Mount Hood | Stories from Steve

August 18, 2013
25 miles today
Mile 2150

Sunrise from below

Morning was cold as we had slept higher than the sun. The sunrise from below, slow to warm. We left the village in shifts of pairs. Being the second shift we were out by 6:30 AM. I thought of the night. I had difficulty letting go of the day as I had learned, with signal, of the early death of an acquaintance.

Early morning hiking

Finally fell asleep, but was awakened by a cacophony of snoring and flatulence. Everyone seemed to be on it. Thru hikers are probably the only subset of American society where farting is both openly accepted as necessary and as a method of informed commentary. By the way the average American male farts 14 times a day, females 11 times a day. I would consider thru hikers to be above average folks.

Goodbye Hood

Mount Saint Helens topless

Stayed high for 6 miles, giving Mount Hood its due every break in the trees. Then a flip-flop to the other side of the ridge brought me to a talus slope. Suddenly the earth gave up a big view. Starting on the left, the decapitated Mount Saint Helens. Though because of poor behavior her saint status should be reconsidered. Center, Mount Adams. And to the right Mount Rainier. I grabbed a handful of raspberries and took in the show.

Orbit decimating blackberry population

Decided to take the eagle creek alternate which routes away from the PCT for 15 miles. It passes through the densest concentration of high waterfalls in North America. Who can resist waterfalls? A spring rest, followed by a big fall straight down a ridgeline. Impossible not to exceed the speed limit. Eventually the pounding stopped as the trail joined the creek and it’s more gentle wandering. Waterfall after fall vied for attention. No two alike. Can a waterfall ever be boring? At times the trail cut into solid cliff to scoot around narrow falls. And the highlight, tunnel falls. A high tight cascade approached on a three sided rock cut trail. A misstep on the fourth side would be unfortunate. Standing back to watch, I saw Orbit approach the falls, walk into it and come out the other side. A tunnel being both the secret and namesake.

Orbit on the edge

Tunnel Falls

Orbit about to disappear

And reappear

The crowd thickened as it was a Sunday of respite. Came to Punchbowl Falls with its big pool running deep. Climbed down to a leap point but a posted personal narrative of crushed vertebrae changed our thinking. Canada being our primary responsibility. The temperature moved up and the trail stretched long. The path rocky and intent on chipping bone. Finally the crowded parking lot and the relief of asphalt walking. Joined an old touring road for when cars toured, now converted into a bikepath. It’s borders thick with neglected blackberries . We paid attention.

The Bridge of the Gods is the gateway to Cascade Locks

The bike path led into the town of Cascade Locks, the last whistle stop in Oregon. Unwashed and non-presentable we secured shelter and food in close order and proximity. A shower, sediment flowing into a hole. And then a tackle of a backload of work from the softest office bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of. I couldn’t stop sighing. Meanwhile orbit watched Rainman. I swear she came up with the toothpick answer before Dustin Hoffman’s character did. At midnight I shut it down and burrowed in.

I held off sleep as long as possible just to savor the kindness of a civilized mattress. I’m sure I slept smiling.

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

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August 17, 2013
28 miles today
Mile 2130

The lure of a breakfast without end sped awakenings and departures. Food, the great motivator of the masses. I forewent any formal breakfast and was the first to begin the climb to temple. The Timberline is located high on the slopes of Mount Hood. Famous as the setting for the film “The Shining” in PCT circles it is much better known for its three daily all you can eats. I zeroed in on the first one, shut off my brain and began grinding upward. A religious fervor undoubtedly shining in my eyes.

Here’s Johnny!

Insert twins and say, “Redrum.”

At first soft pine forests, then, progressively, the terrain turned raw. Great ash canyons carved by glacier melt took over. Stride shortened as I pushed up old ash dunes. Dancing waffles prevented rests. Altitude gave way. Over a rise and there was Mount Hood. It’s snowy peak belching clouds. A pivot and Mount Jefferson and the sisters rising up out of a gray inversion and my past. Volcano row. Where I had come from, where I was going. Around the bend and there she was. The Timberline, built in the depression by hungry craftsmen, before incompetency took over the architectural profession. It was a sight. A pilgrim to His Holy.

Hood with offspring waterfall

Hood with friend on high

I was formally seated in the beamed cascade room despite the varied offenses of my appearance. My waiter long used to PCT refugees was to the point, “Please begin,” and I did. The beauty was it tasted better than my limited imagination had imagined. After two hours I threw in the napkin. Veggie, Orbit and Greenleaf soon thereafter waived their white napkins in surrender. Our waiter fist-bumped us in effort appreciation. A running group noticed our starvation and offered bags of leftover sandwiches. We gratefully accepted. Lunch secured, it was time for a waddle around the Lodge to look for moments of Shining.

Came upon the Waylo Room. Ping-pong table and piano beckoned. Veggie and I had it out on the table, while Orbit played a series of concertos for background. The game halted when she consented to play one of her original works written when she was forteen. It captured the angst and magic of that time like nothing I had ever heard. More waddling. Raided the abundant hiker box. Took an aperitif in the attic bar. Stalling. Finally ended up on the front patio adjacent to a 40-year class reunion. Seated in Adirondack of procrastination, we prepared for yet another goodbye. Veggie’s mother and sister will arrive tomorrow and he will take a few days of rest with them. Good hugs and off, but not. A sympathetic reunionite brought over two boxes and said “cram as much as you can in them from our private buffet.” I love the timberline meal plan. Happy 40th, you’re all looking good.

Makeshift bridge

Mount Hood up close and personal

Loaded down with meals, our leaden waddles moved us slowly north, the path thick with day hikers. Ant skiers moved about the distant slopes in August. The PCT at this point was part of a 40-mile circumnavigation pilgrimage of Mount Hood. It followed a mountain base pattern of knife cut topography up a ridge, down the canyon and across a glacial melt till it chose to drop away. There we turned our backs on hood and headed down. A detour to Ramona Falls and her allure then a long slog up to a new ridgeline fueled by the 40-year lunch. If you’re up you must go down, as the PCT is never static. By the bottom my knees sounded like jake brakes on an 18-wheeler.

Ramona Falls

The final act in the timberline meal plan was held by a pass, Forest Road, in the unrealized hope that a passing motorist would be providing beverages. If it is a pass, dessert will involve ascent. Early in it we passed under massive power lines that crackled with effort. As a kid once I had carried a fluorescent tube under such lines and watched it light up. Stopped to photograph Hood in Alpine glow and then moved on quickly, a cancerous Pac-Man in hot pursuit.

Hood chute

The sky blackened, the terrain turned steep and flat campsites turned into an Iraq WMD search. The hike marched past its 9:30 deadline. Tired and slipping concentration brought on the stumbles. A known campsite lay an hour away. Gave up looking as each side forest search took the headlamp away from the path, resulting in slowing or stumbling. At 10:30 we joined a community of four others clustered on a cold ridgeline. Perhaps asleep before rolling out the bedroll.

Main tentpole in timberline

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Stories from Steve

Steven "Blast" Halteman – Author, Adventurer

Tag Archives: Mount Hood

Day 108 – Morning sunrise, sunset to a friend

Day 107 – Here’s Johnny!