A six and a half mile walk down a paved road led from the campground to the tiny community of Seiad Valley, the final stop before entering Oregon. The road loops around a large bend in the Klamath River to get to a bridge, so I could see the town long before I entered (it is tempting to ford the shallow river to skip the last three miles of road walking, but this involves illegally cutting through private property). Several dogs barked menacingly at me as I walked past small houses with large “State of Jefferson” signs posted outside. This remote region of northern California has long felt that its interests are not served by the state government in Sacramento. Since the 1940’s there has been an on-and-off movement by some residents to secede from California and (along with a few counties in southern Oregon) form a new state named after Thomas Jefferson. The effort has not led far and whatever its politics, I was welcomed into town with a smile.
It was a brief visit. A big pancake breakfast at the local diner, a quick resupply run at Seiad Valley’s general store (both contained in the same squat building sporting the two Xs of the State of Jefferson flag on its sign) and I was off. Unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the searing heat on the steep, exposed climb out of the valley, and had soon gulped down most of my water. Halfway up the mountain a weathered wooden sign atop a rock pile pointed to a tiny trickling spring swarming with yellow jackets. It took what seemed like an eternity to fill my bottles under the low flow and I did my best to remain calm while the insects buzzed alarmingly close to my hand. Luckily they were more interested in the water and allowed me to continue up the rocky, scrub-filled slopes in peace.
Russell on the Road 