Leaving Shelter Cove, the trail led past an overlook, where I saw a woman on her phone. I was excited because that meant there was service! I called home and talked to my mom and sister while I hiked, which really brightened my day. I’d definitely felt lonely hiking without a group. Over the next few days, however, I leap-frogged with a couple of hikers, River and Dr. Quinn and we had some really fun exchanges. Dr. Quinn told me about her life as a yoga teacher for elderly people and those with disabilities. Quinn left before me the next morning, but I caught up to her and River, sitting beside a lake, looking at a small lake with mist illuminated by the morning light. I felt obligated to keep hiking, but stopped, feeling as though I was withholding good experiences from myself in my mad dash to Canada. We sat and Quinn shared some Oreos with us, the ultimate generosity. It was a lovely chill moment for me.

At lunchtime, I set my tent and sleeping bag out to dry, as condensation left them soaked in the morning. As I got some water to filter from a lake, I noticed River was on the other side. We waved and yelled at each other. I suggested we swim to the middle of the lake, high five, and swim back, just because we could. We did so and it was cool. After lunchtime, I walked through a huge open field, surrounded by reddish mountains.

The next day, the views did not disappoint. It began with a turn around a corner to reveal the Three Sisters mountains. Next on the tour was the Obsidian Limited Entry Area, where an obsidian waterfall flowed and the hills randomly sparkled in the morning light. Around another corner was Mount Jefferson, with snow yet clinging to the top. It drew closer as I stumbled over the lava field that the trail crossed. Underfoot, the roughly circular rocks were unstable on a steep climb. At the top, surrounded by the lava, I could easily imagine myself on another planet.

Trail magic awaited on the other side of the lava field in the form of Coppertone, once again! Tinkle and I had met him on the Hat Creek Rim in northern California. Just as before, he gave me a root beer float. I deeply enjoyed that and our conversation as I ate the rest of my lunch. He told me that my next stop, Big Lake Youth Camp, usually had dinner for hikers, but would not on that night. Bummer. Between my lunch spot and BLYC lay a rocky burned area and a sandy burned area. I realized in these areas that I didn’t plan well for water and only had 1.5 liters for the rest of the twelve miles until the next source. Rationing water, I made it to the camp, where I had sent my first box of supply to myself from Ashland.

The camp had an A-frame dedicated to hiker use, complete with kitchen, showers, laundry, and shelves upon shelves of resupply boxes hikers had sent themselves. Soon after I got there, a man came and said they had leftovers to share from the campers’ dinner! We got chili and taco salad. Incredible. After dinner, I showered and organized my supply for the next section while I waited for my laundry to finish. By the time I was ready to move on, it was 9 pm. I set out, planning to night hike to the next campsite. I had barely gotten to the end of the parking lot when my headlamp died. Oops. I walked back, charged it for a half hour, and left again, walking along the road to return to trail. I hadn’t night hiked much before and never by myself. It was pretty creepy as cars passed me in the dark. At the point where I should’ve found the trail, I couldn’t see where it began or where the tentsites were that my trail guide app alleged they should be. I ended up cowboy camping in a parking area and watching shooting stars overhead. I knew I needed to find the balance between making miles and actually experiencing those miles. My journey was definitely changed from a week earlier. I was lonelier, but more independent. I was faster, but still had a long way to go before the end. The next day I would hit mile two thousand.