Tag: thruhiking

Day 52: Powerlines to Screwdriver Creek

The trail magic started early today with several water jugs and a cooler full of sodas left just before the first road crossing. I then caught up to a fellow hiker who had decided to skip ahead to Washington before the weather turned, and when her parents picked her up at the next road the back of their SUV was filled with beer, snacks, and Gatorade. I strolled past a small hydroelectric dam and beautiful reservoir where people were fishing, watching the morning light dance across the rippling water.

Soon after I ran into Lightning and another hiker who unfortunately had gotten heat exhaustion from the previous day’s trek across Hat Creek Rim. Luckily a guest ranch was nearby, and after offering him some water and making sure he was good to make it to the ranch I continued on my way to Burney Falls State Park. I caught up to Vick (Snooze) and Ronan on the way in, and together we raided the camp store for microwave Jimmy Dean’s breakfast sandwiches and canned margaritas to enjoy in the shade of some nearby picnic tables. It was here in the Lime-a-Rita induced euphoria where I was finally given a trail name: Lunch Hermit, or Lermit for short (based on one random occasion when I had lunch by myself at a scenic spot a hundred feet away from the path – trail names are like that).

Happily filled with food and drink we walked the short way down to the base of the falls, where a thundering cascade of water crashed into a large rocky pool. I rested my feet in the icy water while Vick and Ronan proceeded to jump off a boulder into the misty lagoon, yelling their shock and joy to the sky and the surprised tourists nearby.

Day 51: Hat Creek to Powerlines

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.

Day 44: Deer Lake to Bald Mountain Junction

Stuffed into a side pouch in my backpack was a small set of wireless earbuds. I hadn’t felt the need to use them much for most of my PCT journey thus far, as I either had been hiking with a friend or was surrounded by the awe-inspiring mountain peaks and alpine scenery of the High Sierra. In Northern California, however, my surroundings sometimes became monotonous with the trail leading through unending pine and fir forests interspersed here and there by a small meadow or open ridge. I started spending an hour or two each day listening to audiobooks, starting with the short book “Why Buddhism is True” by Robert Wright. The title is somewhat misleading, as the author mainly focuses on looking at the practice of mindfulness meditation through the lens of evolutionary psychology.

At camp, I put some of what I learned about the evolution of human emotion into practice as I discovered what appeared to be a tick (but was in reality probably some species of small beetle) crawling up the sleeve of my shirt. I have long had an irrational fear of ticks, at one point even indulging in self-medication to ward off any chance of an imagined case of lyme disease. Naturally I freaked out and brushed the bug off as fast as I could, then frantically searched the rest of my clothes before running into my tent to hide in case there were more of the tiny creatures.

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep while in this state of panic, I took some deep breaths and tried to take a step back to examine my fear from a place of calm. Eventually I decided there was nothing I could do after searching my clothes and body for ticks, and resolved to not worry about it until the following day. It worked well enough that I was able to lay my exhausted body down and drift off, images of the eight-legged monsters flashing only occasionally through my dreams.

Day 41: Donner Pass to Mount Lacey

I found the trail in the morning, walking past several groups of rock climbers scaling the granite slabs between Donner Pass Road and I-80. What looked like a giant storm drain led me under the freeway, and on the other side I stopped at a highway rest stop to refill my water and use the facilities. In the span of a few minutes several drivers approached me to ask excitedly if I was hiking the PCT and about my journey. Their infectious enthusiasm began to dispel some of my dark thoughts from the previous night.

Getting back on the trail I crossed paths with a hiker named Vick (trail name: Snooze), who would end up giving me my own trail name several days later. On the gentle ascent up to Castle Pass I began to notice a few tiny orange butterflies fluttering amidst the surrounding pine forest. The trickle of insects soon became a flood as thousands of the bright creatures continued to emerge out of the trees ahead. Walking through this spiraling orange cloud to the top of the pass I ran into a group of local hikers who told me the butterflies appear here every seven years as part of a migration cycle. Feeling lucky to witness this rare event and lost in its natural magic, I strolled slowly on as the little insects fluttered past me on their own journey to an unknown destination.

Day 40: 5 Lakes Junction to Donner Pass

Today my good friend Colin had arranged to join me for the leg up to Donner Pass. He and his friend Sidney met me in the morning at the junction and we quickly started the almost 20-mile trek to the highway crossing at Donner Pass. It felt good to be hiking with a buddy again, and no less one I had known going all the way back to Elementary School! We climbed through vast fields of mule’s ear plants to the rocky summit of the Squaw Valley Ski Resort, which had hosted the Winter Olympics back in 1960. Eating lunch beneath the large Granite Chief rock formation, Colin and Sidney shared some very welcome fresh carrots and fruit while we admired the view down into Olympic Valley.

In the afternoon we scaled the Tinker Knob, a rocky outcrop/pile of boulders a short distance from the trail with expansive views south to Lake Tahoe and as far north as Castle Peak. During the breathtaking descent from the Knob along an open ridge I awkwardly twisted my knee. At first it didn’t hurt much, but as we navigated across a tricky snowfield and began hiking down the granite steps to Donner Pass the pain became increasingly more excruciating. I found that if I kept my knee moving the pain would subside, but if I stopped to take a break for even a minute it would return in force the next time I took a step.

Hobbling to the trailhead, we were all excited to walk the short distance down the road to the Donner Ski Ranch for a well-deserved meal. The restaurant offered a free 40 oz King Cobra to PCT hikers, which I gladly accepted along with a burger, salad and pie feast. By the time we finished it was well after dark, and while Colin and Sidney drove back to Reno I attempted to find the trailhead on the north side of the highway. Still buzzed from the drink and stumbling around with an injured knee in the black night, I gave up and climbed up some large boulders to a flat patch of dirt where I pitched my tent. It was not until after the tent was set up that I realized the dirt patch was covered in shards of broken glass. Too tired to find another site, I crawled in and lay in my bag hoping that the glass didn’t puncture my inflatable sleeping pad.

My thoughts soon turned dark as I pondered what came next. I had spent the past week enjoying the company of many friends and family, and now I was alone again for the foreseeable future. I had no hiking buddy, and the next person I knew along the trail was a friend all the way up in Portland, Oregon, almost a thousand miles to the north. How would I manage hiking alone that whole time? Was it really a good idea to keep going? What the hell was I even doing on the trail anyway? These questions plagued my mind as I drifted into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.

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.

Days 35 – 37: Lake Tahoe

Over a month of hiking at least 10-15 miles per day over picturesque but challenging high mountain passes, through mosquito-infested swamps and gorgeous alpine meadows can really take a toll. So when I arrived back at my parents’ house in Tahoe, I was definitely ready for a break and ended up taking a “triple zero” to rest and resupply.

First on the agenda, however, was my friends Bryce and Jessica’s wedding. A full two-day extravaganza out in the woods near Kirkwood Ski Resort, I had a blast celebrating with family and friends: playing lawn games, drinking, dancing, and soaking in the hot tub set on the edge of a small lake (swimming encouraged). The ceremony itself was beautiful and even hosted by my brother, and of course the steak dinner and next-morning hot breakfast were highlights for my food-starved stomach.

Two days of revelry well done, it was time to prepare to get back on the trail. Seeing a bunch of old friends and hearing their excitement about my trek invigorated my desire to continue hiking, so I replaced my shoes, socks (for free! check out Darn Tough), and loaded up on food for the onward journey. Sleeping in a real bed for three nights helped ease my sore muscles, but by the last night I was itching to be lying back on the cool earth under the stars.

Day 34: Forestdale Creek to Echo Lake

A few miles of trekking under a clear, bright morning sky brought me to Carson Pass, a trailhead complete with an information center staffed by a group of friendly volunteers. Upon my arrival they took out the trail register for me to sign and offered me a plate of fresh cut watermelon, soda, and even a small fridge magnet emblazoned with “Carson Pass: PCT 2019”. These guys were prepared! I sat down with another group of hikers to enjoy the unexpected second breakfast, feeling grateful for the hospitality.

After crossing the pass I strolled blissfully along the Upper Truckee River in Meiss Meadow, a gorgeous alpine valley where a German immigrant family had built a summer cabin in the 1870s. Getting very tired of my standard lunch of tortillas I decided to hustle to the Echo Lake Chalet for a hot sandwich and ice cream. Getting there involved crossing the multi-lane Highway 50 at Echo Summit, the most dangerous road crossing I had encountered yet with cars and trucks zooming by at 60 miles an hour. Eventually there was a break in the traffic and I scuttled across, reaching the Chalet just before they closed for the afternoon. I cracked open a beer and sat down on a log to enjoy my sandwich and listen to hikers swap stories around me, awaiting a ride from my dad into town and home.

Day 33: Ebbet’s Pass to Forestdale Creek

After a final delicious fresh breakfast and plenty of coffee, Carlin and Sara dropped me back at Ebbet’s Pass on their way to San Francisco. I hiked a short way along the narrow highway to the north trailhead and who do I run into but Pioneer and Bubblewrap, the two hikers I had first met on Day 3! I had last seen them over two weeks before at Muir Pass in King’s Canyon. You never know when someone you’ve meet on the trail will suddenly pop up again. Unfortunately I couldn’t stop to hang out as I had a wedding in Tahoe to get to, and I pushed on alone into Mokelumne Wilderness.

The pine and fir forests alternating with open hillsides covered in sagebrush and mule’s ear plants began to look more and more like the mountains around my parents’ house, bringing a strong sense of homecoming to my chest and an idea to my head: the possibility of ending my trek once I got to Tahoe. After all, I had hiked the High Sierra, the section of the PCT I had been most excited to see, and the upcoming Northern California section sounded none too popular among veteran hikers. What could I look forward too now that the most beautiful section of the trail was behind me? I pondered this question as I cooked a bowl of ramen noodles, the light fading among the smooth-barked trees and hardscrabble rocks of camp.

Day 32: Grover Hot Springs

In the month since I began hiking the PCT, I had not yet taken what is called a “zero” day: a day during which a hiker clocks zero trail miles, usually spent in town getting supplies, resting, and eating copious amounts of restaurant food (the greasier the better). I did take a couple of “nearo” days, hiking only a few miles to get into/out of town, but today would be my first true zero day. I was very much looking forward to it.

Of course, with my friend Kaitlin I should’ve known that lazing around camp in a hammock was not in the cards. Instead we hiked eight miles almost straight up the hot mountainside to Burnside Lake. I jumped straight in with my trekking clothes still on, hoping the cool water would wash away some of the grime and stink they had accumulated over the past week. We later stopped in at the hot springs themselves, which consisted of a large man-made pool of greenish water crowded with bathers. I found a spot near the steps and lowered my sore body into the pool, sinking into a state of bliss interrupted only by the noise of kids shouting and running around the deck. Zero day or non-zero day, it was a day well spent.