Tag: hiking

Day 76: Sisters to Santiam Pass Burn Zone

Planning to get an early start in order to meet up with my friend Jason near Mount Hood, I scarfed down a quick continental breakfast at the motel and walked to the highway junction to try to hitch a ride back to the trail. I stuck my thumb out and several cars passed, but none of them stopped or even slowed down for the scruffy-looking hiker on the side of the road. I called some numbers that had been posted in the motel lobby advertising rides for PCT hikers, to no avail. An older man walked past and told me about a group of trail angels at a local church who help out hikers. After an hour or so of waiting and becoming increasingly frustrated, I decided to take the man’s advice and walk the mile down the highway to try my luck at the church. Thankfully one of the trail angels happened to be there for a knitting group session, and after a few minutes we were in her SUV on the road up to Mackenzie Pass, to my great relief.

A bike race was going on over the highway and hundreds of cyclists and support people crowded the top of the pass. I took a quick peek at the view from the nearby observatory, scouting the path ahead. Two long miles of lava rocks awaited me, and once again I wished I had real hiking boots to protect my feet from their sharp cutting edges. After carefully making my way through the lava field I barely had time to catch my breath before the sky opened up. In just a few minutes all of the gear I had carefully dried out in Sisters got completely soaked. The small umbrella I had carried all the way from Lake Tahoe did little to help against the deluge. I trudged onward, my shoes increasingly covered in mud while the rain ran down the trail in little rivers.

When I came to the turn off toward Big Lake Youth Camp I immediately took it, hoping to find some shelter from the unceasing downpour. The camp was closed for the season but to my eternal gratitude the hosts had left a cabin open for PCT hikers to use. I ran inside and was greeted by a dozen other thru-hikers taking shelter from the rain. Most were planning to sleep there; alas I had a timeline to keep so I ate a quick meal, enjoyed some hot tea and hit the trail again as soon as the weather let up. I crossed another highway at Santiam Pass and entered a gloomy burn zone where I made a hasty camp, wisps of fog drifting eerily among the dead and blackened trees.

Day 70: Mazama Village to Mount Thielsen

There are many different philosophies to hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Some approach the experience casually, jumping around to different sections depending on weather, timing or simply their own whims. Others attempt to trace a line of continuous footsteps from Mexico to Canada, focused on walking the full distance. And some hikers are purists, not deviating from the official PCT for anything unless forced by a trail closure (and even then a few will try hiking through despite the danger of rockfalls or fire damage).

In Crater Lake National Park, those sticking to the main trail will miss the spectacular views offered by the alternate route along the lake’s rim. I was no purist (if you couldn’t tell already) but I did want to hike in continuous footsteps during my PCT journey. Leaving the campground at Mazama early, I trekked up to the crater rim and looked down into the deepest lake in the United States. The brilliant blue water contrasted starkly with the surrounding arid landscape and light blue sky. I strolled along the western edge, taking my time to enjoy the striking scenery.

After a few miles I reluctantly left the lake behind and plunged into a long, flat stretch through a seemingly neverending forest. At the end I crossed a highway where I found my friend Radek sitting on a log surrounded by 20 or 30 five-gallon jugs of water. Wanting to experience the entire length of the official PCT, Radek had hiked the main route and asked me about the alternate along the crater rim. I showed him some photos and he shook his head, immediately regretting his decision to trek through the hot and uninteresting burn zone that made up the “official” trail. I respected his dedication, however, and noted that Crater Lake would still be there for his next visit: “You always have to leave something to come back to.”

Day 61: Marble Mountain Lookout to Grider Creek Campground

Today marked the first day I saw horses on the trail. Technically the entire PCT is open to horse travel as well as hiking, though I am skeptical that horses could make it over some of the treacherous mountain passes in the High Sierra (I’m looking at you, Forester Pass). They appeared as I came around the bend on a scrub-covered hillside, slowly striding toward me as I stepped off to the side. The riders in blue denim jackets nodded politely as they paraded past, their giant mounts clomping along the narrow, dusty path. One horse chose that moment to drop a large pile of scat directly onto the trail, portending what lay ahead on the day’s trek.

Perhaps attracted to (or brought by?) the horses, almost as soon as I started to hike again I walked straight into a cloud of tiny flying ants. I had spotted the shifting black mass hovering over the trail ahead, but assumed that the insects would disperse as I passed through them. But they wouldn’t let me go that easily. As soon as my face touched the swarm, a hundred tiny ants had attached themselves to my clothes and skin. I tried to brush them off but the bugs stubbornly clung on, forcing me to pick off each little ant one by one. The sensation of all the black bugs crawling over my head was like feeling a hundred separate itches that you can’t quite scratch. Two more ant clouds blocked my path as I continued, but I had learned my lesson and gave them a wide berth.

Some time later, my face covered in dust and tiny ant pieces, I came to a rushing creek running over slick rocks into a large pool next to the trail. The water was ice cold but I gratefully splashed my face in the small waterfall and took off my shoes to soak my feet in the pool. I had discovered a true oasis in the midst of the dusty mountains, and spent a long time entranced by the beautiful scene, the water refreshing all of my tired senses.

Day 58: Scott Mountain Campground to Saddle

When I awoke in the morning the floor of my tent was covered in rainwater. The clouds continued to spit mist as we started to hike, but soon gave way to the strong California sun. After crossing over the location of an old stage road and way station from the 1860s we entered the Trinity Alps Wilderness. I had long wanted to visit the Trinity Alps after hearing friends in the Bay Area praise its remote beauty. It did not disappoint, and the dark sharp line of peaks in the distance soon had me in a rapturous trance. Pretty little streams danced down the mountainside and across the trail to flow into the pristine alpine lakes below. The feelings of pain and toil that sometimes dominate the trail experience vanished, and I walked on with a big smile on my face.

During our lunch break on a rocky ridge I laid my tent and sleeping pad out in the sun which quickly dried the light fabric. The PCT only cuts through a tiny corner of the Trinity Alps, but I knew it would draw me back one day. Vick and Ronan were rushing to get to Seiad Valley near the Oregon border but decided to camp with me one final night, and we found a wonderful open spot on a forested ridge with Mount Shasta peaking through the trees to the east. We celebrated a last gourmet dinner of (you guessed it) ramen and instant potatoes while day faded into the starry night.

Day 50: Domingo Lake to Hat Creek

In the morning I entered Lassen National Park, a place I had camped many times with my family during my childhood and thus had a special place in my memory. Unfortunately PCT hikers are not allowed to camp in the park without a bear canister (I had left mine at my parents’ house in Tahoe), so I had walk the 19 miles to the northern boundary in one day. Near the entrance I took the short side trail to Terminal Geyser, an impressive steam vent only accessible by footpath. The multicolored sulfur Boiling Springs Lake rounded out my tour of Lassen’s geothermal features.

It was a hot August day, and by the time I stopped at Lower Twin Lake for lunch I was ready to jump straight in. The cold water felt incredibly refreshing, the more so because of the large burn zone I next had to trek through to reach my planned campsite. The peak heat of the afternoon was only slightly diminished by the fact that the burned trees allowed for a decent view of snow-covered Lassen Peak rising in the background. When I arrived at Hat Creek my mouth was dry with thirst and I was very tempted to start chugging water straight from the creek. I thought better of it and impatiently used my filter, then lay down in the cool air next to the rushing stream and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the water.

Day 47: Chips Creek to Little Cub Spring

The 5,000 foot climb out of the Feather River valley was even longer than the trek in, but passed by a creek whose surface danced with reflected sunlight and through beautiful high meadows covered in purple wildflowers. At the top I was rewarded with a strong flowing spring of cold water (aptly named Cold Springs) spilling out of a pipe and into a large trough. There I met another hiker named Harrison (trail name: Compass), and we filled our bottles to the brim while watching a herd of cows wander around on the other side of a nearby wooden fence.

As the trail approached a large dirt parking lot at Humboldt Summit, views of the volcanic Lassen Peak appearing amidst the clouds in the distance, shots of gunfire began to ring out ahead. Surprised by the sudden noise, I sat down on some rocks and waited for a few minutes, snacking on a granola bar and hoping that whoever was firing would stop soon and move on. The gunshots continued though, and not wanting my hike to tragically end by getting hit with a stray bullet I took a look at the map and decided to take a shortcut overland through the bushes to avoid the Summit and link back up with the trail at Robbers Spring. It was tough going over uneven ground through thick stands of fir trees, but eventually I made my way back to the trail where I found Compass. He told me that a group of men had indeed been doing target practice straight across the PCT, simply unaware that a popular trail runs through there. I camped on an open plateau above the next spring, with yellow jackets buzzing around into the evening.

Day 45: Bald Mountain Junction to Big Creek Road

My tick paranoia continued into the next day, and when I came across a couple of hikers in the morning I asked them to check my back for any sign of the pests. Luckily they found nothing and I made my way down a steep valley to the Feather River, where some boaters had beached their rafts for a lunch break. The river was flowing strong and I stopped for a minute on the large iron bridge to watch the water spill over the rocks below, its low roar rumbling in my ears.

On the other side of the river I made the long, gradual climb up to a rocky point overlooking the pine-studded hills to the east. I took out a Snickers bar and sat down to enjoy the expansive view but was soon accosted by a swarm of yellow jackets attracted to the sweat soaking my clothes and backpack straps. Waving them away I walked on, briefly pausing to browse through a plastic container of books someone had left out for thru-hikers. On my way to camp I passed through a beautiful meadow of white and yellow flowers, the bright afternoon light shifting into the gold of evening.

Day 43: Sierra City to Deer Lake

Having rolled off my sleeping pad into the dirt of the open lot where I had slept among a group of fellow thru-hikers, I woke up early and decided to get going before the heat of the August day set in. I took a very cold shower in the public bathroom and followed up with a hot breakfast at the Red Moose, a B&B in town. After grabbing a few food items at the small store (the shelves were mostly empty except for pop-tarts) I walked back up the road and began the hot, steep climb out of the valley. The mountainside was mostly exposed manzanita bushes with little tree cover, and I was glad when I came across a tiny trickle of water to refill my bottles.

My friend Jason had recommend taking the short detour to the fire lookout on top of Sierra Buttes, so I took his advice and headed up the wide fire road to the summit 5000 feet above Sierra City. It was a brutal climb, the late morning sun beating down as I slowly made my way up a road so steep I’m not sure how vehicles could drive it. Eventually I reached the peak, where a series of metal stairways (also steep) scaled the rock to the lookout itself. The panorama spilled over lakes and rolling mountains into the cloudy distance. The wind was strong and I ate lunch in the shelter of the rocks, chatting with some travelers who had made the ascent from a much saner starting point.

By the time I made my way down from the Buttes I was very much feeling the combined effects of the sun, the climb, and the previous night’s beer and taco party. Needing a pick-me-up, I detoured from the trail again to visit the Packer Lake Lodge, where a chicken pot pie and ice-cold Sprite helped rejuvenate my spirits. I camped on a bluff above Deer Lake, watching the red rays of the setting sun fade over the craggy Buttes.

Day 39: Phipps Creek to 5 Lakes Junction

Today was a day for meeting friends, both old and new. I even almost met a bear when I woke up in the morning. A Tahoe Rim Trail hiker passed me as I was breaking down my tent (the TRT and PCT coincide for 50 miles or so) and pointed out that a black bear had been rummaging around the forest floor just around the bend. I never spotted it though, and continued my streak of not seeing any bears through the entire trail.

I later crossed paths with another group of hikers, including Ashes, the girl who had warned me that I was starting my ascent of Mt. Whitney a little late in the day. We had lunch at the Barker Pass picnic tables (I have never appreciated the simple comfort of a picnic table as much as I did on the PCT). Passing the spot where I had turned off from Jason and Carly’s thru-hike in 2016 due to severe knee pain, I followed the trail along a series of open ridges and above the Alpine Meadows Ski Resort. As I was setting up camp in a washed out basin next to a tiny waterfall, I ran into Pioneer, the hiker from South Africa, and her friend. Eating meals alone was for me the hardest part of doing a thru-hike solo, so I was very glad to cook up some veggie mac&cheese and join them and an older couple for dinner and chat well into the evening.

Day 38: Echo Lake to Phipps Creek

Refreshed and refueled, I got back on the trail at Echo Lake with a spring in my step and smile on my face. This was familiar ground: not only had I hiked this section of the PCT with my friends Jason and Carly during their own thru-hike in 2016, I had also done the day hike up to Lake Aloha many times over my years living in Tahoe. Blazing past several groups of weekend backpackers, I arrived at the lake in the late morning and found a good spot on the rocky shoreline for a break.

Normally Lake Aloha is dotted with hundreds of granite islands and blanched tree trunks jutting out of the water, but with so much snow this year many of the islands remained submerged even in the first days of August. Still, I couldn’t resist taking a dip in the frigid but crystal clear waters and freestyled my way out to the nearest rock island. Swimming in Aloha brought back memories of my first solo hike there on a late September day, the lake much shallower and warm as I spent a timeless afternoon hopping from island to island in a state of blissful wonder. Today, however, the icy temperatures soon brought me back to the shore and I lay on a rock in the sun to dry off, my mind slipping for a moment into the euphoria of yesteryear.