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Journalist
City: Athena
State: OR
Country: USA
Begins: Apr 16, 2011
Direction: Northbound
Daily Summary
Date: Sun, Sep 4th, 2011
Journal Stats
Entry Visits: 3,170
Journal Visits: 44,532
Guestbook Views: 1,829
Guestbook Entrys: 32
Gear list
Pacific Crest Trail Map
Woke up about 7 and seriously considered packing up and driving home right away. But of course, people started stopping by the campsite, and the next thing I knew I was going to breakfast at the Charburger with the gang. Packed the car and although it wasn't as full as when I left, it was very disorganized.
We took a round table in the corner near an outlet so that some of the hikers could charge up their phones. Because of the forest fires, parts of the PCT are closed, and anyone thinking of going SB from Cascade Locks would have to make a loop (go up one trail and back down the other) because the trail is closed at Wahtum Lake to Ramona Falls.
Mad Hatter was going to go SB and then thought he'd need a ride around. I emailed Shrek this morning and got a reply as we were heading to breakfast. Shrek was heading NB to support Balls and Sunshine but said MH needed to call him. Then I got another email saying Shrek was going to Bend/Redmond area. Mad Hatter got on the phone and now has arranged a ride back from Snoqualamie, as he looked at the 10-day forecast and has decided to hike Washington.
Ordered the breakfast burrito which was huge. Ate about 2/3's of it. Also came with sour cream and salsa and a little fruit cup. Scout's Honor joined us. Around 10:30 I decided to get on the road, as I knew I had to get home and get the car unpacked. Got a picture of Mad Hatter in his full regalia. He said the MH at kick off was an imposter.
The drive home was uneventful. Stopped at Walmart in Pendleton to recycle the bottles and cans and picked up salad fixings.
The house is very clean. Puffy was very happy to see me. Pandora and Venus so so. Tomatoes look like they've been producing well and need watered. Need to order George's present.
Lost and Found
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, Guinness in one hand, steak in the other, yell 'Holy Sh**, What a Ride!"