{"id":3396,"date":"2017-08-01T22:13:18","date_gmt":"2017-08-01T22:13:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/?p=3396"},"modified":"2017-08-01T22:13:18","modified_gmt":"2017-08-01T22:13:18","slug":"pct-2017-santiam-pass-to-elk-lake","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/?p=3396","title":{"rendered":"PCT 2017: Santiam Pass to Elk Lake"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>Lava is hard to walk on. No, not molten lava, the kind that spits orange magma into the air like in Hawaii (you would certainly injure yourself quite badly\u2026or die), but lava that has been cooled and hardened for thousands of years. It\u2019s impressive a trail was even built through it. The mostly hollow rock, the consistency and look of a hardened sponge, lays spread out in small and medium size chunks for you to walk over. It crackles underneath your weight, much like the music Rice Krispies make in a nearly frozen bath of whole milk.\n

Your ankles twist in weird angles, trying to even your weight on the uneven surface. The rock salad moves around, fluid and chalky, perfectly in tune with the laws of physics thrust upon it.<\/p>\n

The rocks are hot too. Mostly black, they absorb and radiate heat. This is especially evident in the afternoon, around 3 or 4, when the sun is the most miserable and enough time has passed to trap enough energy in the molten earth to make it feel as if it were magma again. If it wasn\u2019t for the nice views of the Three Sisters, a series of giant mountains, this section of trail just north of McKenzie Pass would be nothing more than a frustrating snooze fest.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit,\u201d Carolyn said over the snap, crackle, pop of walking over lava. \u201cMy bottom button fell off my shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned around, pale blue button in hand, the same color as the perfectly clear sky. Her white stomach and belly button poked out underneath the inverse V shape of the shirt.<\/p>\n

I laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d she said, giggling.<\/p>\n

\u201cNew trail name,\u201d I said. \u201cBelly Dancer.\u201d<\/p>\n

She snapped her hip belt in place, tightened the straps across her waist. It acted like the missing button, clinching shut the inverse V, concealing her belly button.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot so bad,\u201d she said, turning away and walking on.<\/p>\n

The afternoon was a mess of dry heat. The sun slathered itself over our already salted bodies. My pale blue shirt had a ring of dried sweat around the back collar of my neck, and two large stains under each armpit. You could have probably scratched it off, collected all the shavings in a salt shaker to use later; to add more salt to the already sodium infused Ramen Noodle packets that awaited our devouring for dinner.<\/p>\n

After crossing McKenzie pass, the lava persisted for another mile and then stopped. Back in the sparse canopy of spread out pine trees, we hung a left towards Lava Lake Camp to find water at the lake.<\/p>\n

Their was laughter at the lake. A large group of kids were swimming. Someone was kayaking, their dogs paddling along side them in the water, trying to stay afloat.<\/p>\n

The water looked somewhat dirty.Unclean. Certainly not something you wanted to put inside your body. A sheen of something oily glossed the surface. Sunscreen. Insect repellent. Maybe something else entirely.<\/p>\n

We dunked our water bottles in. We needed the water for the night, and this was the only water within miles.<\/p>\n

One. Two. Three drops of bleach in each liter of water. We shook each one well, said a prayer.<\/p>\n

On our way back to the trail a sign from the Centers for Disease Control was posted on the campground board.<\/p>\n

\u201cSwimmers from this Lake have reported symptoms of Swimmers Itch.\u201d<\/p>\n

This caught our attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeveral people have contracted small red itchy spots after swimming in Lava Camp Lake. These spots do not require medical attention.<\/p>\n

It is a skin rash caused by an allergic reaction to infection with certain parasites of birds and mammals.<\/p>\n

Refrain from swimming in the lake or dry off immediately after swimming.\u201d<\/p>\n

The bulletin went on to illustrate the life cycle of the parasites.<\/p>\n

We looked at each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cGross,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cHopefully the bleach works,\u201d Carolyn replied, looking at the water.<\/p>\n

I looked at the water closer, expecting to see things swimming. Like some kind of red dots floating around. Or some small thin vermicelli noodle looking worms, narrow like white thinning hair, squirming and writhing.<\/p>\n

But luckily, I didn\u2019t see much of anything. The water was pretty clear.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll be fine\u2026\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Night came and then morning. We both felt fine. The bleach appeared to have worked.<\/p>\n

The next night came and then morning. We woke up at the edge of a meadow, sunlight filtering into the small woods, lighting it up like sunbeams blasting through the sky light of a living room with painted white walls. It was our last day hiking in Oregon. Carolyn was going to be all caught up.<\/p>\n

We arrived at Elk Lake early afternoon. It was a busy place. Cars were all packed together in the small parking lot, more cars lined the narrow entrance street, like a kid playing with matchbox cars, a disorganized mess.<\/p>\n

We found a spot by the lake to rest. We were out of food but it was too early to eat dinner. We planned to camp the night at the campground there, and then hitch into Bend the following morning.<\/p>\n

We passed the hours reading, watching the activity on the lake. Kids swam. People canoed. Kayaked. Stand up paddle boarded. The restaurant was buzzing with people. Beers were delivered in pitchers. Hikers and tourists sat outside under army shaded brown and green umbrellas getting drunk, eating overpriced hamburgers and chicken wings. Summertime chatter and laughter flooded the lakefront.<\/p>\n

A girl approached us, brown hair, fair skin with freckles. Slightly sunburnt.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes?\u201d She asked, pulling her green stuff sack up into view.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem,\u201d we responded. \u201cAre you hiking the PCT?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, just a section. I finished up today. I started at Mt. Shasta.\u201d She sounded tired. \u201cHow about you guys?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe finished a section up today too,\u201d I said. We started at Cascade Locks and headed here. We missed it last year on our thru-hike. We are renting a car in Bend and heading to northern Washington to finish the trail from Stevens Pass to the Canadian border.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s so cool,\u201d she replied. \u201cThis was a LOT harder than I thought it was going to be. I don\u2019t think I\u2019d ever want to thru-hike.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I said after last year,\u201d said, Carolyn. \u201cNothing longer than 500 miles from now on. It was too much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how people find it fun,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not!\u201d Carolyn replied. They laughed.<\/p>\n

I smiled. I thought a little differently on the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a campsite,\u201d she said. \u201cYour welcome to put your tent up there for tonight so you don\u2019t have to pay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWow, thanks so much,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n

She left to go swimming in the lake. When she got back we headed to the campsite, set up our tent and unpacked our things. Tonight was the 13th straight night in a row sleeping in the tent. Probably a record for us. The city of Bend sounded so good. I could here the air conditioning 32 miles away, could feel the soft sheets of the hotel bed, waiting for us.<\/p>\n

Night came and cooled off some of the earth. Sleep came easy, aside from the loud campers to our north. They were up late, drinking, laughing, playing cards, banging and fumbling around with all their stuff. Camping chairs. Coleman stove. Headlamps. Stoking the fire. Drunkenly talking about life. How there jobs stank. How they didn\u2019t want to go back to them.<\/p>\n

In the morning we found ourselves by the road, thumbs at the ready. Everything was quiet. A car came after ten minutes, passed without even a second look.<\/p>\n

20 more minutes went by. Another car, a truck, passed us, speeding up and screaming by.<\/p>\n

30 minutes went by. Another few cars. No luck.<\/p>\n

Sometimes hitch hiking is a lot like fishing. You just cast out your line and wait for a bite.<\/p>\n

We saw an RV in the distance. RVs never stop. We put up our thumbs anyway, if you don\u2019t play the game you can never win.<\/p>\n

To our amazement the RV slowed down, stopped by the side of the road. The driver waved us in. It was a sweet older couple from Bend. He had large sunglasses on, she wore a simple, sweet smile.<\/p>\n

We exchanged stories of the trail for a ride into town. They pointed out the ski mountain.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ski?\u201d she asked. \u201cThe skiing is great in Bend. Mount Bachelor got over 500 inches this season. The biggest in 25 years.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded, looked out the moving window. Mount Bachelor stood over a giant meadow, moving slowly with the fast moving car. Snow lingered on its slopes, patches of white on black and grey, like a giant, melting ice cream cone. Vanilla with chocolate chip.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you do that you get the summer off?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\n

We told them about the last 16 months over the roar of the road. The RV swayed. Pine trees blurred past the window, streaks of auburn and dull green.<\/p>\n

Yellow grass swayed in the soft breeze, thick strips of straw, dry and sun burnt, sticking out of the dust and rocks, alone together in the sharp, Oregon heat.<\/p>\n

We sat in the RV, listening to all of it.<\/p>\n

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Ten<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/body>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lava is hard to walk on. No, not molten lava, the kind that spits orange magma into the air like in Hawaii (you would certainly injure yourself quite badly\u2026or die), but lava that has been cooled and hardened for thousands of years. It\u2019s impressive a trail was even built through it. The mostly hollow rock, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3396","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-pacific-crest-trail"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3396","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3396"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3396\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3396"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3396"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.intothewideopen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3396"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}