Section 16 - Castella to Seiad Valley
July 21
30 miles. This was the best hiking day since the Sierra.
It's amazing what new shoes, a shower, clean clothes,
and a full stomach does for one's feet and energy level.
After 30 miles and 5,100 vertical feet, I feel great.
No foot pains and no real tiredness. I could have gone
on for many more miles but the sun was setting and I needed
to camp.
I left Castle Crags Campground this morning before 7
a.m. Another exceedingly early start by my standards but
par for the other hikers. Like it or not, I was on their
schedule today. Fortunately, it was a beautiful cool morning--perfect
hiking weather--and I felt strong. Soon New Hampshire
Brian and I left the others behind and headed for the
long ascent of Castle Crags. The grade was relatively
gentle and the miles came easily. The views of Castle
Crags were magnificent as the trail wound around and up
the west side. Soon I looked down on what had been high
up. Gray streaks running down every granite chute gave
testament to the power of the winter and spring runoff.
I'm entering the last section of California. According
to the guidebook, the Klamath Mountains extend from here
to Oregon. They are comprised of the Trinity Alps, the
Marble Mountains, and the Siskiou Mountains. I will walk
through all three ranges.
The trail continued up a long ridgeline toward the Trinity
Divide and the panoramic views were magnificent. Lakes
dotted the high cirques and snow clung to north slopes
and shaded ravines. As I approached the Divide, I stopped
for a moment and gazed at the view. To the east, Mt. Shasta
rose like a rocky ice cream cone. I could almost lick
it. To the south, the boney granite fingers of Castle
Crags reached for the sky. Just to the west of the Crags,
but far to the south, Mt Lassen probed the horizon. At
that moment I thought back to all the terrain I've walked
in the last 1,500 miles. I remembered how from Lassen
I could see Sierra Buttes; how from Sierra Buttes I could
see the peaks of Lake Tahoe; how from those peaks I could
see the peaks of Carson and Sonora Passes. And from there
Yosemite, and from there clear back toward Mt. Whitney.
From Whitney the Tehachapis, and from there back to the
San Gabriels, the San Bernardinos, and the San Yacintos.
From the San Yacintos I could see Mt. Laguna and from
Mt. Laguna the Mexican Border. At the Mexican border,
when I looked very closely, I could just catch a glimpse
of a lone hiker shouldering his pack and taking that first
step toward Canada.
We crossed the Divide and stopped for dinner at a small
spring--capturing the cold, delicious water just inches
from where it bubbled out of the ground. No filtering
required. Maybe it was the water but my corn pesto pasta
was excellent.
I'm camped tonight with Brian on an open saddle at 7,300
feet, just above Toad Lake. Mt. Lassen looms pink and
blue-gray in the fading dusk and the lights of Mt. Shasta
City flicker in the valley below.
July 22
30 miles. Unlike yesterday, I AM tired and my feet DO
hurt. This is the most walking I've ever done in a 2-day
stretch.
At least it was a nice hike. I walked miles of sweeping
ridgelines and lake basin contours. Numerous small springs
and creeklets provided thirst-quenching relief from the
desiccating sun. Inviting lakes beckoned long, lazy swims
but my time was too short and I hiked on. I caught a few
more glimpses of Shasta today but I'm heading away from
the mountain now and it looms lesser with every mile.
Early this morning I saw a doe and fawn. I see deer nearly
every day but this was the trip's first fawn. Following
its mother's lead, it bounced away through the brush when
it saw me.
There are a few other people in these mountains--courtesy
of the plentiful logging roads and summer highways. I
passed a few hikers, backpackers, and horsepackers and
we exchanged hellos. Most are out for a few days to a
week and I envied their relaxed pace and schedule.
Brian left camp long before I did this morning but I
caught up with him late this afternoon. We're camped together
again in a Forest Service campground, just off Highway
3, at Scott Mountain Summit. An occasional car winds up
the pass and drives by but we're otherwise alone. Tomorrow
we'll head into the Trinity Alps Wilderness.
The trail has turned south and will continue in a southwest
direction for another half-day before turning north again.
It feels strangely unfair to give back my latitudinal
progression towards Canada but where the trail goes I
will follow.
July 23
30 miles. Back-to-back-to-back. Another spectacular hike
that got even better as the miles wore on. It was, by
far, the best scenery since the High Sierra.
We hiked into Trinity Alps Wilderness early this morning,
crossed briefly into Klamath National Forest late this
afternoon, and then hiked the last two hours into the
Russian Wilderness.
Brian left camp almost an hour before I did this morning
and I was surprised to catch up with him by mid-morning.
He was sitting by the edge of the trail mumbling something
about a bear with cubs. I walked a few feet up the trail
to see for myself and promptly saw the cocked head of
a large cinnamon-colored sow. She was parked on the trail,
peering at me from the side of a tall tree. Thirty feet
up the tree were two little black cubs holding on for
dear life. Mom wasn't budging. I backed up and returned
to where Brian was sitting. After a brief discussion we
bushwhacked up and across the hill, through the manzanita,
and around the obstacle. Bears will be bears.
We're camped on the trail, on a high ridge in the Russian
Wilderness, just below a pinnacle called The Statue. There's
a saddle close by but it's too narrow for camping and
this was the only flat spot we could find in the fading
light. Great granite cliffs fill the horizon and if I
didn't know better I would swear I was in the High Sierra.
Creeks cascade from every snowfield and the contrast between
the deep green forests and the white granite walls is
striking. As an added bonus, tonight's sunset is the best
of the trip.
July 24
27 miles. The scenery gets better every day. Today's visual
pleasures came courtesy of the Marble Mountain Wilderness.
I woke at 1 a.m. last night to a blinding flash and a
clap of thunder. Uh oh! The sky was an eerie blue-black
and the acrid smell of lightning filled the air. I looked
across the valley and a lightening bolt hammered a nearby
peak. Another flash and more thunder. And another, and
another. Brian and I scrambled to cover our stuff and
then get off the exposed trail. The tree-covered saddle
was about 100 feet away and we donned ponchos and ran
for cover. Neither of us have flashlights but we stumbled
into the trees and crouched on the hillside. Soon the
rain, hail, thunder, and lightning began in earnest. We
huddled there 'till 4 a.m. when the skies cleared and
we returned to our bags, shivering in the damp air.
Today was the most extensive snow cover since the Sierra.
There's solid snow on north-facing slopes above 7,000
feet, with patches to 6,000 feet, and the trail danced
with the snowline all day. A week earlier and the trail
would have been nearly buried. It was, however, an exceptionally
beautiful walk with abundant lakes, verdant meadows, and
views down to deep, forested valleys. Late this afternoon
we crossed a snowy pass and looked down at stark but beautiful
Man Eaten Lake--it's waters still half-frozen.
We're camped tonight on an eye-popping saddle above Cliff
Lake. It's a near full-moon and the sky is orange-pink.
July 25
29 miles. 146 miles in 5 days. I'm ready for a steak,
a shower, and a shave. I'll get them tomorrow at Seiad
Valley. 11 miles to go.
Twenty more miles of Marble Mountain Wilderness today
and this was the best yet. The lush meadows, the postcard
lakes, the breathless streams, the hanging valleys, and
snowy slopes were all superb. I could have walked that
country for weeks and never grown tired of it.
Marble Mountain is in fact marble and I walked over great
blocks of this once ancient, now high-altitude seabed.
Along one stretch of trail there were marble caves whose
depths I could not determine. I passed side trails I would
have loved to explore, especially the Sky High Lake Plateau,
but I'll save that for a return trip. Next to the High
Sierra, the Marble Mountains have quickly become my second
favorite mountain range.
I stopped for lunch at Paradise Lake and stuck my feet
in the cold outlet stream. Heaven. Every swollen muscle,
tendon, and ligament relaxed and I wanted to just drift
off to sleep.
By mid-afternoon we came to the edge of the Marble Mountains
and began the long 4,400-foot descent to the valley floor.
Across the valley I could see the Siskiou Mountains rising
above the Kalamath River. Just beyond those summits is
the Oregon border. I'll be there in a couple of days.
Leaving the crest we descended through forests of mountain
hemlock, red fir, white fir, and finally douglas fir.
Soon deciduous trees, shrubs, and berries filled the canyon
and we snacked on ripe blackberries that spilled onto
the trail. I saw other berry plants too--strawberries,
thimbleberries, salmonberries--but their time is for hikers
yet to come. Near the valley floor madrone trees arched
the trail, sunlight glinting off their red, peeling bark,
and the air grew warm and humid.
There's smoke tonight from a fire in the next valley
over. We saw and smelled the billowing smoke from high
on the Marble Mountains crest but, fortunately, the PCT
dropped down a different canyon. I suspect that it may
be from the lightning strikes a couple of night's ago.
We're camped on the trail by the side of Grider Creek.
There was a bridge here until '97 but it washed away in
a massive winter flood. A stone foundation and a few shattered
timbers are all that remains. We forded the creek and
had dinner on a marble shelf by the water. We had planned
to camp on the bridge but this will have to do.
July 26
11 miles. Seiad Valley at last. It feels great to be here.
It's just one very long day to the Oregon border, though
I'll take a little longer. I'm taking tomorrow off to
eat and rest, my first full day off in 3 weeks.
Seiad Valley--population 300--has a general store, a
bar, a restaurant, a post office, an r.v. park, and a
gas station. The excitement here today is the fire--actually
42 separate fires--from the lightning strikes. The smoke
hangs low in the valley and the call has gone out for
extra firefighters. Logging, fishing, and hunting are
in decline and there's little other work for people to
do. There's a general state of civic unrest, a distrust,
even hatred of government. People in the surrounding counties
have even started a secessionist movement. They have,
in fact, created their own state: The State of Jefferson,
complete with their own Declaration of Independence. The
state exists for one day a week--Thursday--and then, I
suppose, the people rejoin the Union. Bumper stickers
and signs everywhere attest to the depth of their dissatisfaction.
Seiad Valley is also famous, or infamous, for the Seiad
Restaurant Pancake Challenge. Five insanely huge pancakes,
slathered with butter and piled seven inches deep. The
prize is a free meal, a baseball cap, and PCT immortality.
It has only been done 3 times --the 4th hiker used the
bathroom to purge his stomach--in 15 years and today was
my shot. I failed miserably. I managed to eat 3 cakes
before my stomach said, "No mas!" I think I
could have possibly eaten a fourth but a fifth would have
put me into a coma. Rick, the owner and chef, smiled gleefully
at both my discomfort and my failure to complete the task.
He said he's seen many proud eaters try and fail and that
there will be many more to follow. My stomach ached but
I washed it all down with a chocolate shake and felt much
better.
It's dinnertime and I'm off to eat again. Lunch was liquid--coke,
root beer, orange juice, and milk--but my stomach is now
empty enough to go on. There are several other PCTers
here--Charlotte, Idaho Brian, Beth and Jamie--and
we're all camped at the r.v. park. Our PCT tent city is
cluttered with food wrappers, resupply boxes, dirty clothes,
and coke and beer bottles but it's home for the next two
nights and I'm happy to be here.
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