CHAPTER ELEVEN SIERRA CITY MILE 1197.5 TO BURNEY FALLS STATE PARK MILE 1423.5
LESSON LEARNED: Advantages of at-home prepared food.
Day 103, Saturday, July 12
After a large plate of eggs and bacon at the hotel restaurant, I walked back up to the main street in the morning sunshine to wash my clothes in the laundry adjacent to the store. While hanging out waiting for my clothes to dry, Happy Feet hiked in. He had spent last night camped with Alison and benefited from the same trail magic I had enjoyed on my way into Sierra City.
Happy Feet was excited with his new bright pink nail and toe polish. We talked together over trail gossip. Light hearted and lively Happy Feet was delightfully funny company every time I saw him on the trail.
Freebird and Stephanie stopped to say they were leaving the trail at some point soon to hike along the Oregon Coastal Trail.
In the late afternoon, as Enduro and I road walked out of Sierra City, Rubiks drove by offering to take us to the trail. It was a stroke of luck saving us a couple of miles of road walking to get back to the trail.
We began the 2,800′ climb up to and around the Sierra Buttes just as the day cooled. It was a golden evening. In the view back down the valley the Sierra City main street buildings appeared as miniature from above.
Along the edge of the trail, wild lilies bloomed in profusion.
As it began to grow dark, we were on a section of the trail traversing along a steep section of the mountain. We cleared away rocks and dead branches to make a spot on an area with barely enough room for our tents (mile 1204). We were forced to pitch our tents end to end on the one small flat area.
We had seen many hikers in town. Back on the trail, we saw no other hikers.
A pale lightness flooded my tent from the moon in the night.
Day 104, Sunday, July 13
The daytime temperature rose; it became a hot, dry day.
I came upon Enduro waiting at mile 1223. He wanted to camp there because there was a small stream nearby. It was not an ideal place to stop as a foot high of forest debris was strewn about on the ground under the trees. We had spent a good deal of time picking up sticks and tree limbs and moving rocks clearing spaces for our tents.
As we were busy working, another hiker named Kathleen came by and camped by us. Kathleen had long thick blonde hair in one long braid down her back. Enduro had met her at the hiker hostel in Mammoth.
Enduro and Kathleen were talking together when I went to bed. During the night I got up to go to the bathroom and noticed Katherine was banging the sides of her tent. Her headlamp lit up her tent in the darkness. It was odd, but when I could not see anything unusual, I returned to my sleeping bag and was soon fast asleep again.
In the morning Katherine and Enduro excitedly explained an animal had walked up behind my tent in the night. They scared it off by banging pots and pans and by flashing their headlamps. They claimed to have seen eyes but could not determine if it was a bear or a cougar lurking in the underbrush. I had slept through the excitement.
The animal was probably trying to find the water, same as us, this area is the only water around for miles.
I left Kathleen and Enduro talking together at camp and hiked onward.
Day 105, Monday, July 14
It was a hot day. On these long hot days of July, I began to daydream of Veuve Clicquot and prime rib. Thoughts of drinking stars while eating juicy red meat held tantalizing appeal trudging along the hot, dusty trail. Daydreaming helped pass the time.
By the time I arrived at a paved highway crossing at mile 1232, I was out of water. According to my map, there was a creek at the junction. I hunted up and down the road looking for water. I was not certain if I should stay at the road or risk hiking on without water.
Seated on a log, I was eating lunch at the edge of the road trying to decide what to do when a truck slowly approached. I jumped up and wildly flagged the truck down.
“Do you know where the creek is around here?” I hoped he was local and would know the location of the stream.
“No. I was just scouting the PCT to see where it comes out on the road as I am following my son who is hiking.” He got out, walked around his truck and brought out a cooler. “I don’t have water, but I do have ice.”
He opened the lid and I eagerly started scooping ice into my Gatorade bottle.
“What’s your trail name?” He asked.
“Homegirl.”
“Oh, I heard of you last night.”
Taken aback, I responded. “Hope it wasn’t anything bad.” I raised my eyebrows in concern.
“No,” he replied smiling, “The young hikers in the bar in Sierra City were saying how they admired you consistently keep up on the trail. They told me you are determined, always wanting to get twenty miles in each day.”
I thanked him for the ice. Happy to have some water as the ice melted.
Three-tenths of a mile down the trail I saw, with relief, a sign pointing to a spring down off trail.
On this section, I learned to listen for the sounds of birds. When I could hear the chirping of birds, I knew I was within a mile or so of a water source. If no birds could be heard, it meant no water was available within the surrounding area.
In the afternoon I had to make many stops under the shade of trees for relief from the sun and the heat. It was slow going with all the shade stops.
Enduro was waiting for me at mile 1244. I was a little surprised to see Enduro. He must have passed me while I was getting water from the spring.
Enduro wanted to cut off at a trail leading downhill to a spring on the map. We both dropped our packs and descended the steep trail to the spring. We crossed a dusty logging road with evidence others hikers had previously camped there. It was flat. We returned to retrieve our packs and set up camp along the edge of the road placing branches across on both ends of our tents just on the off-chance someone came roaring up the dirt road in a 4×4 vehicle in the night.
Day 106, Tuesday, July 15
From the map, I could tell the road was a shortcut to the trail ahead, but I decided to keep to the trail as thru hikers are required and hiked up to get back on the trail where we had left the PCT. Enduro was just beginning to stir when I left camp.
Shortly, I came to the Middle Fork Feather River. Right before the steel bridge, I made my way over large boulders down to the river. The water was warm, although I had made an effort to reach the river, I decided to wait for a creek crossing ahead to load up with water. This river water was too warm.
If I had been with someone I would have suggested swimming in the river; the water was warm and welcoming. I thought it best not to take the time and hiked on.
The trail ascended for the next seven miles. Happily I soon crossed a small creek cascading off the side of the mountain. I stopped to filter cold water.
I needed to make up for the miles I had not hiked yesterday; I was planning a long day. Nearing the top, I met two young women section hikers headed sobo. They were the first people I had seen since leaving camp. They warned me a hiker ahead on the trail had seen a rattlesnake and a cougar. When I questioned them, the description of the hiker matched Enduro. He had somehow gotten ahead of me.
The two women also talked enthusiastically about trail angels they had stayed with last night at Bucks Lake.
When I stopped for lunch at mile 1257, I sat down against a tree and slipped my shoes off. I began eating tuna from a foil packet when a tall, thin young man ran up. On his back was a small pack.
“Hi,” He greeted me, and added quickly, “I’m StringBean. I’m trying to set the record for hiking the PCT northbound.”
“That’s a small pack.” I eyed the small daypack suspiciously.
“I have friends who meet me at road crossings, so I only carry what I need until I meet up with them.” He paused, “I wanted to ask if you have extra water you can share with me?”
“I have less than half a liter of filter water. But I have a liter of unfiltered water you are welcome to have.”
“If you can spare half a liter I’ll be okay.” Concerned about wasting time as I filtered the water, he offered to use his Steripen to sterilize my liter of water. In the process, I asked him several questions. How many miles was he making each day? (60). What did he carry in his light pack? (Water and energy bars). Who was assisting him? (friends, mostly members from his cross-country team at Boston College). Was he on track to beat the record? (yes). Do you fall while running? (yes, many times).
In a few minutes, he was off running again.
A mile down the trail I came to a small cold spring flowing out of a pipe. If I had known about this spring, I would gladly have parted with all my water. If Stringbean had known about the spring, he would have ran passed, and I would not have met him. He was to become the new record holder for an assisted northbound thru-hike of the PCT.
The trail stayed high and occasionally offered territorial views. At some point, I came across the sign for Nancy and Terry William’s trail angel stop called “Honkers Haven” two miles off the PCT near Bucks Lake. I had not planned to stay at Bucks Lake as it was only one more day hiking into Belden.
Based on the recommendations of the two young hikers, I reconsidered. I felt a little guilty because I had no way of letting Enduro know I was stopping.
At Lookout Rock, I checked for cell service per the William’s instructions. I had no cell service and was unable to call them for a trailside pickup. I descended into the valley.
At trail mile 1263, I took Big Creek Road two miles toward Bucks Lake to find the William’s house. It was a beautiful home with a huge deck overlooking the valley beyond. I was surprised and pleased to see Enduro there. No need to feel guilty.
The Williams put out their sign for trail angeling when it worked for their schedule. It was a special treat to catch them taking in hikers. I considered myself fortunate.
There was a casita with a bathroom and laundry for hiker’s use. Since I was the last hiker to arrive for the day, I was able to take a shower immediately. It felt good to be clean and sit down and enjoy a beer.
Terry offered sodas and beer and later a gin and tonic. Terry and Nancy prepared a dinner of grilled tri-tip steak, potatoes, green salad and grilled vegetables accompanied with wine. It was an incredible evening to be out on the deck enjoying fantastic food in the cool of the evening.
The other hikers at Honker’s Haven were Rorschach, Vocal, Enduro, and Curry. Kathleen, the blonde tent beater, who had been there when I arrived, had hiked out before dinner.
It was my first meeting of Rorschach, Vocal, and Currie. Rorschach, a tall young fellow from Florida, was quiet and unassuming. Vocal and Curry, on the other hand, both liked to talk.
As we enjoyed eating a wonderful dinner, Curry and Vocal kept up a lively stream of constant chatter.
At bedtime, pads were available for the hikers to use for sleeping on the deck. The casita had one bed. I claimed the bed after being voted off the deck by the other hikers due to my snoring. Enduro had been quick to mention my snoring to everyone as a thoughtful way for me to score the bed.
Day 107, Wednesday, July 16
I woke to the smell of brewing coffee. A large, lavish breakfast followed complete with biscuits and gravy, eggs, bacon, and fruit salad. Nancy took our photos to add to her bulletin board of thru-hikers hosted. I was happy to see the hikers still on the trail ahead of me.
Nancy generously drove us to where the PCT crosses the road at Bucks Summit (mile 1265).
The trailhead had a sign-in register for hikers. I saw Kathleen had written a rambling message about how frightened she was to be heading out alone on the trail in the evening. It was an odd message given she could have stayed the night at Honker’s Haven.
I was soon alone on the trail enjoying the solitude. After a short climb upward, the trail remained high, between 6000’ and 7000’. It was overcast and moderately cold making for pleasant hiking.
In mid-afternoon, the trail dropped 4000′ over the last five miles into Belden.
I caught up with Enduro right before the long descent. We stopped and took photos.
As I started down the mountain, two hikers overtook me running in leaps and bounds.
“Trying to get to Belden before the cafe closes!” both shouted over their shoulders as they ran past. It was a steep, challenging, relentless descent. From above I could see the North Fork of the Feather River cutting through the valley below.
I had taught myself to hike with my knees flexed and bent on downhill descents. Saving knees from being jolted. The sustained downhill made it difficult to maintain bent knees as my leg muscles worked overtime. By the time I gained the bottom of the mountain my quads were bulging.
I caught up with Enduro again right before Belden. He had made the decision to leave the trail at Belden because of work obligations, short of his goal of the Oregon border.
Once we came out at (mile 1289.5), Enduro called the Braatens of Little Haven (trail angels) to let them know we were there. She recommended we eat before she came to pick us up. Her house, located one mile down busy Hwy 70, had no safe walking space as the highway lack shoulders.
We went in search of food and found a small restaurant and bar in an old rambling building with a red roof called the Belden Town Lodge. The two trail runners, Poison and ET, were seated at the bar eating.
Enduro and I joined Poison and ET for burgers and beers. After dinner, we drank Fireball in celebration of Enduro’s completion of his section hike.
The hiker’s portion of the Braatens trail angel place was a small cabin with two bedrooms and a living room-kitchen area. The kitchen area was lined on one wall with all the resupply packages waiting to be picked up by hikers. I claimed mine and sat down to sort it out. Inside my package was a new white hiking shirt. It felt luxurious to slip into the new shirt. The old white shirt had developed worn spots and was beginning to rip in places.
CatDog was at the Braatens. She had arrived the day before and had taken a zero. I claimed the other bed in her room. ET and Poison took the back bedroom. All the other hikers split up between the floor in the living room and the deck just outside the door.
ET and Poison had met on the AT and were hiking the PCT together. ET video taped interviews with numerous hikers and filmed interesting sites along the trail. ET was a slender young man with slightly red cheeks. His small round glasses gave him the look of a bookish Russian Revolutionary. He reminded me of the laugh prone Pasha before he turned into the Strelnikov character in the movie version of ‘Doctor Zhivago.’
Poison, in her early thirties, had long brown hair pulled high in a ponytail. She was beautiful and friendly, guarded and restrained, but not aloof. I saw both, frequently, on the trail after Belden.
Day 108, Thursday, July 17th
The next morning, Mrs. Bratten took CatDog and me to the trail as it crossed the highway. Enduro and Curry came along as far as the trailhead. From there they planned to hitch together into Chico where Enduro was catching a bus back to his hometown of Portland and Curry was returning via Portland to her hometown of Honolulu.
Enduro and I said our goodbyes. I was going to miss his companionship on the trail. I had been lucky to hike for a couple of weeks with another person who walked the same miles per day and who remained kindhearted while maintaining a positive attitude.
I could not allow myself to dwell on how much I was going to miss Enduro, as the trail had immediate demands on my attention and energy.
It was a long hike out of the valley, thirteen miles of steep elevation gain. Mid-morning I got off the trail to pee and got stung by a wasp on my inner thigh.
Early afternoon I stopped on top of the mountain for cell service, and while I was answering emails and texting, CatDog caught up with me. Cat Dog had a slower pace, but she was a grinder, always moving forward and usually was not far behind me.
High up on the mountain, we had our first good views of Mt. Lassen. After the climb, the last few miles of the day were downhill, a welcome break for my legs. We camped at Cold Springs just off Humbug Summit Road in an area that reminded me of a horse corral. A wood fence surrounded an open grass field.
At the Brattens, ET had given me a freeze-dried dinner of beef, broccoli and Quinoa with a packet of instant lemon flavoring. She had prepared the freeze-dried food and sent herself several meals in each of her resupply packages. As we were sorting through our resupply packages, she realized she did not need this extra dinner and offered it to me.
At Cold Springs I prepared half of the dinner and saved the balance for next night. It would be the two best dinners I was to consume on the trail. It was an eye-opening experience on the advantages of home prepared trail meals.
I took an emergency Benadryl to take down the swelling from the wasp sting. I slept poorly trying to find a comfortable position for my swollen thigh.
Day 109, Friday, July 18th
It was an exciting day. Both CatDog and I were looking forward to arriving at the midpoint marker for the PCT today.
Around noon we had difficulty finding the spring that, according to our maps, was to be 3/10 miles down the hill off the trail. I hiked down about a half mile without finding the spring. CatDog had better luck. She came back with water and offered water to me which I had to decline on principle.
Back up on the trail, we met a hiker named Salt and Pepper. He was in his fifties from Montreal. He had previously hiked the Appalachian Trail. He spoke with a charming French accent.
We arrived at the MidPoint Marker (mile 1326.9) in the afternoon. CatDog and I stopped to take photos and celebrate. At the beginning of the trail when I passed the 100-mile marker I had told myself I had only to do this for 25 more times. When I reached the ¼ marker, I told myself I only had to do this 3 more times. It was my way to mentally break down the trail in manageable components.
Now I had only to repeat the same amount of miles I had already hiked. It was a feeling of immense relief and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
All my life I have sought to challenge myself. This hike was my most difficult undertaking, both mentally and physically. From this day I was more confident I could make it to the Canadian border.
We camped early at a sharp turn in the trail around mile 1327. I found a tent space above the trail. CatDog found a tent space just below the path. There was a creek ahead according to my map, but we guessed it might be overflowing with the several hikers who leapfrogged us in the afternoon.
Day 110, Saturday, July 19th
We were eight miles from Hwy 36, the road hitch into Chester. CatDog and I got up early and were hiking with headlamps by four in the morning. It was a fast descent to Hwy 36 (mile 1335). We arrived at seven in the morning. We sat down on the wooden stair steps leading down to the road and prepared to hitch. While we were seated, ET and Poison hiked up. Since it is not easy for four people to get a ride together, ET and Poison graciously agreed to hide out of sight until after we caught our ride.
A young man driving a white Lexus stopped. I ran up and asked him if it was okay for him to take four of us. He agreed and started cleared out his backseat as CatDog went to fetch ET and Poison. When the driver set eyes on Poison, he seemed happy with his decision to let the other two join us.
The driver dropped us at Chester’s best, and possibly only, breakfast restaurant. We found a table outside where we were unlikely to disturb the other diners with our rank smell and dirty clothes. All four of us ordered two breakfast. I ordered two breakfasts of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Our patio table was laden with coffee, orange juice, waffles, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, eggs, and bacon. We dug in with healthy appetites. There was little conversation, only the clinking of forks and the groans of satisfaction as we filled our empty stomachs.
After my phone charged, I called around to reserve a hotel room. Evidently, there were two weddings over the weekend and the better hotels were fully booked. CatDog and I shared a room in a small motel off the main street. I was a dreary place but did have two bedrooms and the owner let us check in early. We had the full day ahead to eat, do our laundry, and rest.
At dinnertime, we walked down to the same café. Shortly after we were seated, Salt and Pepper came in and joined us at our table. We were having a pleasant conversation about the hike and the trail.
I mentioned up ahead we were going to be forced to plan carefully as there were sections with limited water sources. Salt and Pepper seemed upset by this and exclaimed he was thinking of quitting the trail. This was a shock. We tried to convince him to sleep on his decision and maybe tomorrow he would change his mind.
I felt guilty mentioning the water situation. I had not meant to be discouraging and was only trying to pass on information.
Later, CatDog explained to me that although the Appalachian Trail is challenging with the trail going straight up and down mountains, hikers find themselves in towns frequently making it unnecessary to plan ahead for supplies of food and water. She thought many hikers are surprised by the amount of planning the PCT required. Since I had not hiked the Appalachian Trail and had no first-hand experience of the trail, I had to accept CatDog’s comparisons of the two trails.
We heard a few days later Salt and Pepper left the trail shortly after we met him in Chester.
That evening, a heavy rainstorm came through dumping inches of water all at once. Outside our motel room window, I could see the parking lot accumulating several inches of water. Close by the window, a lightning bolt struck through the sky accompanied by a simultaneous loud bang of thunder. I was grateful to be safely inside out of the downpour.
Day 111, Sunday, July 20th
We hoped to be out of town early but had trouble hitching out on a Sunday morning. CatDog and I tried everything. We tried hitching along the road together. We tried hitching separately. We tried walking down the road and hitching at the same time. Nothing worked. All the passing cars appeared to be headed to church and not down the highway.
At a gas pump on the edge of town, I asked the young lady filling her car with fuel if she could give us a ride to the trail. She was not headed in our direction, but was familiar with the PCT and agreed to give us a lift the eight miles back to the trail. On the ride up she mentioned her daughter worked at Drakesbad Guest Ranch which was the reason she knew of the PCT. I was amazed by the kindness of strangers.
It was an unremarkable hiking day until we crossed over the Lassen Volcanic National Park Boundary. The trail passed along Terminal Geyser, Hot Springs and mud pots, and Boiling Springs Lake. Lassen was a magical place.
CatDog and I met up shortly before the Drakesbad Guest Ranch. We arrived across an open field while guests and the employees were up at the restaurant for dinner. We helped ourselves to cans of soda from an ice-filled tub on the front porch. On the wall was a price list, but there was no one around to accept our money.
We proceeded up to the restaurant to inquire about the possibility of purchasing dinner. We were instructed to wait. After the guest had eaten, the hikers could buy dinner. Hikers were not allowed to order from the guest menu but were limited to lasagna.
While we were inquiring about dinner, the guests at the ranch stared and pointed our way. I felt on display, part of the local wildlife.
Since dinner was to be pasta, which I could not eat, we decided to continue to Warner Valley Campground and make our own food. After paying for our sodas and we hiked down the dirt road toward the campground.
At the campsite (mile 1356) and we each found a flat area for our tents. A steady stream of hikers come in and made camp with us, including ET and Poison. It was a regular hiker party. One of the guys went down to the ranch to pick up his resupply package and returned with beers. We sat around the campfire together. We were a happy group.
Day 112, Monday, July 21
During the night a rodent got into the bear box and chewed into one of the hiker’s food bag leaving a big hole in the bag with food spilling out and scattered about. I appreciated my food bag had not been the one chewed into by the rodent.
CatDog and I stopped at Lower Twin Lake for lunch. A sharp cold wind-swept across the lake directly toward us. We needed our rain jackets to keep warm as we sat on a log to eat.
Boring walk into Old Station
After lunch, we passed the border of Lassen Park and the remainder of the hike into Old Station was flat and relatively boring. Old Station (mile 1381.5) is a small collection of a Post Office, motel, RV park, and a tiny store. I arrived in time to collect my resupply box from the post office and pay for a camp spot in the tent camping area.
I sorted through my resupply box with several other hikers out front of the store. The other hikers were road walking up to JJ’s Café and continuing on to the camp area near Subway Cave. I wanted to stay and take advantage of the shower and laundry at the campground.
CatDog arrived after the Post Office closed. As we had hiked over 25 miles, it was nice to sit by our campfire and rest. There were six spaces in the tent camping area with only two of the six areas occupied. Our fellow campers were a father and two teenage children who were car camping next to us. Their food and shelter situation was much superior to ours. We could only dream of the type and quantity of food they had stacked around their campsite.
Day 113, July 22
CatDog had arranged to meet friends at Old Station, a mother and daughter from Catdog’s hometown of Bend. They arrived in the morning to take her for breakfast and CatDog graciously included me in the invitation. We made plans to go eat, return to our campsite, rest for the day and hike out in the cool of the evening for the Hat Creek Rim walk. It is 30 miles along a volcanic rim with no water sources. When I inquired at the campground office if we could keep our tents up until later in the day, the woman insisted we be out of our camping space before the checkout time of 11 o’clock.
We quickly change our plans and packed our gear into CatDog’s friend’s SUV.
After an excellent omelet breakfast at JJ’s, the mother and daughter duo dropped us at a picnic area close to the PCT. We thought we could rest for the day, but this turned out impossible because of the constant disruption of cars pulling in and out. In frustration, we filled up with water and hiked out in the mid-afternoon while it was still hot.
The rim area was recovering from a previous forest fire and was bare of tree coverage. The new trees were too small to offer shade. (In August 2014, another rim wildfire was to close this section of the PCT). The lack of forest allowed for us to keep sight of each other as we walked.
From the rim I got my first good views of Mt. Shasta ahead. For all our apprehension over water, it was beautiful hiking along the rim.
Because I was trying to save water, I was enjoying sucking a small hard candy. Unfortunately, I was chewing down when I should have kept sucking and broke one of my molars. The break left a jagged remaining portion of the tooth. Not wanting to cause further breakage, I knew I had to have the tooth repaired quickly. I started considering my options.
Finding only spotty cell coverage, I noticed my cell phone battery was under 40% making searching for an available flight out of Redding impossible. After considering my options, I decided it was best to hitch out to Burney the next day, get a shuttle to Redding, rent a car to drive to my dentist in Seattle. I called and made an emergency dental appointment.
Catdog and I arrived at an abandoned Lookout just at dusk. The good news was it had a water cache. The bad news was there was only enough water for one liter for each of us.
We fired up our stoves and made dinner seated on a large cement pad and camped with our tents nestled in the surrounding sagebrush.
Day 114, July 23
We hiked out in the morning by headlamp. Making slow steps along the rocky ridge edge. I had heard there was a water cache called Cache 22 up ahead a few miles at Road 22.
When we arrived there was no water remaining at the cache. Since I was planning to leave the trail at Hwy 299 and CatDog was intended to hike on to Burney Falls State Park, we made no effort to stay together. I was soon ahead on the trail. It was a solitary day of hiking. Luckily, because of our early morning start, I was off the rim before noon.
In the afternoon I crossed Baum Lake and found the Crystal Lake Fish Hatchery interesting to observe. The workers were feeding the fish with some type of attachment to a truck. The truck drove slowly dropping the food into long narrow fish holding tanks. Fish jumped in a frenzy causing a swirl of water as the food delivery equipment passed overhead.
By mid-afternoon I was on the side Hwy 299 (mile 1415.7) hitching a ride to Burney. I got a ride from a young man traveling the opposite direction. He turned around, picked me up and took me to Burney.
Burney is a small ‘Mayberry’ type town where everyone knows everyone’s business. This was a description given to me by the young man. It was later also described in these same terms by the bus driver on the ride to Redding the next morning.
From Burney, I tried hitching a ride to Redding as I had missed the last bus. However, after hours of unsuccessfully trying to hitch a ride, I found a motel room.
Detour and LapDog were staying at the same motel. I purchased a six-pack of Corona for all of us to share and caught up with news their hikes.
Day 115, July 24
Following an early morning start and three bus transfers, I was at the Redding Airport to pick up a rental car.
I drove up Interstate 5 to my daughter’s house, near Seattle, arriving in early evening. The 600 miles and eight hours seated behind the wheel of a car felt incredibly restful. It was much easier than walking.
I had not seen my daughter and her family since March just before I left to hike the PCT. It was bliss for me to see my three grandchildren, age 7, age 5, and two years old. The hardest part of hiking the trail was missing these three wonderful children who fill my life with joy. Tanq, their English bulldog, was always excited to see me. He rushed over wagging his bottom to get his kiss and hug then ran to smell my backpack. He took a long time sniffing the pack.
Standing in the guest room bathroom shower, with gleaming white tiles and honed slate floor, I wanted to cry. It was such a change in circumstances. I had showered in many dirty showers and stayed in so many one star motels along the trail, it was overwhelming to be in clean, luxurious surroundings.
I fell asleep looking out across Lake Washington with the lights of Seattle shining from the far side of the lake. During the first night, I dreamed I needed to get up out of my tent to go to the bathroom. In my sleep, I was waving my arms above my head trying to locate and open the tent door before I woke and realized I simply had to get out of bed and walk into the bathroom.
Days 116-117, July 25 and 26
At this point of the trip, I was in top physical condition from hiking. I had lost body fat, retaining the muscle.
I was not necessarily tired but decided to stay and drive back to Redding on Sunday so I could enjoy a couple of days with my daughter and her family. This extra time also allowed me to wash my sleeping bag and backpack. I washed and applied waterproofing to my tent. REI replaced the tips (free of charge) of my trekking poles.
Day 118, July 27
When I arrived back in Redding, I found the airport terminal open but empty, no passengers, no workers, no taxis. There was no bus service on Sunday. In desperation, I stood at the curb thinking I may have to walk into town. Curiously, people were going to and from a Chinese restaurant on the second level of the airport.
I stood by the entry of the restaurant waiting to see if I could talk someone into a ride. Four young men pulled up in an old car to pick up food. I offered $20 for a ride to the motel. They collected their takeout, and we all piled in their older car.
After arriving at the hotel, I said goodbye to my trail angels and rushed off to check in.
When I came out, the young men were still in the parking lot. Their car would not start up again. I felt stupid and not good about the situation. Unfortunately, I was not in a position to offer a ride or jumper cables. The old saying, ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ came to mind. I offered my cell phone, but they had cell phones. Feeling foolish, I went to my room.
The room was dirty and smelled of stale cat urine.
Day 119, July 28
I left early to walk to the nearest bus stop to get to the main Redding bus terminal. At the main terminal, I had to wait several hours for the bus to Burney. I tried looking for a local coffee shop or Starbucks but was unable to locate either.
I was left waiting and watching the passengers for entertainment. Watching the buses come and go unloading and reloading passengers, I was reminded I had minimal experience with domestic public transportation.
Having spent my entire career traveling the world sourcing products offshore, I am reasonably comfortable in any given situation. Whether it was having my hotel bombed by terrorists or having the dictator overthrown while visiting a third world country I have learned to take anything and everything in stride. Now, I was reminded I had been lucky to be near a town the size of Redding when my tooth broke.
The bus driver on the trip to Burney was the same driver on my trip from Burney. He was an older man, short with a slightly bulging waistline. Happy in his work, he was friendly with all the riders.
When I had taken the bus to Redding, he had helpfully explained the three buses I needed to transfer onto to get to the airport. Now, seeing me for the second time, he seemed curious and asked about my trip.
There was only one other passenger on the bus, I was seated at the front, and another woman was sitting at the back of the bus. The lack of passengers gave the driver an opportunity to ask questions about what I was doing and then follow up with questions about the PCT. It was a sunny day, and I happily answered his questions.
It was a lovely drive as the bus swayed and bumped along the highway through the pine forests slowly gain altitude. Every once in a while I was given a glimpse of the mountains ahead.
The other woman on the bus heard our conversation and joined in. Before arriving in Burney, she called her cousin who happened to be one of the trail angels overseeing Cache 22 and arranged for him to meet our bus and take me directly to the trail crossing.
Her cousin drove a ’68 red and white pickup truck dated before seatbelts were required in vehicles. It was a sweltering day, 106 degrees out. When we got to the trail crossing, he decided to take me the few miles on into Burney Falls State Park. We arrived in early afternoon. I took a photo of my trail angels, said my goodbyes and thank you, and headed for the store.
Trail Angel (Me with my new Shoes !)
A group of thru hikers surrounded a picnic table out front of the store, sorting through their resupply boxes. I knew none of the hikers.
After collected my resupply box from the small store and placing most of the food items into the hiker box, I went back inside to see what was available to eat. It was an odd small store. The only food available to purchase were hot dogs and ice cream cones. This was rather odd since their primary customers were the thru-hikers. I bought a beer and an ice cream cone.
Burney Falls State Park is a scenic place. I found the thru-hikers campground in the back of the park down a dusty trail well hidden away from the regular campers. I set up my tent and napped until early evening.
I was again behind the hikers I knew. I would have to start all over again getting to know hikers on this section of the trail. A couple of section hikers I had leapfrogged twice on the section into Sierra City, Yasmin and Robert, joined the campsite. It was a relief to see a couple of people I recognized.
A previous hiker had received an ample supply of alcohol in his resupply package and left a portion of his load in the bear box with a note offering other hikers to partake. We took him up on this generous offer. Robert, Yasmin, and I sat around the picnic table after dinner as the evening turned to darkness sipping scotch from our tin cups enjoying the warm evening.
Koko* joined us at the table. It was my first meeting of Koko, a grizzled older man with missing teeth. I was surprised to learn he was a year younger than me.
Koko offered to play a type of small wooden wind instrument he carried and Robert, Yasmin and I enjoyed his music while we continued to laugh, talk and have a good time. Suddenly he stopped playing.
“If you’re not going to listen, I am not going to play.” He stomped off to his tent.
We raised our eyebrows and did not know what to say. We felt bad we had been laughing and talking. Koko had thrown a wet blanket over our little party. Robert, Yasmin, and I went off to our respective tents.
*Not his real name
Lucy Ondo 