One Full Day

At first I thought the day might be a tough one, with 10,000+ feet of elevation change over 22.6 miles. I foresaw lots of ibuprofen in my future. Yet the pathway proved ideal, dirt in the lower forests, volcanic sand up on the shoulders of Mt. Hood. The beauty of Mt. Hood rivaled that of Jefferson a few days earlier. Unlike Mt. Jefferson, perhaps this would be a nice, relaxing day.

We were about three miles beyond Timberline Lodge, with fourteen miles more to go, when the cloudburst came. This was not a cold rain, but I called for Mike, Cindy and me to do a “group hug” while we waited out the deluge. The sloped trail we were on converted to a stream of runoff. After about 20 minutes the rain abated and we continued on.

We first saw the beautiful results of a cloudburst. Flowers sparkled with raindrops and mists rose like smoke from the distant valleys. Yet we were traversing the spurs of an imposing mountain. In between those spurs were creeks to be crossed, creeks now swollen from the funneled waters of a cloudburst streaming down between those spurs. I did not mention to the others that Halfmile’s app cited the Sandy River crossing as “potentially dangerous.”

Many different parties arrived at the Sandy River at the same time. The river was brown from the silt eroded off the mountain with the rushing waters. The river was braided in places; our strategy for crossing the river was over numerous braids where the depth was relatively shallow. We held hands to form a chain, with Cindy in the middle, that anchored each other against the current. A couple we had hopscotched with along the trail chose a more direct, shorter route where the river was deeper.

A woman heading southbound arrived at the opposite banks of the river at the same time. Her trail name was Swept Away because early on in the North Cascades she was almost “Swept Away” by a creek crossing. That earlier experience was still on her mind as she looked at the river with visible panic; she started to shake. Mike and I formed a chain with her to help her across, but she decided not to cross instead. We thought she was going to camp nearby, but she kept backtracking up the trail, perhaps never to return.

The rain and creek crossings held us up and the day ended with night hiking. Fortunately for us, Charissa did exactly what she needed to do as our support waiting at the end of the day. She stayed put at Lolo Pass and hiked in to meet us once dusk came. We hiked the last mile with her, very glad the day was coming to a close, but also glad for another full day on the trail with lasting memories.