Back in November (yes, this is a very late post), I went on a rare non-warm-weather hike. I hiked Dog Mountain, a six-and-a-halfish-mile out-and-back on the Washington side of the Gorge. I was skeptical it’d be “worth it.” Famously, along with being considered one of the more strenuous hikes in the area, Dog Mountain is, for a few weeks each year, one of the more beautiful hikes in the area (wildflowers). Having done this hike before, and therefore having some experience with it specifically and the terrain and scenery in the Columbia River Gorge generally, I wasn’t sure what to expect scenery-wise outside of summer. Honestly, I thought it’d be a visual bust—just bare branches and soggy, brown leaves—in addition to being a physical and mental slog. I was wrong.

Per usual, I arrived at the lot just as the sun began to rise.

And per usual, I was on the trail about 20 minutes later—all I had to do first was lace up my boots, decide which attire to actually wear (jackets, in this case), eat a few snacks, triple-check my pack had everything it needed (which I also checked a thousand times before leaving home), pee (twice), and quadruple-check my America the Beautiful pass satisfied the site’s day-use fee (it did).

I first hiked this trail three and a half years ago—in much warmer weather, a few weeks before peak wildflower season—and the impression of it I had then remains the same: it’s all lungs and legs, and it’s windy (and COLD!) as fuck at the top. There’s about 3,000 feet of elevation gain, and the ascent is immediate. It does not matter which route you choose. You will feel it going up and coming back down. If you’re like me on this day and (1) have to pee so incredibly badly but don’t dare step off trail to do so because there are more people than you expect and no clear cover to conceal yourself, and (2) forgot to trim your toenails, the descent will suck even more than the ascent—every steeply downhill step will stress test your dysfunctional bladder and pelvic floor, and have your slightly too-long toenails slamming into the toe box of your boots.

I was pleasantly surprised by how scenic much of the hike was, considering it was November. The fall foliage was gorgeous. Much more vibrant than it looks in my photos.

For much of the ascent, the sun came out in bursts, with a few quick sprinkles here and there. Yes, it was pretty cold and windy on the stretches of trail that had no tree cover. It’s also true that the weather could’ve been a lot less pleasant. I’m grateful it was a mild morning.

I summited shortly before 9:00 am, just less than two hours after I began. It was so cold and windy and foggy up there! While waiting for the clouds to clear, I celebrated with my favorite summit snack: a pack of strawberry frosted Pop-Tarts.

For reference, here’s the view from the same spot pictured above when it’s not obscured by clouds/fog. (I took this photo back in May 2022.)

I will never not be charmed and in awe when one section of sky looks so totally different from another. I wish my phone camera captured how magical it felt up there.

Do you see that small, shiny area in the bottom left of the clip? That’s the trail!

I’m glad I stuck around till the sky cleared. A snow-covered Mount St. Helens was visible in the distance—and was much more striking in person than it is in this photo.

I spent a little over an hour at the summit, which is for sure a record for me. Usually, I stick around just long enough to get a few photos, refuel, and rehydrate, and then I’m on my way. On this day, I took a little more time.

Overall, a decent hike. Sure, it took much more of my day than I anticipated it would (partly because I spent so much time at the summit, and partly because of the needing-to-pee and slightly-too-long-toenails situations), and it felt WAY worse to me than did Mount Defiance during the summer, which sucked. It’s also true that it was about as perfect weather as you could ask for during fall in the Gorge, and the scenery was beautiful. I’m glad I went. I’d love to see it—even just once—during peak wildflower season. Maybe this’ll be the year.

After a nearly three-year-long, mental-illness-induced hiatus, this summer I finally got my slightly more mentally stable ass back out on the trail. Huzzah!

To celebrate, I thought it’d be fun to do a “hiking wrapped” for the season.

Number of trails hiked: Six.

Total distance hiked: At least 56.6 miles (91 kilometers). Due to an egregious glitch in the AllTrails app, I have no idea how far I actually hiked when I hiked Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge. The general consensus is the trail is at least 12.1 miles (19.4 kilometers), so that’s the distance I’ve gone with here.

Shortest trail: Angel’s Rest – 4.6 miles (7.4 kilometers).

Longest trail: Lower Punchbowl, Tunnel, and Twister Falls – 13.4 miles (21.5 kilometers).

Average trail distance: 9.4 miles (15.1 kilometers).

Total elevation gain: 13,477 feet (4,108 meters).

Least elevation gain: Oxbow Loop – 633 feet (193 meters).

Most elevation gain: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge – 5,984 feet (1,824 meters), at the god-awful rate of 1,000 feet per mile (20% grade) for at least five straight miles.

Average elevation gain: 2,246 feet (684.5 meters).

Total hike time: 24 hours, 5 minutes.

Average hike time: 4 hours, 1 minute.

Slowest pace: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge – 34:43 per mile (21:34 per kilometer).

Fastest pace: Oxbow Loop – 20:07 per mile (12:30 per kilometer).

Average pace: 22:30 per mile (15:46 per kilometer).

Best views: Tom Dick and Harry Mountain.

Most strenuous hike: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge.

Most memorable hike: Lower Punchbowl, Tunnel, and Twister Falls. Of all the hikes I went on this summer, this is the one most similar to the hike that spiraled me into acute mental illness in 2022 (it was the hike with the most exposure and the narrowest sections of (exposed) trail), and I got through it on my own without incident. Shout out to my brain and nervous system.

(I think I did the imperial-to-metric conversions correctly? Sorry if not! (I’m not the math-y type of autistic).)

Other takeaways

Knee sleeves. After reading so many reviews and trip reports about how steep the trail is, and knowing how janky and cranky my knees are on level ground, I wore my knee sleeves (a lifting accessory) for the first time ever during a hike while hiking Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge. Complete game-changer. I will never hike without them again, especially on steeper trails, and I can’t believe it took me this long to even think to wear them on the trail. I highly recommend investing in a pair if you find yourself hiking trails that aren’t compatible with your knees with any sort of regularity. The two main brands are Rehband (the brand I wear) and SBD.

Trekking poles. This summer taught me that along with knee sleeves, trekking poles are a middle-aged hiker’s best friend. It’s pretty incredible how big of a help they can be, especially during steep descents. I’m glad I invested in a pair when I had the money to do so. I would’ve been so fucked without them this summer.

Fanny pack. Another new day hike staple. I got real sick of having to stop and take off my backpack and dig through the top pouch every time I wanted to grab my phone to take a photo, or when I needed chapstick or a tissue or a new piece of gum or a small snack or a hair tie or whatever. So I took my ass to REI and bought a fanny pack (the exact one I bought was on clearance and is no longer listed on their website, sorry!). Another game-changer. Like knee sleeves, I can’t believe it took me so long to add this item to my gear.

Maps, music, and podcasts. Downloading every piece of media there’s even the slightest chance I’ll need (or want) while on the trail—or during the very likely scenario of driving stretches of road that don’t have service—the night before my hike is the move. Trail maps, directions to/from trailhead, music and/or podcasts to listen to, etc.

Earbuds v. AirPods. If you’re going to listen to anything while hiking, I highly recommend wearing earbuds that loop around your ear v. AirPods. Like these. For safety’s sake, I wear only one of them and when I have something playing, I keep the volume pretty low. I think the volume on the ESCs is easier to control than it is on AirPods, the audio quality is better, the battery lasts longer, and there’s much less risk of them falling out of your ear and then you falling off a cliff while reaching after them.

Granola. The good news is, I recently discovered not all granola is gross. The bad news is, I learned this months too late for my summer hiking season. The other good news is, now I know and have another compact trail snack option for my next hiking season.

Early bird gets all the cobwebs. The biggest downside to being the first hiker on the trail for the day is you take all the cobwebs straight to the face. The best solution: waving one of your trekking poles in front of you as you hike.

Carbs. The best part of any strenuous hike is the carb-loading I get to do in the day or two leading up to it and again immediately afterward.

Experience/d. I have experience hiking. I’m not an experienced hiker. There’s a difference, and it’s important. There’s a lot I have yet to encounter; there’s a lot I have yet to learn. In many ways, I’m very prepared, even over-prepared, every time I step on a trail. In many other, equally important ways, I’m just as under- or unprepared.

Parting thoughts

My original plan was to hike once a week through at least September, ideally October. By mid-August, some health issues (not mental illness) began flaring and I had to take a break. I’ve not hiked since. I’m frustrated I got in only six hikes this summer, and I’m happy I got in six entire hikes this summer—it’s six more than last summer, and the summer before that.

Finally, and most importantly, my biggest takeaway from my time on the trail this summer: I wish I’d known when I was 17 what the Pacific Crest Trail and section- and thru-hiking were—I think I would’ve found on the trail what I spent too many years unsuccessfully searching for in other (wrong) places.

Hike number six of the season, which was also my final hike of the summer: Ramona Falls Loop, a seven-mile loop along the Pacific Crest Trail in Mount Hood National Forest, about an hour outside of Portland.

This trail is fairly flat—there’s only about a thousand feet of elevation gain overall—and therefore very dog- and kid-friendly (dogs must be leashed). I saw a handful of families with children of various ages camping in the backcountry, including one family with younger kids (they looked to be early elementary school age) on a multi-day backpacking trip.

I first attempted this hike in early June 2022. I went much later in the day than usual and right as I approached the river crossing it began sleeting and then snowing, which I, an unseasoned Oregon hiker at the time, didn’t expect so close to the start of summer. The river was flowing much faster than I expected, and the water was freezing. Combined with the surprise weather, being out there on my own, and my naturally extremely anxious and catastrophizing brain, I was too nervous to attempt the river crossing. I turned around and walked the mile back to my car.

This time, I went much earlier in the day and much later in the season, crossed the river just fine both times, and finally finished this hike.

Like many Oregon summer mornings, it was overcast when I began (shortly after 5:30 am).

And like many Oregon summer mornings, less than two hours later, the sky was completely clear and the sun hung high.

Most of this hike is through tree canopy, some of it very thick overhead, which is a blessing on clear, hot day. There are only a few short stretches where you’re directly exposed to the sun. Because I went counterclockwise, I hit most of these stretches at the end of my hike. If you go clockwise, you’ll hit these stretches at the start of your hike; or, if you begin early enough on an overcast day, you’ll avoid most of them altogether. I recommend going counterclockwise; it provides a much more dramatic first visual of the falls.

Per usual, in the days leading up to this hike, I checked the trail’s AllTrails page for new reviews/comments. There was a single one that mentioned how enormous the falls are in person; how photos don’t clearly convey the size of the thing. Reader, that hiker was correct. This thing is massive. Look how tiny I am in comparison!

There are several spots to camp next to and just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls. Also just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls: incredibly beautiful cliff faces of rusty orange and milky blue and grey rock (?).

These cliff faces were enormous. They looked so slick and smooth and sharp and, with the sun rising overhead, they appeared at times to glimmer and glow. There was nothing about these cliff faces in any of the AllTrails comments/reviews I read. Coming upon them was a very unexpected surprise, and a much better unexpected surprise than sleet and snow and a rising, raging river.

I wish I’d been able to better capture their beauty with my iPhone camera.

By the time I hit the river crossing on my return, the day was fully awake. Unfortunately, the sun rising over Mount Hood made it impossible to get a photo of the mountain in which it didn’t look completely washed-out.

It was still early when I hit the river crossing on my way back—a few minutes after 8:00 am. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. The sun felt so nice, the scenery was so beautiful, and no one else was out there. So, I set up on some wide, sturdy logs, and spent some (more) time taking it all in.

This hike is fully in the backcountry. As such, there’s no cell service beginning about four miles before the trailhead. If you attempt this hike, make sure you’re prepared for the water crossing and for being completely out of cell service range; check recent reports about trail and river conditions in the days leading up to your hike. Download your trail map and any music or podcasts you plan to listen to on the trail before you leave home. You’ll be able to easily navigate back to the main road without GPS—there’s plenty of clear signage, and most of the time, there’s only one way you can go.

The parking lot is huge. It could easily fit probably a couple hundred vehicles. Both times I’ve been here, there’s been at least one porta-pottty; best to come equipped with your own toilet paper. The road leading to the trailhead is single-lane in some stretches and has some pretty gnarly potholes, though there are significantly fewer of them, and they’re much less gnarly, now than in 2022. Pay attention and, if you, like me, don’t have a rugged outdoor vehicle, maybe go a little slower than you think you need to. What a bitch it would be to pop a tire out there on a narrow-ass road several miles from cell service.

Hike number five of the season: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge, a 14-ish mile loop from, or maybe through?, hell. I hiked the loop counterclockwise. Having completed it this way, I can’t imagine doing it the other way. The descent would be even more of a nightmare on cranky/janky knees, and I think it would’ve felt even more than it already did like there was no end in sight.

With 5,000 feet of elevation gain in 5 miles, Mount Defiance is said by some to be one of Oregon’s hardest hikes. It’s the highest point in the Gorge, and many mountaineers use it as a training hike in preparation for climbing Mount Hood, which is visible from the summit on a clear day (above).

This hike is a slog. There is absolutely no reason to do it if you’re not (A) training for something (physical, mental, or both), or (B) a masochist (me). It’s not particularly scenic and for most people the few views you do get aren’t worth the work you have to put in to earn them. There are far more enjoyable hikes with much better views. For example: Tom Dick and Harry.

The hike starts regular enough. The first stretch is a paved path along the highway. Once you enter the trees, you pass by a few waterfalls and then you’re on your way.

About a mile in, you hit a junction: switchback to take Starvation Ridge Trail clockwise, forge ahead to take Mount Defiance Trail counterclockwise. I went counterclockwise.

About a mile later I broke out my poles, and about another mile after that I pulled up my knee sleeves. Knee sleeves are a lifting accessory. We lifters wear them to support our knees—to keep them warm, reduce inflammation and pain, and improve stability. You’ll often see barbell athletes wearing them during movements like squats and lunges. This hike is the first time I wore my knee sleeves on the trail; it’s the first time I thought to. So many of the reviews talked about how brutal the ascents and descents on this trail are, and I know my knees: they’re not the most agreeable! And you know what? Total game changer. I can’t believe I didn’t think to add knee sleeves to my hiking gear before now.

To be frank, I couldn’t tell you what most of the ascent looked like. Compared to my usual trail behavior, and despite what this photo-heavy post suggests, I rarely stopped to look around or take photos. I mostly kept my head down, my eyes forward, and my feet moving. I knew that if I stopped too frequently or for too long I’d have a hard time getting going again. As a beloved animated fish once famously said, just keep swimming.

Several miles in, I hit the false summit, which is still forever from the actual summit. On a clear day, Mounts St. Helens, Rainer, and Adams are visible in the distance.

Exactly four hours in, I hit the summit. I hung out there for 15 minutes, refueling with electrolytes, Pop-Tarts, dried fruit, and applesauce pouches. The view of Mount Hood from here is fine enough. The one from Tom Dick and Harry is much better.

There’s also the eyesore of the telecommunications equipment at the top of Mount Defiance, which is enormous and, unlike the small setup of equipment at the summit of Tom Dick and Harry, absolutely does detract from the experience. When you reach the summit, you see the equipment before you see Hood. You have to walk around it before you can see the mountain.

On the way back down, I took Starvation Ridge Trail at the junction, which I hit about 20 minutes after leaving the summit. Much of the first portion of Starvation Ride Trail is, thank god, flatter than Mount Defiance Trail.

And then: it’s not. After an initial reprieve, the descent begins and basically doesn’t stop until it turns into another ascent toward the end of the loop. For much of these portions of trail, I hiked over either loose rocks or loose dirt. These stretches required full attention and careful foot/trekking pole placement to not slip/fall. Again, during these prolonged sections of trail, I didn’t take as many photos as I usually do because I was focused on keeping my head down, my eyes forward, and my feet moving without slipping/falling.

The final 3-ish miles were miserable, mostly because it was 80 goddamn degrees in late July and there was very little to no shade, and there was a stretch that went back up hill. For those miles, I hated my life, my choices, and myself. I could not wait to be finished and regretted having ever started. Being able to see the highway and hear signs of life and knowing I was so fucking close made it even worse. I wanted to be done so bad!

I have no clue how long this hike actual was in terms of distance. AllTrails is never particularly accurate. In this instance, it was egregiously inaccurate. According to the app’s calculations, I hiked almost 20 very steep miles in a mere seven hours. If that were true, I would’ve been hiking a mile with 1,000 feet of elevation gain faster than many people can run a mile on flat ground. Which: yeah, right! I’m fit. I’m not that fit.

Gloriously, after seven hours to the minute of hiking, I finished. When I reached my car, I immediately took off my boots, socks, and pants (I wore Nike shorties underneath), grabbed the refuel snacks I brought (pizza, fruit, high-protein Greek yogurt, chips, electrolytes), popped my trunk, and chowed the fuck down and chilled the fuck out for a bit before driving home. I always bring a lunch box of snacks for after my hikes. This was the first time I actually finished everything I brought.

If you’re going to attempt this hike, I highly recommend eating a breakfast of complex carbs (can’t go wrong with oatmeal), bringing more water and electrolytes than you think you’ll need (I brought three liters of water and two 16.9-ounce bottles of electrolytes and had half a liter and no electrolytes left at the end), carrying a healthy dose of carb-heavy snacks (simple and complex) to eat along the way, and packing food, water, and electrolytes for afterward.

Trekking poles are a must for this hike. If you have wonky ankles, you’ll want a shoe or boot with a higher, sturdier top. If you have cranky/janky knees, I suggest wearing lifting knee sleeves. I like (and wear) Rehbands. SBDs are another popular choice. They’re not cheap. They are worth it, especially if you frequently find yourself hiking trails that aren’t compatible with your knees.

My favorite parts of this hike were carb loading in the days leading up to it, and taking myself to Oxbow after the gym the next morning to hangout in the sun eating more pizza and fresh fruit while reading my library book (The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo), as a little treat.

My official review of this hike: Type 2.75 Fun. Could’ve been an early, Ranch-era CrossFit Games workout.

Would I do it again? If you’d asked me in the days right after, I would’ve said, “Immediately no.” If you asked me now, I’d tell you, “Maybe.”

Hike number four of the season: Oxbow Loop. I’m gonna be real with y’all. This trail is—no pun intended—basically just a walk in the park. A very confusingly marked walk in the park that doesn’t really feel like a hike at any point during its seven-ish miles.

The loop snakes alongside the Sandy River and, despite how it appears on AllTrails (as one clearly defined, looping trail), it’s comprised of several smaller, interconnected trails that are individually labeled by letter on the park’s map (paper copies are available at the board outside of the visitor center).

Because of this discrepancy, and because I had very unreliable cell service and couldn’t easily pull up the map on AllTrails, it took me about 35 minutes to just pick a letter/trail, start walking, and hope I was on the right path. Thankfully, the trailhead I chose (C) gave me one single bar of service long enough for the AllTrails map to load and confirm I was indeed on the right path.

I deviated from this trail much more than I usually do during a hike so I could scout out secluded spots to set up in the sun afterward. The promise of finally getting to touch water for actual real after the tease of Lower Punchbowl Falls is the entire reason I did this hike.

AND GUESS FUCKING WHAT. I FINALLY GOT TO TOUCH WATER FOR ACTUAL REAL!!!

There are several spots along the way to set up in the sand. Most of them are marked by large signage, trash and recycling bins, and have lifejackets available for use. Some also have vault toilets and/or portable toilets. By late morning on warm weekdays, these areas are pretty crowded.

I set up on a small patch of sand with my beach towel, a library book, and some snacks and spent the next several hours reading, sunning, exploring, and cooling off in the water. My dream life. I love being outside in the sun and water so much.

I don’t feel strongly one way or the other about the “hike.” I feel very strongly about setting up in the sand under the sun—big recommend. Just please don’t do it while I’m there.

Shout out to my friend who told me about this place earlier in the spring when I was asking around for good spots close-ish to the city and any accessible body of water where I could go and be alone. I’ve been back here several times since this day and each time I’ve been blessed with about three entire hours completely to myself, sometimes as many as five. How incredible to live so close to such a place.

Hike number three of the season: Lower Punchbowl, Tunnel, and Twister Falls via Eagle Creek Trail. In addition to the three well-known falls, there are a handful of other falls along this trail, which is one of the most popular trails in the Columbia River Gorge.

Originally, I’d planned to hike down to Lower Punchbowl Falls, swim in its bowl, and then head back to my car—a quick and easy 3.8-mile out-and-back. While a shorter distance hike than I prefer, the allure of the waterfall and its swimmable bowl was strong: daily summertime access to water/swimming is one of the things I miss most about my pre-pandemic life and I was excited at the possibility of finally—FINALLY!—getting my toes wet. Given the day was set to be 90 degrees and was already well on its way to 70 degrees when I started the trail at 5:30 am, I figured the shorter distance of this hike would be offset by how much time I’d spend in or lounging near the water.

While researching the trail ahead of committing to it, I learned about Tunnel Falls, a few miles past Lower Punchbowl Falls. After watching a few YouTube videos of the hike to Tunnel Falls, I added it to my route, upping my hike to 12.2 miles roundtrip. Then, while discussing my hike plans at the gym, I learned about Twister Falls, just around the bend from Tunnel Falls. Of course I had to add it to my route, making my third hike of the season—and my third hike back after a nearly three-year break—a 13.4-mile out-and-back with 2,270 feet of elevation gain.

Of all the hiking I’ve done this year, this hike was pretty middle-of-the-road on paper: it wasn’t the longest in distance or duration, it wasn’t the most difficult or technical terrain, it wasn’t the most strenuous. And yet, it’s the one I’m most proud of.

This trail was the most exposed of any I hiked this season. In many sections, it was similar to the exposure I encountered on the 2022 hike that broke my brain and triggered the very terrifying episode of mental illness on the trail that, after the 2022 season, kept me from hiking until this summer.

Many sections of the trail are very narrow and rocky. The sections of trail blasted out of the basalt cliff faces also feature vertical drops. In some, but not all, of these sections, cable handrails are installed. Many of the YouTube videos I watched of people hiking to Tunnel Falls showed and/or explicitly mentioned these cables. Learning of their existence is what convinced me to extend my original route.

Surprisingly, I used these cables only on the sections of trail immediately surrounding Tunnel Falls. Given my previous experience on exposed sections of trail, I figured I’d use them at every opportunity. Even more surprisingly, I didn’t experience any physical or mental markers of anxiety, panic, OCD, or derealization at any point during this hike. My heart rate remained steady, my palms didn’t sweat, my mouth didn’t dry up, my legs didn’t shake, my vision didn’t narrow, my hearing didn’t become muffled and echo-y, my head didn’t become light and fuzzy, my thoughts didn’t begin to race, I didn’t begin to catastrophize, the voices in my head didn’t taunt me or command me to yeet myself off the cliffs, etc. It won’t always be this way for me. At some point, my mental illnesses will rear their heads on the trail again. I’m grateful that hasn’t happened on any of the hikes I’ve done so far this season.

Tunnel Falls is named such because there’s a literal tunnel behind the falls that you have to walk through to continue on the trail. It’s incredible. One of the most thrilling things I’ve experienced so far in my life. It is truly a shock to me that my brain didn’t lose its shit during either pass of this section of trail.

About a half mile past Tunnel Falls is Twister Falls. There are large flat rocks you can sit or sunbathe on. I stopped here for a few minutes to refuel electrolytes and carbs before heading back.

The 2017 Eagle Creek Fire burned through this area which means there’s very little tree canopy on this hike—very little shade on hot, sunny days; very little cover on wet, rainy ones. Plan, pack, and dress accordingly.

Even with the scars from the fire, this is a beautiful hike. While the trees may be bare, there is plenty of other vegetation and life (lots of chipmunks!).

This trail was much busier than I expected for so early on a very hot weekday morning. On my way up (“up”—the grade is so gradual it never feels like a hike in the expected sense) I encountered one person, a backpacker headed the opposite direction, toward the parking lot. On my way back, though, I encountered a fairly steady stream of people hiking to the areas I was coming from. And a lot of them seemed wholly unprepared??? For example, hiking in JEANS??? Not bringing a single drop of water or a water filtration setup??? Not bringing anything—no pack, no map, no nothing??? There were several separate people who stopped me at different points to ask what the name of the trail was, where it went, how long it was, etc. How do you venture into the wilderness—on a hot-ass day, no less—with no information, gear, hydration setup, or plan??? Inconceivable.

In the end, it worked out well that I tacked on Tunnel and Twister Falls and nine additional miles to my original route. The “path”—I’m using that term very loosely—between the trail and Lower Punchbowl Falls would’ve been very difficult, maybe impossible, to ascend, especially with a pack, even my small one—very steep, loose dirt, no defined route. I took one look and didn’t even consider attempting to descend. On I hiked.

I would absolutely do this trail again, ideally with a non-iPhone camera (it is for sure time to invest in a camera camera), and ideally continuing on past Twister Falls. I really am so happy to be back out on the trail.

In the middle of writing this post, I sat down to lunch, pulled up YouTube, and hit play on the first video it recommended to me: a discussion from popular backpacker @MirandaGoesOutside about mental illness on the trail. Truly, the most apt video YouTube could have recommended me in that moment.

Hike number two of the summer: Tom Dick and Harry Mountain via Mirror Lake, a nine-ish mile out-and-back in Mount Hood National Forest. This hike immediately joined Angel’s Rest and Riprap as one of my all-time favorites: so much green, so many wildflowers, and an awe-inducing 360-degree view of five (!) different mountains from the false summit. Because I began so early, I had the summit and my first pass of the false summit completely to myself. A dream.

The time of year (early July) and weather (almost completely clear skies, 70-sh degrees at the start, 80-ish degrees by the end) for sure played a big role in how enjoyable this hike was. I’m so grateful I had the flexibility to change my originally planned date to one with a better forecast.

For whatever reason, despite reading the trail’s name and details a billion times on AllTrails and various local hiking blogs, until I came upon the junction to continue to the summit or loop around Mirror Lake, I didn’t realize the lake was an optional part of this hike. I decided to take the loop around the lake and holy fuck I’m so glad I did (I went clockwise).

The lake isn’t visible from the junction, or for the first couple of minutes of walking. And then, there it is.

It literally stopped me in my tracks. “Oh, wow,” I gasped when I spotted it. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I feel so fortunate to live so close to such beautiful natural spaces, and to have the ability to explore them.

Unfortunately for me, Mirror Lake is also where the mosquitoes began. From this point on, the trail was full of them. As someone who is eaten alive by mosquitoes whenever they’re around, I have, historically, always doused myself in bug spray before beginning a hike and carried bug spray in my pack, dousing myself again several times along the way. Since moving to Oregon a few years ago, I’ve very rarely encountered mosquitoes in general and never on the trail. Because of this, and because I didn’t see any comments on AllTrails about mosquitoes on this trail, I removed my bug spray from my pack the night before this hike. What a mistake! From the lake on, I spent most of the hike swatting at mosquitoes and was covered in bites by the end. I itched so badly that it woke and kept me up at night for the better part of a week. Disaster.

This is a hike you do for the views, especially those of Mount Hood, which is right there. Personally, I think the views of Hood are equally as dramatic from the false summit and the actual summit.

View of Hood at the false summit:

View of Hood at the actual summit, about half a mile further up trail:

Famously, the summit also features a view of some communications (?) equipment, which deters from the experience for some. Personally, I wasn’t bothered by it; it’s off to the “side” and doesn’t take up much space or obstruct the view of the mountain. The communications equipment at the summit of Mount Defiance, which I hiked several weeks after this trail, is a different story.

The actual summit is roughly 0.6 miles past the false summit. You’ll have to hike and scramble over some rocky and sometimes steep-ish terrain to get there. The video below shows the first stretch of trail from the “back” side of the false summit to the actual summit.

The best overall view—the 360-degree view—is at the false summit. If you reach the false summit and don’t want to (or can’t) continue on for whatever reason—weather, blisters, joints, time, terrain, etc.—you won’t miss much. The video below is the view from the false summit. It’s hard to see in the video but all five mountains—Mounts Adams, Rainer, St. Helens, Jefferson, and Hood—were visible to the naked eye this day.

I learned too late that this hike can be turned into a loop by continuing past the summit and down to the parking lot via Sunrise Trail. I would have loved to do the loop! Even though I had service and could have texted a change in plans to the people who I share my hike details with, I chose to stick to my original plan. I can always do the loop next season.

Overall, this was a great hike on a perfect day. Aside from a brief freak-out about a completely made-up scenario while scrambling my way from the false summit to the actual summit, my mentally ill brain behaved, thank god. I’m so happy to be back out on the trail.