Ashland

Day 39 August 3.

Like it or not, waterfowl announce the start of a new day. There were some Canadian geese that seemed to be overachievers and honked loudly as they did laps up and down the reservoir.

I intended to get close to Ashland, Oregon today. I had a resupply package at a lodge near the trail. Also, I had a reservation for a room starting the following day.

Even though I had lived in Oregon, I couldn’t recall ever visiting the Ashland area. Interstate 5 runs through it so I had been through there, but there is an appreciable difference between going by a town at 70 mph versus 2 mph. The terrain was hilly and treed, but there were a lot more open areas than I expected. Water was becoming a scarce commodity, too.

Early on I went by a dam that had been built for irrigation purposes. Now, however, the ditch was in disarray and water just spilled over the top.

Later in the day, I was running low on water and the Guthook guide indicated there was a “faucet” on a hillside. Usually Guthook is very reliable. But I looked where it said there would be a faucet and all I found was a younger hiker sitting in the grass eating her bag of potato chips. “Have you seen the water source that is supposed to be around here?”

“No. I looked and couldn’t find it.”

“OK. Thank you.” I said and braced myself for the 8 miles to the next water source.

“I did hear some running water over there, though.” she said

I guess it was my fault. I made a mental note to ask whether someone has seen or heard a water source in the future.

In and out of mixed pine and oak forests the rest of the day, I was getting closer to civilization. I could hear the Interstate traffic. Oddly, I came up to a gate in the middle of the trail. It served absolutley no purpose. I loved it.

Finally near 5:00 I was approaching a main road crossing the PCT. I intended to camp there and go Callahan’s lodge the next day. But the draw of town food and a bath was strong. I decided to make a go of it.

I hiked around some road construction and got near an off ramp from the interstate. A taxi was more than happy to pick me up, drive me 15 miles, and deposit me at a cheap, clean motel in town. It was centrally located near a grocery store, restaurants, and a laundromat. I checked in and hurried over to a steak joint. I told the cab driver I had been dreaming about fried chicken, my naughty food fantasy when I am hiking, and he thought the steak joint might have what I wanted. Just in time, I was able to order.

It turns out, even though Ashland is famous for its Shakespere festival, prompt service in restaurants is frowned upon. Nobody is more sympathetic in a restaurant than a backpacker. Knowing somebody is cooking fresh food, serving it to you, and taking the dirty dishes away makes hikers more patient than Job. Alas, I was tested.

When I was finally done with my meal and they unlocked the door to let me out, I was able to hit the grocery store. I knew I’d come back in the morning, but my “must have” item was epsom salt. The motel room had a bathtub and I was going to try soaking out some dirt and pain. Sadly, the only brand they had was heavily scented with lavender, a nod to the aromatherapy enthusiasts out there. An hour later I was one of the cleanest, most relaxed, and floral smelling backpackers imaginable.