The Hat Creek Rim is a notorious section of trail among PCT hikers. Completely burned out as the result of the Lost Fire in 1987, the Rim is is an almost entirely exposed 26-mile stretch with little to no access to water. Hikers often attempt this section in the early morning or at night when temperatures are lower and there is less danger of heat exhaustion. I got up at dawn with the intention to do likewise but didn’t make it to the start until late morning. Thankfully someone had left several five-gallon jugs of water under a picnic table at the Rim Overlook (along with some organic but now rotting plums), so I took as much as I could carry and steeled myself for the hot journey ahead.
The hike started out warm but not uncomfortably so, and I contentedly followed the trail as it wound among low scrub bushes and piles of sharp rocks. I soon ran into a frightened-looking hiker walking fast in the opposite direction. She warned me of a “giant” rattlesnake just ahead on the side of the trail. Great, I thought, now I have to worry about snakes in addition to dying from thirst. I moved forward cautiously, being sure to look around each corner before taking a step so as not to surprise any hidden rattlers. But the snake never appeared. The sun grew increasingly hot as it passed its midday peak, and I found myself taking short water breaks in every tiny little piece of shade I came across. With the distance to the next secure water source uncertain, I took just small sips in order to conserve enough for the full stretch.
In the mid-afternoon during the hottest part of the day, I neared Cache 22 where according to my map a local trail angel usually maintains a tank of water for thru-hikers. My mouth dry and my throat parched, I trudged onward in the hope that I would soon be able to quench my thirst in a torrent of warm, stagnant tank water. When I rounded the bend and saw a group of fellow hikers huddled around the open flatbed of a truck, in high spirits and drinking what appeared to be beer and sodas, my eyes widened and I sprinted the final distance to the dirt road. A trail angel named Magic Man had set up shop at the Cache, and as I arrived he opened a large cooler filled with ice and cold drinks. I immediately grabbed a sports drink and downed it in about three seconds. It was the best Gatorade I’ve ever had.
Russell on the Road 