Thursday. June 5, 2026
- Start: Somewhere above Lily Lake (PCT mile 1929.5)
- End: Elk Lake (PCT mile 1954.1)
- Distance: 24.6 miles + 1 mile to Elk Lake TH
Last night was super windy, so I was very glad I had the foresight to add two extra guy lines to stabilize the front of my tent and prevent it from collapsing. I’d already broken a prior version of the Nemo Hornet 2P tent while camping up on Froze to Death Plateau in Montana’s Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness during a massive storm. So I’m quite familiar with what kind of damage the wind can do to a tent like mine as it whips across an exposed plateau like this burn scar.
As I tried to fall asleep with my earbuds blocking out the wind noise, I worried about how much the temperature might drop during the night. I’m a cold sleeper, and I only packed my 30-degree “summer quilt” for this trip. That temperature rating is the “limit rating,” meaning that’s the lowest temperature it’s safe to go down to, not necessarily the temperature at which I will sleep comfortably.
To offset what I knew would be a cold night with no trees to break the wind, I spent a few extra minutes layering up inside my quilt. I wore my rain pants over my sleep pants, and pulled my wind and puffy jackets over my sleep shirt. Plus, I wore a wool hat. I was essentially wearing all the clothes I was carrying minus my rain jacket, and the get-up made me look like the Michelin Man. But it seemed to do the trick. I didn’t end up shivering through the night, even as the sound of the wind repeatedly woke me every hour.
Lunar Landscape
Despite staying warm enough inside my quilt, I was awake at 4:30. My tent was soaked by the cold, damp air and the lack of trees. I’d hoped the overnight wind might keep my tent dry, but there was no chance.
The cold air and condensation seemed to have settled over this flat, treeless expanse. Even the PCT’s soft trail dirt had a layer of moisture on top. But if I’m being honest, that extra moisture was a bonus for me this morning. I wouldn’t have to worry about the powdery, fine dirt of the burn scar puffing upward with each step.
I hit the trail earlier than normal – around 6:30 am – with the goal of making at least 20 miles today. I’d been able to hike that far yesterday, despite not getting dropped off at the trailhead until nearly 10 am. With my early start, I should have no problem hiking that far today, provided there aren’t a million blowdowns up ahead.
As soon as I headed away from camp, the PCT turned east, and I got fantastic views of the Three Sisters, Broken Top, and Mt. Bachelor in the distance. This is one of the more iconic mountain profiles here in Oregon. But it’s usually visible only when across the vast high-desert landscape of East Oregon.
Up here on the PCT, though, I had the perfect vantage point of this range from the west. There was only one problem. I was walking directly into the early-morning sun, which was shining directly in my eyes.
Even with sunglasses and a hat on, I found the sliver of a trail through the burn scar exceptionally difficult to follow. It was barely a faint line through the burn scar, and I found myself stopping multiple times with my hands shielding my eyes from the sun in order to figure out where to go next.
Don’t risk the fine!
Once I got back into the trees, it was back to blowdown alley. The trail was just lousy with hurdles from the 2022 Cedar Creek Fire. I’m glad I didn’t get rowdy last night and try to hike all the way to my next water source: Taylor Lake. There would have been nowhere to camp anywhere close to the lake, not with all the widowmakers waiting to fall in the wind.
About an hour into the morning, I was surprised to encounter a wide dirt road and a major trailhead. I’d assumed that I wouldn’t see any trailheads until I got to my food cache at Elk Creek. And getting down to that one would still require a mile-long hike down a side trail.
But here, right between Taylor Lake and Irish Lake, there was a Forest Service road and a full-service trailhead, with a map and a permit station. I was officially exiting the Deschutes National Forest and reaching the boundary of the Three Sisters Wilderness.
As I was deciding to resume my PCT section hike this summer, I went ahead and applied for a long-distance permit from the PCTA covering the entire PCT through Oregon and Washington. This meant I didn’t need to worry about having any of the local wilderness permits in the Pacific Northwest.
The Central Cascades are a very popular place for Oregon hikers to backpack and camp, and this section in particular can get overcrowded because of its many trailheads and easy access from nearby Bend.
Without my long-distance (500+ mile) PCT permit, I would have been required to apply for a Central Cascades Wilderness Permit to camp overnight anywhere in the upcoming 100 miles of trail in the Three Sisters, Mt. Washington, or Mt. Jefferson Wilderness areas between mid-June and mid-October.
Applying for multiple permits each time I wanted to do another section of the PCT in Oregon seemed like a nuisance, so I just applied for the PCT long-distance permit to avoid the logistical hassle. My PCT permit did have some limits. I had camp right alongside the PCT corridor, and it excluded a few overpopulated spots that I intended to avoid anyway, like the Obsidian, North and South Mathieu Lakes, Coyote and Shale Lakes, and Jefferson Park. But otherwise, I was free to hike as much (or as little) of the PCT in Oregon and Washington as my legs wanted this summer.
(Note: The USFS penalty for failing to get a PCT or Central Cascades Wilderness permit in Oregon begins at a $200 fine and increases from there!! So I strongly recommend that other hikers make sure to apply for whichever permit best suits their needs.)
Lakes, lakes, lakes
After inspecting the Three Sisters Wilderness map at the trailhead, I began to turn north, but I was almost immediately stopped. There were so many blowdowns across the PCT that it felt like an impenetrable wall of trees and branches. As soon as I cleared one obstacle, there seemed to be an equally big one 20 more yards up the trail.
I spent the next 30 minutes, barely making a quarter mile of progress north. It was ridiculously frustrating, and I wondered if this was the chaotic mess that forced the Japanese hiker Taichi to return to the Maiden Peak shelter in May. The PCT was just lousy with blowdowns!
Once I reached Irish Lake, though, the blowdowns seemed to end. The forest was more alive here. I was no longer hiking through a burn area like the first hour of my morning, nor hurdling over recently downed trees. There was actually a real trail, and I crossed my fingers that the worst of it was behind me.
Once the PCT curved around the northern end of Irish Lake, I was greeted by the sounds of waterfowl, and the light wind seemed to be pushing a two-foot-high layer of fog rolling across the water. If the bright morning sun hadn’t been shining down, this lake might have felt eerie, but today it felt serene and tranquil.
The trail conditions continued to improve as I hiked north. There was still the occasional blowdown, but mostly it was just a scenic trail winding its way between lakes and forest.
The trail climbed for about two miles until I reached an immense grove of trees near Stormy Lake. All of them had to be 50 feet tall. I wondered if this was what the burn area had looked like before 2022. It’s amazing how one massive fire can change the landscape for an entire generation of hikers.
The rest of the morning continued in the same vein. It was a pleasant hike, even as the mosquitoes became more prevalent. As long as I kept moving, they weren’t too bad. But when I stopped to filter water at one of the lakes, I spent the entire time swatting the mosquitoes landing on my arms and face.
My only solace was the knowledge that I wasn’t hiking through here in mid-July. By the time the PCT hiker bubble arrived, the Oregon mosquitoes would be out in full force, with no way to outrun them.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, I’d walked past countless lakes that I could have stopped to eat at. But each time, I pushed on toward South Lake, which was a respectful 14 miles into my day.
I picked South Lake because there was also a sweet campsite overlooking the lake. There were also plenty of dragonflies, but barely a mosquito in the air. This was a perfect spot to take my shoes off and relax in the shade.
Green Blobs & HuckleberrIES
As I went down to gather water during my lunch break, I stumbled upon something weird in the lake. When I dipped my CNOC bladder into the lake to fill it up, it forced a cluster of translucent green orbs to drift away from the wet log next to the shore.
Each orb was roughly the size of a plum, but there was a second cluster right next to the shore that was the size of grapes. What the heck were these alien things? There didn’t seem to be anything floating inside the orb, like salamanders or tadpoles. They just floated like weightless balloons.
I’d later learn that these orbs are called Ophrydium versatile, and can be found all over the world in freshwater lakes. They’re single-celled protozoans, and they get their green color from a symbiotic relationship with a type of microalgae that lives inside the blobs. I’m still not sure if that makes them a good thing or a bad thing, but I definitely made sure none of them made it into my water bladder
After lunch, the PCT had a new surprise in store for me. The trail seemed to be lined with miles and miles of knee- and thigh-high huckleberry bushes. It was far too early in the season for the huckleberries to be ready for picking, but I knew exactly what I was looking at.
We grow a ton of different berries back at our home in Eugene, including strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, loganberries, boysenberries, blackberries, and huckleberries. Each one has its own distinctive look, and the huckleberries are the last of the bunch to ripen. Our huckleberries down in the valley aren’t usually ready to pick until September. But these huckleberries are at higher elevation, so they should be ripe by August.
Sure enough, as I bent down next to the bushes to get a closer look, I confirmed that I was correct. There were lots of tiny huckleberries clinging to the bushes, with about 4-6 more weeks before they would be ready to pick. This summer’s PCT hikers would have a feast in July and August!
Time to pivot
Five miles after I departed my lunch spot at South Lake, I reached what would likely be my final water source of the day. Dumbell Lake was the last guaranteed water source for the next 11.5-mile stretch of the PCT.
It was only 3 pm when I approached the lake, and I was proud that I’d hiked 19 miles by mid-afternoon. It undoubtedly helped that I began hiking at 6:30 am instead of my typical start closer to 7:30. But the trail this afternoon had also been pretty cruisey with no major climbs. There were a few blowdowns here and there, but it was nothing like that rigorous half-mile obstacle course near the Irish Lake Trailhead earlier this morning.
My hiking pace was really solid today, and I began to wonder how close I could get to the Elk Lake Trailhead, where my food cache was waiting for me. Heck, if the rest of the trail was in this type of condition, it was feasible that I could hike 25-mile days and get to Santiam Pass a full day ahead of schedule! Wouldn’t that be crazy?
When I turned toward Dumbell Lake, I was so lost in thought with the idea of big miles that I nearly stopped in my tracks in sheer surprise. Standing directly ahead of me were two hikers with backpacks! I hadn’t seen a soul other than the trail runner and hiker near Lower Rosary Lake yesterday morning.
It wasn’t a weekend. And it was only early June. So I’d assumed that it was far too early in the season to see other backpackers out here on the PCT, even section hikers!
As I approached the couple, they quickly introduced themselves. They were from Pennsylvania and had hiked the PCT last year; they still had their PCT hangtags attached to their packs as proof. They explained that they’d had to skip some miles last summer and decided to fly back out to Oregon to fill in their 150-mile gap between Mt. Thielsen and Santiam Pass.
As luck would have it, I was hiking northbound, and they were hiking southbound. So they were the perfect resource to ask about the trail conditions up ahead. And that’s when my hiking plans went off the rails…
The Pennsylvania duo told me that they started the trail over a week ago. They sent one resupply box to Elk Lake Resort (~7 miles to our north) and another to Shelter Cove Resort (near Odelll Lake ~40 mile to our south).
Since they typically hike 15 or so miles per day, they assumed it would take them roughly 4 days to hike the 55 miles southbound between Santiam Pass and Elk Lake Resort. And then another 3 days to hike the 45 miles between Elk Lake Resort and Shelter Cove. Their math seemed solid.
But they barely made it south of Santiam Pass when they encountered a morass of blowdowns. They didn’t arrive at McKenzie Pass (20 miles south of Santiam) until the middle of day 3, and they quickly realized they didn’t have enough food to get to their first resupply point at Elk Lake. Luckily, they crossed paths with a Forest Service fellow who gave them a ride into the nearby town of Sisters to buy some more food.
When they returned to McKenzie Pass, there were still lots of blowdowns ahead, but it was only further compounded by snow. The male hiker said he was postholing through soft snow that sometimes reached his thighs. It took them 3 more days to get through the next 25 miles down to Elk Lake. And the experience was so utterly frustrating that they took a double-zero in Bend just to recover.
They’d been averaging a meager 8 miles per DAY to cover the 50 miles to our north. That’s only half their typical daily hiking mileage, even though they were moving 10-12 hours each day. It was just insane!
I gave the two hikers more optimistic news about the trail conditions immediately to our south. Other than that small stretch near Irish Lake, today’s hike was just a walk in the woods. It was nothing compared to what they’d already endured over the past week. It was smooth sailing down to their next resupply package. They just needed to pick their campsites wisely due to the burn area.
As I said goodbye to them and wished them luck, my mind was in a whirl. Eight miles a day! Even if I were able to hike 10 or 12 miles per day in those conditions, it would take me 4 days to get from Elk Lake to Santiam Pass. My food cache at Elk Lake only had three days’ worth of food for that 50-mile stretch. And Keith was supposed to pick me up at the trailhead on Monday. That was a full day earlier than I would likely arrive in those abysmal conditions.
It was time to make a decision.
Naturally, there was no cell service at Dumbell Lake. But this is one of the reasons I hike with my Garmin InReach Mini. It’s my lifeline to the frontcountry when plans go awry. I typically only use the device to send a “proof of life” message back home each evening with my GPS coordinates. But now it was going to help me shift my hiking plans.
I texted Keith to ask him to come back out and pick me up at the Elk Lake Trailhead this evening. It would take him 2.5 hours to get there if he left right away, but I still had about the same amount of hiking before I would arrive. Getting to the trailhead and grabbing my food cache would require me to hike a 25+ mile day. But jumping off trail now was the only thing that made sense given my newly acquired intel.
One of the biggest reasons I chose to section-hike the Oregon section of the PCT was to enjoy it. There was absolutely no reason to hike into those conditions when I live just a few hours from the trailhead. I could jump off trail this evening and return in a month’s time when the PCT is more melted out and after the trail crews have time to begin clearing the blowdowns.
There was zero reason to risk those conditions and hike solo into what I now know is a potentially dangerous situation. And so, I continued north into the afternoon until I reached the junction for the Elk Creek Trailhead at mile 24.6.
From the junction, it was only another “bonus mile” down the Island Meadow Trail to the trailhead where I would meet up with Keith. I turned east, and Mt. Bachelor seemed to loom over me. As I stared up at the melting snow, I had a hard time believing that the trail could be that bad just to my north. But I trusted my fellow hikers. If they needed to take a double-zero in Bend to recover from the upcoming stretch of trail, then I didn’t want to ignore their warning.
What’s even more amazing is that I ran into those two hikers at all. They just returned to the trail today. If they’d spent one more day in Bend or if I’d crossed paths with them yesterday, there was a fair chance I’d know nothing about what lay ahead. I would have hiked into the Three Sisters and discovered the trail conditions the hard way. And then I probably would have doubled back to the Elk Lake trailhead after an extra day or two of effort. Thank goodness, I’d stopped to talk to them!
