Let me start by apologizing for my previous blog post. It was lackluster and I know I can do better. As I’m writing this, it hasn’t been posted yet, and I’m not sure if it ever will as that decision isn’t mine to make (shoutout Monica, you’re the best). I, regardless though, felt saddened by the lack of detail. This post will be different. You, dear reader, deserve more.

Here’s my account of my backpacking trip from September 9th to 11th—3 days and 2 nights—in the Jefferson Park area within the Mt. Jefferson Wilderness.

A Definition

Type 2 Fun is an experience that isn’t fun at the moment but is fun in hindsight. It’s often associated with difficult and scary situations, where the stories later are good and you leave with a better understanding of yourself and your boundaries. I hadn’t heard this term before, but as soon as the trip was being planned, Michael, our coworker, kept calling it that. I would hear this phrase repeatedly—before, during, and after the trip.

The Weeks Before

When backpacking was first suggested, I was excited. I’d never done anything like it and was curious about spending a night in the wilderness with no service, vehicle, or my usual luxuries.  

As the trip approached, Heidi, our mentor, gave us a long list of things to buy (food, supplies, etc.). I bought nothing. It worked out fine because many necessities were covered by USFS botany supplies, Heidi herself, our boss Darrin, and my general willingness to endure discomfort rather than purchase extra stuff.  

Then we learned it was a three-night trip. I panicked, realized I wasn’t up for that, and bailed. Ella bailed with me. Heidi compromised and said we could stay for just one night to get a feel for the experience, and just like that, we were back in. 

A few days before, Ella got sick but, y’know, she’ll be better by the trip…

The Day Before

Ella was not better by the trip.

I decided to cancel my plans because I couldn’t just go for one night without a partner to hike back with. I also didn’t want to make Ash leave early with me because they were more excited about the trip. I felt perfectly fine about skipping. Ella told Heidi she couldn’t make it, and Heidi called, asking me to stay two nights and have Ash and me hike back together. I reluctantly agreed. I packed my bag, attaching an old work photo of Ella for company on the journey.¹

Day One

After finishing packing, I drank my last Dr. Pepper for a few days and ate a tofu scramble and a bean burrito. We loaded the truck and weighed our backpacks—both came out to about 31.5 lbs. Not due to careful planning on our part, but a lovely coincidence nonetheless. The universe works in mysterious ways. 

On the drive to the trailhead, Ash’s queue included spot-on songs like “The Climb” (Miley Cyrus), “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” (Nancy Sinatra), and “On the Run” from Steven Universe. We emerged from the vehicle, stretched, discussed, had a laugh, and began.

The giggles cease. This is no laughing matter. 

My notes from the hike:  

– Two miles in: The first mile was steep and a bit painful but not too bad. I’m trying to conserve water. My pack is heavy, and the hike is tough but manageable.

– We had to cross a creek to continue along the trail. Everyone made it across smoothly—except for yours truly. As you read this post to get a sense of my adventure, just know that my left hiking boot was completely soaked. By the end of the trip, it wasn’t so bad, but in the moment, it was unpleasant. Type 2 Fun?

– For the last mile, I daydreamed about my hip and shoulder bones turning to dust and floating away… then, at last…

We finished the six miles, set up camp, and ate dinner (my first Mountain House meal—fire!). The worst was behind me. Russell Lake was beautiful.

I plugged my phone into the portable charger, cracked open Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, and my phone stopped charging. With 89% battery left, I realized that was it for the rest of the trip. This would not be an issue considering the disciplined reality-supremacist that I am. I express gratitude that I am such an offline and present person. ²

I closed my book and tried to sleep.

Day Two

I slept terribly, but I wasn’t as cold as I expected, so that was a win. Ash and I exchanged thoughts on our sleep. I mentioned how comforting it was to hear Ash rustling around during the night because I knew I wasn’t alone in my insomniac misery. Ash didn’t share this sentiment and expressed their frustration when they noticed I had fallen asleep at one point while they hadn’t.

We performed four transects, searching for the endemic grass Calamagrostis breweri, collecting and mapping data points. The transects were located using GPS coordinates, UTMs, and photo comparisons from previous surveys. Rare plant monitoring like this helps track population changes and assess if human activity in Jefferson Park is harming the species. I asked Heidi if there were any noticeable difference when comparing the data to five and ten years ago, and she said the data has been inconsistent. She hopes that by coming out yearly in the future, we’ll see meaningful trends.  

During the fourth transect, the temperature plummeted, clouds rolled in, and we retreated to camp for the night. I ate a macaroni Mountain House meal (not as fire…) and incited a conversation about Christmas trees. The crew preferred real pine trees, but I half-jokingly suggested leaving gifts outside under a tree to avoid cutting one down. This idea wasn’t popular, but such is the life of the free-thinker.

After clocking out, Ash and I sat by the lake until it got too cold to bear, then returned to our tents to read and sleep.  

Day Three

The sleep was better than the night before, but still not great or like, even kinda decent or anything. It rained overnight, and when we woke up, it was COLD. We layered up, packed, made breakfast, and headed for Scout Lake.  

Heidi told Ash and me that since we were leaving today (Heidi and Michael were undecided), we could scout for whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis), mark the points, and head back to the Whitewater trailhead. We found a few points, but once my toes got soaked from the wet vegetation, the focus shifted to returning to our beloved truck, “Yappers.” ³  

There is no earthly explanation for what happened next: When we first hiked the trail (six miles, with elevation changes and heavy packs), it took us six hours. On the way back, carrying almost the same weight, though admittedly easier elevation-wise, it took us less than three. We agreed that we were motivated like dogs on treadmills chasing bacon—my bacon being Dr. Pepper, and Ash’s being Aquaphor for their chapped lips. Maybe that was the reason for the speed, but nobody really knows what happened that day…

We got to Yappers, and as soon as we hit the road, it started raining. Perhaps Mother Nature herself was guiding us towards Yappers faster to escape the precipitation. How kind she is. 

On the drive back to the ranger station, Ash was back on aux—featuring “Successful” (Ariana Grande), “It’s Over, Isn’t It?” from Steven Universe, and “Out of the Woods” (Taylor Swift). If Ash ever grows tired of environmentalism and botany, I propose a future career as an oddly specific playlist creator. 

Back at the apartment, we were reunited with our Dr. Pepper and Aquaphor. We unpacked, did laundry, showered, and I sat down with a salad and avocado, waiting for Ella to come home.  

_{1. You might be thinking, “Hey Katie, that’s not normal behavior,” and you know what? Maybe it isn’t. But I’ve got separation anxiety that is only comparable to that of a quarantine puppy, and I’ve made peace with it. So maybe you should too, you jerk.}

_{2. This is a lie. I was very nervous, but it was fine.}

_{3. Yappers is a very special truck, named for his tendency to yap (beep loudly and excessively) when objects are close by, which happens extremely often when driving down old forest roads, but we love him dearly.}