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Northern California Wed 10 July 8.15 Courthouse Cafe We're refuelling! High fat and carbs, delicious energy,
and weÕll need every calorie. The local television stations are
forecasting record high temperatures of over 111f. Honestly, I don't
feel like going back on this trail. A combination of things is sapping
my energy and enthusiasm. The heat, the town luxury, and of course, the
news from home. But we will leave, if only because it would be too easy
to stop. Yesterday we went online at Quincy library and discovered we had
received some stinging criticism over our bear encounter from a chap called
Steve, in the discussion area of our website. He was also quite rude,
suggesting if we couldnÕt behave better we should "stay at home".
IÕll ignore such ignorance, although I accept, his basic point is
correct. We were indeed idiots to break stealth camping rules, but as
IÕve explained, we had little option. I've written and posted a reply, but
that did nothing to improve my mood. I'm in a funk. But such concerns are nothing compared to
our thoughts of LizÕs Sister. I'll snap out of it. 3.40pm Before Belden I have.... but it is damn hot! We caught a great ride, from town all the way to Bucks Summit,
and started hiking around 10am. There's a little breeze at 6,000 ft and some
shade in the forest, but the uphills made both our bodies pour with
sweat. We're carrying 4 and 5 litres of water, topping up wherever
possible. Despite the temperature we made good time, stopping before the
long descent to Belden. We can't collect our re-supply boxes until the Post
Office opens at 9 am tomorrow, so we'll wait up here until it cools, then
weÕll eat, hike down and find somewhere to camp, possibly an old campground
near the river. As we walk we discuss our options for returning home. Both
of us are now even more determined to complete this trail than we were at the
start. So provided the news from home doesnÕt get worse, thereÕs no
question of us using LizÕs SisterÕs illness as an excuse to quit. Quite
the opposite, as Liz now says she wants to finish this trail as fast as
possible. However, if we receive more bad news, then either Liz or both of
us will return, although for me itÕs not a simple a decision as I first
thought. Naturally, I want to be there for Liz. She would want to
concentrate on her Sister, yet might be all too aware that I was sitting at
home, having given up this trail, but totally unable to do anything practical
to help. Would that be a waste of effort? Should the dream be
allowed to die? That said, this trail is not more important than supporting my
partner in a crisis. So we will make the decision based on the best
information we have, and we're praying it does not come to that. And
not for our sakes. Right now we're dozing in what little shade we could
find before tackling the long drop to Belden. 10pm Belden Saloon A cold beer stands on the table beside me as we sit in the
saloon, Liz looking through tomorrows route, the pair of us perspiring
heavily. At 10 pm the temperature is still over 80f! Belden seems
little more than an RV park with some cabins in varying states of disrepair.
We paid $10 to camp because that allowed us to use the shower, but it had no
lights and just cold water. A bad deal, but it washed away some of the
dust and sweat. 10.40pm Tarptent in Belden What a noise. On one side of us is a highway and the light
beams from the passing cars sweep across our Tarptent. We could sleep
with that, but on the other side of us is a railroad track, along which huge,
noisy trains steam every twenty minutes. Liz has ear plugs in place. PCT hikers say Belden is an odd place with odd people, and I
realised, the similarities with Tehachapi are striking. I wondered...
is it the trains which slowly drive people crazy? Perhaps itÕs the low
diesel engine rumble? Maybe itÕs the high-pitch whine of metal on
metal, as wheels grind across rails? Or perhaps the psychological
pressure of knowing all this machinery is travelling somewhere, while the people
who live in these odd communities never escape? Then it hit me. You
must already be stark, raving bonkers to choose to live next to a railroad
in the first place! Here's hoping we can cling to sanity, if not sleep, until
morning. Thr 11 Jul 7am Belden Babble babble babble.... are we nuts yet? What a
night! It felt like the trains were rolling right through our
tarptent. When they passed, the rumble of the railroad was replaced
with the roar of the highway.
Thu 11th July 5.10pm Above Chips Creek The toughest day so far. I think IÕve said that
before! It's the heat. We're melting, or at least wilting. The trail
climbs gradually but constantly. Then it drops down, so the climb must
start again. So dispiriting. This section had been re-routed and
a sign said it was still closed, but Dorothy in Belden Post Office (an
amazing little place) told us it had just opened. So through we went. We're now cooking dinner as a team of California Conservation
Corps workers and volunteers are streaming past on their way back to their
camp. They look even hotter and sweatier than us! For the last few
hours weÕve been passing groups of them, working to rebuild the trail, where
landslides and washouts have destroyed large sections. We make a point
to thank them for doing such a good job, especially in such heat. We're just
hiking, they're labouring, hard. We have made barely 12 miles today in 7 hours, but we stopped
frequently to cool down, taking bandanna baths in streams. We intend to
hike further this evening as itÕs starting to cool. 9.30pm Near Cold Spring We put on a spurt! Today weÕve almost made 20 miles, which
is not up to our usual standard, but starting after 10am in blistering heat,
we feel it's quite good. We're camped on soft, mossy ground for the very
first time and the food is hung. We left the Sierra Nevada today and
entered the Cascade Range which runs all the way to Canada. Will we get
there? Fri 12 Jul 3.40pm After Butt Mountain Up, breakfasted and hiking by 6am - not bad. We went
straight into a 12 mile waterless section (I found 2.5 litres was enough for
me) followed by an 18ml waterless, so we had heavy packs throughout. Who should we meet walking back down the trail to the spring but
Yogi. A pool, marked in the data book, turned out to be dry, so she was
walking back to collect water from a previous source for herself, Cupcake and
his friend Chris who was section hiking with them. We saw the other two
shortly after. Cloud and forest cover kept us out of the direct, baking sun for
some of today, but the humidity was worse so we are again sweat soaked.
ItÕs quite disgusting. And I'm having one of those days when I feel I
have little power in my legs. We're both very hungry, and I suspect we have
not put enough snacks & bars in our re-supply boxes. Hopefully, we'll be
able to buy supplements - I could eat 4 bars right now. 10pm before Stover Camp Boy am I hungry! Trail appetite has well and truly hit,
and we didn't have enough food for the 30 miles we hammered out today. But it
now looks like we'll finish this section almost a day faster than we thought,
so we can adjust our food intake accordingly. We also pass an upscale
ranch, rumoured to offer meals to PCT hikers, so we may also be able to eat
there. As monuments go, todayÕs wasn't much but it was hugely
significant. Throughout this section the trail has been marked with
reflective metal diamonds, about 5" high, nailed to trees. Some
have been used as targets by rifle toting rednecks, but one battered diamond
is worthy of special mention. Using a black marker pen, someone has
scrawled across it the words we, and other PCT hikers, have wanted to see for
so long, "Half way to Canada". Incidentally, I looked at the notes I made for this section when
researching the route, "poor section - dispiriting". Which
pretty much sums up how we felt for much of yesterday and today. But
now we realise that others feel just the same, I hope we can rise above it. Sat 13th Jul 3pm Drakesbad Guest Ranch This is the closest thing to trail Nirvana. We'd been told by a
Southbounder that this ranch offered food to PCT hikers but we weren't sure
of their opening times. Back at Carson Pass an elderly couple (fossil
hunting hikers) had told us it was "their favourite place".
They have good taste. This morning we pressed on, covering the 18 miles by 2 pm, and
from across the river, the ranch looked intimidating. Small, expensive,
a swimming pool.... we almost didn't go in. But steeling ourselves for
rejection, we two scruffy, sweaty hikers strode down the tree lined driveway
and up to the office. Which is also the dining room with a sign "lunch
12 to 1pm". It was 1.55pm. We almost didn't knock on the door. But
putting the packs down, we went in. A lovely woman named Billie said,
"we're just clearing up but I'll get you two plates. Help
yourself". When I saw a salad bar my heart initially sank. Few
calories there. But when I looked closer I realised these were great,
filling salads, with pasta, rice, potato and loads of fresh stuff.
After we had piled a mountain of this stuff onto our plates, we discovered
the rest of the buffet, platefuls of cheese and cold meats. Somehow we
found room on our plates and, with one hand steadying the pile, walked
outside to eat our way through this fresh food Alp! Tiny, seriously cute, marmot-like creatures entertained us while
we stuffed our faces. They looked most upset that we didn't give them a
morsel! It is truly embarrassing how much we eat. We chatted with
the boss, a genial man called Ed, who offered us use of the showers and the
thermal swimming pool. We didn't hesitate. This place is National Park owned, costs $121pp a night, including
all meals. There's a one year waiting list for reservations and they shut end
ofOctober. We hung out at the resort all afternoon. Our preconceptions
were utterly wrong. This place is not a stuffy at all. Ed and
Billie are very friendly and welcoming to PCT hikers. 5.30pm Drakesbad Guest Ranch It is amazing the way some things are meant to be. Sitting
by the pool we decided that weÕd try to eat here tonight, then go down the
valley to camp. There was no point in pressing on to Old Station, as
the Post Office would be shut tomorrow. ThereÕs no need to rush into a
closed town. So we went to ask Billie if thereÕd be space for us at
dinner and she replied, "why not stay the night?" There had been a rare, last minute cancellation. But
because we hesitated, thinking of the expense, she offered to refund what we
paid for lunch and allow us to stay for half price. The cost of $121 is
a lot for us to spend, but this is an unrepeatable offer in a very, very
special place. We accepted. Sun 14th Jul 2pm Lower Twin Lake We are SO relaxed. We are sat by the edge of a beautiful
lake, unmolested by mosquitoes, eating our delicious "sack" lunch (
a ŌpackedĶ lunch in English). Drakesbad Ranch did us a power of good,
in body and in mind, as it has done for countless visitors since it started
welcoming guests in the 1880s. Breakfast was wonderful, as all the meals have been. Loads of
fresh fruit & berries on granola with yoghurt, two apple cinnamon
pancakes, with bacon for me, then several delicious croissants, rated highly
by Ms Krol, a croissant gourmet. Then bagel and smoked salmon to
finish. We didn't rush off. Liz had another swim, I looked through
a fascinating scrapbook with photos going back to when Edward Drake built the
first lodge in the 1870's. A huge fall of snow in 1938 caused it to
collapse, but the entire community worked together to rebuild it in just nine
days. ItÕs the very same building in which we slept last night. I caught up with Ed doing his chores and recorded a chat with
him which I think works well. Two weeks ago, Matt Lauer from the NBC Today
programme came here and broadcast a feature calling Drakesbad the perfect
American hideaway. So today we're in no rush. We plan to walk around 23 miles
and stop close to Old Station. We're hiking and chatting all the time because
the gradient is gentle and we're in such good moods. No doubt we'll
fire up the pace again in future days and our conversation will
dwindle. But this is great. We're enjoying ourselves again, weÕre
very much in love, and remembering how lucky we are to be on a six month
hiking holiday. 6pm Lassen Volcanic NP North Boundary It's cooler today, and despite my earlier moaning, I know we've
been astonishingly lucky with weather throughout this trip. It seems things
always get a lot worse either side of us. After we walked out of the towns of Wrightwood, and later Green
Valley, both were threatened by forest fire - we saw the Green Valley
evacuation on TV. Now we hear that they had huge hailstones at Drakesbad
two days before we arrived. More alarmingly, the town of Quincy did
indeed record a record high temperature of 111f the day we left, the same day
that Bucks Summit experienced a tornado! Everyone tells us, tornados
donÕt happen here, so I suspect the cool, sinking mountain air and hot,
rising valley air must have created exceptional conditions. As I said,
it all happens either side of us! 9.30pm Near Hat Creek, by road Without really trying, we covered twenty miles today with
minimal effort. Three miles from Old Station we have stopped for the night on
flat ground next to a river where we can wash. There are excellent views of
Mt Lassen, which has been close all day, although we're no longer in the
National Park. I can tell we're mentally refreshed as we've chatted non-stop
all day. We had a long discussion about God, Heaven and the afterlife,
things about which we've never previously spoken, yet it seems our beliefs
are only slightly different. LizÕs Sister is clearly in our thoughts.
We also spoke about Liz going home and I told her, if she did, I would be
coming. I told her it is my role to support her at a time of
crisis. Then she utterly confused me by pointing out it may not be a
crisis which caused her to leave the trail. She may have to go back because
her Sister would recover better if Liz is around. In such a situation,
I really would be superfluous. Liz insists, and I don't think she's
just saying this, she really wants me to finish the trail, for me and for
her. Sitting here, looking up at Mt Lassen, I suppose I want to be
faced with a black-or-white situation, a clear and obvious choice. That
way IÕll instinctively know what to do. But I have to understand it may
not be like that. It probably won't be. We'll have to play this one as
it comes. Off the Trail Mon 15 Jul 8.00pm 20,000ft over Oregon Some things leave you with no choice. We had put off telephoning
home as long as possible. We'd collected our boxes from the Old Station Post
Office, bought extra bars in the store and sorted all our food for the next 5
days. WeÕd caught a ride with the store owner down to Hat Creek Cafe and
eaten a great breakfast. We were considering walking along the road to
Burney Falls State Park rather than tackle the Rim Traverse. Then Liz rang her Sister. Answering machine. She rang her
Mother. She'd been with her all day in hospital. She told Liz, "I
think you should come home". We tried her SisterÕs husband on his mobile phone. He said
they'd kept her in hospital and they would know more after the consultant did
his rounds tomorrow. Could we call back then? It is clear this is a
very bad situation. I decided to start us on the long road home
immediately. We hiked back to Old Station and managed to pull our two bounce
boxes out of the mail. Doug at Hat Creek store was amazing. He found us
a ride to Richmond with a chef Donnie and his girlfriend Cissie. Our
air tickets mean we must fly home from Seattle, so Doug worked the phone to
try to get us a one-way car rental to Seattle. No luck. I said,
Ōthrow money at thisĶ, and he found us a flight from Richmond. At the
airport, I rang American Airlines and the first international flight we can
get home is at 1pm tomorrow. But I didn't switch the tickets. Not
yet. When we land weÕll find a hotel near Seattle airport and telephone
home at 11.30 pm, which will be 7.30 am in the UK, after the doctor has done
his rounds. We can stay in Seattle a day or two if necessary, but we'll be
ready and in the right place to go. We can be back in London in under
24hrs. If things look better, then Liz may go home and I may go back to
the trail. Frankly, that possibility seems remote. We're both deeply upset about leaving the trail, especially when
we feel strong, in great spirits, and have had such wonderful support from
friends. We have no doubt we could have finished. But as I say, some things
leave you with no choice. Tue 16 Jul 2am Jet Motel, Sea-Tac Airport The decision is made. We're booked on a 12.07 flight home. We'll
be back in London 10am Wednesday. The PCT was a wonderful experience.
God willing, we'll return in the future. Wed 31 Jul Marlow, Buckinghamshire Four days after we returned to the UK, Liz's Sister died.
The funeral took place yesterday and there's not much more to say. Words
don't work at times like this. To keep busy her Sons, her Husband and ourselves, five of us
took a boat up the River Thames at the weekend. The English weather is
extraordinarily good. It was a slow paced journey, and when not
negotiating locks, we relaxed on deck except. Lush green fields and
ancient deciduous trees slid past our view. Then today, a storm.
Heavy, heavy rain, the first weÕve seen since early April. Al of it is
a sharp contrast to the hard baked, dusty, pine clad landscape we so recently
left. And to which we'll shortly return. I fly to Redding on 6th
August, from where I'll hitch back to the trail at Old Station. Two weeks
later Liz will fly to Medford, near Ashland in Oregon. Together we shall try
to finish. This means Liz wonÕt have hiked the entire trail, but she's
not worried. I doubt we'll see any of the trail friends we've made to
date as they'll be at least three weeks ahead of us, but I'm certain we'll
meet new ones. We were told at the outset that the PCT would throw at us
unimaginable issues, good and bad. From the unexpected kindness of strangers
to injury, worry and depression. It was recently pointed out to me the
word "trail" is close to "trial". But in my wildest
imaginings I could never have predicted a three week trip back to the UK to
eat, drink, go boating down the Thames and attend the funeral of someone we
loved so much. And that is precisely why we are going back. Not one of us
can know what lies ahead, just around the corner of our personal
trails. Life comes without a guide book, the biggest adventure of
all. The PCT is unfinished business, an uncompleted dream, and who
knows what might happen should we put it off until another year. To
begin with I'll be hiking alone and I must admit, I'm somewhat intimidated by
that thought. Knowing so many family and friends are with Liz and I in
spirit is of enormous help. Northern California (again) Wed 7th Aug Afternoon, road walking Highway 89 It's tough having taken time off. After just an hour of
walking the ball of my left foot hurts, even when I hike on the softer margin
of the road, but it's much cooler than when we were here a few weeks ago,
which is a blessing. The sky, however, is misted from the forest fires
just a little further North. I have that delightful prospect ahead! It's the boredom I already find tough. I'm writing as I
hike just to occupy my mind. I feel so mind numbingly bored and so
crushingly alone. I politely turned down the chance to hike with others
because I need a gentle start. IÕm whingeing like this and I've been
going for just an hour... oh dear! Frankly, I'm tempted to stick out my
thumb and whiz ahead to Burney Falls, but then my ethic would crumble and the
whole thinking behind this hike would go. God I'm depressed. 2.30pm Rancheria RV park Perhaps food will cheer me up. It often does.
Cheeseburger, fries & Pepsi. I only came in for a soda, but a full
belly often improves the mind. I could hear Liz saying, "go in and eat
some meat!", so IÕm waiting for the meal to arrive. Later, still walking... Food greatly improved my mood. We really do march on our
stomachs. Alongside this road are a blaze of small sunflowers, growing
wild where the wind scattered their seeds. Liz's floral tribute
at her SisterÕs funeral was a roughly tied, simple bunch of full size
sunflowers, so it all seems synchronous. Otherwise, there is not much scenery
to look here at and precious little water, despite what it said on the map. 5.20pm Sat by Highway 89 This road goes on and on. I ache everywhere. Hips,
legs, knees, ankles and feet are the worst. I'll have to stretch tonight, and
take ibuprofen. I don't know for sure how far I've walked or how for I
have still to walk, but I hope to be at Burney Falls for breakfast. But
my legs are screaming. It will be harder for Liz after 5 weeks! 8.10pm Camped beside CA89 I saw a National Forest sign beside the road, which means public
not private land, so decided to stop. I ache so much. I'll have
to stretch once I've written this. I may also have to throw up because
that energy bar I just ate, taken from the hiker box in Hat Creek Store,
really turned my stomach. The tarp is up and I'll sleep with my food since there are no
suitable trees o hang it. ItÕs unlikely IÕll see a bear around
here. I reckon I've done around 20 miles, not bad since I started at 1
pm. However, I really couldn't go much further. I'm going
to have to build back up. Thu 8 Aug 8.30am Burney Falls Campground snack bar This place did not want to prepare hot food at this time of
day. Soggy microwave pizza was the best breakfast they could provide,
but I still ate two. It was a surprisingly cold night, certainly below freezing, and
I had to force myself out of the sleeping bag. It is light about 5.30
and, after the warmth of tea and insignificant calories of Captain Crunch
cereal (all I could find at Hat Creek Store) I was on the road by 6.07
am. I may have made a mistake putting my fleece and long pants in the
bounce box, not only because of the temperature but also because the next
section is meant to be very overgrown, and my legs will bear the brunt of the
brush. The online planning programme calculates I'll do the next section
in 3.7 days, but I read an internet posting in which it too someone six
days. Perhaps they were deliberately going slow, but I have extra food
just in case I have problems. 12pm Rock Creek Bridge It was great to talk to Liz today. She pointed out, also in
an e-mail, if I'm feeling sorry for myself and missing her, then imagine what
her SisterÕs Husband is going through. A chastening thought. I
couldn't bear not to see Liz again. It is good to get back on the real trail. I have stomach
aches, which I know is just a reaction to yesterdays stress, and it's an easy
start, although my pack is heavy. I have 5-6 days food, not
counting today, but I could finish in just 3 days. However, I must
allow for getting lost as many people seem to have done in this section O. 4.10pm Peavine Creek It's tricky trying to cook and write. Cooking was Liz's
job. My Journal entries may be shorter! Pasta with tomato and bean
sauce tonight, but missing Liz's touch. I had a scare when I arrived at this creek. I searched high
and low for water but only found a stagnant pond. Just as I was
preparing to head off down a road to an alternate source, I saw two stick
arrows pointing towards a trickle. This is the last on-route water for 15
miles, and the nest two off-route sources might be dry. Logically,
since IÕve only walked 22 miles, I should eat here, fill up, and hike on,
using the energy from the food. The trouble is, I'm knackered!
I've finished dinner an I'm going to soak my aching feet while it digests. 7.45pm Road after Red Mountain I pushed on a little further. Foot inspection at the
creek revealed a whopping blister on my left little toe. Lancing it and
padding with Compeed didn't help much, but slackening the laces on the
footbox eased the pressure. More pain from right foot, and toe nail
which has just grown back in seems like it on the way out, again. That hurts
more than the blister. Carrying 4ltr of water, I camped in an open area which looks
like it was used as a storage area for logging machines. Sections have
been clear cut in the past, and the brush grows in thick, over head height in
places. But itÕs not as much as I expected, and so far, not at all scratchy
on the legs. I just don't want to meet a rattlesnake in there! Fri 9th Aug 4.15 am IÕm still jet lagged. My body insisted I get up for a big
bathroom excursion at this time of the morning. IÕve been reading the
guide book, and I don't know why I didn't realise it before, but Castella is
not a town, itÕs just a PO, store and campsite. Dunsmuir is 6ml further
but sounds better. I have all sorts of options running through my head,
including trying to rent a car in Dunsmuir to cache food at Etna summit. A
bed would be nice, as there is nowhere with rooms between here and Ashland. 10.30am Mooshead Creek I did 10 by 10! In other words, ten miles by ten
oÕclock. Actually it was more than that, 12 miles in fact, so that
shows the terrain is fairly gentle. I saw three logging trucks but
otherwise not a soul. IÕll have chick peas & tomato tonight, so IÕve already
started to soak them. The next on-trail water is in another 15 miles
which I should easily make, but there's no camping there. In fact the
book says there's no decent place to stop for another 23 miles. IÕm
pondering this over peanut butter and crackers, an early lunch. 2.30pm Grizzly Peak Road I've walked 20 miles today, and the weather has both helped and
hindered. It was a warm night (54f) then a lovely morning (68f) with a
chill wind. At times I almost felt cold. The wind died and
temperature built from 11am, until I just recorded 97f on an open, uphill
slope. Water is scarce, and it is 7 miles to the nextsupply, but I have 2
litres left so I should be fine. But I must get there, and indeed some way
beyond, because its on a steep hillside and the book says there's zero
camping nearby. So although I don't really feel like a hot meal, I'm
going to cook it soon and let some of the heat dissipate, if possible. 3.20pm Same place Liz really should have given me cooking lessons. I have no
idea how to make this vegetarian stuff tasty. Actually, I donÕt even
know how to cook the chickpeas, these are like bullets. I need oil,
cheese and garlic to oomph these meals, and perhaps larger helping of the
sauces too. 7.20pm Before Butcherknife Creek My first full day on the trail and I managed just over 30 miles.
So IÕm happy. Lack of both water and campsites pushed me on. I
had started to think I'd have to go to the "nice" site at Ash
Valley, a lot lower (bugs) and 4.5 miles further. My feet couldn't make
it, specifically my left little toe blister. I just cleaned it up with
alcohol, but as I pulled the old plaster off, a jet of yellow-ish liquid
squirted out. I need a little town time to rest it. Sat 10th Aug 4.30am Same place Another very warm night, 64f and I do not sleep well without
Liz. Also I feel daunted by the prospect of hammering out 30 miles day
after day. My feet hurt too much. So I'm going to moderate my
ambitions, aim for 25 miles and see what happens. 1.30pm Squaw Valley Creek I arrived here about 45mins ago and had a quick swim.
Well, a dunk in the pool under the bridge. I didn't enjoy this
morning. No view but lots of company. Hundreds of flies, hurtling
around my head in frenzied orbit, not biting but irritating, especially when
I had to wipe them off my glasses. Not easy mentally either. My head just fills with numbers - when
will I reach the next way point, how's my water doing, when to eat....
aargh! So I put some music on the walkman and that seemed to help,
taking my brain away from the here and now, relaxing me somewhat. Distance-wise I've clocked about 19ml, which is good. I
think my blister and injury to side of my foot is caused by my gradually
failing shoes. They're just about finished but must make it to Seiad
Valley. With 10ml to go before the next water, I decided to eat dinner
here, which is cooking as I write. There's not meant to be anywhere
past this to camp, and there's a 2000ft climb, but I'm going to press on to
give me more town time. 7.10pm Entrance to Castle Craggs state park The Tarptent is up and I'm lying back, shielded from the mozzies
(much fewer now) scoffing nuts. IÕve done 32.5 miles according to the
book. The music really helped. It put something into my mind
other than miles, water and timing. At one point the machine developed
some interference, a hissing on the sound track. Or thatÕs what I
thought it was, until I noticed a yellow and dust coloured rattlesnake right
in my path. Thank heavens he rattled loudly. He slithered off a short way, then took residence in a bush
directly beside the trail. No amount of dust throwing would move him, the
brush was too steep and dense to step off and move around, so I had to slowly
squeeze past. I chatted to him, using my best Steve Irwin impression
"what a lil' beaut' you are"! And then bolted. Liz was right. If I'd had the blisters she endured
back in April, I would never have got out of Southern California. She
is much tougher than I am. The two blisters on either ankle are
manageable, but it's the one on my left little toe that's a devil, and needs
draining three times a day. Then there's what I'll call "Rent Boy" syndrome. My bottom
is red raw despite being slathered with Vaseline and nappy cream. Tip for
prospective long distance hikers: this happens to lots of us out here, but
very few people admit to it. I did read of one chap who walked with
arms behind his back, a buttock in each hand, prising them apart to stop the
chafing. I find that a small roll of tissue paper seems to keep the
cheeks apart. There should have been great views at the end of today across to
Mt Shasta and the dramatic cliffs which give this place the name Castle
Craggs. However, both are nothing more than hazy silhouettes because of
all the smoke from forest fires which are raging somewhere ahead. Tonight I can hear the whistle of yet another locomotive and the
drone of vehicles on Interstate 5, five miles below me, and along which IÕll
hitch a ride to town. Sun 11 Aug 5.45am Same place Despite attempts by a rodent to get into the Tarptent I had my
best night sleep yet. Clearly, this mouse was not commando trained as
it announced its presence by squeaking! I'm making tea and not rushing
or I'll be in town before anything opens. It is Sunday, so I may get a
ride with folk going to church. 2.10pm Acorn Motel, Dunsmuir Trail Magic! Where do I begin. No car was stopping so I
walked along railroad lines then a back road towards the town of
Dunsmuir. A woman, out for a run, said ŌHiĶ, as she passed me, then a
little while later, drove past in her car and offered me a ride to
town. Things just took off. Illa is her name, and sheÕs a trail angel in the making.
She took me home to met her son Ben, Boots the cat and a crazy dog called
Belle. As this town is very spread out, and it's far too hot to walk,
Illa drove me to a motel, then back to her house where she did my laundry,
then took me to the food market. The best I could offer in return was
breakfast. Illa has invited me for dinner (I invited her but she insisted
on cooking) so I'm relaxing for a few hours before she collects me.
Without her, this would not have been a very good rest stop. Oh - and
she's going to drive me back to the trail tomorrow. God bless you Illa! 9.15pm Above Castle Crags, 6100ft I am happy. True, I had to hang food and set the Tarptent
up in almost darkness after a tough, 4000 ft almost waterless climb, with
seven days food and five litres of water on my back. But... I am happy.
I even strolled past a rattlesnake, my leg coming within twelve inches of the
thing, with not a care in the world. OK, so that was a stupid mistake,
but this little devil didn't rattle until after I passed him. But
Whinging Willis of the last section is now Smiling Simon. Why? Partly it's because in eleven days I'll be back with Liz, for
which I am longing. Partly it's because dull Section O is over and I'm
starting the bit I've been looking forward to since the High Sierra, the
Trinity Alps and Marble Mountain Wilderness. But largely it's because of my
first time Trail Angel Illa in Dunsmuir. I'll explain why after I
quickly run down the day. I spoke to Liz on the phone again (we also spoke last night) but
we're not good on the phone. We can never really say what we feel, and will
have much to talk about on the trail again. I think she needs to get
out here soon, for her sake. Illa drove me to the town of Mt Shasta to buy a new water
bladder with drinking tube, and to stock up on Compeed and bum cream.
The Dunsmuir drug store is small but Mt Shasta has a Rite Aid, several
outfitters, and a great Black Bear Diner, where I polished off a large
steak-and-eggs breakfast. The lady at Castella Post Office greeted me with "you're
not Krol or Willis are you?" Ooops! Five boxes had turned up for
us! Food, fuel, bounce box, plus the long lost Independence box which
had also visited Tuolumne Meadows and a box containing home baked cookies from
Heather. While we were in the UK, it was clogging up her small Post
Office, but at least she held it for me to arrive. Back at Illa's I sorted and repackaged stuff, then mailed it
from Dunsmuir where there's a 5pm collection. I said my goodbyes to
Ben, Illa's son, to Boots the cat and Belle the (crazy) dog, then Illa drove
me to the trailhead. As the afternoon cooled into evening, I walked up
here, leaving it rather late to find a place to stop. Why did Illa and Ben put me in such a good frame of mind?
At the obvious physical level they made the town stop work, driving me around
so I could replace broken gear. But more than that, Illa and I hit it off straight away.
We found we could talk and talk. She had lived in LA and when Ben was
ten months old, her husband died. She downsized her life, settling for
a more modest income and lifestyle back home in Dunsmuir because she'd have
more time to spend with Ben. This she shared as we ate a lovely barbecued
salmon and olive pasta dish last night, but equally important for me, I could
tell her about the last few weeks. I now realise how therapeutic it was for me to speak about the
death of LizÕs Sister, with someone who lost her husband in similar circumstances.
We chatted about fun stuff too, then Ben came back and we all took turns with
the air rifle he received for his 12th birthday days ago. I suddenly
realised, I was standing in a back yard, drink in hand, food on the barbecue,
shooting a gun. How American is that? Ben is growing into a fine young man. HeÕs quick witted,
articulate and interested in backcountry pursuits like hiking, skiing and
fishing. He is a testament to IllaÕs single parenting skills. The
only gift I could give him was my Union Jack flag mouse mat, bought at
Heathrow in the hope it might help when hitch hiking, but he seemed to like
it. So that was my great two days in Dunsmuir, and I count myself very
lucky Illa stopped her car to offer me a ride. Tue 13 Aug 1pm Deadfall Lakes Under the shade of a tree, propped against its trunk, I'm
cooking up my main meal. I started hiking at 6.08 am and have done 20 miles
already today fuelled by granola, 2 pop tarts and a power bar.
It's an earlier stop than I'd like but there is shade and water, commodities
distinctly lacking on the trail ahead. I seem to have managed to get my brain away from just thinking
about the immediate trail, which is healthy as it makes the time pass more
quickly. Plus the scenery here is good. Surprisingly, there are a
couple of groups of day hikers here at the lake so there must be fairly easy
road access. 7.45pm Ridge above Little Trinity River I ache, but it's a good ache. And no wonder. IÕve
walked 35.5 miles today and I arrived just after 7pm. It seems this
section is not going to take as long as I planned, so since the flies aren't
bothering me, I'm sitting outside the Tarptent, reapportioning my food,
scoffing lots while drinking tea. As I sat after lunch, I chatted to an older gent in jeans, cowboy
shirt and frame pack. Bob Jackson, as he introduced himself, lives in
Yreka near the Oregon border, and has been hiking the hills here all his
life. He looked like a slow old gent, but was equipped with GPS and
cell phone which he was soon updating to a satellite phone. "My wife
worries when I'm out hiking alone", he explained. He was henuinely
surprised I had no phone whatsoever. Anyway, there's a lovely sunset and my tea is getting cold. 9.15pm IÕve come to bed, but my left hip is giving me a great deal of
pain. It was sore in Dunsmuir and is worst at night when I lie
down. I think it's the tendons around the hip joint. I may hang
onto all the food I have left in case I'm forced to take shorter days.
On a brighter note, the blisters have healed. Directly overhead, the
stars are wonderful and clear but smoke from the Oregon forest fires, the
worst fires for a century, still clogs the valley. Wed 14 Aug 8.50pm Start of Russian Wilderness 34 miles - IÕve been too busy walking to write. I'm sure
every PCT hiker finds todays stretch frustrating because for much of the
time, the route heads South. It helps a little to know the trail
planners did this to steer out of the dry, noisy I5 corridor and into
spectacular scenery. But that doesn't remove the nagging sensation
that, either the sun is in the wrong place, or you're walking the wrong
way. You want to walk closer to Canada, not further from it! I think I've turned the corner now. Having deviated west, south,
then west again, I seem to be starting to head north. I saw two
separate groups of school kids out hiking from their summer camps
today. I wonder if I'd done this at their age it would have put me
off? Quite likely! Thu 15 Aug 9.20pm Fisher Lake This day went from good to bad, to great to potentially
disastrous! I started at 5.45 am and was rewarded with the sun pulling
back the shadow veil across a spectacular panorama. The Russian Wilderness is
like a small Yosemite, and the trail danced either side of the ridge which
enclosed its boundary. I filled up at an obvious water source and was
later very thankful. I saw two backpackers, one on my way down to Etna Summit, one on
my way up from it. The first had a GVP pack, the second was section hiking from
Seiad Valley to Tehachapi - quite a distance. Yesterday. all the
seasonal streams IÕd passed were running, but after Etna there was nothing
for fifteen miles. At one stage was limiting myself to a mouthful every
ten minutes. It sounds a lot, but when you're hot and hiking hard you
end up staring at the watch, willing the minute hand to move. Then I bumped into a California Conservation Corps trail crew,
who told me their camp was on the trail, near where I was headed for
water. They offered me apples, which I gratefull scoffed, then cooked
and ate my own dinner. I spent and hour or so with Ellen the cook and
organiser, and Juan one of the workers. They told me that, day after
day, PCT hikers would stagger in very thirsty. They invited me to stay for dinner but I decided to press on a
further 3 miles to Fisher Lake. It was a short day, just 29 miles, but
I wanted a relaxing evening to wash and write. Then when hanging my food, the rope tangled and the bags got
stuck. I tried tugging, even duct taping a trekking pole on the end of
a long stick and poking the bags, but they remained tangled. A huge
problem, as all my food was now stuck up a tree! I decided to pack, head back to the California Conservation
Corps camp, to ask if they had a ladder. At worst I might be able to
scrounge food for tomorrow. So I took down the tarptent and had just
finished stuffing the last item into my pack when I glanced up, and realised
the wind had un-tangled the food bags. So I unpacked, again, set up the
tarp tent, again, and rescued my food. My relaxing evening is shot to
pieces, but at least I have my food! Fri 16 Aug 5.00am Same place If anything, I'm up a little too early today. I slept
well, until one of commando mouse's relations decided to visit and I had to
help him leave. I'm breakfasted, dressed and waiting for the first hint
of daybreak to start packing. 11.00am Paradise Lake Good going today. 10 miles by 9 am, 15 miles by 11
am. I donÕt think I'm special by banging on about miles, but it's unusual
for my body to be this fit. It's like having a new, sporty car and
taking it "for a spin" to see how it performs. I imagine the
miles will drop when Liz starts as she'll need to get fit again, so I'm
blasting along alone. I thought I could smell woodsmoke last night. The wind
changed and it's blowing down from the huge Oregon forest fires, and for the
first couple of hours today it was quite bad, drying my throat as I walked. So here I am, about to munch crackers and peanut butter beside
Paradise Lake. Horse shit and flies are everywhere. Like so much
of our Earthly paradise, we're not looking after it too well. I'm getting a blister on my right little toe in the same place
as the left one, which I blamed on the way I had been walking. I inspected
my shoes and discovered the tread has gone, the rubber almost worn through,
and the heels are disintegrating. If they make it another 20 miles
theyÕll be doing well. Hopefully my new pair will be waiting in Seiad
Valley PO. 8.40pm Grider Creek Campground, nr Seiad Valley A long, long descent - thirteen miles and four and a half
thousand feet, dodging great bushes of poison ivy along the way. The Marble Mountains were very good, the first place on the PCT
to which I'd like to return and explore in more detail, especially the marble
rim trail which takes in the summits. I startled some grouse, but
unlike those we saw in the Sierra, the Mother no longer has to protect her
offspring. TheyÕve grown big enough to fly themselves out of
trouble. The seasons are moving on. In a tangle of bushes, recently cleared by a trail crew, I
became aware of a powerful musk. "I think a bear dozed here",
I thought, not really knowing what a bear smells like. A short distance
further I found a pile of bear scat, which is like cranberries, pomegranate
seeds and poo. I walked on, then suddenly, from bushes beside the
trail, came a loud rustling. Of course, this is nothing new, we often
hear things rustling in bushes. Indeed virtually every other bush makes
some sort of noise, usually due a tremulous rodent. But this noise was
clearly made by something much larger, and was followed by what sounded like
muffled hoof beats, moving at a gallop! A moment later and I the
backside of a bear, racing at 30 mph downhill, before it disappeared into
trees. I felt bad about disturbing his afternoon nap, and could have
quite fancied one myself, but water was again in short supply and I had to
press on. On the long descent I listened to three mini disc, which helped
pass the time. There's no chance of hitching down this road at night since
the only cars are from a remote campground, but I got talking to a couple
whoÕre spending the weekend here. Ann & Bud gave me a couple of
beers, which were very welcome. Then they suggested I wash. I was
filthy, possibly the dirtiest I've been, so I took a delicious, naked bath
under the bridge. Now I'm feeding my face and reluctantly, feeding the
mosquitoes. I'll pound the road to town in the morning in time for breakfast.
Sat 16 Aug 11am Seiad Valley Restaurant I did not try the Pancake Challenge. Rick, who runs this
place, offers a free breakfast if you can finish it, but it consists of five
huge, thick, glutinous pancakes. Four and a half pounds of batter just
does not fit into my shrunken stomach, nor many other it seems, as Rick has
only been beaten seven times in 18 years! One was just a few days ago,
trailname Pushpin. I've had lots of great e-mails from home, so I've sat at his
counter for an hour, eating and writing. One alarming thing. I had blood in my urine this
morning. A little at first, then it was the colour of cranberry
juice! I rang Liz (oh SO wonderful to hear her voice) and she's trying
to get in touch with our friend Kate who's a Doctor in Edinburgh to ask her
advice. But Liz's Mum was a nurse, and she thinks it's probably dehydration. Sat 17 Aug 8pm Seiad Valley Just when your tail start wagging, some larger critter comes
along and bites it off. In other words, I have had a few setbacks. I
peed blood this morning. Our Doctor friend in the UK diagnosed me by
e-mail (e-mal?), and it seems I have a urinary tract infection. So I'm staying here all today and Sunday. Under DoctorÕs
orders, I'm drinking gallons of water, wearing a trench in the ground to the
loo, and if this infection doesn't spontaneously clear tomorrow I'll have to
get a bus to Yreka hospital Monday to try to get anti-biotics. It's not
a big delay as Liz doesnÕt fly in & meet me in Ashland until Friday, and all
will be fine then. "Fannypack", who hiked the PCT last year, has been
reading our journals and decided to send me lots of useful info about what's
to come. One of the places to which we shipped a box, Big Lake Youth
Camp, may shut before we get there. The food's not the issue, it's the maps
we really need, so IÕll have to sort that. And then there are the
forest fires. A nuisance for us, deadly for other poor souls, so I
can't complain about that. But I'm in a good place. The RV park here has a great $10
bunkhouse, with a fridge, microwave, VCR and free tapes to watch. So
I'm relaxing, drinking water by the gallon, and watching 'Lost In Space'. Sun 18 Aug 12.15 Yreka Emergency Room Why wait until Monday. I was taking to folk at Rick's
restaurant over a pancake breakfast (just one and I couldn't finish it!) and
was offered two separate rides to Yreka today. Bob was going for a
business meeting and Rick, (a different Rick - this one owns the RV park with
Marj) had volunteered to make a special trip with me. Nice, nice
people. Before we left, Bob showed me how to pan for gold. He does
this for a hobby, but for a lot of folk along the Klamath River itÕs a full
time, if substance job. Their trainers are pulled up along the river
banks, and thereÕs an air of temporary permanence about their
encampments. On the 1 hour drive I also learnt more about the
"mythical" State of Jefferson. This is a long story, but to
cut it short - folk in Northern California and Southern Oregon wanted to set
up a new state, and only world war two stopped them. There's a real frontier spirit here. The people complain
that this mountain area gives, gives, gives of its resources, but receives
little in return. Going around wearing "State of Jefferson"
baseball hats appeals to the rebel in these folk. Back to the hospital and one of those stop-you-in-your-tracks
coincidences. I'm going to be seen by a Dr David Wilson. Which is
astonishing, since my Doctor friend in the UK, who was on duty in Edinburgh
emergency room last night... is Dr Kate Wilson. Two Dr WilsonÕs.
Well how about that. 1.30pm Hospital I've been given antibiotics which should sort me out. It
could have been a prostate infection, but a cold finger determined that
wasn't a problem! Alternatively, I may have a "march
hematuria", which soldiers suffered through excessive marching.
Now that sounds possible, in which case I ought to take it a
little easier. But I'm fine to keep hiking for now. 4pm Seiad Valley So a successful Sunday. I have my drugs, and tomorrow Bob
will drive my pack to the top of a high pass 15 miles down the trail so I can
"slack pack" out of here. 9pm Seiad Valley To say "thank you" I took Bob to dinner. He
drove us 19 miles to the Frontier Cafe in Happy Camp. ItÕs a small town
with, at one time, a lot of gold. Driving around it, every home has a
dredge in the yard, which they float down their section of river, scooping up
bottom sediment, and throwing back the lighter gravel. These folk have
an illness no anti-biotic can cure, a gold fever. Long after the 1849
Gold Rush, it still brings people to these mountains. But the logging industry is gone, local fishing is less popular
as it's mainly catch-and-release, a series of recent forest fires have driven
the game animals and therefore hunters elsewhere, and the only folk getting
rich off gold are those who sell the equipment. Bob reckons the town
could be a ghost town in a few years. "What we need is a good
flood", he told me, "to stir up the river and get some gold
out". Getting all worked up about gold seems crazy, but then Bob
showed me some of his collection of gold; phials graded to different size;
natural nuggets; home made nuggets. And when you're swilling a pan full of
dirt, then suddenly see that glint in amongst it and know you have $200 in
front of you.... well, that's how the fever starts. ItÕs time to move
on. Mon 19 Aug 11.20am Cook & Green Pass I arrived more than an hour early at the place where I'm to meet
my trail angel Bob. I'd guessed I'd be here about now, but didn't know
if my little injury would slow me down and I didn't want Bob to have to
wait. I've done 15 miles, so a little sit under a tree will do me good. It was very cold when I left at 5.30 am. The smoke from
the Oregon forest fires filled the valley like thick fog. It's hard to
see the next ridge on the same mountain, let alone wider view. I'm glad
I have strung hi-visibility streamers from my pack and poles to help eager
hunters, peering through the gloom, realise I'm not game. Perhaps I
should have a new trailname ŌNotanelk". The smoke seems to have a localised greenhouse effect. It
acts like a bowl lid, trapping the night time cold until around 10 am.
Eventually the sun punches through, and the bowl lid holds in the heat while
the sun pours more in on top. So from midday it's baking. Except
today, up here, there's a chill wind which is lovely. Unless you're a rattlesnake. On my way up here I saw
another two snakes, that's as many as we saw in the whole of Southern and
Central California, bringing my rattler count to six. The cold brings them
onto the trail as it is the warmest land around. The first was young (fewer
rattles) and so cold and motionless I almost stood on it. It moved off
but without the energy to rattle or hiss. I felt sorry for it, but not
the next - my first encounter with a Mojave Green. You don't want to get
bitten by any rattler, but this is definitely the one not to get bitten by,
as itÕs seriously toxic. The cold made him lethargic too, his hiss and rattle
were somewhat half hearted, but I respectfully gave him time to slip off the
trail before I whizzed past. 3.15pm Beardog Spring Bob showed up at 12.20, early like a real Gentleman, and bearing
a toasted bacon, chicken, tomato & lettuce sandwich. It lasted
seconds. Just before I stopped I saw a bear cub, right in front of
me. It was standing on the trail, picking and eating berries. It
was a lovely deep black colour, and when I disturbed it, it glanced at me
then casually sauntered off down the trail. 9pm Past Donmore Creek Bridge I have walked the length of California. It is 1692.4 trail
miles to the last way point in the State, with the Oregon border 1.3ml
away. From calculations I made while walking, I reckon it has taken me
101 days, including rest days but not including our time off the trail
travelling and back in the UK. And I saw another bear. Around 7.30 in the evening, on my last night in California, the
trail was making a level crossing of a slope, when down to my left I saw a
black bear working his way up slope at an angle on what would have been an
intercept course with me. He was jet black, with light brown at the end
of his snout and front paws. He seemed larger than the one IÕd seen
earlier, but still relatively small. Had he stood erect, he'd have been just
about my size, although a lot chunkier! Shortly after I noticed him, he
noticed me. Rather than bolt downhill, he simply quickened his pace, reached
the trail 20 ft ahead of me, then continued up slope into some trees.
Amazing, I thought. But more was to come. As the trail left the trees, there he was, thirty feet away,
sitting on his bum looking directly at me. He was facing down slope,
his rear paws in front of him pushing against a fallen tree trunk, his front
paws tearing at some roots. He watched me and I watched him. He
seemed to conclude I was neither a threat, nor particularly entertaining, so
he went back to ripping his roots. I don't know why, but I spoke to
him. "I thought you're supposed to be afraid of me", I asked
him? Of course he couldn't understand, but it was as if that same
thought reached his brain at the same time as it had mine, because he hopped
to his feet and casually strolled off in the same direction he'd been heading
all along. A nice bear, but he's going to have to wise up. I've seen
four separate groups of hunters today, and when bear season opens, my friend
had better find his fear. IÕve found mine - having seen two bears in
one day I decided not to sleep with my food tonight! Tue 20 Aug 1.30pm 8ml from I5 It was a cold morning so a slow start, not getting away until
6.33 am. At the border I took photos, slides and prints, then messed
about with my shoes. The American bought Merrells have an annoying
ridge on the right sole which hurts the ball of my foot. Fire smoke mingled with low cloud & mist, making it a chill
morning. I walked in my jacket until after 11 am, sometimes in warm hat
too and would have welcomed thin gloves. I have yet to wear my sun hat
today, the first hiking day without it since leaving Mexico. The route dances around a long ridge, as does a road, Road
20. Until now it has been a rough jeep road, and when its route seemed
shorter I walked on it. Now it's a full-on tarmac road, so I'll take
the trail down to the Interstate where I'll hitch to Ashland. Perhaps
I'll pop into Callaghans for a drink first! 4.30pm Callaghans The first drink is free. You know, if Liz is tired after her flight,
this would be a wonderful Sat. night place to come. Utterly, wonderful
news. Liz had a scan which showed clear. Like her late Sister,
she has had the big C an we were both worried about this scan. I need
another beer and I need it now. To hell with walking California, I want
to celebrate my lover's health. I think I'll have a meal too, then see
about getting to Ashland. No rush. IÕve been reading the trail register.... so many names.
People who weren't exactly my friends, but who had become a lot more than
acquaintances, simply due to shared adversity. They're all so far
ahead. I don't mind that they're in front but in a way I miss
them. Oh, and I've lost the hitching bandanna. Liz won't be
happy. But I've just bee told the owners of this place Ronald and Donna
Bergquist will drive me to Ashland in half an hour. Excellent. 7pm Ashland Donna, Callaghan's owner, drove me to town, keen to stress all
the things they offer hikers like rides, showers, laundry, tent space. Again,
nice people. So I'm installed in the hostel. Quite basic, and quite
busy, but it'll do. I now have three days to explore. |
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