tonight's forecast was a chilly one. Because I wanted to face these fears completely, I had left my Walkman home............no music (which gives me courage) and no radio rambling (which gives me false companionship)..........only me, myself, and God.....oh, and the animals............and hunters. I started whistling lots of tunes.
      Aside from my bear bells (meant for the hunters), all was silent. It was a kind of Kris Kringle feel as I "shing, shing, shinged" on down the trail............a cheerful sound, and I was glad to hear it. Barlow Pass, Twin Lakes, Winipinitia Pass, Little Crater Lake....... up and down, gaining altitude and losing it again and again. But it was slowly dawning on me that I could not run as far or as much as I had anticipated, because of the pack on my back, and I was slowly slipping into a mileage deficit. I had hoped that I could put 30 miles behind me before dark...........it was not to be.
      I arrived at Clackamas Lake exhausted and sleepy..............and a mere 25 miles down the trail. It was getting cold and dark. I switched on my head lights and began looking for a suitable place to bed down, and spotted a small ground evergreen bush growing horizontally on the ground. It was rough looking but I threw my fleece bed roll down on it and then put on every piece of clothing in my pack. It was 7:30 P.M............it was dark and cold, but I was semi-warm and comfortable laying on top of this spread of evergreen. Looking around once more with my flashlight for any staring eyeballs, I dozed off while resisting the temptation to leave the light on. I wanted my mommy.
      I was awakened 11:30 P.M. by what I thought was a coyote howl (still not sure if it was imagined or real), and a cold labanza and very cold feet. My thermometer read 28 degrees............it had gotten colder yet. The sky was full of stars and shooting stars and even a few satellites...........I felt extremely small..........but dozed on and off through the night.......11:15...........2:15.............4:15...........decided to get up and head on down the trail at 6:45 A.M...........didn't even eat for a mile, just nibbled...........but I was sucking water like a siphon, and I hoped that the few springs along the PCT would not be dry.
      The first mileage sign said, " Pinhead Butte 16 miles". The map told me that they were mostly uphill miles. "Precious!", I said to myself.............it was going to be a long day and judging by the burning on my heels, I knew that I had developed some rather hefty blisters. When I stopped to examine them, I was shocked to find both heels with 1 inch circular blisters.
      I moleskinned and taped them and tied my Montrail Comps as tight as I could get them, then hurredly continued on as I threw some beef jerkey, pieces of energy bar and peanuts in my mouth and washed them down sucking on my camel back hydration hose. My mouth and throat were dry and it was hard to eat anything, so I resorted to mostly drinking energy drink while walking and running. The back pack was becoming a definite enemy now, but I needed everything in it for the cold nights. I took fewer and fewer rests.
     Now, I was hurrying............ running wherever I could, knowing that I had another 25 miles to even get to a place (Ollalie Lake) where Lynn could get in close enough to pick me up.
     After what seemed an endless climb to Pinhead Butte..........up and over it, I knew that I was going to be short of my goal, and I cell phoned (it only worked above 4500 feet) to let Lynn know that I would probably be spending another night out just to get to Ollalie, where I decided that I'd better exit, and that I might even be late on Sunday evening. The going was slow now, with raw heels and I was getting very short on water.
      As "luck" would have it, I arrived at "Trooper Spring" 2 hours later, and although it was slimed over with algae, the water was cold. I hurredly pumped it through my filter and filled my 100 ounce bag and my 80 ounce bottle. With a groan, I slung the water heavy pack onto my back, knowing that even though it was getting dark, I still had over 10 lame uphill miles to go and I couldn't stop.
      Once again, I turned on my headlights in a resolve to push on into the night to get an extra 5 miles in. By 8:30, I was nearly falling asleep at the wheel. A nasty northeast wind had began to blow.............it was a bit warmer than the night before. With the steep terrain and the wind I decided to bed down on top of a few clumps of bear grass...........it was lumpy, but soft and not cold like bare ground. I dozed on and off again for the next 10 hours while the wind howled...........wondering if I would get hit by a falling snag or raided by the black bear that had crossed the trail in front of me just before dark............nah.......he was too scared of me and had run away quickly when he heard all of my ringie-dingies. At 5:45 AM, I decided to get out of there.       With one more look at the map...........huh?............had I made a mistake...........This couldn't be........I didn't have 10 miles to go...........I had only 4.2 miles! What a beautiful mistake!
Bless my little birdlegs, I had traveled much further than I thought! Oh happy day!! With headlights shining and bearbells ringing, ding-a-ling Davie hobbled down
the trail just as fast as he could, limping a bit now with his hamburger heels.
Soon it was light, and in a couple of hours I was at Ollalie Lake Resort sucking coffee and eating warm muffins. "Good thing ya got here today", the cashier said, "tomorrow we would have been gone and the road closed." "That would have been spesh!!", I said An hour later, SHE showed up...........my best friend, my navigator, my loud laugher...........my babe.........the mommy of my kids, the gramma of Tyler and Sadie.
     Oh, how I missed that laugh! She'd come for me.
"I'm proud of you, Hubel", Lynn said, as we sat in the sun at the base of Mt. Jefferson soaking up the sun for awhile................then we bumped on down the old logging road toward home. I had done 51 miles out of my more realistic 60. I had faced some fears and learned one thing more:" One mile together's worth more than a hundred alone, cause together's all ya got.............and the best place is home."
Chaser
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