Repeat: Poor Trail Selection

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Not to be discouraged by the challenges of the previous day of hiking, I headed out for the Three Sisters —Lava Camp Trailhead. My poor planning skills had once again come through for me.  I had secured a permit to hike in the Central Cascades once again, but somehow failed to notice that the trailhead was 75-miles north  — about an hour and forty five minute drive. A minor detail I had chosen to overlook. Most of the route was on highways I had driven routinely on previous visits so a bit disappointing. But then heading out of Three Sisters towards McKenzie Pass, things got considerably more interesting.  

I would be driving Oregon Route 242, the famously scenic and historic McKenzie Highway —a narrow winding two-lane road that climbs dramatically through the Cascades.  There were elevation changes, switchbacks, and plenty of opportunities to test whether my driving skills were as questionable as my trail-planning skills.

My inner reckless-driver persona was immediately on high alert.  At one  point,  I found myself at the tail end of a conga line of cars, all slow-poking there way along the highway. After watching a couple of good passing opportunities ignored by the other drivers, another nice strait stretch finally appeared.  Apparently my inner race-car driver could take it no longer.  I took my opportunity and sailed  on past the entire procession of nine car with plenty of room to pull back in and continued on my way with no further dawdling drivers.   Fortunately traffic was light. 

The road was spectacular and twisted through lush living forest   and then without much warning, into what I dubbed tree skeleton graveyards — vast stands of burned trees stripped of everything but their trunks and branches. In spots young tree were reclaiming the landscape and beyond that the dark lava fields. It was quite eerie, like driving from one forest to another where the trees had died but forgot to lie down.

I did pause for a brief moment, reconsidering several of my more recent questionable choices. But, of course , I had come all this way, and a little denial kicked in— “It can’t be that bad!” What could possibly go wrong? As an 82 year old woman with osteoporosis , I was perhaps not the most obvious candidate for a hike involving loose uneven volcanic rock. One wrong step, a twisted ankle, or an unexpected tumble could turn this anticipated hike into a disaster. But I had my walking stick, good footwear, an most importantly an impressive ability to convince myself that things would work out. So I parked the car, grabbed my walking stick and headed southeast out on the PCT. Even though the lava looked dangerous. I decided to hike it anyway.

The lava did not disappoint. Every step was precarious, and nearly every rock I considered stepping on seemed determine to shift. For about an hour and 30 minutes I carefully picked my way across the lava, concentrating on every foot placement. Was I having fun yet? Eventually I parked myself on an uncomfortable rock with a tiny bit of shade and ate some lunch. Then it was back across the lava for another hour and 30 minutes. It would be a stretch to claim I covered three miles and that I was having an awesome experience. 


When I finally made it back to the car, a volunteer was there at the trailhead with an assortment of snacks and cold drinks.  This would be one of   the “trail angels” I have heard about who do this to support the PCT thru hikers, but made their bounty available to all.  So I eagerly grabbed a Diet Coke, a welcomed reward for negotiating 3 hours of unstable lava.

Right up the road was another famous attraction: the Dee Wright Observatory a stone structure with no other purpose than to offer panoramic views of the surrounding Cascades. I drove the quarter mile up to it, and then in a moment of profound irony, I tripped on the stairs heading up to the observatory and ripped open my right knee, having successfully negotiated 3 mile of wildly unstable lava without falling, only to injure myself by making a brief misjudgment of the height of a step.I did continue up and into the observatory and then it was time to head back to camp.

BUT, since it was still mid-afternoon and not wanting to miss out on anything notable in this area, I decided to drive to the Lava Lands Visitors Center at Newberry National Volcanic Monument. I can’t say that I was yearning to see more lava. Though I don’t intend to visit all of the national monuments as I have the national parks, if I find myself in the area of one I make a point to visit it, and I definitely was not going to miss out on another trail or two. Perhaps the first sane decision I made was to voluntarily take the bus up to Lava Butte. I hiked the Lava Butte Rim Trail which was a 20 minute 1/2 mile loop and then rode back down. The other option would have been to hike the red cinder Lava Butte Road for a 3.5 mile round trip and  I thought I deserved kudos for that current sanity. I was going to head towards the car but I saw a sign for the Trail of the Molten Lava ( a one-mile paved path in full sun on a 90 degree afternoon leading into a lava field ) and I  thought “Well why not?” So I “proudly” added another 1.5 miles to my am mileage which was 3.38 miles.


Why might you ask would someone who had almost wrecked her body negotiating the lava fields of McKenzie Pass decided to walk another trail into a field of lava simply because it was paved? Actually it probably was the only field of lava trail I should have considered hiked in the first place.

Does any of this sound like someone who has a PhD in mental health counseling? Apparently, possessing a PhD in understanding human behavior does not necessarily mean that one understands their own!

Finally at 4:45 I admitted defeat – or perhaps recognized that even I had my limits – and headed back to camp.

My Excellent Planning Skills

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The next couple of days in the Three Sister Area (I hear there is a “Little Brother” , a “Wife” and a “Husband” somewhere near-by), I planned to hike two sections of the Pacific Crest Trail. I retrospect, my “excellent planning skills” were questionable. My first hike would start at Devil’s Lake, where I’d pick up the Wickiup Trail which would connect to the PCT in about 2 miles. The second would begin at the Lava Camp Trailhead. I had assumed these trailhead were close to Lava Lake. They were not. Devil’s Lake 15 miles and Lava Camp 75 miles and a 1 hour and 45 minute drive. I felt quite smug though because I learned that hiking in the Central Cascades Wilderness required a permit which went on sale at 7:00 am 2 days prior to hiking date. So I was online at 7:00 am and got my permit and within a couple hours the 90 permit were gone. Clearly I would not be hiking in solitude and I expected crowded trails and plenty of company.

When I arrived at Devil’s Lake parking lot, the lot was packed. Confirmation of my expectation. I set out toward the Wickiup Trailhead expecting a couple mile walk to the PCT (per AI). The hike itself turned out to be as challenging as my questionable planning. From Devil’s Lake Trailhead I used a highway underpass on the Elk-Devil’s Trail to reach Wickiup and hopefully eventually reach the PCT. This is an important fact to remember this as I complain later about distances!!!!

Starting at an elevation of 5460’ the trail climbed gradually, gaining elevation through a Douglas fur and hemlock forest over a surface that alternated between dirt, rocks, roots and occasional stretches of loose sandy pumice soil. At 82, with osteoporosis and asthma along for the adventure, I had to negotiate the trail somewhat differently than I might have in my younger years. No plodding straight up one foot in front of the other but frequent pauses to catch my breath and thus telling myself I am stopping to admire the scenery. This was not a trail however with views to admire, hence few photos, I kept having this conversation between my legs, my lungs and my brain about what I was doing —- with my brain suggesting that perhaps I had made a serious error in judgement. I kept checking the distance traveled: 2 miles, 2.25 miles, 2.5 miles, and finally at 2.75 I finally realized there had been a serious miscalculation and that the estimate was seriously wrong. And the trail was changing its personality! Less forest, more exposure, serious sand, and dust with the sun operating at full capacity. At this point I made the highly strategic position to turn around. I found a shady log sat down, ate my lunch and ruminated over the turn of events.

The return trip was easier in theory since it was mostly downhill but it was still long and  hot.  Eventually I reached the junction of the Wickiup Trail  and the Elk-Devil’s Lake Trail and with supreme confidence turned right and felt elated that I was on the final downhill mile to the parking lot. About a mile later I wondered why I had not yet reached the parking lot. It slowly uncomfortably dawned on me that I had just hiked a downhill mile and would be climbing it back up to the junction that demanded a left turn. I was increasingly clear that navigation was not one of my core competencies.  I would have preferred to make  this discovery earlier.  


By now my “quick five-mile hike” was something closer to 7.5 and never having reached my destination. But I was relieved to be on the correct path. I later came to discover that both Claude and Chat GPT were relying on outdated information when estimating the mileage. After confronting Claude about this error, it researched a bit deeper and found that the path to the trailhead had been rerouted to a new underpass shared with the Elk-Devils Trail replacing the original highway crossing thus adding meaningful distance before intersecting the original 2 mile Wickiup Plains Trail. Claude was not apologetic. Also, as I looked more closely at the Trail head sign at Devil’s Lake today, it indicated that the distance to the Wickiup Trail was one mile!

The first thing I did when I reached my car was open my cooler, retrieve a caffeine-free Diet Pepsi –  my most dependable vice— pour it over ice and drink it far too quickly.  Also, by now I also realized my assumption about the crowds was confidently wrong. I saw only four people the entire time and later realized that most visitors were there for the lake, paddle boarding and swimming. Though hot and tired I was curious about this lake, took a brief stroll to it and discovered all those recreational enthusiasts. Perhaps they had the better idea!

Hot, tired and thoroughly humbled by both distance and directional challenges, I still felt satisfied . I had managed a 7.5 mile hike in the Three Sister and returned without incident, injury, or any further directional challenges. After driving by the Newberry National Monument to scout out some challenges for the following day, it was back to camp for dinner, another magnificent sunset, and a rock solid nights sleep in my cozy little base camp tent with such amenities as a cot, a camp chair, and a jug of water.

Roughing it — with an iPad

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On Monday, August 3, I hopped into Lady Spitfire, once again packed as though I were permanently moving into the wilderness, and headed through Central Oregon toward Lava Lake, which would be my base for exploring the Three Sisters area. I had first become aware of this unique volcanic landscape while reading my son’s Pacific Crest Trail hiking journal and now eager to see some of it myself. My plan was to day hike a couple of sections of the PCT that winds through this area.

The drive was pleasantly uneventful along two lane forested roads.  Fortunately, there were enough passing lanes that I did not have to become the crazy woman driver trying to pass everyone who wasn’t traveling at what I deemed the acceptable speed.  There are things about camping I am willing to endure but driving behind someone going 20  miles under the seed limit it definitely not one of them.

I had deliberately chosen this National Forest Campground because of its location —- and because I have learned the best way to avoid the RV-and-generator  crowd is to seek out campgrounds without electricity.  This one was essentially a tent only campground along the shore of beautiful Lava Lake with a view of South Sister rising across the water.

Arriving in the early afternoon, I was quite pleased with my spacious.  campsite. Camp set-up was remarkably smooth since I had the good sense to practice setting up the tent before I left home.  The campground was still relatively empty but as the afternoon wore on, a couple of other camping parties arrived and naturally selected sites right next to mine. I have to wonder why it is such a great idea to leave the comfort of my home, rummage around in the dirt, and then listen to somebody else’s  conversation while smelling and watching them preparing a delicious meal with a plethora of cooking equipment and later enter their three room two story tent that makes my own supplies look positively primitive. Still my tent was set back enough that I didn’t feel particularly exposed.

The there was the matter of electricity. Or, more accurately the lack of it. It had seemed like a good idea when booking. Almost immediately I began what would be a recurring obsession through the entire trip: How am I going to keep all my electronics charged?

My iPhone. My iPad.  My AirPods, My Portable Power Station.

At least I wisely left my computer at home. The portable batter pack did a decent job of keeping things going but eventually the battery pack needed to be recharged. That mean plugging it in to “cigarette” lighter in Lady Spitfire. The the inevitable question: If I’m not actually driving anywhere, am I really going to leave the car running just to charge my electronics with the exhaust spewing into the campsite? I will leave you wondering. I hate to admit but almost everything I do for entertainment is on that iPad: games, books, and news— all siting inside that glowing rectangle. Why did I think a non electricity campground was a great idea?

One settled, I took a lovely walk around the area.  I found the camp store for essentials like ice, groceries, maps etc. I did a two mile walk to Little Lava Lake. By then it was time to commence cooking a meal and there would be no elaborate camp cooking for me. The evening’s gourmet creation consisted of boil-in-a- bag instant cooked rice, some already prepared ground turkey mixed with taco seasoning with a bit of cheese as a topper! DONE! 

The darkness settled over Lava Lake and all felt right with my world. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the lake turned to liquid gold. The silhouette of South Sister faint in the distance, the landscape softened by the haze of wildfire smoke, and a duck family drifting through the sunset glow captured everything that made the day of driving, hiking and camping feel worth it.

But reality then set in. Now for the hopefully final challenge and hardest part of this entire experiment: getting myself in and out of the tent and then figuring out how to get  myself comfortably situated on my cot, settle in with my iPad, and convince my self that this is actually a relaxing way to spend the rest of the evening

I had staked a ground cloth in front of my tent to minimize the amount of the fine silty dirt that seemed to blanket this site and puff up with every I step took. The dirt was not content to stay outside either. It began sneaking out from beneath the tent and onto the ground cloth at the entrance, intent of finding its way inside. I quickly discovered there were couple of techniques for entering my tent. One option was to remove my Crocs, kneel on the ground sheet, assume something resembling the yoga table pose, and crawl forward into the tent. Another involved standing, bending at the waist until I was essentially at a right angle, stick my head through the tent opening, lifting one leg behind me and shaking off the Croc, stepping the foot into the tent, grabbing hold of the cot for support and balance , and then repeating this maneuver for the other foot. This I assume would need to be repeated to exit. I am sure there were other possibilities but at this point I had not discovered them.

 It was only the first night.  I was wondering if I was having fun yet?




Apparently I still Think This Is a Good Idea! @82

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It had been over two years since I had packed up my camping gear and headed into the wilderness. As someone who loves camping, I was feeling the pull to head out again but had no specific impetus or goal to prompt me to make a specific plan.  Then a close friend mentioned that she would be camping with her daughter near Mt. Hood.  That was all the encouragement I needed. I would take a camping trip in Oregon of my own, meet up with her for some day hikes and then spend a night with her up at  the historic Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood.

Getting ready for the trip brought with it a surprising amount of trepidation. My plan was to spend time in two areas of Oregon — the Three Sisters area near Bend, Oregon and the forests surrounding Mt. Hood. But, there was another question lurking in the back of my mind! At 82, could I still actually enjoy doing this. It wasn’t backpacking and hauling a forty-pound pack around and I would have my car and thus could bring a few “luxuries” which one has to forgo when backpacking. But camping involves a significant amount of physical activity even when my car, Lady Spitfire, is sitting 20 feet away: the tent to put up, gear to haul around, sleeping arrangement to assemble, meals to prepare, and perhaps most notably, the undignified challenges of getting in and out of the tent all the while trying to prevent any flying critters from attempting to become tent-mates. Did I still have the agility to crawl through that little opening without getting stuck somehow half-in and half-out. Would getting out in the chill of the morning be an adventure in itself in order to obtain a hot cup of coffee to jump start my day or a excruciating undertaking. Would camping still be fun?

Then came the time to open the storage bins and then discovering and sorting all the family equipment: re-introducing myself  to my own outdoor equipment; and, wondering if the forests would still be there when I arrived. It was Oregon’s fire season.  Wildfires were raging throughout the state with a major fire burning 12 miles east of Mt. Hood and not wanting my planned adventure interrupted by a wall of flames.

Then came the plot twist.  My friend’s family camping trip was cancelled.  Do I cancel or go anyway. With all the preparation work done I decided to go with one simple rule:. I was going unless conditions reached a Level 3 evacuation for my intended destinations. 

What started out as a trip built partly around meeting a friend suddenly became something entirely different: a six night solo adventure through the mountains and forests of Oregon, with wildfires nearby, an assortment of camping gear I was assuming still worked, and absolutely no guarantee that my original plans would survive the first day.