July 14, Day 71
31.8 miles [1331.3]
Today was exhilarating; always say “yes”. Peeped a little of the sunrise through my mesh door. Mobbed another 30 miles and my feet are beat, I generally ache. There was a 15-mile haul between water sources, the few options there were didn’t seem promising. Little Cub spring was 1) off-trail and 2) a gnarly 200-foot decline to access but at least it was ample. Regrouped on trail and ate first lunch with “Tooth Fairy” and “Upstream”. Hit the halfway point but honestly, it felt totally hollow. I remember how motivating the first 100-mile marker was in the desert or seeing the “10%” pile of rocks or getting the clap at Kennedy Meadows, but California is so long, it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. Either way, we ate second lunch and came up with a plan for Chester, both agreed to go in tomorrow. Continued hiking downhill and wound up at the highway, plans be damned, praying for a hitch as dusk settled in. There was one promising lead for a Trail Angel who provided rides: “John Jacobs, I’ll try to give you a ride if you call me. I’m Chesterite ‘born and raised’”. An animated, fast-talking man soon arrived in a mid-90’s Acura Integra, miraculously the three of us squished our gear and stinky bodies inside. The entire ride into town was filled by John who, in the friendliest and most disarming way possible, told us the horrors of the judicial system, grow laws, and persecution he’s faced and evaded due to his self-proclaimed extensive knowledge of the law. He kindly dropped us off at Pizza Factory where Adam and I split a large garlic and chicken ‘za and a pitcher of domestic. Full and slightly buzzed we packed up and headed for the Lutheran Church to make camp. Upon approaching an intersection with a gas station, there appeared to be a man taking hot-laps around the pumps in a mobility scooter, the tail of his coonskin hat being lifted ever so gently by his modest speed. I looked away as to not draw any attention and crossed the street. Before the three of us had gotten halfway across, the man whizzed towards us, yelling “CITIZEN’S ARREST, CITIZEN’S ARREST” at the top of his lungs. It was 10:58 P.M. My heart was in my throat but after he slurred a few sentences, I realized he was completely hammered and bragging about his scooter—a gift for his infirmed father. “Shame you hikers don’t have beer or weed,'' he mumbled, changing topics drastically. “But at my house we do. Follow me.” He zoomed off into the night, tail following just behind. The three of us stood silently, realized we outnumbered him and had quite literally nothing to lose, and followed him. We ended up in his backyard where he promptly tossed us each a Bud Light and sparked a joint. The mosquitoes feasted on my thin blood but all I could think about was the kindness of strangers and the lengths people go to for camaraderie. He gave us his phone number and emphatically reminded us we had a job (growing related of course) whenever we wanted. I thanked him for his kindness and made one final comment on his savvy scooter purchase before we stumbled to the church. Chester is hella weird.
Lassen Peak.
PCT midpoint. Hurray.
July 15, Day 72
11.4 miles [1340.7]
I woke up slightly before 5 A.M. with an odd, cold sensation on my face and I heard other tents rustling, then my lucidity arrived. It was beginning to rain, the entire PCT population of the Chester Lutheran church were furiously scrambling to throw on their flys, everyone unprepared from last night’s clear skies and muggy temps. Went to Kopper Kettle with “Conflicted” and “Tooth Fairy” for real breakfast: endless ceramic beige mugs of cheap coffee—a constellation of creamer cups filled the table—with biscuits and gravy. I’m stressed about this section and it seems the majority of hikers are as well. My shirt is toast, it lasted more than a thousand miles and is ripping apart from the shoulders. Dollar General was the only location which served my resupply and, somehow, clothing needs. I got a Hanes “Sport” cotton tee which isn’t a suitable replacement for my long-sleeve but at least my shoulders will be covered. Also my pants are ripped and flapping at the ankles which made walking more exhilarating and tripping more likely, I’ve been rocking my board shorts and boot-cut socks for the last three days. As for food, I scored some decent supplies, namely a small tub of mayo, a bottle of olive oil, and plenty of tuna. Repacked and consolidated in the shade of the church while drinking a Bud. Sewed my hood from the old shirt onto the new shirt and giggled at the result with “Tree Beard” for five solid minutes. Called it a success and cut off the arms as well and stashed them for later reattachment. Said goodbye to “Tooth Fairy” who has completed his remaining California sections and is finished for this season. Had a hard hitch out, but like always, it worked in our favor, there was even a trail angel handing out sodas at the trailhead. Hiked with “Conflicted” who’s neurotic yet undeniably hilarious and fun. I put in a solid hour before stopping to evaporate. As I pulled out my bag of snacks I instantly recognized the bearded guy in a straw trilby was Brett Callaghan, now “Flipper”. A huge, triumphantly-sweaty bearhug later, we acquainted group members and caught up on The Trail So Far. It’s hard to process how a long-time Philmont friend who Adam and I both know is hiking the same trail at the same time. Small world, infinite universe. Adam agreed to spend a few days hiking together but pointed out we hadn’t even made one-third our usual mileage today and our last zero was five days ago. Groups may not travel fast but they provide a morale boost worthy of many extra miles.
July 16, Day 73
30.0 miles [1369.7]
Restful sleep until dawn, then tossed and turned before giving up and getting going. Took a little side trek to Terminal Geyser (not a geyser) and Boiling Springs Lake which was both worthwhile and underwhelming, I wish I could have gotten closer. Received trail magic from “Ham”, a girl on trail who was zeroing with her folks. They gave me a Budweiser and an intensely sweet and juicy fresh peach which is the only fruit I’ve actually fantasized about on trail. Hiked all day with “Flipper’s” trail family and got to know “Froggy”, “Snacks”, “Trash Queen”, “Penguin”. Lots of hot spots before lunch and my feet have fucking blown up, there are massive blisters on both big toes and my arches are knotted and stiff. I’ve taken for granted how nice healthy feet are. Gave them a good scrub in hopes of knocking down the grit, swelling, and heat during lunch at Twin Lakes. I started and ended my experimentation with cold-soaking noodles, after a little over two hours, they took on a bubble-gummy texture similar to fresh Big League Chew except alfredo flavored. Twelve more miles to the next water source, Hat Creek, where we called it quits for the evening and so did quite a few other hikers. There were some nice clouds for a few hours but it was generally hot, I hope I didn’t get burned in my half-shirt-tall-socks-and-shorts combo. Rain will come soon. With “Conflicted” and “Shocks”, dinner was practically a family event. I saw Sarah and Kevin across the river, even “Sticky Fingers” came by to hang out for dessert. Way too much flat terrain, never thought I find myself wishing for hills and altitude.
Terminal Geyser.
Boiling Springs Lake.
July 17, Day 74
27.1 miles [1396.8]
Holy cow “Trash Queen” is an early riser, I have to remember to set up farther away. She probably had the right idea since it was hot as balls, dare I say prohibitively hot today. Subway Cave was a point of interest and a small detour took us to an underground lava tube requiring puffys. Against all of our better judgments we smoked out one of the alcoves offending, no doubt, several civilians. “Shocks” needed to go to Old Station for a package, he left after we emerged from the refreshing depths. Made it a few more hours before seeking shelter under a few scraggly pines for lunch. “Froggy” pulled out salami slices and began lathering up a tortilla with mayo, I can’t believe I haven’t done the same thing yet, they will most certainly be on my next resupply. Hat Creek Rim was brutally hot, I was completely unprepared. My calves certainly got burned from wearing shorts, I bounced my umbrella from side to side trying to cover as much bare skin as possible. Water is sparse, if it wasn’t for a maintained cache it would have been a 29 mile carry which seems on the verge of not possible for this stretch. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any hotter, or my water any warmer, we stumbled into an ice chest under a lone tree. It’s funny how your heart rate increases and you pray it’s not full of trash. There were two choices: Coke or Sap, a maple-flavored soda which I grabbed immediately and much to my amazement I had enough restraint for one item though I was reminded Coke is always a superior choice among pops. There was also a bag of Cuties, a fruit which I didn’t know I missed. Tonight’s sunset was the type which people compare other sunsets to and struggle to find the correct, descriptive words but ultimately say “cool” and “colorful” to a point of cliche. Currently laying shirtless on my pad, no quilt, sweatin’ just like everyone else. I’m ready to be done with California.
Lassen Peak, northern face.
July 18, Day 75
23.2 miles [1419.0]
I got up and moving around 6:30 A.M., “Flipper” and “Froggy” nowhere to be seen. Busted an easy 13 miles to Burney Mountain Guest Ranch, another 10 before 10. It was shaping up to be another warm one so we hung out for most of the afternoon. Immediately purchased a gigantic pickle and Coke to combat lost electrolytes. Saw Sarah and “Sticky Fingers” lounging in the shade, they confirmed doing a 40 yesterday—gross. Utilized the down time and my recent calf-burns to sew the ripped ankles of my pants, they turned out functional and durable beyond my wildest hopes. Still, there’s about four inches of extra waist-room in these suckers. Gave my socks several rounds in the sink until the water ran a tea color and not Folgers extra dark. “Numbers”, a PCT alumnus I remember meeting back at Hiker Heaven, seemed to be a vague authority and gave hikers a quick tour of the place. Had a cheeseburger for lunch and bought a few sleeves of PopTarts and Oreos from the convenience store to hold me over until Shasta’s resupply. Much to my amazement there was a billiards table, remarkably, a decent one, which was available for use, they trust us dirty hikers way too much. I ran the table all three games I played while waiting for my burger. Left the vortex and made it another ten miles to Burney Falls and hung out while the rest of the gang showed up. Saw an Angel in the parking lot who was trying to meet up with her hiking friend, she offered us watermelon slices and a Gatorade. Took the obligatory side trip to the falls, they were impressively large, it took up nearly my entire field of view. I found by defocusing my eyes, similar to those 3-D repeating pattern optical illusion puzzles, the water seemed to hang in suspension with the always static land whizzing by. It was a trip. Set up at the campground and scored two ramen packets which I cold-soaked for dinner, another meal I don’t have to worry about. Met “Happy Feet” and she did my sleeve, rather, she saw me struggling to find a way to sew my detached arms onto my t-shirt and gave me a quick lesson on a running stitch. It’s odd how I have nothing but time and it took me more than a week to address this issue.
Nesting osprey.
Burney Falls.