Around 8:30 in a very nondescript section of
woods, we crossed the California-Oregon border. Although it was a very momentous occasion for us, it was hard to drum up the proper enthusiasm. I was still preoccupied with the question, "Why does slough smell + cow patty smell = tomato plant smell?"
Reading the register was entertaining. Some of my favorites:
"I am in Oregon" - Captain Obvious
-A breakup letter to California from Guthook, saying that it's just been good but really long, and he just wants to see other states, "Can we still be friends?"
-"You are now leaving the Land of Fruits and Nuts, welcome to the Land of Milk and Honey"
I couldn't think of anything clever, so I went with disgusting instead:
"I just took my last shit in California. It was nice. Looking forward to the sandy soils of Oregon." -Thump Thump
I mentioned poop again as a response to the embarassing moment prompt later on in an empty trail magic register. I should be careful, or I'm going to earn myself a shitty reputation.
Sweet 16's dad picked us up in the evening from Mt Ashland, eight miles up from I-5. We cut off those eight trail miles so we could have two nights in Ashland and not come in a midnight. Unfortunately, they were replaced by eight harrowing miles of windy mountain roads that Carmine took in true California-driver style. I was terrified.
Microburst and I were picked up from Carmine and Sweet 16's hotel by family friends/surrogate family to Micro's boyfriend. Robert took us back to his place, a gorgeous house (with the kitchen of my dreams) right on the Rogue River and fed us an amazing smoked salmon salad. We dried off from out showers with plush, thick towels and slept between 800 thread count sheets. I did not want to start hiking again.