Pacific Crest Trail: Oregon

Eyes in the dark. Crater Lake. Three Sisters & Bend. Huckleberry Burns. Mount Hood & Cascade Locks.

Jun 19, 2025

Preamble

Apologies I’ve fallen a little behind with this PCT series, I’ve taken some time away from it. The hiking season is well and truly under way and I’m not out on trail. However, it’s great to see that so many people I met last year are either back on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), Appalachian Trail (AT) or the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) enjoying themselves!

I shouldn’t complain though, I’ve had an interesting few months travelling for work and was lucky enough to escape the British winter in New Zealand — shooting some exciting travel pieces for Lodestars Anthology magazine — I’ll be able to share more on those projects in the coming months.

Eyes in the Dark

That first morning in Oregon I woke early wanting to get into the town of Ashland. Leaving Machine and Shifu at camp, I set out alone in complete darkness. By this stage of the hike you might expect I’d be well versed in night hiking, but as it went I had mostly kept to the daylight hours. I was warming up when I was interrupted by a logging road, in the early hours it was unclear which direction the trail was going.

Pausing for a moment I shuffled back and forth trying to find a trail-marker, my headlight revealing several reflective roadsigns. Suddenly, I stopped right in my tracks — Something else caught the reflection of my headlight, two large hollow eyes were pinned on me — Time slowed. I froze, staring back at the eyes in front of me, just thirty or forty metres away. In the darkness, I didn’t know my next move.

There was no aggression from the animal, only silence, yet I felt the fear in my stomach. I had heard countless stories about mountain lions, how to react, how to survive — but in that moment I just stopped. Still. — Panning up and down the tree line with my headlight, maybe the others would catch up. Looking back at the eyes and it’s distinctive nose, sizing me up. Suddenly it bolted, sprinting down the bank in the opposite direction. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stood there for several minutes more, checking my surroundings. As I walked again I thought I heard branches cracking behind, mountain lions have been known to stalk prey for miles. Though this one decided to let me live another day.

Making my way down to State Highway 5 I caught a hitch almost immediately. It was memorable for several reasons, students from South Oregon University had left pastries at the trailhead. I was told I didn’t smell, after not having showered in six days. Thirdly Katy (my ride) explained there had been an assassination attempt on Trump the day before.

The last thru hiker Katy picked up had left a smell that it didn’t leave her car for weeks, which had put her off giving rides. Poor hygiene was a point of pride for some hikers, a badge of honour. I jumped in just about every watering hole or river I could find, so it never became a problem. Some people revelled in the dirt, perhaps it was the complete disconnect from society that they needed, to become a true dirtbag, a vagabond.

In Ashland I caught up with River at a sports bar for the Euros final. She had found a new crew of eight including Barry from Ireland, I immediately knew we would get along. He was unafraid to give me shit after England’s 2-1 defeat in the Euros Final. I fell just behind Rivers group after meeting them that day, speaking to one hiker Tortuga — Hikers talk a lot on trail, swapping news, rumours and stories — “Oh yeah, Barry? Just missed him. You must be the guy crying about England losing?” Barry had spread a (harmless) rumour that the reason I was lagging was because of the football result. (Barry also makes great hiking content)

Crater Lake

Ashland to Crater Lake is what hikers call a ‘green tunnel’ the trail winds endlessly through forest and the trees can block the views. Emerging from the woods after two days I found myself happy to be up on a ridge-line. Though the smoke billowing on the horizon, was cause for concern — it was the Falls Fire near Crater Lake National Park.

Even if a wildfire looks far off in the distance, it can be a strange feeling setting up camp knowing how fast they can spread overnight — That night bears voiced their concerns about something (the Falls Fire?), groaning in earshot — Dreary eyed I hobbled into Crater Lake visitors centre only to find River and Horse Seducer (Barry) planning to leave right away, they were eating beige Park Service cafeteria food, discussing how to navigate the Falls Fire ahead.

I had walked 567 trail miles since rejoining at Echo Lake 25 days before and had only taken one full zero, so I didn’t try to keep up with them. Due to the fires there was a bottleneck of hikers, around thirty of us camped out together that evening — it felt strange to camp alongside members of the public on their holidays, RV’s and BBQ’s — Even stranger still was that they insisted on having campfires whilst a wildfire was raging in the distance, days later a State-wide fire ban was enforced.

The following day I spent the afternoon at Crater Lake pretending to be a tourist. I caught up with Poppins, who you may remember from our dramatic meeting at Kerrick Crossing in the Sierras. We camped out on the crater rim, light faded the lake was covered in a vale of smoke from the fires. We drank a selection of mini bar shots that my friend Stefan had sent me, catching up as we overlooked Wizard Island in the centre of the Crater Lake.

In Oregon there was always another peak on the horizon, mostly ancient volcanoes — though that morning we woke up on the edge of one, almost inside of it. Crater Lake is the aftermath of a massive eruption 7,700 years ago, forming the deepest lake in the United States. We hiked out to the highway along the Crater Rim Alternate and found a ride around the Falls Fire already waiting for us.

This skip cut out 60 miles of trail, a hard pill to swallow. Arriving at Shelter Cove I managed a full resupply out of a legendary hiker box, swam in Lake Odell with smoke in the air around us. That evening some generous RV owners introduced us to the American tradition of “Steamers” seafood trays filled with clams, corn, shrimp, crawfish, mussels and chorizo with baguette to dip in the broth. Sharing the meal with Prick and Bags, another reunion on the trail.

Three Sisters and Bend

The next section from Shelter Cove to State Highway 20 (Bend) passed through a range of topography, mosquito infested lakes, burn zones, lava fields and the majesty of the Three Sisters and Mount Washington Wilderness. Reaching State Highway 20 into Bend was a significant milestone, marking just over 2000 miles on trail and some well earned rest.

The days leading toward this milestone were a mix of mosquitoes, open meadows and black obsidian fields. Walking beneath Mount Washington after navigating one of the most breathtaking lava fields and burn zone combined, we found ourselves camping alongside deer, pika and marmots during golden hour.

I had been in Peru before starting the Pacific Crest Trail and a friend I met surfing in Huanchaco said there would be a sofa waiting for me if I ever made it as far North as Oregon. Parker lived in Bend which happened to be one of the most popular trail towns, due to its brewery-to-resident ratio that is among the highest in the United States.

We spent two days eating, drinking, cliff jumping, playing volleyball and floating down the Deschutes river, (hardly resting at all) before heading back onto trail. During our stay there was thick smoke, making the sunsets glow a deep orange till late at night — Parker explained this was becoming the new normal for their summers in Bend.

Huckleberry Burns

Burn zones hold a quiet beauty that is difficult to articulate. Raw, unforgiving and honest, they exhibit the power of earths natural forces. Wildfires have always been a part of natural cycles, though in recent years they are burning more intensely than ever, leaving some areas as scorched earth dead zones — near Brahma Lake there appeared to be no new growth from a fire that took place four years before. (There is a lot to unpack with the changing face of wildfires, this episode of Field Notes podcast was particularly insightful)

Oregons climate is ideal for huckleberries, a successive fruit that thrives in recovering burn zones. Famously hard to propagate, these small berries stop most hikers in their tracks — they are something like a cross between a blueberry and a blackberry, both tart and sweet. They were abundant in Oregon and Washington and a great addition to morning oats or a snack on trail.

I found my first ones after leaving Bend, helping to sustain my limited food supplies on route to Mount Hood. I intended to pack less food weight and put in some longer days, hoping to make it to Timberline Lodge in two days. Leaving Ollalie Lake on my second day I put in my longest effort on trail at 37 miles, falling just short of the lodge. Arriving early the next day in time for the all you can eat buffet.

I guess I had started to build some sort of a resilience to wildfires. Or at least grow accustom to how common they were here, sometimes I would be caught off guard at how blasé Americans could be when discussing fires. “100,000 acres? Thats nothing to worry about.” There was always a bigger one soemwhere. There were fires popping up all over the place, but now I was more concerned that they may end my hike early.

Mount Hood & Cascade Locks

Mount Hood was wrapped in a blanket of mist for as long as I walked on the mountain, never seeing it’s iconic peak until I was thirty miles north of it. Walking around Timberline Lodge with rain hitting the windows it was easy to imagine myself in The Shining (the exterior shots of the lodge were used in Kubricks film from 1980). As I was leaving the Lodge grounds I met a British couple Matt & Rachel at a river crossing, I would end up walking most of Washington state with them.

Walking down into Cascade Locks was a special moment in the journey, marking the end of Oregon. This sleepy town sits beside the colossal Columbia River, naturally forming the border between Oregon and Washington. I had walked the length of Oregon in 18 days, honestly it felt pretty good. This State had flown by, but once you have your trail legs you are set your own rhythm. My fourth pair of shoes were on their way out, a new pair was waiting for me at the post office. I had been flying solo for a few days now, though at this stage there were so many friendly faces each day, I’d met a lot of people at this point.

At the brewery in town I found Taps at the bar, we hadn’t seen each other since South Lake Tahoe. Suddenly every meeting felt somehow sentimental, every conversation could be a goodbye. There was a creeping realisation that this fantasy of a life on trail wasn’t going to last forever. Sometimes you went weeks without seeing each other and I felt sudden fear that I might never see some of these people again.

There is a strange communal bond between thru hikers from the shared experience of a long distance trail, a reassurance that what you’re doing is somehow part of the human condition. Whilst I had walked some of the trail alone — in total around 15 days — I’d learnt that I was much more community-minded than I had ever realised. Matt and Rachel came rolling into the Brewery and we sat swapping stories from the trail and home as other hikers arrived into town. As the evening drew in, we made our way to the Bridge of the Gods, walking over the Columbia River and into Washington.