Hiking with no socks slowed me down, but only slightly.
I was taking my time, laying around, trying to catch Scrub Jay’s in my hand that thought maybe I’d fallen asleep with snacks left out in the open.
The trail was starting to get crowded. Northbounder’s mixing with southbounder’s. Nobo’s slowing down, trying to figure out what to do about the fires in Washington, where 60% of the PCT appeared to be shut down.
Some were getting off trail, hoping to come back and finish Washington next year. If anything was left. Others were pushing on, to hike what they could. But everyone seemed to be heading to the lunch buffet at Timberline Lodge.
My plan had always been to stop at the Columbia River, only hiking across Oregon. And though a buffet was exactly what I wanted, I decided to hitchhike into Government Camp for milk. Something they don’t stock at the lodge.
From there, a shuttle bus would take you up to the lodge for $2, but while waiting for it, a different, broken down bus pulled to an awkward stop. The door creaked open, and a disheveled guy with a big smile told me to hop in.
Walker was his name, and he was a snowboarder who’d been living in the cluttered van for a couple of years. Nothing was strapped down and things would fall over and rattle across the floor as he drove. Trying to talk over the struggling engine, and paying more attention to us in the rearview mirror than watching the road.
I hit the buffet with Stealth and Couscous, while we waited for Noisy and a couple of others. Then we lounged around the lodge, charging our electronics and soaking in the atmosphere. That night, I camped somewhere out back, under the shadow of Mount Hood.
No matter how slow I hiked, I was going to be a week early for PCT Trail Days. And I wasn’t sure what to do with the time.
#PCT #hitchhiking #buffet