Mile 1904 to 1912

We wake to golden mantled squirrels and chipmunks climbing all over our cowboy camp. They are interested in both our food and the surrounding huckleberries. Knowing how and where thru-hikers urinate at night, Kevin and I are less interested in these berries than the rodents are, who complete amazing acrobatic leaps to pluck the higher fatter juicy ones.

After a lazy breakfast we pack up and move to the tables by the general store where we have access to power outlets, WiFi and ice cream. Kevin and I pre-rinse ourselves and our dirtiest clothes by swimming in the lake. Socks in particular have to be pre-rinsed before laundering. This typically involves dipping and squeezing about 30-40 times, watching the the residue transition from espresso, to dark French roast, to mild Columbian, to very weak Sanka. It never approaches anything resembling clear water.

We put on our laundry time outfits, often taken from the hiker box. I wear a pair of girls short shorts while Kevin opts for his leotard looking base layer. After laundry we head for the showers. There is a rumor that one of the showers gives 3 minutes for $1.50, but the other one gives 5 minutes. Unfortunately no one seems to know which is which. Kevin takes the one on the right. I take the left. On the count of three we start the showers. After 3 minutes, Kevin screams “No!” I, however, enjoy another 2 minutes of heavenly bliss.

Diner at Rosary Lake

After eating trail food that won’t fit in our packs and ice cream that always fits in our bellies, we pack up to go. We hike back up to the trail and head north. Any miles today just knock down the daily average required to reach our next resupply in 6 days. We pass several beautiful lakes and then stop to eat dinner and filter water by the northern Rosary Lake. We press on a few more miles to Maiden Peak Shelter. The shelter has been taken over by a large group of PCT volunteer trail workers. We thank them for their service and pitch our tents nearby.

Maiden Peak Shelter

Mile 1888 to 1904

Summit Lake Foot Care

We wake knowing we face 6 miles of up towards Diamond Peak. Kevin soaks his feet in Summit Lake and tends to blisters. He is convinced my suggestions of draining and taping have been a complete and utter failure. I am tempted to deploy the economic and political trick of relative comparison to a mythical event. His problems clearly are the result of earlier bad decisions and if I had not arrived it would now be much much worse. So, what appears on the surface as total failure is actually my greatest achievement. Quick, shake my hand so you can thank me.

As we hike our way over the ridge we become a couple of Huckleberry Hounds. They are everywhere and make forward progress impossible. We drop packs and start picking. Our tongues become corpse-like purple from their delicious juicy goodness. A bear somewhere is ticked we have raided his patch. Stomachs aching from gluttony, we waddle on.

Huckleberries

We eventually reach the side road leading to Shelter Cove. Following our GPS, we nervously walk along then cross the active railroad tracks. Kevin is sure we are re-enacting a scene from Stand By Me, and I am pretty sure I will end up as the dead body hit by a train.

At the Shelter Cove store they quickly find the new external battery package but unfortunately not the package with six days of food. I am told to come back in a half hour when they will have more staff and can spend more time looking. In the mean time I buy a six pack of root beer to down while we watch the show of weary thru-hikers interacting with hordes of RV driving campers and fishermen.

I return to the store to begin again the quest for my food box. After a frantic round of looking the woman declares the box is not here, as if that statement would somehow satisfy. When I point to her open book and ask how my name got in it, she says in a tone that clearly questions my educational upbringing that of course they log the packages when they arrive. Bingo! Other staff members, clearly more experienced at playing hide and seek eventually find our package.

Cowboy Camping Selfie

We take over a picnic table and sort the pile of food, unclear how we will fit it all in our packs. I get change for laundry and showers, which we will probably not do until tomorrow. Camping is $8 per tent. That means a one man ultra-light tent costs the same as a 12 person gypsy circus tent. Since we are cowboy camping, I am not sure how much to pay. The mosquitoes make us regret not setting up tents. We hide under our way too hot sleeping bags.

Tomorrow we plan a lazy day of washing, lake swimming and ice cream consuming. We will hike out in the afternoon for a short relaxing day.

Shelter Cove General Store

Mile 1867 to 1888

We wake, eat quickly and try not to wake the southbounder who has joined our camp. As we hike the 2 miles to the spring trail split, we are glad we camped where we did. The terrain only gets steeper and impossible to camp on.

Spring Trickle

At the spring trail split, Kevin tends to his blisters. I empty my pack and carry a water filter and 5 empty bottles down 4/10 of a mile. There are disgusting muck ponds, but further down I find a trickle of a flow and manage to fill the 5 liters.

Meanwhile Kevin talks to a thru-hiker up on the ridge who earlier met a group of gun carrying Sasquatch believers. They claim the local rangers are well aware of the colony, and there have been many confirmed sightings. I’m pretty sure they are mistaking the hairy, stinky, fast moving, herd of thru-hikers as the colony.

Lake View

We are seeing a lot of southbound thru-hikers. They usually start mid-July to mid-August, and they are hitting us now. They tell us that contrary to the guidebooks, Shelter Cove has no restaurant. They do have a microwave for frozen pizza and hot dogs. At least our expectations have been properly set.

We pass yet another water cache at a service road. We don’t need water, but stop to make tortilla wraps with peanut butter and beef jerky, which is surprisingly tasty. We hike mostly downhill to the beautiful but mosquito-y Summit Lake. We are spoiled by the pit toilet and picnic table. Kids are riding their bikes through our camp, but we don’t mind. It is good to see kids free from electronics and off the couch. We try to sleep with blinding moonlight shining on our tents.

Luxury Camp at Summit Lake

Mile 1845 to 1867

Un-used Cache

We wake in our mosquito pit and start hiking towards Mount Thielsen and more importantly Thielsen Creek, our glacial water source.  We come upon a water cache at the fire service road. We do not take any, proud that we have carried and managed to ration our own.

The creek water has awesome flow and is extremely cold. The views of the mountain make hurrying off impossible. We take our time, filter water, soak our feet and tend to Kevin’s growing blisters. For lunch we treat ourselves to tortilla wraps with tuna, cheese and an entire bag of Frito’s, which gives it needed crunch.

Thielsen Creek

Today we reach the highest point on the PCT in Oregon, which at a measly 7,560 feet is not particularly impressive. We are however high enough to check in with Terri and hear that a battery pack is on its way. We can now begin using our GPS and map applications more regularly.

We face a long waterless and campsiteless stretch. The side slope is extremely steep. We find a reasonable spot to cook dinner on the trail. After a short break, we push on towards a small saddle, hoping it will have a flat spot for our tents. We are in luck. Except for the trash from previous residents, we find a completely acceptable patch of dirt to call our home for the night.

Mile 1818 to 1845

PCT vs Rim Trail

We wake again to wet bags and tents, with dew and condensation being the primary suspects. We will need to dry our gear later, assuming we can remember.

We road walk back to the PCT then hike up the old PCT route to the rim. Why it has been rerouted away from one of the most beautiful lakes on the planet is beyond my comprehension. We hike the old route guilt free, as it still has the PCT emblems embedded in trees along the way. At the rim we are treated to awesome views of the Ty-D-Bol blue lake. It is so blue it simply does not look real.

With cell service on the rim, we call Terri and beg for an external battery rescue. She agrees to purchase something and ship it to Shelter Cove, our next resupply.

Crater Lake

At the Rim Village store we treat Kevin’s blisters which are becoming a significant problem. We also load up on water which will be our last for over 27 miles. We must look particularly pathetic outside the store, because a stranger offers us nectarines and plums, then runs out to his car to get them. We are appreciative and they are awesome.

Walking the rim of Crater Lake requires a lot of stopping to ogle or take pictures. At one stop a couple appears and the guy asks if we are thru-hikers. I admit I am. He then declares he has hiked the PCT. I fall for the trap and ask what year. He says “1970”. I comment that his pack must have been heavier than ours. He then proclaims he was the first person ever to hike the PCT. Now he may or may not have been, I really don’t know nor care, but I can’t help asking how he knows he was the first. He looks dejected and says “You don’t believe me.” I say “Even if you were the first how would you know?” She then jumps in as if to clear up the confusion and says “You know those medals you get for completing the PCT?” He jumps back in and says “You can thank me for that” and sticks out his arm to receive my appreciative handshake. My hand however is already clinched into a fist, so I offer the classic PCT fist bump instead.

Kevin on Rim

As we continue along the rim, laughing and unclear what just happened, we enjoy more awesome views of the lake and Wizard Island. The golden-mantled ground squirrels, cheeks bulging with food, are begging for more, exactly as I remember from my childhood.

Later down the trail a clearly thru-hiking couple catches up to us. The woman says “Hey, you were so engaged in your conversation that you walked right by us. We were having a snack.” We have no idea who these people are, did not notice passing them and if we did we would not stop to chat as if they were long lost best friends. When she asks our trail names we tell her Rick and Kevin. She is so confused and dejected by our unwillingness to participate in this fantasy that she wanders off mumbling that she loves trail names but ironically fails to tell us theirs.

Thru-hiker egos seem to be a lot like golden-mantled cheeks. No matter how much attention and love you stuff in there, they are always begging for more. Kevin and I are clearly not good at this game.

We stop at 4:30 to dry gear and cook an early Indian curry dinner. We hike the rest of way to camp being eaten by mosquitoes, punishment for not having trail names. Where are the frogs when you need them?

Kevin and Rick at Crater Lake

Mile 1806 to 1818

We wake pretty much alive, feeling confident the tree did not crush us. Today is a fairly easy 12 miles to highway 62, our exit to Mazama Village, where we have two packages waiting. One contains 4 days of food. The other a computer course loaded iPod Nano. According to Guthook’s app the restaurant has a hiker friendly all-you-can-eat buffet. We hike imagining what type of food it is. We road walk the last mile to the restaurant. They have a very serviceable all you can expel restroom, but no all-you-can-eat buffet. We will be back later for the a la carte options.

Crater Lake Here We Come!

At the general store we participate in a bizarre community theater production of “Are you kidding me?” It opens with me standing in line for my boxes, which I am required to sign for even though the person who gives them out is not around and I need to come back to this line later. I ask about backpacker camping and get sent to the lodging desk line. Eventually I am told I have been sent to the wrong line and need to stand in the campground kiosk line. After standing in the kiosk line I am told they do not take credit cards. I say no problem, and provide a $20 bill, which apparently is far too large for a $10 charge. I am sent back inside to stand in the store line for change. At this point I am tempted to shove my $20 in the change machine and drop $10 of quarters on his desk, but with Kevin here I am the better man and stand in the long line for proper change in $5 bills. I then go back to the kiosk to stand in that line again, followed by a new line at the store to inquire about the boxes I signed for ages ago, but still have not received. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but will say it involves a mantra and a lot of deep breathing.

After showers and laundry we sort food then search for outlets to recharge our devices. My external lithium battery appears to be failing. In Ashland I was not able to increase the charge, even when it was plugged in overnight. We are experiencing the same problem here. This is a serious problem. We are on a long stretch without stores and outlets. Blogging may be put on hold, since the phone is also our only maps and GPS.

For dinner we return to the formerly-a-buffet restaurant where there is a huge line of people waiting. Unless this place is actually serving ghosts, there appears to be a plethora of empty chairs and tables. The staff seem to see no connection between the standing people and the empty chairs. We eventually are seated and order salad and pizza. After being cooked, the pizza sits on the counter for ages. I am pretty sure this place is stuck in some Hotel California trap where you can’t serve yourself and the staff can’t serve you either.

We return to our campsite, fall asleep in our tents and dream of hiker friendly places.

Mile 1782 to 1806

I wake in the night to the sounds of a deer breaking branches on his way to the spring. There is splashing and frantic panting. It seems he has fallen in and is struggling to get out. Oh deer.

When I reawaken at my normal time I notice condensation in and on my tent and sleeping bag. We will need to find some drying time later, but not now. It is time to get going.

Rocky Trail

On a Fitpacking trip in Shenandoah a client described a rough portion of the trail as truck loads of loose bricks dumped on the ground and tilted at an incline. That pretty much describes huge sections of today’s trail. The good news is that the rocks are above treeline and the vistas quite spectacular. The bad news is we are being eaten alive by mosquitoes. We are hiking with netting over our heads.

As we crest the summit by Devil’s Peak, a local tells us the mosquitoes are much better on this side. He credits a bunch of frogs for the miracle. I tell him if I didn’t smell so bad, I would hug him. Sure enough, on this side there are few mosquitoes. As we approach each little creek, there are thousands of tiny frogs everywhere. Our first reaction is to catch some and take them with us. They can ride on our shoulders, head, or where ever they want, as long as they eat the attacking mozzies.

I have wondered what a plague of frogs is really like. I mean frogs, really? They are so cute and harmless, what is the problem? Today we figured it out. The frogs do not harm directly. They let you maim and kill yourself by twisting, turning and contorting so as not to step on the little devils. And Devils they are, jumping onto and into everything we put on the ground. There really can be too much of a good thing.

Rock Climbing

We stop at a small campsight and cook dinner. It gives us a break and the energy to push on. In 3.5 more miles we stop for the day. Our 24 miler is a new record for Kevin. This camp is covered with super light lava rocks, the kind that float if you put them in water. It feels like we are on some fake movie set and it is impossible to use these large rocks to keep your tarp from flying away or to pound in stakes.

A huge tree nearby is making the same sound our neighbor’s pine tree made right before it came crashing down through a fence and into the street. There are so many downed trees all around, we are pretty sure we know what this one is planning. We un-stake and move Kevin’s tent to what we assume is a safer location.

As I set up I realize I did not stop to dry out my tent and sleeping bag. What an idiot. I sleep in the damp as punishment.

Resting at Devils Peak

Mile 1761 to 1782

Between my waking a little late and Kevin needing to tend to his blistery feet, we get a slower than usual start. Even the college students and their high school teacher break camp before we do.

Lava

I remember a time in my life, mostly before college, when I liked to play Hot Lava. It is a simple game where all the floors are presumed to be molten rocks that if touched cause instant death and even longer lasting humiliation from the other players. The game typically involves strategically arranging furniture and pillows. With as few as two such items you can move about the house. Standing on one, you place the other in the desired direction of travel. Climb on the newly placed item and pick up the other one. Repeat until you arrive, or your mother yells at you for walking on the furniture.

Hot Lava?

Today I feel we are playing the opposite of Hot Lava. We are traveling through vast black volcanic rock bolder fields. The trail is a meandering vein of small red lava rocks and dust, through the otherwise black barren landscape. The effect is one of eerily walking down a thin river of hot lava. Given the endless green tunnels we have been hiking, the effect is interesting and quite pleasing. Mile after mile however the novelty wears as thin as the soles of my shoe on this high friction surface. Another issue becomes apparent when nature calls and you realize the difficulty of digging a cat hole in this environment, let alone the inability to establish any reasonable sense of privacy.

After 10 miles of this, we arrive at a creek crossing. This is our only water for the day, other than the seasonal spring we hope to find at tonight’s camp in 11 more miles. We filter several litres. Kevin washes his aching feet and socks, which may or may not also be aching.

We had earlier asked Terri via email to process a banking transaction for Kevin. We later received a reply email saying “Mission accomplished.” The email also said I should call when I get a chance. I have checked many times and have had no service. We have been playing a game called “Why Does Terri Want Me To Call?” We have ruled out “I miss you and just want to hear your voice” as it appears out of character and has never been spoken before. We are thinking it is more likely “I need to buy a car. Do you care or can I just pick one?” I am hoping it is nothing more serious.

We arrive at the spring and find a stealth campsite behind some bushes. We make dinner wearing our mosquito head nets, but unfortunately eating requires us to remove them. We filter water with several other hikers. This is the last water for a while so everyone is loading up.

We retire early. No signs of Mount Shasta, and Franco is still dead.

Washing

Mile 1737 to 1761

Trail side break

We wake to the piercing sound of the loudest and closest coyote I have ever heard in my life. On the plus side, he seems to have perfect pitch. After gathering our nerves and our gear, we target the South Brown Mountain Shelter in 23 miles. Our Guthook app says it has a cabin, picnic table and a water well/pump.

In route, our first water source is advertised as the outlet to Hyatt Lake. It is full of very questionable soapy foam so we pass. Later we arrive at an advertised water faucet with an actual water faucet, which is a confusing and refreshing change. We load up, on water not faucets. After a few miles, we skip the aqueduct water, which the guide says is full of chemicals. The guide is not specific about which chemicals, but I suspect both hydrogen and oxygen. We are basically bloated, carrying too much weight anyway.

Water with Faucet

I realize I am repeatedly repeating myself, but with Kevin now here, some of my observations are being affirmed. For instance, insects zipping by my ears make a wide variety of bug like sounds, but also occasionally some pretty human like ones. Enough so that I will turn around to see who is speaking. Kevin has started to notice this same phenomena, asking me if I said something when clearly I have not.

At the South Brown Mountain Shelter we join a group of college students hiking with their former high school social studies teacher. They share enough of the picnic table that we can cook dinner standing up, rather than sitting in the normal dirt. After bean and cheese burritos we retire to the shelter.

On a celebratory side note, we did not see Mount Shasta the entire day.

South Brown Mountain Cabin

Mile 1715 to 1737

I wake before Kevin and head to Albertsons to be there when it opens at 6:00. I purchase two rolls of athletic tape in an attempt to increase support for his arches. Our continental breakfast does not start until 7:00. We are the first and only ones there and we stuff ourselves with waffles, cereal, yogurt, coffee and juice.

I create a “PCT Callahans” sign from an empty Jif peanut butter box for Kevin. I stick with my Tyvek “To Trail” sign. Our hitch at the I-5 on ramp is longer and harder than usual. A lady stops in a small truck, but only offers to take one of us because she has a large chainsaw in the cab. One of us may have accepted this powerful offer, if not for the fact that she was wearing a hockey mask.

Back to Trail

We are eventually picked up by a musician driving a van pulling a trailer. He is on his way from Portland to a gig in Petaluma. After being dropped at the Callahans exit, we hike back up the steep trail to the PCT, for a very late start.

Today appears to be wild animal day. We see turkey, rabbits, a skunk, and deer. The turkey are in large groups with individuals ranging in size from thanksgiving dinner, to small fry, to tiny turkey nuggets. The skunk, unlike the one on Hat Creek Rim, did not threaten us at all. He probably just assumed we had already been sprayed. Most of the deer were cute and playful, except for the ones which have clearly been torn limb from limb. Did I mention this is cougar country? The good news is they seem to do a nice job of licking the bones clean.

As we round Pilot Rock, right in front of us is Mount Shasta. The impossible just keeps possible-ing.

Pilot Rock

We press on to a water source listed in our app as “Faucet with Tentsite”. When we arrive we find a sign with a picture of a faucet and instructions to filter or boil water from the faucet, but no actual faucet. I don’t want to be that guy, but it does seem that a key ingredient is missing.

In order to make our 22 miles to the tent site we cook our dinner on the trail and keep hiking. We arrive at the camp advertised for five plus tents and find it taken up completely by a father and his young son. In the only flat spot for miles they have placed a van, a massive tent, several bikes, coolers, gear and who knows what all. The dad says they plan to stay in this spot for more than a week. This is during peak PCT hiker season. Kevin and I clear pine cones, sticks and rocks from a nearby not-so-flat spot. Father and son are extremely loud, talking while playing movies with the volume set on RIDICULOUS! It is now 10:00pm, and I am wishing I could borrow the truck lady’s chainsaw and mask.

Zero Day

We wake, pack up and escape the zoo. We head to the I-5 on ramp to hitch to Ashland. It takes Kevin a few cars to get into the spirit. We wave, hold up a sign and stick out thumbs for about half an hour before a very nice former resident of Salinas California gives us a lift.

She tells us it is so great what we are doing, then proceeds to say, “I would never do it. This is serious bear and cougar country. I am even afraid when they show up on my property. And of course the cougars have that brain worm that makes them crazy and do crazy things. You wouldn’t catch me out there. But you guys will probably be fine.”

She drops us off at a cafe where we have omelettes and toast, and do our level best to forget everything she just told us. We check into the Rodeway lnn, do laundry, shower and shop at Albertsons. Kevin works on the phone with Terri to get an IPod Nano loaded up with 9 gig of computer course lectures and shipped to our next resupply at Crater Lake.

After sorting food and purchasing a few missing items, we walk towards downtown looking for a place to eat. We end up at La Casa Del Pueblo where we polish off chicken and beef fajitas. Kevin’s arches are hurting from even this short hike. Given his foot, I am concerned about this next leg to Crater Lake. Only time will tell. Or if it doesn’t, Kevin probably will.

Kevin’s Aching Arch

Mile 1693 to 1715

Sheep Ranch Sunrise

We wake to the awesome sound of our running spring and load up on way too much water. It’s just that it is so clear, so cold and so fast we can’t help ourselves. As we begin our hike we are serenaded by howling coyotes who clearly have made a major kill, or are as tired of looking at Mount Shasta as we are.

At the top of a hot climb we find more trail magic, two coolers of sodas. I pilfer a Pepsi, while Kevin snags a Sprite. We raise our cans in toast to our unknown patron. The timing of the magic is great, because Kevin’s arches are in agony. Kevin appears to be quite the magic charm as my percentage of magic to miles has improved dramatically.

1700 Mile Marker

The trail camping options coming up are not good. I read to Kevin about an all you can eat spaghetti dinner at Callahan’s. It becomes our new reason to live and our excuse to press on through his pain and the required 22 miles. I am desperate to try Grandma Callahan’s family meat sauce recipe. Kevin seems just as excited for the Caesar salad and bread.

Callahan’s is a strange place. It is an odd juxtaposition of a high end mountain resort for folks coming off Interstate 5 and a friendly oasis for thru-hikers coming off the PCT. The a la carte services for thru-hikers seem appropriate, until you look at the price. $20 for a shower?  We opt for the $16 all you can eat dinner and the $10 sleep on the back lawn. The restaurant terrace overlooks the lawn, making us the equivalent of a thru-hiker zoo. People are sipping wine, staring over the railing, probably saying to their children “look at the thru-hikers in their native environment.” I am tempted to defecate in my hand and throw it at them, but I refrain.

Loran arrives and sets up his tent in the lawn. The mosquitoes are mild, so Kevin and I just cowboy camp. At 10pm, they turn off the spotlights on the lawn. Apparently the zoo is now closed.

Trail Magic

Mile 1673 to 1693

In the pre-dawn hours a couple arrives in our camp and not in a polite and quiet manner. Based on their volume if Verizon had service I would probably call to report a domestic dispute. First one screeches about something and then the other screeches back. It is hard to judge just what is ruffling their feathers, because they are both high overhead in the trees. As if changing angles and volume will improve their argument’s position, they change physical positions repeatedly, flying from one tree to another. Screech owls have replaced roosters as our feathered alarm clocks.

This morning Kevin discovers his IPod full of computer course lectures is non-functional. The front screen has so much water it looks as though tropical fish should be swimming around inside. We have no idea where the liquid came from, but we will need to find a solution to the unexpected solution.

Oregon / California Border

After breakfast and packing up we target our 8 mile reliable water source. In my PCT Guthook’s application, reliable water sources appear as a full blue drop and seasonal sources appear as a half blue half white drop. Today Kevin learns that these differentiations do not take into account the quantity or quality of the water. We pass a few not so great seasonal sources to get to a worse by far reliable source. Apparently you can always count on this disgusting mud hole having water, but you should have taken the so-so water from the earlier unreliable seasonal source.

At last we reach the small Oregon/California sign nailed to a tree indicating the state border. We are about to make our first legal border crossing. According to the sign I have traveled 1,708 miles to get here. According to Halfmile’s application I have only traveled 1,689. Guthook’s application lists it as 1,698. Apparently the only thing they agree on is that I have made it, and that’s good enough for me.

Border Log Book

We continue on another 5 miles towards Sheep Camp Spring. As we summit a pass we are again haunted by amazing vistas of Mount Shasta. How is this even possible?

As we hike and consume our daily snacks, Kevin concludes he does not really like Oreo cookies. He trades them with me for other items, jerky, nuts, bars, anything but Oreos. At our first road crossing in Oregon Kevin encounters his first trail magic: a few jugs of water and, you guessed it, a case of single serve Oreo cookies. He chugs some water to participate in the magic, but does not leave quite as satisfied as I do with black Oreo chunks in my teeth.

We finally reach Sheep Camp Spring, an awesome flowing pipe next to a flat spot at the end of a road. Having completed another 20 miler we call it a day, well positioned for tomorrow’s approach on the outskirts of Ashland. To our pleasant surprise, Loran arrives and sets up camp next to us.

View from Camp

Mile 1653 to 1673

In order to beat the heat, my son and I gotta beat the sun. I wake around 2:30 am, use the restroom one last time, then wake Kevin. We pack up our cowboy camp under headlamp and sneak out to the street in front of the cafe. The cafe, famous for its 5 pounds of pancakes in under 2 hours challenge, is of course not open, but we huddle under the outdoor light in order to tell which nut butter we are spreading on our bagels.

As we road walk about a mile to the trail split we receive loud and enthusiastic send offs from every dog in Seiad Valley. Our headlamps reflect numerous pairs of eyes scurrying in and out of bushes and under cars, convincing us the cats of Seiad are in on this too. Some of these eyes may be raccoons, possums and skunks, but we prefer to think of them all as cats. Once on the trail the reflecting eyes become much larger and set further apart. The thought of big cats is not as comforting as house cats, so we blissfully assume these are all deer and very large owls.

Climbing before the sun

The climb from Seiad is long and steep, but in the total darkness of a moonless predawn morning, everything seems cool and peaceful. We pass several tents from hikers who continued to hike late last night in their own beat the heat strategy. Based on how far they didn’t get, it seems our pre-dawn play beat their post-dusk strategy.

We filter and guzzle water at a spring in the dark. It is too early but we have we take it when we can, not when we want. By the time the rising sun is hitting our side of the mountain we have conquered the majority of the elevation. Kevin is quite pleased with our progress, and so am I. The difficult part out of the way, we take more breaks and slow our pace. Kevin’s arches are not at all feeling golden, so he tanks up on Ibuprofen. At a road crossing with shade and a spring, thru-hikers begin to bunch up. There are 12 of us here now. It feels like the early days, by water caches in the desert.

Kevin and I push up one more climb then coast into a dry camp 20 miles from where we started. It’s early, but it should be given when we started. There are a couple of sketchy water sources in a few miles and one actually reliable source 8 miles out. After dinner we retire to hide from mosquitoes and to pray our current water gets us through breakfast and the 8 miles to the next reliable source.

Mile 1645 to 1653

Roadwalk to Seiad Valley

We wake and face the 6.6 mile roadwalk to Seiad Valley. Most of the homes we pass defiantly display signs declaring “No Monument”, “K-S Wild Keep Out”, and “State of Jefferson.” The level of distrust and animosity towards both state and federal government is palpable. Even the US Post Office in Seiad declares “State of Jefferson”.

At the Seiad Cafe you can light up the room by simply asking the meaning and history of the protest signs. You will hear the most articulate, well reasoned and scientific explanation of everything wrong with America that you can’t help falling in love with these people. In addition to the political nutrition filling our minds, we fill our bellies with omelettes, potatoes, toast and coffee.

The 51st State?

We check into the RV park, where we pick up a package, do laundry, shower, connect to WiFi and enjoy the shade. The number of thru-hikers who take advantage of the amenities without paying the day use fee or overnight fee is unbelievable. This poor guy is trying to run a simple business and the level of entitlement and outright theft is sickening.  We are frankly embarrassed to be associated with these freeloaders.

The cafe closes at 2:00 so we go back for root beer floats and to split a BLT. We would prefer a later dinner, but we take what we can get. At the RV park thru-hikers continue to flow in, including Loran. Everyone is hiding in the shade, planning their early to avoid the heat assault of the looming hill – and by hill I mean climbing from 1,400 feet to over 6,000 feet in under 10 miles.

We return to the store for tomorrow’s early breakfast of bagels and chocolate milk. By 8:00pm, everyone is pitching tents and praying for a heat blocking cloud cover, which will not come.

Breakfast of Champions

Mile 1626 to 1645

Paradise Lake

After a quick breakfast we filter and load up on water. The last 3 seasonal streams coming into this camp were bone dry and we are not sure what to expect today. What we do know is that after a camel-ish double hump climb we have a long, long drop down toward Seiad Valley.

Although we have no cloud cover the first part of the day is quite pleasant. As we transition to level and down, Kevin declares he could hike like this all day, which is great news because hiking all day is pretty much the plan for every day. The only bummer is that this entire area has been devastated by fire.

Fire Devestation

The trail finally follows Grider Creek, but is high above it. We can hear the water and occasionally see it, but we are never getting any closer. The creek is descending as fast as we are. I am sure this water is flowing from Mount Shasta and we are now trapped in a crazy water orbit. When we finally break through and dip down to the water we throw off our shoes, soak our feet and rinse our shirts. It is heaven.

While still cooling our jets, Mountain Goat arrives. He soaks his feet and tells us that Klutz is off the trail with her family in Bend. She was picked up by her sister in Etna. He is not sure if she will be rejoining.  I am sad to hear it. Mountain Goat will be joining her for a few days in Bend later in the trip, but he plans to finish in Canada.

Doe, a Dear

Kevin and I push on down the trail, which has a fairly steep side slope with little wiggle room. We encounter a doe and the cutest little fawn you have ever seen. The fawn is determined that the only logical escape from us is to bolt in little spurts down the trail. The fact that we keep coming has no impact on his strategy. The doe begrudgingly follows after each dart, but is clearly getting annoyed. She tries multiple times to nudge the little rascal off the trail, but he is very confident in his plan. The cuteness wears off and this is becoming annoying to us as well. The doe eventually leaves the trail, sure the fawn will follow, but he continues down the trail. Now we are at a stand off. If Kevin and I keep walking we will be increasing the gap between mother and fawn. But it is hot and we need to keep moving. I try to reason out loud with the doe, who stares back at me with a look that says “Dude, I get it, but you know how kids are.”  The fawn finally leaves the trail and we continue our long down to camp.

The camp is along Grider Creek. Because of the fire the creek is full of silt. I try to convince myself it is the chocolate river in Willy Wonka’s factory, but it is really just mud and not at all fun to filter and drink. To make the water even more pleasant a father/son hunting team arrive with their dogs, which they shampoo and wash in the creek. They eventually win us over with their enthusiasm, smiles and crazy stories. Our favorite involves dad getting lost in the woods with his tracking dogs. It starts to rain. The dogs are anxious. He builds a small fire and covers the dogs with his own body to protect them from the rain. He wakes up a few hours later with his hat on fire and hair burning.

Face and Crunch arrive in our camp after hiking 34 miles. They debate pushing on the 6.6 miles to Seiad Valley, but eventually find flat ground, build a fire and settle in. We retire to our tents to hide from mosquitoes.

Mile 1608 to 1626

It is funny how little things can influence decisions. I forgot to pack gallon ziplock bags for our trash. We juggled things around to free up some quart bags, but they are now bursting at the seams. Today’s meals will be anything that frees up bags that will hold trash. Breakfast is granola cereal, which is in its own zipable bag. Kevin eats more than he wants, but we need the bag. Tonight we will have bean burritos, which will free up the tortilla zipable bag.

Marble Mountain

Today we target Paradise Lake. It is a couple of miles shy of 20, but positions us well for the following day. The last campsite before Seaid Valley is about 20 miles past Paradise Lake and 6.5 miles shy of Seaid. With less cloud cover today and a fair amount of up, an 18.5 mile day seems perfect. Most hikers do not blast multiple 20s right out of the chute, but Kevin is a trooper.

We meet a southbound section hiker wearing red Brooks Cascadia 9’s trail runners, which look like our Brooks Cascadia 8’s. The number is the model, not the size. Without prompting he says he heard the 10’s are absolute junk, falling apart right away. Kevin had unfortunately purchased a pair of 10’s which I warned him about afterwards. He then ordered some no longer being made 8’s online, but they are getting impossible to find. BLT had a pair of 10’s which he tried to keep together with shoe glue, but it was a complete disaster. A great shoe company’s reputation is being destroyed and frankly they totally deserve it.

On our approach to Marble Mountain we are passed by a thru-hiker who says “I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought it might be round like marbles, but I guess it’s named after the type of rock.” Kevin and I laugh. I am sure it is named Marble Mountain because it is shaped exactly like a bathroom countertop, but I don’t say anything for fear of embarrassing him.

Filtering Water

At the lake, which is more like a pond, we filter water, cook our bean burritos, and fight off the pesky chipmunks and golden mantels. They are getting into serious mischief, including climbing on and trying to get in our Ursack food bags. An osprey is putting on an aerial show, swooping the pond and snagging small fish. We wish he would swoop our Ursacks and snag some small rodents instead.

We retire early, but expect to be woken repeatedly by the stream of arriving thru-hikers. It was much nicer being way ahead of the herd, but I am afraid those days are over.

Drink Up!

Mile 1588 to 1608

We wake, have granola with powdered milk and pack up. Most of the thru-hikers sharing our site are up and about. By the time we hit the trail at 6:30 most of them are well on their way. They are within striking distance of Highway 93 and a hitch to Etna, where burgers and shakes await them. The town vortex is sucking them in. Resupplying in Etna was in my original plan, but since we just got back on the trail fully loaded at Highway 3, we are skipping Etna and will resupply at Seaid Valley.

Awsome Vistas

Kevin and I target another campsite in 20 miles. Water is a little scarce on this stretch, so we filter, camel up and load up at a small lake outlet. As we hike, Kevin continues to be impressed with the vistas. We are lucky to have overcast skies keeping the temperature reasonable. While hiking Kevin asks “Why am I spitting up blood?” Sure enough each spit has clear signs of red. We eventually determine he has a bloody nose which is draining down his throat. I am very relieved it is nothing serious and there is an easy in a pinch remedy.

In the afternoon we are cooled even further with a light shower. At our camp we are greeted by a large welcome committee of mosquitoes. We set up camp, eat pasta sides and quickly retreat behind the mesh screens of our tents.

Mosquitoes attack

Mile 1568 To 1588

Kevin’s First 20 Miler

We wake, have breakfast and get a reasonable start on the trail by 6:30. It is cool and overcast, and we make good time. At 8:30 we pass by a tent with people sleeping in it. I tell Kevin they must be section hikers as no self respecting thru-hikers would still be in bed at this hour. Later in the day we are passed by Klutz and Mountain Goat. I laugh as I realize it was their tent we passed. They have not been getting enough sleep so they treated themselves to a very lazy start. We pass each other a couple more times, but they are clearly faster.

Feeling the Heat

After a long day and on a steep climb in the heat, Kevin is starting to feel it. He is sweating profusely. We break by a small spring. Kevin drinks water, snacks and fights off nausea. We eventually press on up and over the ridge to a small campsite by a pathetic trickle of a creek. On his second day, and really only first full day, Kevin has completed a 20 miler.

Delayed a week for the wedding, we are feeling pressure from the advancing PCT herd. We are seeing streams of thru-hikers and they are all trying to squeeze into our campsite. We meet Tower, Willow, and several others. Loran walks into camp, as surprised to see me as I am him.

We cook mashed potatoes and tuna, and stuff it into flour tortillas which we then stuff into our mouths. It is clear that Kevin is not a complainer. He has not complained about the elevation, the heat, his feet, his muscles, or anything. The look on his face eating the potato burrito is as close to a complaint as I have seen.

We fall asleep to some light rain and a few flashes of lightning.

Trinity Alps

Miles 1557 to 1568

Klutz and Mountain Goat

We wake too early, shower, then climb back into the car. We are now heading back to where the PCT crosses Highway 3. Terri is taking us back to work. At least that’s what she calls my months of walking.

As we pull into the PCT parking lot we are quite surprised to see Klutz and Mountain Goat eating lunch at the trailhead. I was sure they were many days and many miles ahead. As it happens they also took significant time off to be with family. Kevin unloads his gear and says hello. They have now met everyone in my immediate family. They met Terri several times, Brian at Ziggy and the Bears, Daniel at Sonora Pass and now Kevin.

Kevin and Rick

Kevin and I start hiking at about 1:00pm. Our daily goal is 20 miles, so our half day goal for today is 10. The forecast calls for afternoon thunder storms, so we hope to arrive and setup camp before it gets too late. Klutz and Mountain Goat pass us, as I knew they would. The hike into the Trinity Alps Wilderness is up and along a ridge with spectacular views of jagged mountains, lakes, streams and yes, the still ever present Mount Shasta.

Kevin declares this a very good first day on the trail. I point out this is a great any day on the trail. We setup camp, enjoy Indian curries and rice, and fall asleep.

Trinity Alps