Lost on Mailbox Peak
My over-confidence in my ability to hike alone is going to be my downfall.
I was bouncing with energy on Thursday, so I figured I should go on a day hike and since it was sort of raining, I figured going to a new place was pointless when the view would be non-existent up top. Also, I do miss me the good trees over at Mailbox Peak.
The day started out normal enough, I stopped by North Bend to pick up some snacks, water and a hitchhiker. Yeah, I said hitchhiker. I know, I know…blah blah, he could hurt me…make me wish I was dead. I’ve heard the drill before when I picked up my last hitchhiker. Sometimes, you look the person in the eyes, and you see another human being that could use a lift. I figured even though my destination was coming in 5 exits, I could take him maybe 10-15 exits down if he wanted. Turns out he was heading to Montana; I told him maybe he should wait for someone that wants to travel further than 5 exits. He said, “I’ve been waiting here for 3 hours, even if it’s 5 exits, it’s still closer.” So I told him to hop on in, he had a full extended-trip backpack and a smooth wooden hiking stick. He happily shook my hand, “Hi, my name is Joe.” Joe was just cheerful and talkative…very intelligent sounding too…we chatted about backpacking and mosquitoes. I brainstormed over a good place I can drop him off at to increase his chance of getting a ride…North Bend is pretty damned popular, can’t believe he couldn’t get a ride there. I thought maybe the next rest stop…then I realize my destination exit has a large truck stop and truckers are known for being nice to hitchhikers. I asked Joe if he would like to be dropped off at the truck stop, he sounded very pleased with the destination and mentioned he was wondering where the nearest one was. I gave him my extra bottle of water and one of my bananas before he left, he thanked me profusely and I was off.
After he left, I spent a few minutes thinking about how nice it is to be given the privilege to help another fellow person out. Then I hear, in my head, all my friends yelling at me for picking up a hitchhiker and it made me a little sad. The fact that the few bad apples made it dangerous for one human to help another is just too terrible.
Mailbox Peak is still the evil hike that it always was…steep as hell and slippery from the rain. I’ve been a little depressed lately and almost gave up after hiking the first mile. Still, I’m stubborn and once on a trail, I don’t turn back. After the second mile, my head cleared and I realize I’ve been a little down because I realized all my hiking has made me more of a loner than I really would like. I missed my friends and family…still my not wanting to drink so much is making things very difficult. I had made plans with my best friend for a shave and drink that evening, so that was something to look forward to.
Um…we interrupt this blog with my current brain trauma…my brother just came in my living room and asked if his pants look good on him. I told him they looked decent but a bit tight around the ass… maybe he could wear a baggy sweater or something. He laughed, ran off and said the pants belong to his ex-girlfriend. I told him I’m going to tell everyone that he’s a cross-dresser.
So back to Mailbox…this would be my third time up there, and it really does get easier every time. Being a weekday, the place was empty, I saw ONE guy the entire time…he was running up the trail while I was slowing dying and dragging my sad corpse up the hill. Once at the top, I looked at my newly purchased GPS and found the thing to be worthless, it calculated the total trip distance to be 1.9 miles instead of 4…so basically it wasn’t taking into account the straight uphill sections and assumed I was standing still during the times I was hurting the most. I shut the damned thing off with the intention of returning the piece of crap the next day.
After a quick lunch, I headed back down. I somehow lost the trail on the way down. Problem with Mailbox Peak is, the trail is always faint and with not much of undergrowth and dead twigs and pine needles everywhere, everywhere looks like a faint trail. I figured if I just keep heading down and toward the general direction of where I think the trail is, I would find it…but the damn trail was slick and I kept falling and sliding down the trail. Then I came to a cliff edge and I realize why the trail actually winds around a bit near the top. I started clawing my way back up and continued toward the direction of the trail…until another cliff edge. This was not good. This side of the trail got really bad with much of the trail covered in decaying old trees…sometimes you think you’re stepping on a solid dead tree and the thing crumbles beneath you causing a nasty downhill spill and slide.
I realize belated during all this, that I forgot to tell someone where I was going…I’ve gotten over-confident in my hiking ability. Dumb. Still I figured if I make it back up top, all should be well..right? As I got myself simultaneously more and less lost for the next hour, I started thinking about my possible death (death seems to be an inescapable thought when hiking or scrambling on scary mountains). I thought about this book that I’ve read a while back, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People (I can’t say I highly recommend it, it’s good for the habits part but shitty for the methodology part. I found the book on “Free Stuff” table, so it’s worth reading for free) and I thought about this part where the author mentions beginning with the end in mind. The idea is to picture your own funeral, and think about how you want to be remembered by the people there…you should live your life by how you wish to leave your footprint (keep in mind, it has been a few years since I’ve read this, so I could be completely off). I thought about my mom wanting a nice wig for me if I actually shaved my head. I realize I do need to work on being a better friend, sister and daughter.
I continued slogging toward the direction that I thought the trail was while I entertained these morbid thoughts. After being lost for what seems like an eternity, my mind started playing tricks on me with self doubt – what if I was going the wrong direction. Panic! Then I remembered I had my (not so worthless now) GPS. I didn’t mark any point, but I knew that if I head toward I90 according to the map, I would be going the right way. I used the GPS compass to navigate toward it, and found the trail some 15 or so minutes lately. I was covered in sticks, leaves, mud and pine needles – saddest looking hiker ever!
Soon as I got off the trail and was back in phone signal area, I called Brian up for the drink and told him I’ll pass on the shaving. Good ol’ Brian never questioned my random plan changes and said, “Sure, let’s have that drink then we’ll talk.”
Happiness is finding the trail after being lost for what feels like an eternity.
Quick slide of Mailbox hike, I didn't take any photos after the peak part because taking pictures of places I could slide off and die from was kind of the last thing on my mind at the time.
I was bouncing with energy on Thursday, so I figured I should go on a day hike and since it was sort of raining, I figured going to a new place was pointless when the view would be non-existent up top. Also, I do miss me the good trees over at Mailbox Peak.
The day started out normal enough, I stopped by North Bend to pick up some snacks, water and a hitchhiker. Yeah, I said hitchhiker. I know, I know…blah blah, he could hurt me…make me wish I was dead. I’ve heard the drill before when I picked up my last hitchhiker. Sometimes, you look the person in the eyes, and you see another human being that could use a lift. I figured even though my destination was coming in 5 exits, I could take him maybe 10-15 exits down if he wanted. Turns out he was heading to Montana; I told him maybe he should wait for someone that wants to travel further than 5 exits. He said, “I’ve been waiting here for 3 hours, even if it’s 5 exits, it’s still closer.” So I told him to hop on in, he had a full extended-trip backpack and a smooth wooden hiking stick. He happily shook my hand, “Hi, my name is Joe.” Joe was just cheerful and talkative…very intelligent sounding too…we chatted about backpacking and mosquitoes. I brainstormed over a good place I can drop him off at to increase his chance of getting a ride…North Bend is pretty damned popular, can’t believe he couldn’t get a ride there. I thought maybe the next rest stop…then I realize my destination exit has a large truck stop and truckers are known for being nice to hitchhikers. I asked Joe if he would like to be dropped off at the truck stop, he sounded very pleased with the destination and mentioned he was wondering where the nearest one was. I gave him my extra bottle of water and one of my bananas before he left, he thanked me profusely and I was off.
After he left, I spent a few minutes thinking about how nice it is to be given the privilege to help another fellow person out. Then I hear, in my head, all my friends yelling at me for picking up a hitchhiker and it made me a little sad. The fact that the few bad apples made it dangerous for one human to help another is just too terrible.
Mailbox Peak is still the evil hike that it always was…steep as hell and slippery from the rain. I’ve been a little depressed lately and almost gave up after hiking the first mile. Still, I’m stubborn and once on a trail, I don’t turn back. After the second mile, my head cleared and I realize I’ve been a little down because I realized all my hiking has made me more of a loner than I really would like. I missed my friends and family…still my not wanting to drink so much is making things very difficult. I had made plans with my best friend for a shave and drink that evening, so that was something to look forward to.
Um…we interrupt this blog with my current brain trauma…my brother just came in my living room and asked if his pants look good on him. I told him they looked decent but a bit tight around the ass… maybe he could wear a baggy sweater or something. He laughed, ran off and said the pants belong to his ex-girlfriend. I told him I’m going to tell everyone that he’s a cross-dresser.
So back to Mailbox…this would be my third time up there, and it really does get easier every time. Being a weekday, the place was empty, I saw ONE guy the entire time…he was running up the trail while I was slowing dying and dragging my sad corpse up the hill. Once at the top, I looked at my newly purchased GPS and found the thing to be worthless, it calculated the total trip distance to be 1.9 miles instead of 4…so basically it wasn’t taking into account the straight uphill sections and assumed I was standing still during the times I was hurting the most. I shut the damned thing off with the intention of returning the piece of crap the next day.After a quick lunch, I headed back down. I somehow lost the trail on the way down. Problem with Mailbox Peak is, the trail is always faint and with not much of undergrowth and dead twigs and pine needles everywhere, everywhere looks like a faint trail. I figured if I just keep heading down and toward the general direction of where I think the trail is, I would find it…but the damn trail was slick and I kept falling and sliding down the trail. Then I came to a cliff edge and I realize why the trail actually winds around a bit near the top. I started clawing my way back up and continued toward the direction of the trail…until another cliff edge. This was not good. This side of the trail got really bad with much of the trail covered in decaying old trees…sometimes you think you’re stepping on a solid dead tree and the thing crumbles beneath you causing a nasty downhill spill and slide.
I realize belated during all this, that I forgot to tell someone where I was going…I’ve gotten over-confident in my hiking ability. Dumb. Still I figured if I make it back up top, all should be well..right? As I got myself simultaneously more and less lost for the next hour, I started thinking about my possible death (death seems to be an inescapable thought when hiking or scrambling on scary mountains). I thought about this book that I’ve read a while back, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People (I can’t say I highly recommend it, it’s good for the habits part but shitty for the methodology part. I found the book on “Free Stuff” table, so it’s worth reading for free) and I thought about this part where the author mentions beginning with the end in mind. The idea is to picture your own funeral, and think about how you want to be remembered by the people there…you should live your life by how you wish to leave your footprint (keep in mind, it has been a few years since I’ve read this, so I could be completely off). I thought about my mom wanting a nice wig for me if I actually shaved my head. I realize I do need to work on being a better friend, sister and daughter.
I continued slogging toward the direction that I thought the trail was while I entertained these morbid thoughts. After being lost for what seems like an eternity, my mind started playing tricks on me with self doubt – what if I was going the wrong direction. Panic! Then I remembered I had my (not so worthless now) GPS. I didn’t mark any point, but I knew that if I head toward I90 according to the map, I would be going the right way. I used the GPS compass to navigate toward it, and found the trail some 15 or so minutes lately. I was covered in sticks, leaves, mud and pine needles – saddest looking hiker ever!
Soon as I got off the trail and was back in phone signal area, I called Brian up for the drink and told him I’ll pass on the shaving. Good ol’ Brian never questioned my random plan changes and said, “Sure, let’s have that drink then we’ll talk.”
Happiness is finding the trail after being lost for what feels like an eternity.
Quick slide of Mailbox hike, I didn't take any photos after the peak part because taking pictures of places I could slide off and die from was kind of the last thing on my mind at the time.
posted by SteakGirl at 10:00 PM
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