August 9, 2013
25 miles today
Mile 1912

Awoke to a specific destination. A longtime friend will meet me and new friends at Shelter Cove on O’Dell lake. The plan is to diverge from the PCT in six miles onto the Oregon Skyline Trail. Then follow it to the Cove. All seems attainable. Orbit, being the only one smart enough to carry maps on a hiking trip, set off first. I second, some 20 minutes later. At six miles, Orbit left a wooden arrow indicator and a section map. I left the map for Slack and Veggie and dutifully turned right. After a mile another arrow, I turned left, my Goldilocks imitation perfect so far.

A nag as I hiked, sign after sign I did pass, but no mention of the Oregon Skyline Trail. As the miles passed I turned my back on the nag. The trail was not much used, Orbit’s footprints were thus clear. If she was lost so was I, if not, not. I relaxed to a fate not in my hands. But oh how I wished she were taller, as I face whipped spider web after spider web. If it was the Skyline Trail, then the name was a fantasy, because the path passed through low, swampy terrain. Scrub pine and mosquitoes supplied the vista. The sky was up there, but never at eye line.

More arrows and twists and turns. I kept picking up breadcrumbs. To pass the time, I listened to NPR, all interesting until the presidential news conference. The big news was yet another wildfire threatening the PCT, this one again in the Angeles national Forest – 20 mi² and 16 Homes destroyed. Bearing down on Cabazon and Ziggy and the Bears I wished them spared. As I listened to the President come up with the incredibly original political idea to form a committee to study the problem, I came to a T-road juncture puzzle. Heeding Mr. Obama’s advice I decided to sit down and wait to form a committee.

As the last of my sparse food became stomach tenants, Slack and Veggie arrived. Veggie had grabbed Orbit’s last map offering. We tried to study it. The issue, Orbit has 20 negative 10 vision, so she had shrunk her maps to microscope scale. This makes the paper lighter, but unreadable to normals. The arrows had dried up so we were left with the postage stamp. I could just make out a black line, a red line and a blue ink smudge. I declared the smudge to be Crescent Lake, the black to be our road and the red to be our destination trail. Alternatives, none. I picked a possible direction and we walked.

More signs but no skyline. False turns and explorations. Arguments and doubt. A gaining certainty on my part that we were on the right track. The gut instinct I’ve learned to trust over the years. On a path we ran into three women on horses. They bestowed a photocopied map that had readable information. Then proceeded to point us in the opposite direction of where their map said Odell Lake was. I went with the map. Some more chatter but I was short and obstinate. A way I get when hungry.

And then they matched. We were winding through a horse camp and the map said Horse Camp. If that is true, then the path must be “there.” I pulled out Orbit’s map to cross check. Low and behold there was a tiny horse head. I couldn’t believe it. Then I couldn’t believe it, because I scraped it and it turned out to be a smashed mosquito. We walked to the “there” and, multiple trumpets, there began the path to Odell Lake. Orbit signaled approval of our arrival by leaving another postage stamp on the trail post. And of course, still no Skyline Trail sign. I think Oregon disowned their skyline.

I strapped on the headphones, cranked up NPR, and jammed down the highway to hotdogs. I listened to a long discussion about top female corporate execs leaving the corporate world to raise a family, and changing their mind and the difficulty of reentering. I shuttered with pleasure at my avoidance of the hooks of a corporate life. The stories stacked up, as did the miles. My attention diverted from starvation. The path left the swamps and turned down into a fantastic gorge. The falling stream crashed through the headphones. Rainforest thickened and moss hung theatrically. What skyline there was withdrew. I closed in on dogs.

And then Orbit under a tree with a proper six pack of beer and a beeline to the store, the hotdog even bigger than my inflated imagination, followed by everything else edible in the store.

The night turned grey and cold. Oregon summer weather. The forecast miserable. My friend to arrive tomorrow. A big group fire was going on. I drifted over. A seat was put under me, a beer in my hand. My chill lifted. Two guitars appeared. I listened to Lukenbach, Texas, through the sparks. My smile grew ever wider. Thanks Oregon Skyline Trail wherever you are, and happy 100th day to Red Beard and Slack.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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