For whatever reason, we all slept in really late the next morning, waking only upon hearing a park worker fire up a chain saw. This delayed start to the day would prove to shift our entire "schedule" back for the rest of the trip, though you would hear more laughs about it from us than complaints.
After shuttling to our trail head 23 miles south of our final destination where we left my truck, the three of us enjoyed lunch in Erin's car at 4 in the afternoon while snow blew hard around us. It was cold, but still we set out along the old railroad grade that would lead us along the Lower Deschutes River all the way to its mouth.
We dropped into and climbed out of 4 different drainage's where train trellises no longer spanned across. We pulled headlamps out when the the scrambling got dark, and we turned them off when the nearly full moon shed its light on our path.
While dinner cooked at our camp that night, Erin put together a masterful fire for our cold fingers and toes, and we passed the flask to warm the rest. Tischer and I cuddled in my solo while Kirk and Erin made every attempt to ward off the chill next to me, wearing every piece of clothing they had.
The next day was cold, windy and gray again. Who said the high desert was warm and friendly this time of year?! My bad. Having covered more than we thought the previous day/night, we made our way along the second half of the rail trail, which is maintained as a bike and stock trail. Simply a matter of cruising the double wide path along the east side of a fast moving body of water. Not too challenging.
That night we rambled into an old rail car situated alongside the trail. I've never slept in a train car before.
1 comment:
Does this mean you're a hobo now?
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