First, To resupply at Shelter Cove, PCT mile 1903.68 (not counting 1.3 mi road walk to Shelter Cove Marina and RV Park), then to return to trail (again not counting 1.3 non-PCT miles) and continue to Lower Rosary Lake, 1908.36, elev. 5725. Total up/down: +1205/-2412.
Dear Trail Friends,
It is 7:16 pm and I am sitting on a log near my tent near the lower Rosary lake. It was a struggle to stop here for the night. I had my sights set on the Maiden Peak shelter, a lodge open to campers with wood-burning stove, table, solar-powered electric lights. Unique among shelters, my app says, in how clean and well cared for it is. I was also struck by the series: Lower Rosary Lake, Middle Rosary Lake, Upper Rosary Lake, Maiden Lake, Maiden Peak. I think the virgin goddess whether Artemis or Mary is very alive in these woods. That helps me hold the contradictory impressions of a landscape of softness and gentleness and a fierce explosive volcanic landscape. Certainly Artemis holds those contradictions. I wonder if there are traditions in which Mary does also?
But despite the lure of the maiden goddess, I persuaded myself to slow down, have an evening where I was really not too tired to write this blog, maybe have the energy to make -- and enjoy making -- a few sewing repairs.
I had an amazing morning hiking through these beautiful and I think sacred woods. Apparently there is a big fire (500 acres one hiker said) in the Umquah (?) wilderness and there is a lot of smoke in the air. This makes for dramatic and colorful sunsets and sunrises.
Photo 1. Hiking pre-dawn.
Photo 2. A clear pond in the dawn light.
I woke early 2:30 with the full moon glaring into my tent. I tried and tried but could not get back to sleep. At 3:30 I gave in and slowly ate my breakfast, sipped coffee, and packed up for my day. I started hiking at 5 am.
As I walked I meditated on this part of the journey -- this hike toward the three sisters mountains-- as a special walking prayer for me and my two sisters. (I decided to include my two brothers as well ) I was struck that this pilgrimage is focused on sister Bonnie riding her wave, on grandson Justin bringing to life his dream of an animated film based on the folklore of his Filipino heritage, and on yours truly learning and practicing self compassion. Two of the three sisters are focuses of this pilgrimage. I was struck that I can see two of the sister mountains but one is not visible yet. I decided it was important to include Judy in this prayer-walk. I repeated my (current) version of Metta, for the three of us and the five of us: May we be healthy, happy, safe, at ease. May we find family, home, healing, freedom from suffering. May we be held in love, may we hold others in love, may we be at peace. So I am making these next few days a prayer walk to the three sister mountains on behalf of the three sisters (AND the two brothers!)
As I walked and my mind went into its incessant planning and scheming about how I will make it to the Canada border and how I will manage to get my last little patch of Northern California hiked, a strange idea came into my mind. It was the idea to leave that patch (which includes Belden, the midpoint of the hike and of course I have loved the idea of ending in the middle just like a post modern narrative) unhiked. To not finish. To not complete. I thought of Japanese potters deliberately leaving a small crack or blemish because beauty is a feature of this world of transience and finitude. It is not perfect, not complete. That I would hike a journey with a hole in the middle and as a pilgrimage it would bless and honor all the unfinished beautiful experiences of my life. It would be like the crack in Leonard Cohen's song Anthem: there is a crack, a crack in everything. It's how the light gets in.
Somehow the idea of leaving my hike with a crack or a blemish, an affirmation of finitude, made me cry. I realized the drive to completion for me -- for the hike, for my life -- is to make something so whole and complete it bursts out of transience into eternity. To defeat death. It ain't gonna happen. I realize now, if the weather and health gods continue to bless me, that I can hike to Canada and without having to push myself too hard. And then I realize this hike is really going to come to an end.
And in some ways my fantasies of completion, and also my fantasies of future long distance hikes (the Arizona trail, the Colorado trail) are in part attempts to deny finitude.
To leave my hike a fragment. To leave my life a fragment. To relinquish the fantasy of integration, completion, wholeness and what was that church Latin phrase, saecula saeculorum. Something like that. I think it meant forever and ever. World without end.
So much change coming. Chrissy has just learned that the house she has rented when she teaches fall quarters at Pacifica Graduate Institute may not be available to her after this year. Her colleague/landlord/dear friend Ginette retired last year and her life is changing. It feels like the ending of an era. I felt the sadness of that era ending and my hike ending.
And somehow to leave a hole in the middle feels like truly letting go. Like the little girl I once was carrying the beautiful monarch butterfly outside on her finger and letting it fly away.
When I got to Shelter Cove I found myself with the always daunting (for me) task of sorting my resupplies and getting them organized and packed, as well as showering and doing laundry. I found the group of PCT hikers hanging out distracting (though I liked them, and got to know blonde, braided "sunkist" whose partner Penguin or Guino has a twirled mustache that he manages to keep waxed on the trail -/ I learned that she is a "nurse navigator" at a Stanford Lung Cancer center in San Francisco where she deals primarily with 4th stage lung cancer patients and their families. I ended up telling her how much it means to me that Bonnie and I have rekindled the love between us since her diagnosis, and of course then I started to cry.
Fuck impermanence.
Meanwhile though I felt the need to get back to the trail and solitude and found I did not want to linger and rest at Shelter Cove on what felt like a throng.
Photo 3. As I hike up and look back, Shelter Cove looks beautifully peaceful. I like it better from up here than down there in it.
Photo 4. So I stop to rest at Lower Rosary Lake. And persuade myself to go in. Only with all the families and kids camped around the lake, skinny dipping doesn't seem quite right. So my wonderful little black town dress doubles as bathing suit. And though the rocks seem to me perilous and slippery I tell myself that getting in and out gracefully is not the issue. I more or less crawl over the rocks til i can slip into the water. And yes I can swim a little, dog paddle, use my arms from the elbow like a penguin trying to fly, and not hurt the shoulder. It isn't all or nothing. Maybe I can't yet maybe ever seim a half hour with those great stretching strokes that seemed to bring my whole body into harmony with itself and the sky and the water. But I can slide into the water for a short dip and let my body be washed in the holiness of the experience. One of the nearby camping moms encouraged me, and I asked her to take this photo.
So enough for now. I am so sad that continuing tech problems make me unable to upload these blogs. But I will somehow someday and you will be reading and listening and for me you are here with me now. The day is fading. The wind is getting cooler. The lake is still absolutely beautiful but no longer sparkles with sunlight.
Time to collect my town dress/bathing suit from its perch on a fir tree (to dry) and snuggle into my tent, silk liner, and sleeping bag. I have heard from Pam Wilson, longtime friend of my dear San Diego friend Joanie, who has offered to host me in Bend--including picking me up at Santiam Pass (which is much further from Bend than I realized, per my friend John who lives in Bend) and returning me there -- and she says the date changes are okay. Chrissy has agreed to come earlier to Timberline, so I should have plenty of time to hike Washington clear to the Canada border and make my way home to Orcas in time to take off again for Oklahoma Andy fiftieth high school reunion. Those high school days were my love affair with the Roman Catholic Church and especially the part of it that has a commitment to social justice. It feels just right to be camped beside Rosary Lake tonight.
Remind me to tell you about the fire that we heard about, when I arrived at Shelter Cove, in the part of the trail I had just this morning walked.
Love and happy trails.
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