Oregon I
The Cat’s Pajamas - Part 1
Adventure is all that it’s cracked up to be, in all the most horrifying ways.
I lived most of my time in Northern California dreaming more about adventure than actually living it. Therefore, when I received the chance to spend a summer in Etna, California four years after I left, I told myself I would take advantage of my time. This part of the West Coast, like most of it, is full of mountains, rivers, forest, deer, bears, trees, hidden lakes, and true untouched terrain. All calling me to adventure.
One morning, I drove north to a town in Southern Oregon, the nearest point of civilization to see a movie. After exiting the movie theater early in the afternoon, I felt I was dishonoring my vow to adventure and the great outdoors. Not two weeks before I had climbed Mt Rainier in Washington State, the second highest peak in the lower forty-eight; justifying my choice to be stagnate by reminding myself of my accomplishment. But the thing about adventure is, it has no arrival point.
So I stepped into the bright of day from beneath the darkest of the movie theater, I looked to the west toward the mountains, and they beckoned me. Yet where to start?
Like a good millennial or any person not born yesterday, I googled it. My search led me to a trail with a two-thousand foot gain in elevation to a peak over seven thousand feet in the sky called the “Wagner Butte Trail”. In my rush to go, I saw on the website “5 mile hike” assuming without much investigation that five miles was roundtrip. Giving me a few hours to complete the trip. A nice afternoon hike, just what I need…to say the least.
As I started my way toward the trailhead in my car, I had plenty of daylight. The drive itself was a bit unnerving with asphalt turning into winding dirt roads along cliffs and tight turns. Plus a loss of phone service just to put myself ‘at ease’. I arrived at the trailhead in the early afternoon with enough water for the “5 mile” hike.
As I hiked deeper into the forest, higher and higher on the trail, passing meadows and stillness among the trees and woodland creatures. There were spots on the trail with enough tree cover that it felt like the dark of moon, hidden and out of thought from the rest of the world. Then a clearing would appear, and the sun would light the trail and make you feel hot but welcomed.
Today’s adventure made me feel conflicted. With my excitement of finding this trail, exploring a new place in the wild, and the joy of solitude, there was this feeling of that…solitude. I am alone, again, experiencing all of this by myself. Another adventure without the celebration and appreciation with another person.
Most of my adult life has been a journey alone. Friends and family there for parts, but mostly, either by choice or circumstance, I’ve been wandering, waiting for this journey to feel like a collaboration. A designed existence built on connection and intent full of shared experiences and positive momentum through common values and convictions.
However, there was one benefit to being by myself, I didn’t have to turn back when it became evident that I had misread the “five mile” roundtrip hike. I was clearly closing in on five miles of hiking and hadn’t reached the summit yet.
I neared a ridge with a fork in the trail. In front of me, a trail leads to the PCT, aka the Pacific Crest Trail. The long South to North trek from Mexico to Canada, it is an adventure where many have experienced great triumph and peril. Another trail toward town, and a left turn toward the summit.
I am still doing the math in my head. Thankfully, I calculated in the single digit column of miles so no long division was needed. At this point, the previous four miles were an uphill ascent and the next mile (roughly) is along a ridge to a visible peak, I hope. Then weighed the cost, the time until dusk, and pressed on.
The views along this ridge were stunning. Blue skies and the vast mountain range of the Southern Oregon wilderness surrounded me with awe and delight. As I pass through groves of tall mountainside trees then into clearings with mile to mile views then back into another grove of trees. At times, I sprinted among the trees to make myself feel like a native.
Finally after a few contemplations of turning around, I see the top. Large jagged rocks protruding out of the mountain and into the sky. I scurried up the rocks around hanging limps and blooming bushes, and with each ascent there was a view to behold. Then I reached the top to see in the distance snow covered peaks, rolling hills, and towns of people completely oblivious to my presence.
After a few selfies and snapshots of the backdrop, I took a moment to mediate, forcing myself to stay in the moment to appreciate where I was and not think of what I was going back to or any future obligations.
To be continued on Oregon II….
