Shelter Cove to Elk Lake Resort

PCT MILES COMPLETE: 1147.3

PCT mile 1912 to PCT mile 1959.1
Section mileage: 48.1
Days: 8/11 - 8/12

Pinesap aka West coast Indian pipes!

We drank coffee on the porch of Shelter Cove until 9, talking mostly to this great southbound hiker named Suzanne (no trail name yet). She regaled us with stories of harrowing snow in Washington at the start of July. Apparently the southbounders (nickname SOBO) are calling themselves SNOWBOs this year since there was so much snow in Washington that stuck around well into the SOBO hiking season. It was kind of the opposite of the northbound (NOBO) experience this year, since it was a remarkably low snow year in the Sierras. Suzanne told us that she had to self arrest (ie. Use an ice axe to break her fall down a steep mountain pass) on her first pass. We didn't even carry crampons or ice axes.

Wishing Suzanne good luck, we left to road walk the two miles back to the PCT. Banjo hiked with us. He hiked California last summer and was returning to finish Oregon and Washington this year. He's young yet, early 20s, and works as a welder. He got his trail name cause last year he carried a banjo on the trail: not the lightest instrument by the way. There are others who have carried instruments on the trail: this year I've met a Ukulele and Didgeridoo. There was a Tuba Man on the Appalachian Trail years ago. Anyway, Banjo hiked with us for the morning.

Firefighting helicopter

We passed a lady firefighter literally covered in soot, who warned us of the flames of a new fire just uphill of the PCT. I could hear the tuk-tuk-tuk roar of the helicopter blades on the hill and moments later, saw the flames engulfing trees. All day long, the sounds of helicopters and a fire plane could be heard, as they desperately swooped back and forth between the lakes and the fires from last night's lightening. Late afternoon, the thunder began to roll in from all directions and rain began to fall. Fearing the worst (a downpour and lightening) we began to run downhill, me and Craig racing each other with our cumbersome packs swaying to and fro. We arrived at the big Charlton Lake about the same time as a few other thruhikers. A family had set up camp on the peninsula, complete with a boat, coolers, and slackline.

Thruhikers can be pretty shameless mooches, including us. The term on the trail is Yogi-ing, as in Yogi the bear. It's a special technique that thruhikers use to sneakily convince non-thruhikers to give them things (food, beverages, rides, a place to stay). The trick is to make the campers think it's their idea. Anyway, this group of campers had coolers, so once the other thruhikers left to hike on, Craig and I sat by the family to make our dinner on our stove. We told them about our trip, asked if they'd kept dry, etc. Alas, no sodas were offered to us. We've never been any good at Yogi-ing things. Worth a try at least!

Sunrise on Charlton Lake

The next day, we woke to my alarm to get an early start. It was 28.5 miles on easy terrain between us and the Elk Lake Resort. By 7 we were on the trail and by 9 it had started to rain again. We pounded out the miles, cruising past other thruhikers when they took breaks. We walked past bushes full of huckleberries in the rain, grabbing the ripe berries as we hiked without breaking stride. The trail became a river, and still we hiked on, hopscotching the puddles. We passed by dozens of lakes; I'm guessing there would have hundreds of mosquitos too, had it not been for the rain.

Craig picking huckleberries

Twenty five miles into our day, things got less pleasant. The straps on my Chacos had been rubbing my toes all day and they began to bleed, skipping the blister stage all together. I tried to wrap them in duct tape (hikers cure-all), but by the end of the day I still had 3 bloody toes. Craig's feet were killing him too, and to top it off the rain had begun to pour and it was getting cold. Did I mention that I sent my rain jacket home in Tahoe? Between all this, we limped into the fancy-rustic Elk Lake Resort restaurant by 4:30, hung our packs by the door and joined the long table of thruhikers gathered there to wait out the rain. ALL of the hikers were there: Kristen, Forest, Hopscotch and crew, Banjo, Poundcake, Justsofresh, etc. We ordered big expensive beers and sandwiches because when you hike that many miles in the rain, cost is no matter (even if it does matter).

We were going to rent a cabin with other hikers, but they were all reserved. We'll hike on then, we promised ourselves. Fat chance: neither of us could really walk much less hike. It was Justsofresh's birthday the next day and all he wanted was to "wake up dry". Two beers in, and we'd decided that the three of us would try for half an hour to hitch to the nearest town, Bend. If that didn't work, we promised ourselves, THEN we'd hike on. The bartender, Erica, ended up offering us a ride to Bend when her shift ended. The three of us piled into her car and rode down the mountain towards cheap motel warmth and gas station pizza.

The next morning, we were debating how to get to the trail when a guy pulled up and asked if we were thruhikers. His name was Mr President (circa 2008 I think) and he offered rides to Sisters and the trail! Amazing magic.