Among the regions of the PCT, Oregon is somewhat of an anomaly. The trail travels over terrain that is relatively flat and more often than not, enclosed in forest, leading some to call it the “green tunnel.” We took advantage of the gentler grades, upping our mileage to 22 miles per day and often finishing earlier in the evening. While much of the trail was in forest, the landscapes were incredibly varied. As we traveled south, we moved from the heart of the Cascades to near it’s end. From rivers, ferns and glaciers to sparse water sources, grasslands, and lava rocks. The scenery coupled with some unexpected events made for a few weeks that we are unlikely to forget anytime soon.
SOS
We almost always hike within sight of each other, but there are times, such as if one of us is getting water, going to the bathroom or washing diapers, that we will hike separately for short durations. So it wasn’t unusual when Alana told me she was going to stop and go to the bathroom and that Din and I could carry on.
It was mid afternoon and we had already done 20 miles in an effort to do 25 on the day, our furthest of the trip. Without any real sense of urgency, we ambled on up a hill. I’d stop at the numerous huckleberry bushes along the way, picking some for myself and handing some back to Din. We continued this way for a couple miles or so and at the top I debated sitting down to stop and wait for Alana. We had been going slow and stopping often, so I figured she was likely very close behind and decided to continue on down.
A few minutes after dropping down the other side, I thought I heard someone yelling. I heard it again so I stopped to figure out what direction it was coming from. Nothing for a moment, then the sound of a whistle behind me. Immediately, I turned and ran back up the trail. A minute later I found Alana coming my way in tears. A yellow jacket had gotten caught in between the tongue of her shoe and her foot and had stung her. She had already broken out into hives around her neck and waist and was starting to panic.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here now. We have medicine. Breathe.”
I had Alana sit down while I took off the pack to grab the Zyrtec as well as the EpiPen just in case. Din was crying, wanting to be close to mom and due for a feeding and diaper change. Alana took 7.5 mg of Zyrtec and I grabbed Din. We started talking over the situation and what we can do. There was a resort 5 miles away on the trail that would seem like the best option for the night. In the meantime, 2 hikers approached from opposite directions. I explained what was going on and asked if they have any Benadryl. One does and I give it to Alana while the other watches on.
Alana says she’s feeling better and thinks she can hike to the resort when all of a sudden she says, “I’m going to need the epi.”. “Ok do you want me to do it or do you– oh shit” I watch as her eyes roll to the back of her head and she falls back to the slope behind her. “Alana, Alana, stay with me.” With Din crying in one arm , I take off the cover from the needle and jab it into her thigh.
I put Din down on the trail and grab the inreach off of my pack. Cover off and I hit the SOS button. ” Alana, can you hear me? Stay with me.” We are in an open forest but the device doesn’t seem to connect to any satellites and I watch as the message status spins in circles, indicating an unsent message. One of the hikers, Joe, offers to go to a nearby high point and is able to get the message through from there. I dictate messages to him trying to get emergency response as clear a message as possible as quickly as possible.
Alana keeps going in and out of consciousness. She indicates she can hear me and that she can’t see anything. The shock progresses further and soon she starts shivering. I grab one of our sleeping pads and our sleeping bag and fix them around her. In between trying to tend to Alana and communicate with emergency response, I have my hands full with Din, who seems to want nothing but mom. I’m able to distract her for short periods of time by giving her jerky and cheese, but otherwise she won’t accept being put down. Alana says she feels like she needs to throw up. Later we learn this is one of the body’s last efforts to get rid of the toxins before giving in.
We finally receive word that emergency response is on the way but have no answer regarding their timing or method of arrival. The hives don’t get any worse and after about 20 minutes, she says she can see again. She remains conscious and shortly thereafter more hikers arrive, including a nurse practitioner, Martina, with her son, who had more epipens and medicine.
With Alana trending better, help on the way and more experienced hands around to help, I am able to put some of my efforts elsewhere. I focus a little more on Din who has become somewhat consolable as well. We find out emergency response is coming via ground and Alana feels up for hiking out to meet them. I grab our packs and Alana leads the way as Martina and her son accompany us the 3 miles to the road. The paramedics clear Alana and she refuses further care, but they are kind enough to offer a ride to the nearest town with a pharmacy (1.5 hrs away) so we can get more epipens.
The break from the trail was welcomed by both of us. In addition to the circumstances, we had been running ourselves ragged by hiking every day and not taking a full day off since we had started 30 days prior. I was definitely operating in the red zone and had caught myself counting down the miles between waypoints and dreading walking further each day. Two nights in the luxurious splendor of 2 star hotels did a lot to revive our morale and beaten up muscles. We returned to the trail with renewed vigor as well as 4 epipens and what seems like a multi year’s supply worth of antihistamine pills.
The Here and Now
There are often moments on the trail where I am reminded of a story from the book, “Kabloona”. The book details the stories of a French adventurer, Gontran de Poncins, who went to live with the Inuit in the Canadian Arctic for a year. The author quickly discovered that there were many cultural differences and describes one event that captures the distinction well. After traveling with a group on a hunting trip for multiple days out of town, de Poncins was looking forward to getting back to the village before a storm arrived. Yet the group he was traveling with had different ideas. A few miles away,, they decided to stop their dog teams, start making tea and set up camp for a night or two. The author stomped and howled, town was right there! They could basically see it! They could beat the storm! Why don’t they just continue on? But for the Inuit, they were content to just be where they were, not enamored or obsessed with some destination or goal.
The West is explicitly results, destination and goal focused and the trail for many is no different. How many miles to the next water source? Camp? Resupply? It can create a sense of rush, where one is just focused on some future idea instead of where they are.
Babies have the gift of not being indoctrinated by the dominant culture.So with that, Din serves as an antidote to our often destination oriented and frantic ways. For instance, one day we had a long water carry, having to travel 19.5 miles between sources. The day was hot and much of it was spent in a recent burn so we wanted to be quick and efficient with travel so as not to get too dehydrated. But Din had other ideas, fussing in the pack for a couple miles and not consoled by the usual piece of jerky, rock or array of songs. So after a couple of miles we decided to stop in a rare spot of shade to see if she wanted to sleep. She didn’t, so instead we played for an hour, mimicking each other’s sounds and playing with some broken pine branches. Under similar circumstances on a different day, we hiked off trail to a nearby lake and splashed away in the shallows. Din as happy as she could be. Refreshed we carried on, 30 minutes later. Only a slight delay in our plans. Neither moment required us to forge on. By stopping and focusing on the present, we had found joy. At least for the moment, we found enough.
Smoke
Starting in central Oregon, we hiked through smoke on almost a daily basis. Early on, we debated whether or not we should continue or skip further to an area without it, not wanting to harm Din’s development or our own health. However, the smoke stayed at reasonable amounts and the air quality remained below hazardous levels.
Weather remained dry for nearly all of Oregon and that was amplified further during a multi day heatwave as we continued into the southern portion of the state. Temps in the mountains at 6000-7000 ft went into the 80s while Portland was 108F. The heatwave ended after a few days with a storm that had bouts of rain and plenty of thunder and lightning. While it quelled the heat, that storm also ended up sparking a number of new fires in Northern California. Our luck had run out, a couple dozen fires in the Klamath Mountains resulted in the trail being closed from the CA/OR border south to Etna.
With the border closure, we had to reevaluate our plans and decide what where we’d go next. We opted to head down to Mount Shasta and continue south from there, just beyond the fire closure. Our crossing into California was far less ceremonious than our last state crossing, when we had walked across The Bridge of the Gods over the Columbia River into Oregon. Instead we found ourselves flying down I-5, not by foot but as passengers in a car with solely the large Welcome to California billboard to greet us.
There is a silver lining to the closure. Jumping forward bumps the rest of our schedule forward, resulting in us now being well ahead of our goal of being past the highest pass on the PCT by October 15th. This means we have a very good probability of making it through the mountains before snowfall.
We remain humbled by the trail and it’s many miles and challenges. We remain strong willed and confident in our plan but are wary of possible deadfalls that lie ahead that could derail our plans like bees, fires and unknown events(Sasquatch encounters?). For the time being, the show will go on. California here we come!
Miscellaneous
-We have come across an easy way to distinguish between thru-hikers and day hikers/those out for shorter trips. On breaks, thru-hikers sit in the shade, while everyone else sits in the sun. This seems to apply off the trail as well. Those who spend the most time in the sun try their best to avoid it when possible. Whereas those who spend most of their time indoors, often prefer to spend their time directly in it’s rays.
-We heard plenty of horror stories about the mosquitoes in Oregon but found hardly any ourselves thanks to the dry weather. So far we have yet to use headnets or bug spray. The mosquitoes were worse in Washington, but neither place we found comparable to Alaska. The mosquitoes here are annoying and will pester you, but they will not kill you. Unlike back home.
-With the dry terrain, there weren’t an abundant amount of water sources , leading us to have a few long water carries between sources . Our longest to date is 19.5 miles
-Number of broken/old beehives seen on the trail since starting: 55
-Things lost to the trail: infant sized Xtra tuff, pacifier, one of Din’s shirts, and Din’s jacket
-Number of times stung: Alana 3, Jack 1 and Din 0
-Lullaby of Oregon:”I’ve been working on the railroad”
-I have generally not felt overly hungry. Nonetheless, I have already lost 20 lbs, which I think largely consists of upper body muscle mass.
How scary, glad to hear you’re all all right now. Not surprised at all to hear you kept your mental duct tape on through the whole thing. Thanks as always for the updates and inspiration Jack.