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

Zero Miles

We were told there are 9 places to eat within walking distance of our motel. As a thru-hiker in progress I am not exactly sure how far walking distance is. It is probably further than the McDonald’s across the street, but that is where I go for coffee at 5:30am. By 7:00am Terri and I walk a block to the cafe where we had dinner, but this time we are here for coffee, omelettes and oatmeal. We agree it is a beautiful day for a wedding.

When son Daniel and daughter in law Cindy arrive at our motel, we head back to the cafe. We have been here three times in under 12 hours and the wait staff is getting suspicious. After our final pre-wedding meal we return to the motel to dress. My suit fits looser than usual on my PCT starved body, but it will do. Terri apparently likes my thinner look and encourages me to quickly return to the trail to continue my disappearing act. Some people are never satisfied.

Lauren and Michael

The wedding ceremony is everything you could want it to be. It is in my absolute favorite place, the outdoors. Birds and butterflies are the theme and live monarchs are released during the ceremony. In honor of the 7/11 date there is even a working Seven Eleven slurpee machine.

Because it is so difficult to get back into the hiking groove many experienced thru-hikers advise against leaving the trail, even for a wedding. I, however, would not have missed this for the world. Congratulations Lauren and Michael!

As soon as the cake is cut, it is time for us to cut as well. Terri is taking me and Kevin back to where I exited the trail at Highway 3. We take turns driving and arrive at a motel in Stockton CA after midnight. We fall into our rented bed for a few hours of needed sleep.

My Three Sons

Zero Miles

After a relaxing morning with the Martin’s in Manhattan Beach, we drive to Crestline. It feels very odd to be back on Highway 18 in San Bernardino. I remember being so excited to be 1/10th of the way done with the PCT. It seems like such a long time ago. Now I am well over 1/2 done, yet here I am, right back at the 1/10th mark.

We check into the hotel, enjoy a meal at the local cafe and visit with relatives who have arrived for the wedding. Almost everyone who sees me has the same reaction: “Well you’ve lost weight, but I thought you would be thinner.” I am not sure how to take it. I have been working desperately to consume enough calories to keep up my weight, but the disappointment in my more than a skeleton appearance is puzzling.

My image of what would happen to my body on the trail was way off base. I was sure my legs would beef up with muscle disproportionate to my atrophied arms, leaving me very T-rex like. Where’s the beef? I thought my legs were circus balloons, with each day’s labor puffing in a little more air. It turns out my muscles build up according to the demand put on them and walking with a pack clearly takes less demand than I thought. Since the calorie deprived fat is going away and the muscle is not arriving, my legs now look like they belong on a stork, albeit a short one.

I have to remind myself this side trip to Crestline is not about me. Tomorrow my niece is getting married and that is why I am here. Perhaps I can redirect the focus onto her by pointing out that although thin, I thought she would be thinner.  Or maybe not.

Zero Miles

Today is Interstate 5 southbound on steroids. In just a few hours of flying down the highway at 75/miles an hour, I am wiping out all the northbound progress I have made in the last several months. My world is as upside down and shaken up as an Etch-O-Sketch being vigorously erased.

We spend the evening with Terri’s parents in Manhattan Beach. For every glorious item we are fed I remind Kevin not to expect this on the trail:  fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, homemade pie and ice cream. Even the soft beds we fall asleep in will quickly become a distant memory.

Homemade Blueberry Pie

Zero Miles

Kevin and I tackle our major shopping. Costco, Trader Joe’s and Walmart aisles are today’s hiking trails. The scenery is disappointing and we hike northbound, eastbound, southbound and westbound. In fact I think traveling in circles is our most common and frustrating route. We are resupplying for so many days it is impossible to comprehend how much of each thing we need. We just throw random items in the cart with confidence that Terri will fill in the missing parts when she tapes up and ships the boxes.

Kevin points out that we should not have eaten before shopping. Starving, we would be happily grabbing anything, but with stomachs full and satisfied it all just seems like the junk food that it is. I remind Kevin not to think of it as food, but rather calorie pills to be swallowed but not necessarily enjoyed. How is that for selling it?

Resupply Box

We repackage and box up 6 days of food to carry on our way to Saied Valley. We box 3 days of food to ship to Saied Valley, that will get us to Ashland. In Ashland we will purchase 5 days of  food to get to Crater Lake. We box 4 days of food to ship to Crater Lake so we can get to Shelter Cove. We box 6 days of food to ship to Shelter Cove so we can make it to Ollalie Lake. We still need 6 days to get to Cascade Locks.

We will also need to ship food to White Pass to get to Snoqualime Pass to get to Skykomish to get to Stehkin to get to Manning Park. Although our life blood, it is all about as interesting as King James’s: Abraham begat Isaac; Isaac begat Jacob; Jacob begat Judas.

We fall asleep exhausted, surrounded by the trash, boxes and the collateral damage of trying to do too much. Terri will have to recover from the mess later. Early tomorrow morning we leave for southern California.

Zero Miles

Kevin, my youngest of three sons, will be joining me on the trail after the wedding. He plans to hike through Oregon and Washington, to the Canadian border. We just have a couple of days to go over his gear and purchase our resupplies. Luckily, Brian has offered Kevin the use of his gear. Since Brian and I worked together planning our PCT hike, I am very familiar with the gear.

Food is tricky because there are not as many good resupply locations in Oregon and Washington. My plan was to make multiple resupply boxes in Ashland, and ship them forward. The same strategy applied to Cascade Locks. Now that I am home a few days, Kevin and I are trying to do as much of the shopping and packaging as time will allow. Terri will then have to ship for us, and probably complete some additional purchases.

In addition to my trail planning work, Terri has a short honey-do list that involves changing the oil in the Pilot, fixing the garage door, and replacing a leaky faucet. Number one son Daniel helps with the first two items.

It is great to be home, but also very strange. For some odd reason, not walking has me absolutely exhausted.

Mile 1534 to 1557

I wake to the sound of a galloping horse, which turns out to be Deadfall Lake slapping my shore with wind blown waves. I take my sweet time making coffee and gathering my things. I have 23 miles to cover, much of it flat and down hill. Terri is leaving home after work so I do not expect her at Highway 3 until late. About 8:00pm by my calculations.

Shasta photobombs selfie photobomb

As I meander I keep seeing Mount Shasta poking its bald frosted head in my scenery. It reminds me of a time I asked Daniel to take a few pictures of Shasta and he ended up taking something on the order of 400, completely wiping out my camera battery. I am beginning to understand the problem. In this part of California no matter what you try to take a picture of, Mount Shasta will shamelessly photo bomb it.

During the entire day of walking I only encounter one other hiker. She is an exhausted southbound solo section hiker carrying more than twice my load. Her pack looks like something I might carry as a guide on a typical Fitpacking trip, but at this moment cannot comprehend. I wish her well and keep moving. Terri has always had to wait for me at trailheads. Today it will be my turn. I hope to sleep a few hours before she arrives.

Highway 3 please!

As I reach Highway 3 there are several cars parked on the shoulder. The one attached to a boat has its hood open with three men leaning in, scratching their heads. It reminds me of every boat trip we ever took with my Uncle Bob or brother in-law Mike. Something mechanical always demands the attention of someone mechanical.  I notice the last car in the lineup is a Honda Pilot, very similar to ours. I ask a woman standing nearby “Is that your Pilot?” She replies, “No, that is your wife waiting for you.” Now I was not fooled into thinking I am married to a Honda Pilot, but it did reveal I am in fact a fool. How did I get the pickup time so wrong?  I have been meandering thinking I am three hours early, when I am over an hour late. Terri is more forgiving of me than I am of myself.

In Weed we stop for old fashioned milkshakes and food. Terri drives me home, probably wishing the car windows were rolled down.

View coming to Highway 3

Mile 1518 to 1534

Heading to Deadfall Lakes

I wake in the night and exit my tent to pee. In the darkness I notice the outline of a tent. I have a new neighbor. It can’t be Senior Whiskers as he typically uses a bivy, which is pretty much just a water proof cover for his sleeping bag. Whoever it is, at least I am not alone.

I quickly return to my dream state, only to be woken by an unexpected show. Apparently the good Lord remembered I had not had the opportunity to observe any of the Fourth of July pyrotechnics, so he gathered up all the left overs and detonated them directly over my head. The lightening storm is amazing with single, double, and triple flashes followed immediately by thunderous roars. Some of the roars last so long I am certain the thunder machine has broken and that a repair crew will need to be called in.

Up on this very high ridge I am quite pleased to be near a small clump of trees. If the lightening decides to touch ground I hope it will chose one of these trees and not my Benjamin Franklin combination lightening rod / trekking poles that are currently holding up my Tarptent. After an amazingly climactic crescendo, I hear a polite round of applause, which turns out to be rain on my Tarptent.

Deciding when it is safe to exit is a tricky game. Just when I conclude the inordinate time is inordinate enough, there is another flash bomb, resetting my game delayed clock. I eventually decide to defer to the better judgement of my neighbor. When he or she decides it is safe to hike, so will I. After all, the stranger is likely to be taller, providing me an extra measure of safety.

Eventually, lightening or no lightening, my body informs me it is time to exit the tent and dig a 6 inch hole. Once my duty is complete, I return to discover my neighbor’s tent has been struck by lightening. How else do I explain its sudden transformation into a large arching log, clearly in the shape of a tent? I slowly begin to question the wisdom of deferring this decision. I clearly need to find water, the neighbor not so much. After a lengthy discussion we agree to separate.  We promise to write each other, but both know we never will. After packing up and heading out, I refuse to glance back, afraid to discover it is no longer even looking at me.

As I hike this razors edge ridge, it is clear this is no place to be during a lightening storm. Looking around I see no one. Without a mirror I cannot see the only idiot out here. This trail is my only reminder that other people exist. I will follow it toward Highway 3, Terri’s pick me up location.

At a spring I am surprised to find Senior Whiskers. He did not have the patience to zero in the Castle Crag State Park. He left a few hours after I did and camped a few miles behind me. He apparently passed my camp very early without either of us knowing. He was hiking during the lightening storm and was actually knocked to the ground.

We hike together to Deadfall Lake. After a rest, he pushes on to get more miles. I am doing the opposite. I am slowing down so I don’t have to sit all day at Highway 3 waiting for Terri. I swim in the lake, rinse clothes, and relax.

Camping at Deadfall Lake

Mile 1498 to 1518

Entering Wilderness

It is Independence Day and I will celebrate it by walking independently. In other words – alone again, naturally. I wake at 4:00am, drawn towards the beckoning light of civilization. It is attached to a building of significant convenience – the one with fixtures and indoor plumbing. After making a sizable contribution, I return to finish packing.

As I exit camp under headlamp Senior Whiskers wishes me well. It is possible we will see each other again on the trail, but I doubt it. Everything about the trail seems transient, especially the relationships. I have enjoyed his company and will miss him.

Wild Flowers

My mission, however, is not to miss my niece’s wedding, which requires that I get over this monster elevation known as Castle Crag and the Trinity Divide.  I will climb from 2,200 feet to over 6,600 today. I work my way through various state park trails until I rejoin the PCT and start my climb. It is hot and humid, but I just put down my head and go. There are few water sources. One is the sight of a recent fire, which appears to have been bombed with red fire retardant. Now there is a sign saying DO NOT DRINK THE WATER. I notice it does not suggest what I should drink.

I eventually find a seasonal spring, which is really nothing more than a hole the size of a water bottle dug out under a clump of grass so the water trickles off the exposed hanging roots. It takes a while in the scorching heat, but I capture and filter 3 litres. It will have to get me through hiking, dinner, breakfast and hiking to the next seasonal source.

I find a tent site the required 20 miles in. My hike to first water tomorrow, however, will be over 10 miles. It’s funny how when you camp next to a stream you hardly drink anything, yet when you dry camp your mouth immediately feels like Death Valley and you want to irrigate it enough to grow rice.

Although I am camped in the wilderness I can hear repeated gun fire in the distance. I assume someone is illegally celebrating the Fourth, or I am closer to Oakland than I thought. Either way, I am tired enough to sleep without a care.

Castle Crags