Bambi and Brick were already gone by the time I peeked out of my tent in the morning. I was alone in the thick fog.

On the descent, I knew I was missing some incredible views, but at least I could admire the alpine flowers at my feet as I plunged down the rocky southern shoulder of the mountain. The path down was well-marked by cairns, but at each cairn, I could just barely see the next one through the fog.

The trail dipped below the treeline at about the same time as it descended out of the clouds. Even as the brush thickened, the trail was very well-maintained, and I had an uneventful hike down to the next forest road.

A spruce grouse and her chick

When I made it to the road, the clouds started to clera up and I began the real challenge of the day. I had 23 full miles of roadwalking before I would get to Northport. My plan was to make it at least to the convenience store (0383P), then fill up on water and find a place to camp.

The roadwalk was absolutely grueling – the asphalt was tough on my feet, and I was sweating off sunscreen faster than I could put it on. There was almost no shade on this road, and I had to choose between walking in the hot sun and walking on the uncomfortably-sloped shoulder. Part of me hoped that some driver would take pity on me and ask if I needed a ride, but the other part of me was too proud to accept help and skip more trail miles.

The convenience store was like an oasis in the desert. It was a grungy little gas station with its drink colers almost empty. Luckily, they still had plenty of 99-cent arizona iced tea. I bought one, sat on the curb outside the store, and downed it immediately. I went in and bought another, and chatted with the store owner for a while. He tipped me off about some private property that I could secretly camp on, right on the bank of the Columbia River. He said he knew the guy who owns it, but he’s never actually around.

I followed the store owner’s instructions, walking about a half-mile down the road to a small driveway on the right. There were two figures far ahead of me on the road – Probably Bambi and Brick, hoping to make it all the way to Northport.

The driveway led under a beautiful old wooden railway bridge that smelled like hot pine tar and creaked every once in a while, expanding in the hot sun. Directly past the railway bridge was a sandy beach next to the river. This would be a perfect spot to rest for the afternoon and evening, and I could easily stealth-camp in the adjacent woods.

I drank my second Arizona Iced Tea and relaxed on the beach for a long time. Some fisherpeople came up and started fishing from the beach. One of them talked to me at length about all the sturgeon that he’d caught over his lifetime fishing in the Columbia River. He was really hoping to catch one that evening, but all he got was a tiny walleye.

The fisherpeople left as it started getting dark. I cooked dinner there on the beach, and illegally set up my tent on the private property. I slept soundly on the soft, sandy loam.