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.
Uniquely Theo 