Wednesday Jul. 19, 2023
- Start: Tenas Peak Trail (PCT mile 1875.7)
- End: Near Diamond Peak (PCT mile 1899.3)
- Distance: 23.6 miles
The mosquitoes are going to kill me. I’m just about certain of that.
It was a warm night, and I woke around 5:20 am to the sound of several bees loudly buzzing near my tent. I hoped that getting up early to retrieve my Ursack at this hour meant I might avoid the hordes of mosquitoes that seem to be everywhere on the PCT.
No such luck. They found me the second I exited my tent. And at least 25 of them were able to follow me back inside, even as I tried to re-enter the mesh as quickly as humanly possible. Maybe I should have walked a little bit farther yesterday, in hopes that I could find somewhere in the burn zone where a breeze might keep them at bay. Which fate was worse? Mosquitoes or camping near all those widowmakers?
Holy Cache, Batman!
After four downhill morning miles, I reached Windigo Pass, where I was elated to discover a massive cache waiting for me on the far side of the forest road.
My last water was at Maidu Lake (13 miles back), where I’d stopped for lunch yesterday. I was trying to avoid another detour down a steep hill to a spring. So I made the foolhardy decision to carry all my water for yesterday afternoon, last night’s dinner, and this morning’s breakfast from the lake.
When I reached the pass, I was down to rationing a mere 6 ounces of water. So seeing the immense cache of water was amazing!
I don’t know who these trail angels are that created this giant cache, but all I can say is thank you so very much! It wasn’t just limited to water either. There was an entire box filled with 30% DEET mosquito repellent wipes. A second box was filled with external battery banks that hikers could use to juice up their phones. Plus, more boxes were filled with medical supplies, TP, fuel canisters, and goodies.
It seriously was like Christmas morning at Windigo Pass!! I strongly suspect most PCT thru-hikers stopped here overnight instead of 4 miles back where I’d camped.
Peaks & lakes
I continued hiking north from the pass, back into the trees, with the sun illuminating a prominent volcanic peak up ahead. The Windigo Lakes dotted the scenery below, but my eyes remained on the mountain with its distinctive horn-shaped spire as the trail gradually climbed over the next four miles.
Early pioneers referred to this volcanic peak as “Little Cowhorn” to distinguish it from Mt. Theilsen, which they originally called “Big Cowhorn.” The taller peak was ultimately renamed in 1872 after Hans Theilsen, a prominent civil engineer who helped build the California & Oregon Railroad. So now Little Cowhorn is simply Cowhorn Mountain.
As I crossed the shoulder of Cowhorn Mountain, I passed two fellow hikers heading north. They’d stopped for a snack, but the mosquitoes swirling around them urged me to continue on rather than linger after our initial hellos.
Just beyond Cowhorn Mountain, the PCT pivoted and began heading at more or less a northwest angle, which revealed all the turquoise-blue lakes to my east. Off in the distance, I could even make out Crescent Lake, with its distinctive sandy rim encircling the lake.
Mosquito hell
The PCT dipped back into the woods as I made the 8-mile-long descent toward Summit Lake, where I planned to stop for lunch. Small piles of snow dotted the trail here and there, which was just more evidence of what a high snow year 2023 was. It was now mid-July, and the heat was already into the 80s this morning, yet the patchy snow lingered.
All this extra snow meant there were so many mosquitoes along these forested miles. I’d used a DEET wipe from the Windigo Pass cache to protect my bare legs from the insects. And I sprayed picaridin on my sun hoodie and on anything that might touch my pack or gear (since DEET can damage plastic, vinyl, or elastic and degrade waterproof coatings).
But even all that protection didn’t seem to be enough to keep the Oregon mosquitoes at bay today.
So I reluctantly pulled out my bug net to keep them off my face and out of my eyes, nose, and mouth. I hate hiking in this item (which I’ve nicknamed my “bug burka”). The netting seems to trap heat and warm air in, making me even sweatier when I’m hiking. But this is the harsh reality of hiking in Oregon in July!
LakeSIDE retreat
Just after noon, the PCT dropped down to Summit Lake, where it paralleled the water for the next 1.3 miles. At the north end of the lake, near the Emigrant Pass Trailhead, there is a USFS campground, with lots of car camping tent sites. I arrived in that perfect window of the day when most of the sites were empty. The prior day’s occupants had already departed, and the new day’s occupants hadn’t yet arrived.
This left me with the perfect opportunity to set up my tent on the edge of the lake and just relax while I ate lunch. I was close enough to the lake that I could filter water for the afternoon miles, go dip my feet and legs in to wash off some dust, and enjoy the cool breeze off the water.
Thanks to my early morning start, I’d hiked 15 miles by lunch. So my plan was to just relax beside the lake before hiking the final 5-6 miles of the day. While I lay on my back staring up at the trees, I tallied up the damage from today’s mosquito barrage. I have about a dozen welts dotting my calves, each about the size of a nickel. I have blood streaks all over my sun gloves from the mosquitoes I smacked while they were actively biting me. And the tops of my shoulders look like a polka-dot mayhem with 10-15 bites on each one!
After a leisurely 2.5-hour lunch, I decided it was time to pack up and get moving. The bugs weren’t going to magically disappear, and it was time to face the inevitable as I headed into the Diamond Peak Wilderness.
I barely made it 1.5 miles up the trail before I spotted some hikers out for a swim in one of the lakes. I stopped to talk to a hiker named Poppy for a bit and discovered she was out here filling in her “fire gaps” from last year’s PCT thru-hike. At least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about as much this year. A high snow year usually doesn’t yield as big a fire risk as a drought year.
Diamond Peak
I bid goodbye to Poppy and began my hike north toward Diamond Peak. This massive volcanic mountain was named for one of the early Oregon settlers: John Diamond. He and William Macy climbed the mountain in 1852 as part of a survey party known as the “road viewers” who helped plan a road that would eventually be known as Free Emigrant Road.
About a mile after I left Poppy, I passed another large pond where I could have topped up my water, but I decided against it. There was a 5-mile climb ahead, and the comments on FarOut said the water was still flowing down a creek on the east side of Diamond Peak.
I was in no mood to repeat yesterday’s long water carry throughout the hot afternoon, especially since I’ve decided to push my mileage a little farther to make sure I reached (or got slightly past) the creek today.
As I hiked closer to Diamond Peak, I noted that this prominent mountain didn’t have a narrow summit like Cowhorn Mountain or most of Oregon’s other volcanic peaks. Instead, it looked like it had a series of bumps atop a long ridgeline. Snow still clung to the mountain’s eastern side, even as the temperature seemed to be creeping up toward 90°F today.
I spent the better part of the warm afternoon leap-frogging with the two guys I passed this morning up near Cowhorn Mountain. Once we reached the top of the long climb, we were all treated to views and snow patches near 7,000 feet elevation.
The creek was only another 0.3 miles ahead, and I stopped to consider whether to set up camp when I found a fantastic spot just big enough for one single tent. There were views for days from the exposed spot up on a ledge. But there were also tons of bees buzzing around because of all the alpine flowers.
After briefly checking my phone for service, I decided it was better to just move on. This was a great spot, but I still needed water. I’d hopefully find an equally good spot closer to, or just beyond, the creek.
With the sun beating down on me, I tried to filter my water quickly, and I was the first to leave the creek. Just a little bit later, I returned to some trees and spotted a large, established campsite in the woods that was big enough for at least 6-8 hikers to set up. Another hiker was already set up, so I angled my way to the edge of the campsite to grab a spot with a view to the east.
At first I thought there might be enough of a breeze to make this a bug-free haven. But the mosquitoes were amazingly abundant and persistent. I was barely done setting up my tent when the two guys from the creek joined me and set up nearby. Poppy arrived a half hour later, and then a fifth (very loud) hiker rolled in around 8:15 in the evening.
It was a full house tonight! But the company of other hikers was a nice addition after my solo night last night. I was able to hike 23.6 miles today, which was a bit further than I’d planned. This only leaves me with 10.2 miles to hike before I reach the end of this section at Willamette Pass tomorrow.
I’m really looking forward to going home (and enjoying a double-zero) before Poledork and I return to the PCT to resume our hike. Our plan is to pick up the section that I skipped (between Fish Lake and Crater Lake) and hike through the Sky Lakes Wilderness together. That 58-mile stretch is the final section of trail she needs to complete the Oregon part of the PCT. And I’m really looking forward to being there to join in the celebration when she finishes!
