After breakfast I yogied a hitch out of Sister after a bit of doing. No one was stopping after a fun weekend in the mountains, so I headed across the street to just ask for a ride at the gas station. There was a prime candidate fueling up. It was an SUV with a kayaks on tops. When I ask if he was headed over the pass to the PCT, he pointed out his two boys in the back seat and said there was no room. I told him briefly I was just trying to continue my thru-hike of the PCT and then I went back across the street to spring my trap. To leave the gas station they would have to pull up to the intersection facing me and then turn left across traffic to pass directly in front of me, so I waited. When they pulled out I put on my most desperate and pathetic, needy face but all while managing a meager smile and hoped. Sure enough, after turning they pulled onto the shoulder and said, " Ah we can make room." I was very grateful and we enjoyed a delightful round of Q and A regarding my trip during the ride up the pass.
Happily on my way again, I made great time passing many a day-hiker and the weekend warriors making their way back to the trail head after their weekend wilderness adventure. I was sad to be leaving Hop Skip but I knew I would be catching I Spy and Booty soon. At the end of the day I met Doug, a thru-hiker from the east coast and an AT vet. He kept a brisk pace and we made it to camp early. We hiked together for a few days and made good time. We constantly quoted Monte Python to entertain ourselves and fantasized about the glorious breakfast that awaited us at our next stop, Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood. I was particularly excited to get to the lodge because my grandma and grandpa were dropping off my Uncle Tony who would be hiking with me to the WA boarder. The section was mostly uneventful. The only excitement were three black bear encounters. One I didn't exactly see, but he was close. I could hear him moving through the brush away from me. The other two times the bears were also quick to run away.
The day before we were to get to Timberline, Doug and I were determined to get as close to the lodge as possible before making camp. We ended up hiking my longest day yet of 39 miles. I was exhausted but we were only 5 miles out. The next morning we were up and at it early. There was a steep climb up the south slope of Mount Hood and it would have been even shorter to the lodge but there was a huge ravine that had to be hiked up and around and then back down to the lodge. We were there before breakfast was even being served and we were first in line to get some. It was quite a feast. There was fresh squeezed orange juice, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, the works. We sat and ate several helpings a piece and finished by the time the family drove up.
After the long day before, I was looking forward to hiking with my uncle and scaling back the mileage for a bit. The trail just skirts around Mount Hood with great views of Mount Jefferson from which I had just hiked. We put in about 10 miles after breakfast and made camp. The next two days were a cool 15 miles a piece and we took a recommended alternate route to the Columbia down Eagle Creek. It was a gorgeous trail. It followed the creek as it winds toward the mighty Columbia but it was on a ledge for a bit of the time, high above the running water below. There were wonderful waterfalls, even one you could walk behind. When we got to the trail head Wolfman was waiting there for some hikers. He was hoping another thru-hiker could take him up to a trail and then slack his car back to the trail head. Tony wasn't to excited about the final 3 miles into the town of Cascade Locks so he drove him up there and then when the folks got into town, they were able to grab him from the trail head after the car was back. Then we were finally at the Bridge of the Gods.
The Bridge of the Gods is the bridge from Cascade Locks into Stevenson, crossing into the last state of the trip. It was a huge milestone, but there were other reasons to be happy to be so far. My friends Zach and Rachel that live in Gresham were able to come out to visit and Marc and Nicole even made the drive down from Seattle. Its been amazing to make new friends on the trail but it is very special to have old friends come out to visit. We had a great time in town. We swam in the Columbia and then had dinner at the Walking Man brewery in Stevenson. We spent the night back across the river in Cascade Locks. I couldn't believe that after spending three months in California, Oregon was over in a matter of weeks. The next morning we had breakfast and then in was back to the trail. Dad slacked my pack across the bridge and we walked together back into the home state.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Oh the Possibilities
So Mom, Dad and Andrea dropped me off at Mazama Campground where I had left off and started the long drive home. I missed them immediately. As I've said before, its the miles just following a visit from a loved one that can be the toughest. Being so close to the finish does make it a little easier. Even though its been a bit colder in Oregon I feel a little more comfortable now that I'm back in the Northwest.
That afternoon I made the quick climb from the campground to Crater Lake's south rim. As I made my way through the trees, I noticed a rather large deer grazing in a small meadow. Just as it was noticed, its head snapped to attention upon my arrival. It quickly turned and sped up the slope through the underbrush and as it did I realized it was not a deer at all. It was quite obviously a cow elk. Furthermore, as it retreated, though they were not seen through the thick forest foliage, the sound of many more of its friends could be herd charging up the same hill. Hard to tell just how many there were, but I would guess it to be about a dozen from the mighty rumble the stampede made.
We had just completed a full drive around the lake with the family but to walk up over the rim into plain view of such a massive watery expanse was incredible. I'm not sure if its allowed but I made a nice camp on the crux of the rim. I made an effort to hide myself in the shelter of a few trees just in case some overzealous rangers were working late. After a few pictures I bedded down for the night, sure to be up in time for sunrise the next morning.
Camped on the southwestern side of the rim the sun rose directly across the Lake to me. Sleeping a bit through my alarm, I awoke to the sky already bright with an orange horizon, slowly dulling as the sphere rose higher from the dawn. The far rim of the lake hung silhouetted against the oncoming glow and its waters below a deep and chilly blue. I took my time breaking camp and didn't get hiking until the last of the morning's performance was over.
The miles went quickly as I dropped elevation from the tall rim. Though the next section to Willamette Pass was quite level, as far as PCT miles are concerned, they would prove to be rather treacherous in their own right. The trail to highway 58 connects countless small lakes and ponds. Mosquitoes by the swarms stalked one's every move. The miles accumulated quickly because breaks were cut rather short on account of being so molested by the tiny vampires. It was easiest to just keep moving. On my own again, I set my own pace and schedule. I found that I enjoyed waking early and hiking in three hour increments. Most three hour stints took me just shy of ten miles and with one morning break I could have as many as 17 or 18 mile in by the time I broke for lunch. A somewhat arduous morning pace was rewarded by a leisurely evening with time even for a bit of reading. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been carrying the same novel since Kennedy meadows, some two months ago. With the miles flying by, I quickly found myself near Willamette Pass where I put into Shelter Cove Resort for some food and showers that came at a resort price but I got something even better for free; Friends!
Shelter Cove was a nice little resting spot. It was right on the west shore of the grand Odell Lake near the top of the pass. As I sat sorting my newly washed clothes and stuffing my rucksack with food another hiker strolled into the resort. The kid had style. Sporting an oil slicked felt hat with a few feathers in the band, bandanna around the neck but falling to the side over the shoulder, he had custom wooden trekking polls with leather handle straps and wore his sheet of bug netting around his waist like a sash to pull his pack tight against his back. His name was Cody and he had put on to the trail at Crater Lake and was section hiking up to Portland where he is from. Cody impressed me and inspired me. I came to find out that along with his custom trekking polls he also sewed and stitched the pack he carried along with his tarp tent that doubles as a poncho. I wish I could be that handy and have resolved myself to becoming so. I was delighted that we would be hiking on together for the next few days.
We left the resort late that afternoon and made it about 7 miles beyond the pass to a cabin shelter maintained by the forest service. We took up camp there for the night and shared it with some other Oregon section hikers. There was Mace, Gwen Bug, and Wildman all of whom were delightful company. Later just before we were turning in I Spy and Booty came in to join us. They are a young couple from Colorado and are hiking on through to Canada as well. I've had a ton of fun hiking with these three. Great conversation, joking, and new lives and personalities to learn about make for really pleasant miles. After the cabin we were spread out along the trail the next day and camped in various spots. I was up early the next day and being a little low on food, I put into Elks Lake Resort for a meal and a few snacks. I made the 8 miles by a little after 8 a.m. The only problem was that the restaurant didn't open until ten. It started to rain so I wasn't going anywhere and I took up refuge on their deck under canopy. With my rarely read novel in hand, I was ready to wait them out.
I didn't get too far into the pages before Billy Goat sauntered up to the Deck. He had just beat the heaviest of the rain. I had run into Billy Goat a number of times on my trip. He jumps from section to section and, as I learned, hikes pretty much year round. At 70 years of age he bookends the age spectrum and is quite the trail celebrity. An article about him was front page of the LA Times at one point and every hiker knows him. I reintroduced myself to him and we chatted until the diner finally opened. As it did and we took our seats Cody, I Spy and Booty arrived and we all enjoyed a delicious meal out of the rain. With a gloomy day in progress we took our time leaving and only made 15 or so more miles that day. We all camped together at a small lake and took off at different intervals in the morning. I made my way out to the front of the pack but it wouldn't be that last time I would see them.
That day I was headed for Big Lake Youth Camp on the other side of highway 242. It was about 28 miles away and I wanted to get there for dinner so I wasn't wasting any time. Even at a brisk pace I had to stop frequently to take pictures of such a unique and impressive landscape. We were passing the Three Sisters mountain peaks. We couldn't exactly see the peaks for they were obscured by clouds but beneath them lay a vast and treacherous volcanic landscape. Huge fields of volcanic rock stretch down toward the valleys below. They reach for miles until the forest finally bleeds onto the rocky soil. Uphill from the trail not a single shrub rises from the rugged and solid formations. I couldn't help but think of the massive forces lurking below that could have created such an amazing scene. Though the volcanic mountains of the Cascade Range are barely half the height of the mighty Sierra Nevada, they posses a power, an intimidation that the Sierra lack. Walking over the sharp pumice and obsidian rock I wondered what manor of plant or animal lies berried beneath and how many times such violence has come to pass in the lifetime of these mountains. It is very much a beautiful danger but a danger none the less.
Through the ever present geological danger, I managed to navigate the lava fields and arrive at the youth camp safely before dinner was served. The staff set me up with a visitors pass and I was able to get showered and wash my clothes. Unfortunately my resupply box did not arrive so I arranged for it to be intercepted in the Town of Sisters and I would pick it up there the next day. Cody, I Spy and Booty never caught me that day. They had either pulled up early or hitched to Sisters from the closer highway. I had dinner amidst a mass of campers in a very loud and very crowded mess hall. There were a couple other hikers there too. Donuts, a young man just out of college from Puyallup as well as Easy Rider and Snow Berry, two section hikers from Oregon finishing their home state.
The next morning I was up early again and closed the 6 mile gap to Highway 20 by 7:15 am. The cars were moving rather quickly, probably on their morning commute to Bend, but I did manage a hitch without much of a wait. Dan was on his way into Sisters to see about a pair of kayaks he was looking to buy and stopped to help me into town. He was super nice and very impressed with my hike. The excitement people have for the trip is very different in the Northwest than in California. Californians seemed to be amazed at the entire feat in general, while Northwesterners seem to be excited at the prospect of one day doing it themselves. It was fun to talk about outdoorsy exploits. He is a transplant to Oregon from Vermont if I remember right. He had hiked some of the AT but enjoyed the west coast much more. He dropped me in town at the best breakfast spot where I was reunited to Cody who was now Hop Skip for he sometimes jovially skips and bounces on some of the downhills. Sure enough the three of them had hitched into town from the 242 where I had had lunch the day before. Cody was staying in town another night so decided to stay too after my box did not arrive in town either. I spent the day resupplying at the super market and filling my body with calories; pizza, soda, hot fudge sundae. I Spy and Booty left around noon and Easy Rider and Snow Berry arrived and share the room with us because the place was booked up otherwise.
I'll make tracks in the morning after breakfast. The next stop is Timberline Lodge where I'll be meeting my uncle who is hiking to Cascade Locks with me. I can't wait to see him and I'm so excited to be so close to the final state of the trip. Oregon has been wonderful. The trail has been great. The people have been amazing and the weather has held off for the most part. Its a little scary because my mind has been wandering lately, thinking of other trips that may be exciting and skills that I would like to learn. The trip has become an exercises in possibility. But possibilities are nothing really, neither possible or impossible until they are reached for with bold attempts. Whether these will bring success or failure is not known but hardly important. For they will inevitably bring stories, experience or better yet; relationship.
That afternoon I made the quick climb from the campground to Crater Lake's south rim. As I made my way through the trees, I noticed a rather large deer grazing in a small meadow. Just as it was noticed, its head snapped to attention upon my arrival. It quickly turned and sped up the slope through the underbrush and as it did I realized it was not a deer at all. It was quite obviously a cow elk. Furthermore, as it retreated, though they were not seen through the thick forest foliage, the sound of many more of its friends could be herd charging up the same hill. Hard to tell just how many there were, but I would guess it to be about a dozen from the mighty rumble the stampede made.
We had just completed a full drive around the lake with the family but to walk up over the rim into plain view of such a massive watery expanse was incredible. I'm not sure if its allowed but I made a nice camp on the crux of the rim. I made an effort to hide myself in the shelter of a few trees just in case some overzealous rangers were working late. After a few pictures I bedded down for the night, sure to be up in time for sunrise the next morning.
Camped on the southwestern side of the rim the sun rose directly across the Lake to me. Sleeping a bit through my alarm, I awoke to the sky already bright with an orange horizon, slowly dulling as the sphere rose higher from the dawn. The far rim of the lake hung silhouetted against the oncoming glow and its waters below a deep and chilly blue. I took my time breaking camp and didn't get hiking until the last of the morning's performance was over.
The miles went quickly as I dropped elevation from the tall rim. Though the next section to Willamette Pass was quite level, as far as PCT miles are concerned, they would prove to be rather treacherous in their own right. The trail to highway 58 connects countless small lakes and ponds. Mosquitoes by the swarms stalked one's every move. The miles accumulated quickly because breaks were cut rather short on account of being so molested by the tiny vampires. It was easiest to just keep moving. On my own again, I set my own pace and schedule. I found that I enjoyed waking early and hiking in three hour increments. Most three hour stints took me just shy of ten miles and with one morning break I could have as many as 17 or 18 mile in by the time I broke for lunch. A somewhat arduous morning pace was rewarded by a leisurely evening with time even for a bit of reading. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been carrying the same novel since Kennedy meadows, some two months ago. With the miles flying by, I quickly found myself near Willamette Pass where I put into Shelter Cove Resort for some food and showers that came at a resort price but I got something even better for free; Friends!
Shelter Cove was a nice little resting spot. It was right on the west shore of the grand Odell Lake near the top of the pass. As I sat sorting my newly washed clothes and stuffing my rucksack with food another hiker strolled into the resort. The kid had style. Sporting an oil slicked felt hat with a few feathers in the band, bandanna around the neck but falling to the side over the shoulder, he had custom wooden trekking polls with leather handle straps and wore his sheet of bug netting around his waist like a sash to pull his pack tight against his back. His name was Cody and he had put on to the trail at Crater Lake and was section hiking up to Portland where he is from. Cody impressed me and inspired me. I came to find out that along with his custom trekking polls he also sewed and stitched the pack he carried along with his tarp tent that doubles as a poncho. I wish I could be that handy and have resolved myself to becoming so. I was delighted that we would be hiking on together for the next few days.
We left the resort late that afternoon and made it about 7 miles beyond the pass to a cabin shelter maintained by the forest service. We took up camp there for the night and shared it with some other Oregon section hikers. There was Mace, Gwen Bug, and Wildman all of whom were delightful company. Later just before we were turning in I Spy and Booty came in to join us. They are a young couple from Colorado and are hiking on through to Canada as well. I've had a ton of fun hiking with these three. Great conversation, joking, and new lives and personalities to learn about make for really pleasant miles. After the cabin we were spread out along the trail the next day and camped in various spots. I was up early the next day and being a little low on food, I put into Elks Lake Resort for a meal and a few snacks. I made the 8 miles by a little after 8 a.m. The only problem was that the restaurant didn't open until ten. It started to rain so I wasn't going anywhere and I took up refuge on their deck under canopy. With my rarely read novel in hand, I was ready to wait them out.
I didn't get too far into the pages before Billy Goat sauntered up to the Deck. He had just beat the heaviest of the rain. I had run into Billy Goat a number of times on my trip. He jumps from section to section and, as I learned, hikes pretty much year round. At 70 years of age he bookends the age spectrum and is quite the trail celebrity. An article about him was front page of the LA Times at one point and every hiker knows him. I reintroduced myself to him and we chatted until the diner finally opened. As it did and we took our seats Cody, I Spy and Booty arrived and we all enjoyed a delicious meal out of the rain. With a gloomy day in progress we took our time leaving and only made 15 or so more miles that day. We all camped together at a small lake and took off at different intervals in the morning. I made my way out to the front of the pack but it wouldn't be that last time I would see them.
That day I was headed for Big Lake Youth Camp on the other side of highway 242. It was about 28 miles away and I wanted to get there for dinner so I wasn't wasting any time. Even at a brisk pace I had to stop frequently to take pictures of such a unique and impressive landscape. We were passing the Three Sisters mountain peaks. We couldn't exactly see the peaks for they were obscured by clouds but beneath them lay a vast and treacherous volcanic landscape. Huge fields of volcanic rock stretch down toward the valleys below. They reach for miles until the forest finally bleeds onto the rocky soil. Uphill from the trail not a single shrub rises from the rugged and solid formations. I couldn't help but think of the massive forces lurking below that could have created such an amazing scene. Though the volcanic mountains of the Cascade Range are barely half the height of the mighty Sierra Nevada, they posses a power, an intimidation that the Sierra lack. Walking over the sharp pumice and obsidian rock I wondered what manor of plant or animal lies berried beneath and how many times such violence has come to pass in the lifetime of these mountains. It is very much a beautiful danger but a danger none the less.
Through the ever present geological danger, I managed to navigate the lava fields and arrive at the youth camp safely before dinner was served. The staff set me up with a visitors pass and I was able to get showered and wash my clothes. Unfortunately my resupply box did not arrive so I arranged for it to be intercepted in the Town of Sisters and I would pick it up there the next day. Cody, I Spy and Booty never caught me that day. They had either pulled up early or hitched to Sisters from the closer highway. I had dinner amidst a mass of campers in a very loud and very crowded mess hall. There were a couple other hikers there too. Donuts, a young man just out of college from Puyallup as well as Easy Rider and Snow Berry, two section hikers from Oregon finishing their home state.
The next morning I was up early again and closed the 6 mile gap to Highway 20 by 7:15 am. The cars were moving rather quickly, probably on their morning commute to Bend, but I did manage a hitch without much of a wait. Dan was on his way into Sisters to see about a pair of kayaks he was looking to buy and stopped to help me into town. He was super nice and very impressed with my hike. The excitement people have for the trip is very different in the Northwest than in California. Californians seemed to be amazed at the entire feat in general, while Northwesterners seem to be excited at the prospect of one day doing it themselves. It was fun to talk about outdoorsy exploits. He is a transplant to Oregon from Vermont if I remember right. He had hiked some of the AT but enjoyed the west coast much more. He dropped me in town at the best breakfast spot where I was reunited to Cody who was now Hop Skip for he sometimes jovially skips and bounces on some of the downhills. Sure enough the three of them had hitched into town from the 242 where I had had lunch the day before. Cody was staying in town another night so decided to stay too after my box did not arrive in town either. I spent the day resupplying at the super market and filling my body with calories; pizza, soda, hot fudge sundae. I Spy and Booty left around noon and Easy Rider and Snow Berry arrived and share the room with us because the place was booked up otherwise.
I'll make tracks in the morning after breakfast. The next stop is Timberline Lodge where I'll be meeting my uncle who is hiking to Cascade Locks with me. I can't wait to see him and I'm so excited to be so close to the final state of the trip. Oregon has been wonderful. The trail has been great. The people have been amazing and the weather has held off for the most part. Its a little scary because my mind has been wandering lately, thinking of other trips that may be exciting and skills that I would like to learn. The trip has become an exercises in possibility. But possibilities are nothing really, neither possible or impossible until they are reached for with bold attempts. Whether these will bring success or failure is not known but hardly important. For they will inevitably bring stories, experience or better yet; relationship.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Into Oregon
We had a bit of trouble leaving Etna. Ther isn't a large commuter pool in a town of 700, but we were finally saved by the Mayor of Etna himself. He was just on his way up to the summit to get away from all the stresses of civil administration, and after a very winding and steep twelve mile drive we were back on the trail in the heat of the afternoon.
Beautiful Mt. Shasta
Hanging Out at the Wedding.
Crater Lake
Wild Child and I quickly left Atlas behind. He hikes at a slower pace do to his unique walking stick. A gymnast in real life, he ducked taped two four foot sticks of rebar to keep his arms in shape, but the stick must weigh 15 lbs. The two of us pulled up at a lake about 12 miles along. We made dinner and then Atlas caught us in time to go for a swim before bed. It’s always nice to go for a dip before crawling into your sleeping bag.
The next day we passed a number of people on horseback with pack mules. They’re always interesting to see but the animals take a toll on the trail. One man, by the name of Bronze, had a pack mule and was using only equipment available to backcountry travelers in the 1800s. He had wool blanket bedding, buckskin trousers, wooden framed stock saddle, and only moccasins to protect his feet from the trail. He said it is a trough way to travel as anyone could imagine but he was enjoying the experience and he was only going from the Oregon border to Big Bear.
Beautiful Mt. ShastaThe town of Seiad Valley consists of only a few houses and a café, small store, and post office all in the same building. Seiad is home to the famed pancake challenge. I knew I had made the right decision not to partake when I saw Atlas attempt the feat. It is five one pound pancakes, and most thru-hikers can barely eat half the stack. It was terribly hot and we all took refuge from the heat at the RV park next door that let us use their showers and sit inside their office with our ice-cream from the store. We decided to not start the 5000 ft climb out of the valley until 7pm. Unfortunately it was still almost 100 degrees when we left but as we gained in altitude we reached a light breeze and conditions quickly became manageable at the very least. I had left Seiad with Too Obtuse and Buck Thirty. We had a good time giving each other a hard time about just about everything. Obtuse is a veteran of the AT from New Hampshire and had hiked the PCT in 04 with $1.30. I quickly became familiar with personalities of the 04 hike from the many stories they reminisced over. $1.30 grew up in Rochester but was now living Pacific Beach just a few minutes’ drive from where I had been living in Ocean beach. We spent hours talking of all the places we missed around San Diego and, I think, drove Obtuse to a desperate boredom of our conversation. It was a relatively short hike into Ashland from there. The second day out of Seiad we finally left the confines of the great state of California. The trail had stretched and meandered for almost 1700 miles in this, the first state on the trip and the cross into Oregon was a great relief, making us feel as if we could very well make it into Canada after all. Our high spirits were quickly tested however, as a violent thunder and lightning storm welcomed us to Oregon on our first night in the state. Just as we had made camp and climbed in our tents it began to rain. The thunder grew louder and louder and at a point there were lightning flashes every few seconds. The rain turned to hail that quickly grew to the size of marbles. Luckily the tent held its ground and I stayed warm and dry, but I didn’t sleep particularly well.
Headed toward Oregon and then on to Washington.
Nick and Too Obtuse
It was a pleasant and uneventful trek into Ashland. We were fortunate to get a hitch right away. Thomas picked us up in his Toyota pickup and was more than helpful with explaining the layout of his fine town. He was a free spirit in transition, moving from the large metropolises of downtown Ashland a few miles away to the house he had just completed in the hills surrounding the town. Ashland did feel like a larger city after the last two town stops could not muster more than 1000 residence in the both of them combined. We ate lots of food and watched Blazing Saddles on cable in the motel. At the library we met Chuck Norris and Tigger, two PCT hikers that were taking turns hiking the trail this year and giving rides and help to other hikers in town. We got a ride to the trailhead from them the following day. Every hikers they meet signs their van, so we all made our mark and then made our way up the trail.
I was anxious to make miles, because my parents would be meeting me at Crater Lake so the family could go to a wedding in Salem. Dad had been able to make the drive all the way to Lone Pine for a short visit but the fam had not been together for a long time and I had been missing my mom and sister quite a bit, plus weddings are always good for some tasty chow and dancing. The day we left Ashland we pushed it to Hyatt Lake 25 miles away and took advantage of good camping and showers before turning in. The next day we were up early and I put in the longest day yet. Trying to get in as early as possible in the day that I was meeting mom and dad, I put in 35 miles. The plan was to make another 35 the following day but I was ready to shut things down after 30 which left 15 to Crater Lake the following day. I made it to Crater a little after noon and met the folks. It was so nice to see them and after getting cleaned up and a bite to eat we headed for the wedding. It was nice to see Andrea, my sister up from Mexico to fulfill her duties as Maid of Honor. It was weird putting on some nice slacks and a clean shirt for the wedding. I even shaved my dirty facial hair off to complete the look of a normal person who might live in an actual house or have a job.
Hanging Out at the Wedding.
I had a lot of fun at the wedding and driving around Oregon with the family. I’m excited to keep hiking now that I’m on through to the second state in the trip. I know I still have about 900 mile left but it really feels like I’m getting close. I’ve had a couple days off so I’m curious to see who will be hiking around me this time and if I can catch up to my friends. I’ll be so excited to continue some high mileage and get into the home state. Hopefully the weather will hold for us and we won’t hit too much rain. The towns start getting a little more spread out from here. Just a few more stops till WA and then there are only five more resupply stops till Manning Park BC. The end is slowly approaching, but its just a reminder to enjoy what I have while I have it. I’m still eager to see what each day will bring with each challenge and blessing.
Dropping Nick back off at Crater Lake
Crater Lake
Monday, July 27, 2009
Etna, the Mecca of Culture and Thought
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.
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.
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!
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