Monday Jul. 17, 2023
- Start: Crater Lake Rim Trail (PCT 1840.4)
- End: Junction with Mt. Thielsen Trail (PCT 1854.9)
- Distance: 17.6 miles
After taking a few weeks off trail to let more of the PCT thaw, I was itching to return to my section hike through Oregon. The blisters I’d gotten on the tops of my toes in late June during my Mt. Rainier climb were mostly healed up. And the summer felt like it was slipping away while I sat at home thinking about the PCT. I needed to get back out there hiking.
Unfortunately, the snow wasn’t my only problem. I’d also promised Poledork that I’d hike our next contiguous section through the Sky Lakes Wilderness (i.e., Fish Lake and Crater Lake) with her. She had just this last 50-mile gap left to complete her hike. But she also had other commitments and couldn’t return to the PCT until the end of July.
So I had a choice to make. I could either wait around until Poledork was free and resume my hike then. Or I could skip over the Sky Lakes Wilderness for now. Poledork might only have 50 miles remaining, but I still had to hike the entire 373 miles north of Fish Lake before I’d complete my section hike of the PCT through Oregon.
There is no rule that says I have to hike each section in order from the California border to the Washington border. I could skip the Sky Lakes Wilderness for now and pick another section for my solo journey north. And so, I settled on a 75-mile section that began in Crater Lake National Park and continued north into the Mt. Thielsen Wilderness, Umpqua National Forest, and Diamond Peak Wilderness.
Crater Lake
As always, I wanted to hit the trail early so I could get a full day of hiking under my belt. But that was easier said than done. Getting to the southern end of this section required a 150-mile drive down to Crater Lake National Park.
Keith and I were piled in the car with my gear at 7 am, but the drive down to the trail seemed to take an eternity. There was highway construction through the mountains that reduced the road to one lane of traffic, plus a bathroom break en route, and then another stop on Highway 138 to cache some water for today’s dry stretch. All told, we didn’t make it to the rim of Crater Lake until 10:30 am.
PCT hikers have a choice to make when traversing Oregon’s only national park. You can hike the true PCT, which heads through the western side of the park. Or you can follow the 11.5-mile detour through the center of the park and along Crater Lake’s scenic rim. Both routes are about the same length, but the scenery is radically different.
This decision was a no-brainer for me. Who would opt for a forest hike when they could walk along Crater Lake’s rim? I wanted to look down at the impossibly sapphire-blue water of our nation’s deepest lake. And I suspect 95% (or more) of PCT hikers make the exact same choice. There was zero chance I was going to be a “PCT purist” and bypass the opportunity to hike the Rim Trail on this journey.
The Rim Trail is wonderful because of its magical scenery and relatively flat grade. Yet there are two challenges on this alternate route: (1) where to set up camp, and (2) where to get water.
Naturally, you can’t just stop and pitch your tent anywhere you want inside a national park. So PCT hikers are funneled into the walk-in campground at Mazama Village (down near the park’s southern visitor entrance), some tent sites near Lightning Spring (a 1-mile detour off the Rim Trail), and the designated hiker campsite at Grouse Hill (near the north end of the Rim Trail).
Luckily, as a section hiker, I didn’t have to worry about timing my daily mileage for these campsites inside Crater Lake NP. I was beginning my hike in the middle of the Rim Trail (near Merriam Point), and I’d be able to hike north all the way out of the park sometime this afternoon.
The second challenge with Crater Lake NP is water. You cannot just walk down to the lake and scoop up a few liters of water. Moreover, there aren’t any rivers or streams flowing into the lake. All that water comes solely from rain and melted snow, which is why Crater Lake is one of the cleanest water sources in the world.
There aren’t any natural water sources for the 20+ miles, making this the longest waterless stretch on the entire Oregon section of the PCT. As a result, I’d spent the entire car ride hydrating like crazy. And it’s why we briefly stopped near the park’s northern entrance to place a personal water cache that could tide me over through the dry afternoon and evening.
This morning’s forced hydration came with one significant consequence, though. Once I started hiking north, my bladder began going crazy. My pack’s hip belt was pressing uncomfortably against my stomach, and I had to scramble to find discreet places to make potty breaks three separate times during my first hour on the trail.
This might not seem like a major burden to anyone accustomed to peeing in the backcountry. But the Rim Trail didn’t have a wealth of inconspicuous places to take care of business. The last thing I needed was a Park Ranger rolling up on me and citing me for public urination in a national park.
As I continued north between my frequent potty breaks, I was treated to a few glimpses of Mt. Thielsen’s distinctive summit spire in the distance. And then, about 3.5 miles into my morning, the alternate was over. The Rim Trail merged with the PCT, and I was back on the red line once again.
The remainder of the morning and early afternoon was rather straightforward. The PCT was mostly flat with plenty of blowdowns to hurdle over. But there was no lingering snow here, and the mosquitoes weren’t too bad (yet). All told, it was a pretty easy re-entry to the PCT after a few weeks at home waiting for the trail to thaw.
I didn’t see a single soul as I hiked the remaining 9 miles north through the national park. It was just me and the blowdowns under the summer sun.
By 1:15 pm, I was getting bored with the limited scenery, and I began the game of counting the number of blowdowns I had to step over. By 2 pm, the count was up to 82, and I decided to give up. An average of 1.8 blowdowns per minute was not meaningful data I needed to collect, so I grabbed my phone and turned on an audiobook instead.
Just before I reached the park’s northern boundary, I came across a metal stand labeled “trail register.” Inside it, I found a pen and a sheaf of papers meant to be a trail log. There was space for hikers to provide today’s date, the lead hiker’s name, the number of people in the group, PCT permit info, hiking direction, the number of nights spent in the park, etc.
Normally, I enjoy flipping through these trailside registers just so I can see who’s ahead of me on the trail. But there was only one other entry for this week: a pair of hikers named Frick and Frack, whose self-reported info showed that they spent 4 nights in the park. I can only guess they dove deep into the sightseeing experience during their visit.
Mt. Theilsen Wilderness
Once I’d signed the register and provided my own data, it was time to say goodbye to Crater Lake NP and go in search of my water cache on the north side of Highway 138. The gallon jug was exactly where I’d secreted it away in the woods, but it was now noticeably warmer after sitting outside in the July heat for the past five hours.
Once again, I guzzled as much water as I could, then transferred 2.5 liters into my water bottles so I’d have enough for the rest of today’s hike. Theilsen Creek was another 8 miles ahead, and about two miles further than I intended to make camp tonight. I wouldn’t see my next water source until sometime tomorrow morning.
In hindsight, I probably didn’t need to drop a personal water cache here. Barely a quarter-mile farther, I reached a giant cache of 5-gallon water bottles waiting for my fellow PCT thru-hikers near the forest road.
Beyond the public cache, it was time to tackle the 6-mile climb up to the shoulder of Mt. Thielsen, where I’d cross paths with the Mt. Thielsen Trail and (hopefully) set up camp for the night.
Mt. Thielsen is an infamous mountain here in Oregon. Like many of Oregon’s peaks, it’s an extinct volcano. However, glacial erosion on the mountain left it with steep, loose slopes and a bizarre Matterhorn-like spire at the summit.
This spire acts as a natural lightning rod, and the peak of Mt. Theilsen has been struck by lightning more than any natural feature in the state. Scientists know this fact because each time the summit block is struck by lightning, it forms unusual mineral tubes and clumps called fulgurite, or “fossilized lightning.”
Mt. Thielsen is also on my peakbagging list as I travel around Oregon, trying to climb the highest point in each of the 36 counties. Whenever I eventually get to this mountain, it will count as a “two-fer” because the peak’s summit bisects the county line between Douglas and Klamath counties.
I planned to hike up to Mt. Thielsen’s shoulder around 7,335 feet today, but the final 1,850 vertical feet of the climb won’t be a side quest for this PCT section hike. That’s because the summit itself is a bit of a tricky climb, and it should really be done with a climbing partner, a rope, and the ability to rappel back down. This southern Oregon summit would have to wait for its own dedicated trip.
Chickenpox Lake
The next few hours of hiking felt like a long slog. This wasn’t due to the trail’s grade, but rather the hot July afternoon and the extra 5.5 pounds of water I added to my backpack before beginning the ascent. I felt like a pack mule struggling up the side of a mountain and had to stop multiple times to catch my breath.
During each rest break, I was treated to lovely views, including Mt. Scott to my south (next to Crater Lake) and Diamond Lake immediately to my west.
One of my most unforgettable childhood memories took place at Diamond Lake. It was around Thanksgiving, and I’d just turned 7 years old a few weeks earlier. My younger sisters were around ages 5 and 3, and our mom was working as a nurse at our local hospital in Roseburg, Oregon.
Mom never caught chickenpox as a kid, and that November, she was exposed to it by a sick patient she was treating at the hospital. She immediately came down with the viral infection, and then it spread through the household to all three of us kids. I can only imagine how miserable it must have been to be a sick 28-year-old mother with three little kids under 8 who were also sick with the chickenpox.
Mom must have been going crazy trying to get each of us to stop scratching our incredibly itchy sores, so she decided to take us out to Diamond Lake for the day to go snowmobiling. Not only was this activity the perfect distraction from the chickenpox, but the cold air seemed to work like an ice pack on our itchy rashes. And the combination of mittens and snowsuits kept us from effectively scratching, even if we’d wanted to.
And so — even 35 years later — chickenpox is the first thing I think of whenever I see Diamond Lake.
Big, big miles
After 6 miles of continuous climbing, I finally reached my destination. There were several lovely established campsites right near the junction of the PCT and the Mt. Theilsen Trail, and each site offered panoramic views.
This was also where I met my first hiker of the day: a fellow from Ohio named Parker. Parker and I chatted for a bit, and I learned that he was also out here to section-hike the PCT through Oregon. He’d hiked his first 130 miles from Ashland through Highway 138 last year, but was stopped by wildfires once he hit the northern border of Crater Lake at Highway 138.
Parker had two weeks of vacation this summer, and he returned to the PCT hoping to make it all the way from Highway 138 to Cascade Locks before he had to head back home. That was a pretty big, ambitious PCT hiking goal for a flatlander from Ohio. That’s 300 miles of hiking in just 2 weeks! He’ll need to make 20+ mile days the entire way, and he won’t have time to take any zeros or nearos in towns like Sisters or Bend.
I wished Parker good luck in his endeavor as he took off for the upcoming water source located two miles to our north. He had many more miles to cover tonight if he wanted to meet his hiking goal.
Mt. Thielsen Alpenglow
Once Parker left, I decided to set up camp in one of the spots on the ridge with awesome views of Mt. Thielsen’s summit. It was only 5:15 pm, and I probably could have pushed on a bit farther north to Thielsen Creek today, but why would I do that?
I trucked a ton of water up to this spot, and you couldn’t beat the views from these elevated campsites. Besides, there was a nice breeze up here for now, which should help keep the hordes of mosquitoes at bay. After 18 miles of hiking, this was the perfect spot to set up a solo campsite and catch the sunset and sunrise.
My only concern about this campsite was the consequences of the high elevation. It was supposed to drop to 43 degrees at Crater Lake tonight, and I’m at over 7,300 feet, so it will undoubtedly be several degrees colder up here. But hiking farther north wasn’t going to change that fact, so I made myself comfy and settled in.
After a bit of relaxing in my tent and reviewing tomorrow’s terrain and water sources, I decided I’d better get around to making dinner. It was nearly 7 pm already, and it would soon be dusk. As I lit my stove at a flat spot nearby, another PCT hiker named Trash Panda suddenly appeared. He set up camp near me, and the two of us ate dinner together until the mosquitoes forced us into our respective tents for the night.
As the sun began to set in the west, it cast a beautiful pink alpenglow onto Mt. Thielsen. This was, hands down, one of the prettiest campsite views I’ve had on the Oregon section of the PCT. Thank goodness I didn’t press on just to camp closer to the next water source.
