Failed Trip to Mount Jefferson: A story in three acts

2.23.2009

Prelude

The winter weather in Portland is pretty dreary and I had begun to get restless. I thought, Central Oregon gets 300 days of sun a year, odds are it'll be bright and warm there. I actually thought that. You might say, Adelaide, that logic doesn't really follow. It's still winter and you are going to the mountains, how could you delude yourself into thinking you could backpack there?

You might say that, and I would tell you to kindly keep your opinions to yourself.


Act One: Big Plans

Place Adelaide wanted to stay:


Well, not exactly. This photo is of Mount Washington, a volcano that last erupted over 1,000 years ago. I took this picture from the side of the road, after I climbed up a 4 foot snow bank created by the plows.

This is as close to nature as I would come on the trip.

It turns out that the trail I wanted to hike was impassable without snowshoes. I had anticipated some snow, but I thought I could park my car, hike to a covering, set up camp and enjoy the sunshine. No such luck. It wasn't just that there was snow on the trail, the entire parking place was snowed over and then the road had been plowed so that all you could see was the sign: Pacific Crest Trail.


Act Two: Reality hits

Place Adelaide ended up staying:



It's ok, I said to myself. So things aren't going to go as I planned, that's alright, I'll make new plans. So I drove through the city Bend and out into the Badlands.

About two hours into the middle of nowhere, I pulled my car over and got out. With no light pollution, the stars were amazing. I got my sleeping bag out of the trunk, opened the sun roof of the car, leaned back and watched the sky. I saw three shooting stars before I fell asleep.

Midnight: I awoke with the feeling of something falling on my face. It had started sleeting in the night. I turned on the car and shut the sun roof. I was wet and cold, and there were no stars. Suddenly, the idea of sleeping on the side of the road stopped being a romantic idea.


Act Three: Reality hits harder

Place Adelaide ended up staying the rest of the night:


In my mind's eye, I had at least expected that, if I couldn't hike, I could stay in a quaint country inn. However, there are no inns in the badlands, in fact, the only structure I saw was for A-1 Antelope taxidermy: Free Salt! And, as I was unsure how long things would go on like this, I drove back through the freezing rain hoping to not slip on any forming ice patches. I found this hotel late at night, and sleep-deprived and shivering, asked for a room.


Ah, well. It was a noble effort nonetheless. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for sunshine so that I can get outside again.

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