It was suggested in the last post that my next stop was to be Seiad Valley. It wasn't. I'll be honest. The hike into Dunsmuir, with its solitude, poor trail maintenance, and clear cuts, left me feeling a little down. Fortunately, this section proved to be a moral buster. After hearing from a few southbounders and hiking with two new friends, I decided to follow them into Etna for a one-night layover. It was a wonderful decision.
I left Dunsmuir in the middle of a hot afternoon, and I was feeling a little down, as I have said. I even read the letter my friend Mike gave me at the beginning of the trip that I was not to read unless seriously considering quiting the trail or feeling terribly lonely. It was funny and encouraging and got me going again. Thanks Mike. I still have it in case I should have another bad day. As I got moving again I passed under the impressive Castle Crags. These enormous pillars of granite stretch almost completely vertical into the sky and are very reminiscent of the Sierra country. The next few days to Etna would contain more Sierra-like granite, minus about 4000 ft of it.
It was uncertain that moral would improve right away, because shortly after leaving town I encountered my first black bear. It was so small however, that I thought it to be a black German Shepard at first glance. I easily scared it away with some aggressive shouting and after waiting a few moments to let it create distance between itself and the trail, I continued on. To make matters worse, I encountered yet another rattlesnake before making camp. This being about the sixth encounter I am getting better at controlling my fear and heart rate. I made camp near a small stream and was joined shortly thereafter by another thru-hiker. Fox Trot was probably in his early thirties and is a commercial fisherman in the winter. Having ample time for hiking, he has amassed over 30,000 miles of trail over the last fifteen-some-odd years on every trail you can think of.
I hike alone the entire next day. It was almost thirty miles exactly when I came to Highway 3 at Scott's Summit. Upon arrival, I noticed a small handwritten note on the trail head to make my way 1/2 mile down the highway to Camp Independence for some refreshments. I figured it was a YMCA camp or something of the like, but it was just a dad and his son enjoying their own little getaway property in the mountains. I made it just in time to catch dinner. The dad's name was Cub and he told me to hit the barbecue for some chicken and Chet, his son, brought me over a beer. They said I could role my sleeping bag out where I'd like and I was welcome to whatever I wanted. Still pretty full of three BBQ chicken breasts, I managed to have a few peanut butter cookies too. We then move the cooler over near the fire pit and continued talking fireside. Cub had hiked the trail back in '78. He graduated high school a year early because he wanted to go hiking so bad. Back then it was mostly logging and forest service roads but he made it the whole way in just over six months. His memory of every detail of the trip impressed me after so many years. He really got me excited about making it all the way to Canada again. Cub and Chet were so generous. They woke up with me the next morning and cooked breakfast and gave me a ride back to the trail. My luck was perfect because they were only there for that night and it turned out to be some of the best trail magic of the trip.
I eventually made some more friends with some hikers I could actually keep up with the following day. At lunch by a nice spring, Ice Ax and Heaps came hiking by. Ice Ax is forty and finishing the hike after one failed attempted 18 years ago. He hikes a brisk pace, but if you get winded you need not worry about an awkward silence, because one will never come. He is never at a loss for things to keep the conversation rolling. Heaps is about 22 and came to the trail from Sidney, though he was born and raised in New Zealand. We had a lot of fun chatting down the trail that afternoon. It was nice to talk with new personalities and make new friends. We all camped at different miles for the night but regrouped in the morning for the hike to the highway, and boy was it a great morning.
The fourteen miles we hiked to the highway was filled with interesting people. It started out simply enough with a couple of over-nighters but quickly got interesting. Coming around one corner, we are all surprised to see a number of goats in the trail. Scanning the area we find a woman who could have been Mother Nature herself standing among the trees. She greets us and the questions begin. Soon her friend hikes up to the trail from below where more goats were grazing. He had a wide brimmed hat on and some high water trousers held up by suspenders well clear of his sandals. They told us that they had just hit the trail a few days ago. They lived completely off the land and their goats. They had 18 goats all together and would get as much as 4 gallons of milk a day. They offered us some milk and it was quite taste. They said they also make cheese and yogurt and always have more than enough to eat. They told us they even slaughtered one disagreeable goat when some friends of their's came out to visit. They said that they would stay out until the weather turned cold. Then it would be back to the abandoned hippy commune for the winter. As he put it, they live completely off the grid and they seemed to like it that way. The three of us were quite impressed with their lifestyle. It was so simple and organic; just natural. We ended up talking with them for just shy of an hour, but town was calling.
The next group we met was about 6 guys, all over sixty. They said they had been hiking in the summer together for 40 years. They were super nice and we all agreed how wonderful the hiking community and lifestyle was. There was quite an aroma about the group. I'm sure they had just been enhancing their hiking experience before we met them. You could tell they were familiar with the Haight/ Ashbury scene and wished it were still around. Again, it was unfortunate, but we eventually had to moved on.
It was a tough hitch into town. The third car we saw picked us up but that took over an hour. When we got into town we found ourselves at the local drugstore which had an old fashion soda fountain and ice-cream bar. We all had milkshakes and then went to the cafe for lunch. We heard about this school that hosts hikers for free so we made our way over. There were some hikers already there that gave us the rundown of the place. The school is a sort of alternative college that focuses on intercultural studies and humanitarian projects. There are a number of students from South Korea, Germany, Brazil and the US. After grabbing dinner we came back to the school because Tim, the German student, was leading a discussion on patriotism for his peers. We were welcomed into the discussion and what a blessing it was.
Boy was it refreshing to exercise the brain instead of the body. It was such a wonderful platform as well. The opinions encompassed a wide scope and it was beautiful to learn how each felt about his or her country. The conversation was, understandably, clouded with semantics, as most were using their second language, but all managed to convey passionate ideas about boarders, government, and environment. Tim mediated the conversation beautifully, always ready with another question or example when silence approached. The discussion continued well after its formal conclusion. I began to think about the ironies of my own trip. The two boarders I would be crossing greatly differ. One is a fifteen foot fence with barbed wire and armed guards. The other is a row of trees that have been cut down without so much as a single customs agent. It was interesting to think of all the many complications reported by the news from around the world when this group of a dozen students from its every corner sat together in loving conversation with one another. Its almost as if the lines that were drawn in the sand so long ago have failed to serve their purpose. I'm not even sure what that purpose was. To the couple we met that herds goats in the mountains, these lines that, in most cases, exist only on paper maps are senseless markings by a child with a crayon. They have no bearing on the way one lives when herding goats. They need nothing from a government or union or state. They have no income so they are nothing to the government, but the government can't provide them with land or goats or each other, so the government is nothing to them.
Don't be too worried about me though. I have plenty to keep me tied to a mainstream American lifestyle. I'll be to Seiad Valley in a couple of days and then Ashland shortly after. I'm so thankful for my unplanned stop in Etna. I'll never forget the people I've met today. They've certainly given me plenty to think about on the trail for the coming miles. Its nice to know where I'm hiking from day to day and now I have to figure it out for the coming years. I'm sad to say that I may lack the courage to be a wondering mountain goat herder but "off the grid" does sound like a very interesting place.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Hop Skip and a Jump
I left Burney Falls early Monday morning. Skivvies and I had a great time together. The day before we were able to chat about a lot of things, driving hikers here and there. Then, when everyone was where they wanted to go we headed for the falls not too far from Homeschool's house. Its a beautifully unique waterfall. Like any water fall, the stream billows over the edge, falling over a hundred feet to the pool below. What makes it truely unique is that water flows directly out of the cliff wall from underground aquifers, and the stream doubles in size as it leaves the pool. Skivvies and I decided we had to jump in for a dip. Well, I jumped in, but Skivvies, after his accident jumping into Tahoe, decided it would be safer to just wade into the cold water. Because the water comes straight out of the ground it hasn't had a chance to be warmed by the sun and its about 45 degrees; quite refreshing. We weren't able to stay in and swim very long, but the warm day quickly heated our chilled bodies as soon as we were out. Skivvies was uncertain what the rest of the summer would hold for him but things seem to work out for Team Sweetwater. Hopefully I'll see him again soon after the hike.
The trail from Burney to Dunsmuir was hot. It was a hundred degrees all three days, but there were enough stream crossings to cool off. Luckily it was shaded by thick forests most of the way. I passed but one southbound hiker during the three days. I'm sure my friends are just ahead, but thats how it works out sometimes. You could be no more than a mile away from another hiker but if you never catch him it feels like your the only one on the whole trail. I passed a couple of fly fisherman. That seemed like a wonderful weekend trip; find a good spot and wait for the fish to come to you. There was also a large family that had made the short day-hike up the Squaw Valley trail for a nice refreshing swim. By one of the creeks I found a pair of expensive smartwool socks that I have been packing, hoping to find the owner. So far I've not had any luck with that.
Getting on top of the ridges in this section give quite amazing views of Mnt. Shasta. Its amazingly impressive. John Muir wrote once that his first sight of Shasta made his blood turn into wine. Although, I did not become intoxicated at its sight, it was quite a sight to behold. It must be five or six thousand feet taller than any other mountain around and its volcanic origins give it quite a different character than the granite peeks of the Sierra. I'm sure we'll be seeing its peek well into Oregon as it dominates the landscape.
I made it into town late last evening. I had missed the postal hours so I set about the town in search of pizza. At the local pizzaria I met a section hiker, Bigfoot, who was staying in town. We hung out for a bit and then it was off to the motel to shower and down my extra large BBQ chicken pizza. I figured it would be for breakfast too, but when it was completely devoured before bedtime I ran over to the grocery store to buy some cereal for in the morning. Since I was already there I also baught and ate a half gallon of ice cream to boot. Sometimes the hiker hunger takes over in town and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
Thismorning I slep in and got my box at the post office. My parents have been wonderful to send a parcel to almost all of my town stops. Sometimes these little mountain towns can get a little pricey. I also recieve a wonderful box from our friend, Sharon. We were hoping to meet up on her drive up north to Washington but she was kind enough to leave me a treat even though it didn't work out. Between that and the box from Mom and Dad I will be eating quite well on this next leg. I sorted things in my room before checkout then went about my other town duties. There was laundery, visit to the hardware store for fuel, and then to the library where I am now. I'll grab a bite to eat soon and hitch back to the trail this afternoon. It'll be hot but I'll hike till dark when its at least cooling a little bit. The next stop will be in Seiad Valley. I don't think its more than a PO, resturaunt, and small store all in the same building. Shortly after that, its a short leg to Ashland. California you've been quite a hike.
The trail from Burney to Dunsmuir was hot. It was a hundred degrees all three days, but there were enough stream crossings to cool off. Luckily it was shaded by thick forests most of the way. I passed but one southbound hiker during the three days. I'm sure my friends are just ahead, but thats how it works out sometimes. You could be no more than a mile away from another hiker but if you never catch him it feels like your the only one on the whole trail. I passed a couple of fly fisherman. That seemed like a wonderful weekend trip; find a good spot and wait for the fish to come to you. There was also a large family that had made the short day-hike up the Squaw Valley trail for a nice refreshing swim. By one of the creeks I found a pair of expensive smartwool socks that I have been packing, hoping to find the owner. So far I've not had any luck with that.
Getting on top of the ridges in this section give quite amazing views of Mnt. Shasta. Its amazingly impressive. John Muir wrote once that his first sight of Shasta made his blood turn into wine. Although, I did not become intoxicated at its sight, it was quite a sight to behold. It must be five or six thousand feet taller than any other mountain around and its volcanic origins give it quite a different character than the granite peeks of the Sierra. I'm sure we'll be seeing its peek well into Oregon as it dominates the landscape.
I made it into town late last evening. I had missed the postal hours so I set about the town in search of pizza. At the local pizzaria I met a section hiker, Bigfoot, who was staying in town. We hung out for a bit and then it was off to the motel to shower and down my extra large BBQ chicken pizza. I figured it would be for breakfast too, but when it was completely devoured before bedtime I ran over to the grocery store to buy some cereal for in the morning. Since I was already there I also baught and ate a half gallon of ice cream to boot. Sometimes the hiker hunger takes over in town and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
Thismorning I slep in and got my box at the post office. My parents have been wonderful to send a parcel to almost all of my town stops. Sometimes these little mountain towns can get a little pricey. I also recieve a wonderful box from our friend, Sharon. We were hoping to meet up on her drive up north to Washington but she was kind enough to leave me a treat even though it didn't work out. Between that and the box from Mom and Dad I will be eating quite well on this next leg. I sorted things in my room before checkout then went about my other town duties. There was laundery, visit to the hardware store for fuel, and then to the library where I am now. I'll grab a bite to eat soon and hitch back to the trail this afternoon. It'll be hot but I'll hike till dark when its at least cooling a little bit. The next stop will be in Seiad Valley. I don't think its more than a PO, resturaunt, and small store all in the same building. Shortly after that, its a short leg to Ashland. California you've been quite a hike.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
30s 30s 30s
After an amazing 4th of July in Tahoe it was time to get serious about this hiking thing. Team Sweetwater, Homeschooler and Skivies, told me they would be taking a few days off in Burney and said it would be fun to hang out again. I foolishly agreed to see them in ten days. It is over 300 miles between Tahoe and Burney, and I would have the opportunity and motivation to acquaint myself with the then allusive 30 mile day. What a way to hike.
I was ushered to the trailhead by Tom and the boys amidst a flood of other vehicles fleeing Tahoe after the holiday. Hiking by 1 p.m. or so, I quickly came upon the Echo Lake general store and acquired my resupply box and started sorting. I had plenty of food but I had gotten rid of my stove during my time off. I had been making small fires to cook dinner to that point but the Desolation Wilderness prohibits any open flame in the park. I was about to by a box of Sterno when I met some section hikers that herd of my dilemma and quickly solved it with an extra alcohal stove they had been carrying. Trail magic never ceases to come through in a time of need. I broke out of the store at a brisk pace but only made it 12 or13 miles as it was already late in the day. The Desolation Wilderness is gorgeous. Hundreds of lakes and remarkably green forest, it draws quite a crowd and I passed a plethora of hikers before they began to thin in the evening. I made camp by a small lake and, having had dinner a couple hours earlier, quickly got into bed. The next day would be a landmark day in my trek.
The key to the thirty mile day, in my opinion, is in the first three hours of hiking. I would wake up fairly early, have breakfast, and then hike for ten or twelve miles straight before I'd take a break. Sometimes I would have as many as 14 or 15 miles in the bag by noon. Then in the afternoon when fatigue would sneak in there was plenty of time to take a few rests. Sometimes I would stop at at five or six to make dinner and then I would be free to hike till dark before making camp. The entire day needs to be utilized, but just like the body adapted to 20s it adapts to 30s also.
The day before I went into Sierra City I met a real high mileage hiker. Scott Williamson is somewhat of a trail legend. He had done the trail many times and has completed a successful yoyo as well. This year he is attempting to break the unsupported speed record of 70-some-odd days, and complete the entire trail in 65 days. When we met I was taking a break with some day hikers I had met. I recognized him as he approached from past years slide shows. Plus he is not easy to miss. Standing about 6'4'', wearing just some running shorts and his trail runners, caring a tiny pack the size any small child could take to school, he moves. Having heard of his hike already I said, "Good luck on the record Scott."
He said, "Whats your name hiker? Are you through hiking?" I told him my name and that I was and he said, "Enjoy your hike. Its a beautiful trail." The whole time he was moving down the trail and he was quickly out of sight. I knew we would not meet again. He must be averaging somewhere between 40 and 50 miles a day, but it was fun to at least meet someone that is such an icon on the trail and had done so much for promoting its conservation.
The following day I hiked into Sierra City through some campgrounds. The campers in the park must far out number the permanent residents of the small town. I had barely made it onto the "downtown" street when a woman called to me from a balcony over a small cafe. She said to come up through the door with the PCT logo on it and I made my way up. She and a friend had rented out this apartment for the week with the sole purpose of hosting thru-hikers. It seems I had caught them on the day they were due to check out but it was still early so I was able to get a shower and sort my resupply box before it was time to go. There were a bunch of hikers hanging out. Some were waiting at the mercy of the US postal service for their resupply boxes and some were just taking advantage of a couch to sit on when they had the chance. At the apartment was Spec' and Maggie, Lucky Larry, The Skipper, Super Dave, and Batman among others. I didn't know it at the time but I would be seeing a lot more of these folks in the days to come.
There was a few thousand feet to climb out of town but it was steep and went fast. Once on top, the 30s continued to the next stop which was Belden. Between it was a nice hike. Mellow grades and plenty of water around made for an easy go for a bit but then there was a long drop into river bed just before Burney. I wanted to make it to the water so I could make my dinner and breakfast in the morning. I must have miscalculated a bit because I thought I should have been there well before I arrived and I had to hike into the dark before I made it to the bridge and a couple of nice campsites on the shore. There was a little hiccup on the decent. I was hustling to beat the coming darkness when I heard the last thing I wanted to hear. The rattling tail of a rattlesnake is such a sharp and piercing warning it definitely accomplishes its objective. I thought my arms have slowly atrophied to near uselessness, but it seems they have a bit of strength left in them. Upon hearing the dreaded sound my feet immediately lifted from the ground and I vaulted myself forward beyond the snake with a desperate thrust of my trekking poles. Safely in camp I asked a hiker if I could share his spot till morning. His name was Christoph the Explorer and he fittingly looked the part. Clothes a little ragged, he wore a stylishly Victorian felt hat and had much of his tarps and blankets hanging from his pack down to his knees. He was a super nice guy, just doing some solo hiking on the the Tahoe Rim Trail and the PCT. I left him in camp in the morning and headed for Belden.
It was an over four thousand foot drop into the river's valley and the town resort of Belden. The decent was made more interesting by the growing sound of techno music coming from below. As I approached the resort I asked some campers where things were and where to go. I was interested to find that each person I talked to was European and each subscribed to a neo-hippy, kind of bohemian style of dress; very ragged and nick-nacky. There was a dance floor that was crowded with people, jumping and moving to the beat. I came to find out that the resort hosts a number of raves throughout the summer weekends. It was quite entertaining to watch.
I made my way through the wild party and down the road a mile to the local trail angel's, the Braatens. They were not home when I arrived but the note said to come on in and be at home. It was a lot of fun to stay there. They were quite sweet and many hikers arrived. We had a good time and after breakfast the next day, I made the 4000 ft climb out of town. The next stop was mountain resort Drakesbad. We were about 14 miles away when we camped but having heard about a wonderful breakfast buffet, I decided to awake early and try to arrive before 10am. Up at 4:30, trekking as fast as I could, I arrived on property at 9:30 only to hear that breakfast ends at 8:30. I quickly was consoled by the fact that they would do my laundry for free and I could wait for lunch by their hot spring fed pool and have a shower. Maggie and Spec' caught me there and we enjoyed a few hours of relaxing through the mid-day heat.
Leaving the resort the trail follows a series of creeks. Water was not a problem but the mosquito's that live in it was. They were awful. Swarms harassed me for hours. They would land on my arms in such numbers that a single slap would kill four or five. When I sped up to leave them behind, many rode on my pack and waited for my pace to slow. I would agitate my pack by shaking it or hitting it with my trekking poles only to see swarms rise over each shoulder. They bit through my shirt and pants. They would land on my head and crawl through my hair to bite my scalp. I had bites all over my arms and legs and finally found relief when the trail left the creeks. I need to get some more bug spray.
I made it into Old Station the next day. I took the afternoon off because I had heard from Skivvies that he had hurt his foot so there is no rush to get to Burney anymore, and I was also tired. Even with the stops I had mentioned, I was still hiking 25 to 32 miles a day, and Old Station is home to a renown trail angel, Firefly. She is a sweet old lady and her and her husband Denny run their place, the Hideaway. Lucky Larry, Batman and I took up spots in their tree house while others took some of the tents. We had dinner and everyone pitched in to help. There was electricity in the tree house so we watched a couple of movies, The African Queen and 2001 Space Odyssey. It was fun to relax and in the morning it took us a while to get going, helping with dishes and waiting for rides to the trail. We got going so late, in fact, that I decided to take the road into Burney instead of the trail so I could make it to the post office before it closed the next day.
The road walk up the 89 was actually quite beautiful. It was mostly a series of old ranch houses and large spreads with cattle grazing and Mnt. Shasta in the background. I made it in close to Burney by nightfall and called Skivvies who came to pick me up. It was great to see my friends again, although I was sad the injuries had taken them off trail I was glad to be able to catch them. The night I got in a family friend of Homeschool had us over for dinner. There was great conversation. The family was delightful. Les, the father, who had come with Skivvies and picked me up, told us of a town BBQ that we checked out the following day. It was a lot fun and the food was excellent. We spent the afternoon giving rides to some other hikers that were passing through town. We'll plan to go to church in the morning and then its back to the trail for me. I'm not sure when I'll see Team Sweetwater again. Its unfortunate that they are no longer hiking. They have become wonderful friends.
My next resupply is in Dunsmire and then its really not to far to Oregon. I can't wait. We just recently passed the half way point, but will feel so close when I'm able to cross the Oregon boarder out of California. It will be nice to be back in the NW, closer to family and in more familiar mountains. The trail is getting long and I'm looking forward to completing it but I know I still have a long way to go.
I was ushered to the trailhead by Tom and the boys amidst a flood of other vehicles fleeing Tahoe after the holiday. Hiking by 1 p.m. or so, I quickly came upon the Echo Lake general store and acquired my resupply box and started sorting. I had plenty of food but I had gotten rid of my stove during my time off. I had been making small fires to cook dinner to that point but the Desolation Wilderness prohibits any open flame in the park. I was about to by a box of Sterno when I met some section hikers that herd of my dilemma and quickly solved it with an extra alcohal stove they had been carrying. Trail magic never ceases to come through in a time of need. I broke out of the store at a brisk pace but only made it 12 or13 miles as it was already late in the day. The Desolation Wilderness is gorgeous. Hundreds of lakes and remarkably green forest, it draws quite a crowd and I passed a plethora of hikers before they began to thin in the evening. I made camp by a small lake and, having had dinner a couple hours earlier, quickly got into bed. The next day would be a landmark day in my trek.
The key to the thirty mile day, in my opinion, is in the first three hours of hiking. I would wake up fairly early, have breakfast, and then hike for ten or twelve miles straight before I'd take a break. Sometimes I would have as many as 14 or 15 miles in the bag by noon. Then in the afternoon when fatigue would sneak in there was plenty of time to take a few rests. Sometimes I would stop at at five or six to make dinner and then I would be free to hike till dark before making camp. The entire day needs to be utilized, but just like the body adapted to 20s it adapts to 30s also.
The day before I went into Sierra City I met a real high mileage hiker. Scott Williamson is somewhat of a trail legend. He had done the trail many times and has completed a successful yoyo as well. This year he is attempting to break the unsupported speed record of 70-some-odd days, and complete the entire trail in 65 days. When we met I was taking a break with some day hikers I had met. I recognized him as he approached from past years slide shows. Plus he is not easy to miss. Standing about 6'4'', wearing just some running shorts and his trail runners, caring a tiny pack the size any small child could take to school, he moves. Having heard of his hike already I said, "Good luck on the record Scott."
He said, "Whats your name hiker? Are you through hiking?" I told him my name and that I was and he said, "Enjoy your hike. Its a beautiful trail." The whole time he was moving down the trail and he was quickly out of sight. I knew we would not meet again. He must be averaging somewhere between 40 and 50 miles a day, but it was fun to at least meet someone that is such an icon on the trail and had done so much for promoting its conservation.
The following day I hiked into Sierra City through some campgrounds. The campers in the park must far out number the permanent residents of the small town. I had barely made it onto the "downtown" street when a woman called to me from a balcony over a small cafe. She said to come up through the door with the PCT logo on it and I made my way up. She and a friend had rented out this apartment for the week with the sole purpose of hosting thru-hikers. It seems I had caught them on the day they were due to check out but it was still early so I was able to get a shower and sort my resupply box before it was time to go. There were a bunch of hikers hanging out. Some were waiting at the mercy of the US postal service for their resupply boxes and some were just taking advantage of a couch to sit on when they had the chance. At the apartment was Spec' and Maggie, Lucky Larry, The Skipper, Super Dave, and Batman among others. I didn't know it at the time but I would be seeing a lot more of these folks in the days to come.
There was a few thousand feet to climb out of town but it was steep and went fast. Once on top, the 30s continued to the next stop which was Belden. Between it was a nice hike. Mellow grades and plenty of water around made for an easy go for a bit but then there was a long drop into river bed just before Burney. I wanted to make it to the water so I could make my dinner and breakfast in the morning. I must have miscalculated a bit because I thought I should have been there well before I arrived and I had to hike into the dark before I made it to the bridge and a couple of nice campsites on the shore. There was a little hiccup on the decent. I was hustling to beat the coming darkness when I heard the last thing I wanted to hear. The rattling tail of a rattlesnake is such a sharp and piercing warning it definitely accomplishes its objective. I thought my arms have slowly atrophied to near uselessness, but it seems they have a bit of strength left in them. Upon hearing the dreaded sound my feet immediately lifted from the ground and I vaulted myself forward beyond the snake with a desperate thrust of my trekking poles. Safely in camp I asked a hiker if I could share his spot till morning. His name was Christoph the Explorer and he fittingly looked the part. Clothes a little ragged, he wore a stylishly Victorian felt hat and had much of his tarps and blankets hanging from his pack down to his knees. He was a super nice guy, just doing some solo hiking on the the Tahoe Rim Trail and the PCT. I left him in camp in the morning and headed for Belden.
It was an over four thousand foot drop into the river's valley and the town resort of Belden. The decent was made more interesting by the growing sound of techno music coming from below. As I approached the resort I asked some campers where things were and where to go. I was interested to find that each person I talked to was European and each subscribed to a neo-hippy, kind of bohemian style of dress; very ragged and nick-nacky. There was a dance floor that was crowded with people, jumping and moving to the beat. I came to find out that the resort hosts a number of raves throughout the summer weekends. It was quite entertaining to watch.
I made my way through the wild party and down the road a mile to the local trail angel's, the Braatens. They were not home when I arrived but the note said to come on in and be at home. It was a lot of fun to stay there. They were quite sweet and many hikers arrived. We had a good time and after breakfast the next day, I made the 4000 ft climb out of town. The next stop was mountain resort Drakesbad. We were about 14 miles away when we camped but having heard about a wonderful breakfast buffet, I decided to awake early and try to arrive before 10am. Up at 4:30, trekking as fast as I could, I arrived on property at 9:30 only to hear that breakfast ends at 8:30. I quickly was consoled by the fact that they would do my laundry for free and I could wait for lunch by their hot spring fed pool and have a shower. Maggie and Spec' caught me there and we enjoyed a few hours of relaxing through the mid-day heat.
Leaving the resort the trail follows a series of creeks. Water was not a problem but the mosquito's that live in it was. They were awful. Swarms harassed me for hours. They would land on my arms in such numbers that a single slap would kill four or five. When I sped up to leave them behind, many rode on my pack and waited for my pace to slow. I would agitate my pack by shaking it or hitting it with my trekking poles only to see swarms rise over each shoulder. They bit through my shirt and pants. They would land on my head and crawl through my hair to bite my scalp. I had bites all over my arms and legs and finally found relief when the trail left the creeks. I need to get some more bug spray.
I made it into Old Station the next day. I took the afternoon off because I had heard from Skivvies that he had hurt his foot so there is no rush to get to Burney anymore, and I was also tired. Even with the stops I had mentioned, I was still hiking 25 to 32 miles a day, and Old Station is home to a renown trail angel, Firefly. She is a sweet old lady and her and her husband Denny run their place, the Hideaway. Lucky Larry, Batman and I took up spots in their tree house while others took some of the tents. We had dinner and everyone pitched in to help. There was electricity in the tree house so we watched a couple of movies, The African Queen and 2001 Space Odyssey. It was fun to relax and in the morning it took us a while to get going, helping with dishes and waiting for rides to the trail. We got going so late, in fact, that I decided to take the road into Burney instead of the trail so I could make it to the post office before it closed the next day.
The road walk up the 89 was actually quite beautiful. It was mostly a series of old ranch houses and large spreads with cattle grazing and Mnt. Shasta in the background. I made it in close to Burney by nightfall and called Skivvies who came to pick me up. It was great to see my friends again, although I was sad the injuries had taken them off trail I was glad to be able to catch them. The night I got in a family friend of Homeschool had us over for dinner. There was great conversation. The family was delightful. Les, the father, who had come with Skivvies and picked me up, told us of a town BBQ that we checked out the following day. It was a lot fun and the food was excellent. We spent the afternoon giving rides to some other hikers that were passing through town. We'll plan to go to church in the morning and then its back to the trail for me. I'm not sure when I'll see Team Sweetwater again. Its unfortunate that they are no longer hiking. They have become wonderful friends.
My next resupply is in Dunsmire and then its really not to far to Oregon. I can't wait. We just recently passed the half way point, but will feel so close when I'm able to cross the Oregon boarder out of California. It will be nice to be back in the NW, closer to family and in more familiar mountains. The trail is getting long and I'm looking forward to completing it but I know I still have a long way to go.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Hello Tahoe, You Big Beautiful Blue Lake!
After a little time off it was high time to get back to the trail. I loved seeing friends, celebrating a marriage, eating massive quantities of food, and getting a taste of the beach, but Canada beckons. Somehow you do grow to miss the long days and trying miles. After a while its even somewhat comfortable.
Tuesday night Kristin and I left San Diego to pick up friends in Longbeach that would accompany her all the way back to Seattle. We drove through the night playing games and singing along with the radio, arriving at Sanora Pass around 6a.m. in the morning. Sleepless and tired, I bid my friends farewell and hit the trail. The day became littered with sporadic naps. Early in the day I met a happy thru-hiking couple, True and Birdnut. They were very nice and we lunched together later that day. During the afternoon, on an attempted five minute water break, I was awakened after an unknown amount of time by a backpacker that was trying to pass by. Pack still strapped to my shoulders, I had rolled into the middle of the trail, desperately trying to acquire a few more "zzzz". Even with the constant napping I still managed over twenty miles and broke for camp. A familiar face awaited the next day.
I woke up the next morning feeling rested and ready to meet the trail. Taking off I quickly caught up to True and Birdnut who had also caught up to, none other than, Ancient Brit himself. I just keep running into this guy. Lucky he was clothed for this, our fourth meeting. Hiking on, I eventually left Ancient Brit behind though I'm sure we'll cross paths again. The stretch from Sanora to Tahoe is beautiful. Up and down between 8 and 9000 ft, you still encounter a little snow, streams, and lakes as the trail curves in and out of the forest.
The third day out of Sanora was filled with the weekenders and day-hikers. The day before the 4th, it seemed everyone was hitting the mountains for a nice hike. I crossed over Carson Pass at highway 88, chit-chatting with many hikers along the way. I ran into two weekenders Bill and Keith that were hiking with Keith's two yellow labs and we got to chatting about the trail. They're good guys out of Reno and I pulled up a little early to camp with them at Shower Lake. It was fun to camp with new friends but we picked a place that couldn't possibly have any more mosquito's. We were forced inside our tents and continued the conversation with raised voices from tent to tent for a time.
Up the next morning early, I had 10 miles to highway 50. I was thinking I would cruise through after getting my box in Echo Lake but I remember my friend Skivies said to give him a call because they would be in the area. I got a hold of him at the highway and he said to hitch into South Lake Tahoe because they met some friends of friends and I was welcome to come along. It turns out they ran into the parents of a friend of theirs from school, Tom and Shari Hochradel. We also found out the their son is good friends with Matt and Traci Wilson whom I know and adore from Point Loma. Anyways, long story short, we went out on Lake Tahoe for the day, cruised around and went for a swim. Then we went to their friend's gorgeous summerhouse overlooking the lake for a barbecue and then it was back out on the boat at night to watch the Fourth of July fireworks display. They are even letting us crash on the floor of their hotel room. Waking up that morning, I would have never believed I would have had such an eventful day or met such wonderful and generous people.
I regret to report that Hollywood, Skivies hiking partner, is no longer on the trail. A stress fracture in his knee sent him home for the rest of the summer but he is getting better. The other hiker I met is Homeschool, who is joining Skivies for the rest of their California hike. To refresh the memory, these are the boys from Cal Baptist University that are hiking to raise money to sink wells in India. If you want to check out more about their quest check out teamsweetwater.net. Its worth a least a few minutes of your time.
Well, I'll be getting back to the trail tomorrow. In about four days I'll be passing throug Sierra City and then Belden 4 more days after that. I doubt many of the hikers along the trail will believe the trail magic that I've come across. I'll certainly never forget my first trip to Tahoe. It was incredible, and remember, Keep Tahoe Blue!
Tuesday night Kristin and I left San Diego to pick up friends in Longbeach that would accompany her all the way back to Seattle. We drove through the night playing games and singing along with the radio, arriving at Sanora Pass around 6a.m. in the morning. Sleepless and tired, I bid my friends farewell and hit the trail. The day became littered with sporadic naps. Early in the day I met a happy thru-hiking couple, True and Birdnut. They were very nice and we lunched together later that day. During the afternoon, on an attempted five minute water break, I was awakened after an unknown amount of time by a backpacker that was trying to pass by. Pack still strapped to my shoulders, I had rolled into the middle of the trail, desperately trying to acquire a few more "zzzz". Even with the constant napping I still managed over twenty miles and broke for camp. A familiar face awaited the next day.
I woke up the next morning feeling rested and ready to meet the trail. Taking off I quickly caught up to True and Birdnut who had also caught up to, none other than, Ancient Brit himself. I just keep running into this guy. Lucky he was clothed for this, our fourth meeting. Hiking on, I eventually left Ancient Brit behind though I'm sure we'll cross paths again. The stretch from Sanora to Tahoe is beautiful. Up and down between 8 and 9000 ft, you still encounter a little snow, streams, and lakes as the trail curves in and out of the forest.
The third day out of Sanora was filled with the weekenders and day-hikers. The day before the 4th, it seemed everyone was hitting the mountains for a nice hike. I crossed over Carson Pass at highway 88, chit-chatting with many hikers along the way. I ran into two weekenders Bill and Keith that were hiking with Keith's two yellow labs and we got to chatting about the trail. They're good guys out of Reno and I pulled up a little early to camp with them at Shower Lake. It was fun to camp with new friends but we picked a place that couldn't possibly have any more mosquito's. We were forced inside our tents and continued the conversation with raised voices from tent to tent for a time.
Up the next morning early, I had 10 miles to highway 50. I was thinking I would cruise through after getting my box in Echo Lake but I remember my friend Skivies said to give him a call because they would be in the area. I got a hold of him at the highway and he said to hitch into South Lake Tahoe because they met some friends of friends and I was welcome to come along. It turns out they ran into the parents of a friend of theirs from school, Tom and Shari Hochradel. We also found out the their son is good friends with Matt and Traci Wilson whom I know and adore from Point Loma. Anyways, long story short, we went out on Lake Tahoe for the day, cruised around and went for a swim. Then we went to their friend's gorgeous summerhouse overlooking the lake for a barbecue and then it was back out on the boat at night to watch the Fourth of July fireworks display. They are even letting us crash on the floor of their hotel room. Waking up that morning, I would have never believed I would have had such an eventful day or met such wonderful and generous people.
I regret to report that Hollywood, Skivies hiking partner, is no longer on the trail. A stress fracture in his knee sent him home for the rest of the summer but he is getting better. The other hiker I met is Homeschool, who is joining Skivies for the rest of their California hike. To refresh the memory, these are the boys from Cal Baptist University that are hiking to raise money to sink wells in India. If you want to check out more about their quest check out teamsweetwater.net. Its worth a least a few minutes of your time.
Well, I'll be getting back to the trail tomorrow. In about four days I'll be passing throug Sierra City and then Belden 4 more days after that. I doubt many of the hikers along the trail will believe the trail magic that I've come across. I'll certainly never forget my first trip to Tahoe. It was incredible, and remember, Keep Tahoe Blue!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
