My brother (Ryan, 34 from Visalia, CA) and I (McKay, 27 from Portland, OR) decided a month or so ago that we needed more quality time with our dad. We wanted to get outdoors and into a place where we could rely on each other and explore the unknown. We were both boy scouts and love the outdoors. Backpacking was the answer.

Before we dragged our dad out on the trail, we thought we'd learn what there was to know, and even get a few hikes under our belt. We wanted to make sure that when the three of us got together, everything would be great. So like all things my brother and I get into, for the next month and a half we completely obsessed over backpacking. We looked at magazines, books, internet sites, and even found a great podcast called Southeastern Backpackers.

1 to 2 hour nightly phone conversations became the norm with discussions about how Rylan said this, and Golden said that. We love the way you two just sit around and chew the fat about hiking. It's a lot like we do. We talked packs, tents, bags, pads, boots... you name it. Talked it all to death. One time Ryan's wife discovered him, nose to the computer screen watching a guy fluffing dry grass in a fire-building video. My wife got used to me collecting drier lint. We went nuts.

So we set a date, picked a 25 mile loop up in Oregon (Bull of the Woods Wilderness) and Ryan bought a plane ticket.

Ryan arrived in Portland and we went straight to REI. Two hours later we were at Winco stocking up at the bulk food section. Two hours later we were at home proportioning meals, and packing everything just right. Soon the lights were out and we laid in bed with "visions of GORP dancing in our heads."

One of the things we appreciate most about you two is the way you're both so positive about everything. We often talked about adopting the Rylan & Golden attitude that it should always be fun; and that if things get rough it will still make a good story.

The next morning we hit the road with directions in hand. The first problem occurred when we came to a fork in the road. Our directions said "Go Straight". Huh? We took a stab at it and went left. 10 miles later we decided that left was wrong.

No problem-- we were having fun. We drove back to the fork and took the right way. We now had 2.7 miles to find road 6340; a gravel road. Well at 2.7 miles we found road 6320, and it was paved. Nothing in either direction seemed right, so we took it. Road 6320 ended up going from pavement, to dirt, to harsh gravel, to harsh gravel with branches laying across it, to rough gravel with trees laying across it, to... no road. Just heavy rocks and thick brush in every direction. My 98 Honda Accord was like a roller skate at a monster truck rally. 6320 must have been a power access road because no trailhead was at the end of it.

No problem-- we were here to have fun. We figured the right road must be farther down, so we got back onto the main road and kept looking. This road stopped suddenly at a bridge that was structurally unstable and closed due to heavy spring rain.

No problem-- we were going to have fun. We were forced onto the last choice of roads headed close to the right direction of the trailhead. We went another 5 minutes when, "POP!". My left front tire went completely flat.

No problem-- this was supposed to be fun. Out came the spare and we were rolling again in no time. A few more junctions and lots of head-scratching later, we found ourselves on a poorly maintained road with brush narrowing quickly. I decided that the half-sized spare should take no more, and started to turn back. I was right. "Sssssssss..." Now our spare was flat.

No problem-- okay big problem. Now, with two flat tires in the middle of nowhere, without cell service or confidence of our location on the map, we were sunk.

Our only hope was to walk back out to a construction site we remember passing 10 miles back.  With packs on, and car doors locked, we set out. We walked about 100 feet when around the bend a forestry vehicle made it's appearance. He stopped and helped saying, "You guys are lucky I found you, I never come back this way". When we asked him what he was up to, he said that he was going to help out at Bull of the Woods--- and that it was on fire!

Strike 6. Our directions were junk, our car had two flat tires, the bridge to get us there was washed out, and on top of all that-- the trail was on fire.

Again we remembered the Rylan & Golden optimism. My brother asked the forestry department if he had enough food and water (where else were we going to use all this trail etiquette under the circumstances). While we waited for the tow we practised using our signal mirrors and calculated declination with our compasses. My brother even discovered a whistle built into the sternum strap of his pack!

4 hours, 60 miles, and $282 in towing and tire repair fees later, we were spent. The white flag was up and we headed back home.

The next couple of days were spent hiking 14 miles round trip at a closer trail I knew first hand. We had a great time. Thanks to your good attitudes and advice, our trip was salvaged. We look forward to many years of hiking both together and with our Dad. 

Keep up the great work. We love the podcast!

Sincerely,

McKay Marshall