Mile 1852.5 to mile 1884
Sleeping in, going slow, taking breaks. Only a 31 mile today, so why rush? Climbing and climbing, Thielsen peak rising over everything, views of Oregon down low, forested and dry. The hot, dusty part of Oregon, the tinderbox. I miss the wet part of Oregon. I tell Twinkle stories of lichen hanging from the trees, beds of moss. The wisdom of the western redcedars. Everything will change, just south of Timberline. We’ll be there before we know it.
Lunch break at Thielsen creek, water tumbling down the mountain. Guthrie boils water in his jetboil for a five-serving package of mountain house lasagna.
“I am going to eat all of this,” he says.
Stopping for a nap on the dry ground, shade moving around. I finally have reception on a granite outcropping overlooking everything and I sit against a rock, write my blog, order new shoes. Before I know it I’ve taken three hours worth of breaks, won’t get into camp until 9. Fuck. And my phone is dead- I need to get one of those battery pack things. My solar charger doesn’t work so good in the woods.
Pounding downhill the forest is boring and my feet hurt, but life is like that sometimes. I get to camp right at dusk but no-one is there- a southbounder named Bob says they all went two miles farther, to a lake. No way Jose. Mosquitoes exist, but so does bug mesh. The night is cool, my sleeping pad is good and hard. The forest loves me.
Photos on instagram.