Returning to the Pacific Crest Trail

About fifty years earlier, my mom dropped brother Bill and I off near Cascade Locks, and we hiked south for two weeks.  Now it was brother Scott's turn to hike the trail.  C and I were going along for the section from near Timothy Lake, south of Mount Hood, southbound to Santiam Pass.

And away we went.

The random start of our PCT hike had well developed signage.

Crossing the 500 kilowatt line, S was ecstatic.  The trail here seems more used than the road.

Whiskey you're the devil
You're leading me astray
Over hills and mountains
And to Amerikay
You're sweetness from the Bleachner
And spunkier than tea
Oh whiskey you're my darling drunk or sober

--The Clancy Brothers

Over or under logs can be perplexing.  Here, S demonstrates the butt scoot.

Olallie Lake.  The woman at the store said there were fewer thru-hikers, but more people from Oregon just getting away from it all.

Burned areas provide lots of opportunities for fireweed to express itself.

"Hey, I've got three bars."  Scenery is neglected.

Pensiveness at Breitenbush Lake.

Trampling the vegetation is what we do best!

Almost need crampons and ice axe.

Louie the Dog, with his handlers Patrice and John.  It was a chance meeting at the high point of the trip.  They were doing about the same route we were, only northbound.

Mount Jefferson was named for the second US President to be a slave-owner.  The Native American name for the mountain is Seekseekqua.

Seekseekqua near "Jefferson" Park.  Mt. Jefferson was named by the two white guy leaders of the Lewis and Clark expedition, one of who owned a slave, York, that was also on the expedition.  Lewis and Clark hired a French-Canadian fur trapper, who seemed to have purchased his wife, Sacajawea, from some Lakota Indians who had stolen her from her family.  This shouldn't be a pretty story, if history was written by the losers.

C crossing the mighty Russel Creek.

Camp in the boulders along Milk Creek.

Strolling the Pacific Crest Trail in the Mount Jefferson Wilderness Area.

Two of the Tree Sisters on the left, Three-Finger Jack on the right.

Tranquility at Rockpile Lake, just before the big wind.

Camp on the edge of Rockpile Lake.  View from the summit of Rockpile Mountain.

Partridgefoot (Luetkea pectinata).

Snags from the B&B wildfire of 2003.

Looking towards the Pacific Ocean.

Image of Seekseekqua.

C contemplates life above Wasco Lake, while dormant volcano Black Butte waits patiently.

Three-finger Jack looms over the intrepid hikers.

One of many switchbacks.

Broken Top, North and Middle Sister, Mount Washington (named after the first slave-owning US President).

The final few kilometers thru the 2003 B&B wildfire.

It was a good six days and 72 miles.  There wasn't much that had changed in fifty years--the mountains were still there, the streams, the canyons, the wildflowers.  There may have been more people on the trail this time, which we have grown to expect, what with all the human breeding going on.

The gear was much better this time.  We could afford better gear, and the clothing was all quick-dry synthetic garments, not the all cotton clothes of fifty years ago.

A good time was had by all.