Tag: trail magic

Day 71: Mount Thielsen to Oregon Skyline Trail

In the cold morning I walked beneath the craggy peaks of Mount Thielsen, its shadow completely blocking the warming sun from reaching the trail. Fall comes early in the mountains, and as the days continued to grow shorter and temperatures dropped I knew the clock was ticking to reach Canada. After reaching the highest point on the PCT in Oregon around midday (a whopping 7,560 feet! take that Forester Pass), I came to a dirt road with a large collection of water jugs and a box full of trail magic. There were even little solar panel batteries for charging electronics, although I was not able to get them to work with my phone.

From the road I decided to take the Oregon Skyline Trail alternate, shaving seven or so miles off the official route and passing next to some beautiful mountain lakes. Mushrooms were just beginning to emerge from the soft earth, slowly erupting as the caps pushed through the top layer of soil to reach the open air. Spectacular flowers blossomed along the path, their tiny white petals springing from a larger pink/purple array. I was excited to witness the changing of the seasons but the appearance of mushrooms also meant rain. As afternoon wore into evening dark clouds gathered into a small thunderstorm, flashing lightning and cracking thunder while I slept fitfully below in my thin tent.

Day 69: High Saddle to Mazama Village

The arcing hike into Crater Lake National Park was hot, dry and largely burned out, but led to a large pot of trail magic at the end. Forced to carry a full three liters of water to make the 20 mile stretch to the park entrance, I doggedly trudged along through a blackened forest, the tall husks of long-dead trees towering overhead but offering little shade. At times the high volcanic peak of Mount Thielsen reared its head above the horizon, and an unknown snow-capped mountain could be seen at one point in the far distance.

I felt relieved when finally I reached the low wooden sign demarcating the border of the park. A short walk down the road led to Mazama Village, the main visitor area complete with campground, small store and most importantly, a restaurant to which I immediately beelined. Extremely thirsty, I gulped down a full 20 ounce soda and refilled my cup twice before my large pizza arrived. While gracelessly shoving whole slices of gooey cheese into my mouth at a table outside, a man sitting a few tables down approached and asked if I was hiking the PCT. I told him about my journey and learned his name was Roger and he was on a roadtrip with his wife. When I finished eating he generously offered to donate some supplies for my trip, including two dehydrated Mountain House meals and a tall Coors beer. I thanked him profusely and we parted ways, wishing one another well as I walked toward the designated thru-hiker campsite reflecting on the kindness of strangers.

Day 64: Wrangle Gap to Ashland

In the morning the smell of smoke had disappeared and a light rain fell on the distant hills. I trekked across easy rolling terrain to a high point where a trail angel had placed two coolers under a fir tree. One was full of beer, while the other was filled with assorted soft drinks and even a whole watermelon! Luckily one of the hikers already there had a large knife and I cut myself a refreshing slice of the cool fruit. I lingered for a long while, enjoying the rejuvenating company after several days hiking alone even more than the trail magic. I felt ready for a break back in civilization.

Signs of human habitation grew as I walked closer to the interstate. The trail wound downhill next to a paved road heading to the Mount Ashland Ski Area, and I followed a cross-country ski track to a picnic table outside a house where three other hikers had just started eating lunch. I joined them and met a thru-hiker named Janis Joplin, who said he was attempting a speed run of the 450-mile Oregon section of the PCT which involved crossing the entire state in only eight days. The idea appalled me, but true to his word Janis wolfed down his food and immediately set off running toward Washington.

The other two hikers (one of whom, Radek, I had asked to check my paranoid self for ticks weeks previously near the Feather River) and I quickly fell into a rhythm, turning onto a side trail leading across a railroad track and under Interstate 5 to Callahan’s Lodge where we hoped to hitch a ride into Ashland. The interior looked straight out of the 1930s, complete with lacquered bar and roaring fireplace. We were welcomed warmly despite our scruffy appearance, and enjoyed a beer on the house before packing into a trail angel’s sedan for the short drive into town.

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 42: Mount Lacey to Sierra City

The path to Sierra City wound down along a tree-studded hillside to a large bridge over the North Yuba River. After enjoying the view of some small waterfalls, I climbed up to the highway where I discovered my first piece of trail magic: a small cooler filled with chips, beer, and Gatorade (trail magic is a term for the generous gifts, often food, drinks or a fortuitous ride into town, given to thru-hikers by people along the trail, themselves known as trail angels). As I quenched my thirst in the afternoon heat, pondering whether I had enough food left to skip Sierra City and continue on toward the next town, an older couple walked by on their way to see the falls. It happened to be a Tuesday, and they told me the local bar in town had a $2 taco special going.

My mind decided and my stomach rumbling, I quickly walked the 1 1/2 miles along the road into town. Sierra “City” consists of a few main buildings set along the highway, including a small store, post office, library, a couple of hotels, and of course my destination: the Buckhorn Bar and Mountain Creek Restaurant. I had just sat down in a wooden chair on the porch out front when Snooze appeared, and together we went inside to order food and drinks. We soon discovered the backyard patio where Ashes’ hiking group sat at a table listening to a local band belt out country ballads. Joining them, we took full advantage of the taco bar and beer selection, eventually closing the place down around 8pm. The town provided a large dirt area for hikers to camp, so I rolled out my sleeping pad and slept cowboy-style under the open sky.