Well, it’s already December and needless to say, I’m a little behind on blogging about my epic solo hike on the Timberline Trail that I completed in July. However, posting late doesn’t make my hike any less epic, and I really write about my adventures to reflect on them later. So, saddle up and join me on the ride!
As all my adventures began, I came up with the idea and then I committed. I researched, planned, packed and left. So on July 24th I woke up at 4:30 am and got on a plane from Los Angeles to Portland. It was my first time in Oregon. I looked out the plane window and tried to identify the few volcanic peaks that were visible beyond the cloud cover. I was so ready to get up and circumnavigate Mount Hood – 40 miles and 2.5 days of epic.
I was overwhelmed with emotion. I felt it in my body and in my mental state. I love solo backpacking in ways that are hard to put into words. However, here I am describing my journey in words. I hope to do justice to the experience.
I landed in Portland and was eager to get my rental car and start walking as soon as possible. After all, it was after 10 a.m. and I still had to drive 90 minutes to Timberline Lodge to begin my hike, which I had planned for 10 miles before camping.
Next stop: baggage claim. I anxiously searched for my suitcase. I’d never lost a bag on a trip and I wasn’t ready to start now, not with all my precious backpacking gear inside! Wait. And he waited. And he waited. The last suitcase came off the carousel and mine was nowhere to be found. My heart sank. Was my trip ruined? Had I lost my equipment? I walked back and forth between the luggage carousels. Finally, I saw my suitcase alone on the other side of the room. I quickly grabbed it and breathed a sigh of relief. Now ahead to the car rental area.
I turned the corner and was horrified to see in front of me: a huge line of people waiting for rental cars, filling the entire room. It was torture. I waited over an hour and a half for my rental and finally got on my way. My first stop was at a Big 5 in Gresham to get fuel (not allowed on airplanes). They only had the big bottles, but I paid and quickly returned to my car. It was almost 2pm when I finally arrived at The Timberline Lodge. I parked my car, put on my hiking clothes, and packed my backpack. Due to certain restrictions and preferences on the plane, I had some things in my checked luggage and others in my carry-on luggage. Organizing my life for the next few days from my open trunk, a group of hikers was returning to their car in front of me. «Hey,» said a boy. “Are you hiking the Timberline Trail?” «Yes,» I said. «From your ultralight configuration, I could tell that you have experience.» I chuckled. They were returning from a day hike and offered me a beer. Unfortunately I declined, as I don’t like to drink while hiking (only when I’m at camp). We chatted about the JMT, which he had also hiked, and then I had to continue on my way.
I closed the trunk, locked the car, and put the key in a safe place in my backpack. I did the usual mental checklist, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, then took my first steps onto the trail in the asphalt parking lot. It was almost three in the afternoon. I had over 9 miles left.
As I embarked on the trail, I was looking for permit kiosks, as I had learned during my research that I needed to fill out a permit. Unfortunately, the permit system has been temporarily suspended.
The views were beautiful. The weather was perfect. I felt alive. There were a lot of hikers for the first few miles of the trail, and once I reached Zigzag Canyon, the solitude started to feel more like a backpacking trip. The curves towards the Zigzag River felt soft and smooth under my feet. I sailed. Then SLIDE!! My left foot sank into the soft, loose dirt at the edge of the trail and I found myself sliding down the hill in slow motion. I ended up in a near-split lunge, with a trekking pole driven deep into the ground to avoid sliding further. I stood still and clenched my muscles until the sand and rocks stopped falling. Using all my strength and holding on to a branch, I managed to climb onto the trail. One of my water bottles had fallen out of my backpack, but luckily I was able to retrieve it. My knee hurt and itched, bleeding from the fall. I took a deep breath and continued, only to realize that one of my trekking poles had bent significantly.
The views were spectacular and I kept thanking the Universe for being so lucky to be doing what I was doing at that time. The plants were lush and green…and there were NO mosquitoes!
It was 7:30 pm and I was ready to find camp. Since it was late, I had passed several tent sites that were already occupied by hikers. I decided to continue to Sandy River and look for a place to camp. I found the perfect place. I set up my Gossamer Gear The One and enjoyed a shot of Dough Ball whiskey and a wild mushroom fettuccine Alfredo as the sun set in shades of ruby and salmon on Mount Hood around 9 pm. I crawled into my tent and dressed my wounds, studied my map, and fell asleep to the sound of the wind and the river.
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