July 20, 2018. Northport to stealth camp near the Kettle River. 24 miles
I woke up early and packed. I hadn’t mentioned this previously, but this was a big resupply. I would not get supplies again for 130 miles at Bonaparte Lake Resort. Averaging 20 miles a day meant six days. I usually bring about two and a half pounds of food per day. So, I would be leaving town with 18 pounds of food plus my regular, base weight.
Trying to carbo load, I ordered huevos rancheros with two extra eggs. I then ordered dessert: strawberry rhubarb crisp. With ice cream. The Mustang Grill was a great place. They were fast, organized, the food was good. Indeed, for the first half hour, about every five minutes a different bachelor rancher or farmer came in and got “the usual.”
The first part of today’s travel was to cross the Columbia River. Unlike prior bridges, there was no pedestrian walkway. Instead, there was a narrow catwalk with a low barrier between me and the vehicles and a waist high railing over the river.
As I started across, I noticed it was proudly built in 1947. At first, I steadied myself and took tiny steps. Twice, cars came by and the bridge didn’t rattle. Too much.
About halfway across, I was taking adult-sized steps. I looked ahead and saw my second worst fear: a logging truck barreling towards me. My worst fear? Another one coming from behind.
Suddenly, huevos rancheros seemed very, very stupid. I almost dropped to all fours, but then realized I wanted to plummet to my death with dignity. So I stood and waited as the truck got closer. The bridge was shaking pretty good as the driver waved passing by me. As the sound of the truck faded, so the grinding and popping of the bridge faded. From that point, I fairly sprinted to the end. What a great start.
After a short pavement walk, I started on gravel roads again, then dirt. Early on, I walked up Sheep Creek road. Every once in a while there were cuts between the forest road and the creek. On many, it was clearly just families tucked in for camping. On a few, however, it seemed like this was home for some people. Kind of depressing.
Later I walked through areas the forest service had sold for logging. It looks rough at first, but modern logging is so much better than the old clear-cutting ways. Now, they mark a section and within it designate mature healthy trees to protect. Waste is piled. Yes, it looks logged, but it is not a barren wasteland.
Along the way I found a cow bell and collar. Clearly signs that some happy cow had broken free from that noisey bell.
Also, a matchbox car was so out of place.
I saw a small snake in the road.
Later, I found an entire ant colony moving across the road. Each was carrying an egg.
I was at my 20 mile goal, but there was some daylight left. I opted to skip the public campground at Pierre Lake because it was a one mile walk in the wrong direction. Instead, I thought I could find water and public land before my next big river crossing, the Kettle River.
At first, there were just a few large ranches. However, as I went down the road toward the river, the no trespassing signs increased and there was no water. I went past a volunteer fire department and seriously considered stealth camping behind it. Around 7:30, I found a small creek on my side of a barbed wire fence. It probably had some type of ag runoff, but at least it would be wet. I drank a filtered liter and filtered two more to go.
I was getting pretty desperate. I hate trespassing. At my final road juncture, I saw a plateau above a slope. I walked up 200 feet and down 200 feet. No signs were posted. Most importantly, it looked like it had been logged several years ago, reminiscent of the public lands.
I hiked up the slope and came out on a beautiful plateau with widely spaced mature ponderosa pines. Carefully, I scanned for any signs or buildings or roads. None. I ate my dinner quietly. As it got dark, I set up my tent, sort of confident I was on public land. Laying down, I had visions of guard dogs barking at my tent as a trespasser, but the fatigue of a 24 mile day overwhelmed everything.
backpacking over the hill 