July 31: Shelter Cove, Diamond Peak

Up early in a cloud of mosqitoes, we hiked down on Nordic ski trails and across Highway 58 to Shelter Cove on Odell Lake. It was a busy but nice stop. They whipped up a surprisingly excellent Americano. E and I grabbed a few things from the hiker box and were back on our way up into Diamond Peak Wilderness by 2 pm. Two woman and one man, hikers going north were there at the Resort as well. Too much chit-chat drives Eliza up the wall and we leave in a hurry. Why do we have to share our day with every other hiker we pass? The resort staff, while helpful, seemed less than hiker-friendly, annoyed by our filthy presence. But who can blame them?

Diamond peak is a beautiful walk, way up until we lose the bugs . . . long, expansive views, recall Southern CA in a way, but the forests and the rolling hills, the rocky buttes, etc., are so protoypically Oregon.

I've been reading Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, a naturalist memoir of sorts. It's got me thinking more about seeing things, about the phenomena of the natural world, about intentional frugality . . .

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We perch ourselves, sweating and tired, up on a rocky outcropping on Diamond Peak's SE shoulder. Before us, outstretched, lingering magically in the orange sunset gloam is the forested, cozy wilderness. Further on, past the broad, blue waters of Summit Lake stand numerous buttes and exposed ridgelines, skeleton remains of a prehistoric landscape. Above the rest, the tall distant needle-point peak of Mt. Thielson is a jewel to behold. Eliza and I both love this time of the day. The low-angled light casts over my eyes a new focus. The moments pass fleetingly, great ancient living trunks turn red and gleam, the swaying fir pinnacles above bask in a heaven-sent glory all their own, darkness having already descended to the lower reaches of the understory.

***
Sitting at the stony, dusty switchback, I am beat but Eliza's got legs, so we leave our spot on top of it all and push on to Summit Lake. Arriving less than two hours later, after a speed walk hustle down from the peak, we strip down under a pink, erupting sky -- massive cummuli have moved in overhead, collecting the dying light, putting on flare and firework, showering the long lake with dazzling light. The insects swarm unbelievably as we charge into the cold waters, tripping, diving, floating out under the show.