October 19-23, days 203-207
PCT kilometers: 2,131; kilometers hiked: 3,626
Our late afternoon goodbyes at the Bucks Lake Road Trailhead were tearful. Such a long time living together in a tent, going through thick and thin, enduring the ups and downs not just on the trail, without the distractions or buffers of daily life at home. We pledged our love – you never know if it might be the last time – and I continued my hike. Observed Olli filming me as I disappeared.
A trail register lifted me out of my melancholy and I registered our names – no, just mine. Couldn't resist mentioning Olli. King Olli.
It was cold, the trees and ground wet from the previous days, and another ascent began.
My let my thoughts wander, calculating how quickly I could be in Ashland, when a hiker approached, bundled against the cold.
It was Martin, a bow hunter. We chatted a good 25 minutes, while it got colder by the moment.
I confessed that seeing him approach set off a bunch of horror movies in my imagination. But then I noted that no one had ever died on the PCT due to a crime; rather, weather or falls were the only causes. He responded by telling me that there were killed one or two people with a machete on the Appalachian Trail.
We changed the subject. Why he hunts with a bow and arrow, and where does he aim to make it "good" for the animal?
Heart and lung and the sudden drop in blood pressure would make the animal fade. Today, however, he hadn't gotten a deer yet. If you’re lucky enough to shoot one, the game is deboned and the meat taken, the bones left. We knew this from the bear hunters we'd met in Washington. You're required to take the head, according to "Fish & Hunt" (I assume this is an organization that issues hunting permits). There are certain ethics. He mentioned the Indians, who had hunted with a bow and arrow and who had used every part of the animal. Martin, 60, a grandfather several times over, is a very kind man. After giving me some tips for a tent site, selfie, and exchange of contact information, we parted company.
Speaking of animal carcasses: next day, the trail led past Belden, a "town" with a population of 6. After a gentle ascent (blue skies and sunshine), I arrived at a lovely vista and discovered a deboned deer (very clean bones) laying across the trail; beneath its ribs, flies were busy with the entrails. It stank accordingly. The animal’s fur had been removed, including ears; the head was missing. I can't imagine this has much to do with the ethics Martin mentioned. Shouldn't the remains be moved into the bushes, off the trail? I'll send him a photo and ask him. But perhaps other animals dragged the carcass onto the trail (but the innards were tucked too perfectly in the ribcage).
The murderous descent, which required overcoming 1,417 meters over a distance of 7-8 km (Belden is at 680 meters), left my rear-end muscles sore the next day – for the first time... Just before Belden, another trail register. Found several recent acquaintances listed there. Registered myself and Olli (abstent).
The trail passes directly past the restaurant, which also rents out rooms. You pass the front door, and even though it was already 5:30 pm, I went in, headed for the counter and ordered a mushroom-swiss cheese burger with fries and beer on tap. Recharged my camera and cell phone batteries, dropped off my trash. The entire premises including entry area (gigantic; in the summer Belden offers a music festival on three stages) was decorated for Halloween. Coffins with talking dracula, plastic animal skeltons (no deer), plastic and soft toy spiders of every size, boxes, clocks, and everything draped in fake spiderwebs. Must be a big party coming up...
Next to me at the counter sat Melinda, who was waiting for her husband in brother-in-law, who were fishing. We had a very enlightening conversation about Audrey Hepburn, since Melinda, like most people here, always confuse my name, Sabine, with the name Sabrina. (I don't always introduce myself by my trail name Lady Magic Sunshine.). This reminds people of the eponymous film starring Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart. A great love story.
More on the conversation about Audrey Hepburn later in an extra blog, where I will also share a few cineastic subtleties from the trail – e.g., “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (based on Ernest Hemmingway’s novel), starring Cary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman: we were at the film location.
Melinda –a retired social worker, two grown sons, hikes a bit and enjoys cooking over a campfire – was impressed by my hiking achievements to date and the section I still have ahead of me, solo. We talked about the wild animals out there.
She thinks it would be a good idea if I were to take some of the Halloween decorations; they'll make a good shadow in the tent to scare away animals. I decline, however ...
After dinner, I brush my teeth. Every milliliter of water must be carried, including what you use for dental hygiene. Darkness falls. In a weak moment I consider renting a room. But the $106 plus tax is simply not in my budget. Besides, after the first night alone - not an option.
Say goodbye to Melinda, after a selfie and exchanging contact data. Her menfolk hadn't arrived and it was 6:50 pm and the restaurant closed at 7 pm. Just beyond the restaurant, the trail led over a long, one-lane bridge. I remembered Money Maker’s entry in the Scout-App Guthook: press the traffic light switch!
Right after the bridge is a big construction site with a “Keep out, this area ist protected" sign. No signpost for the trail. So I keep to the road because the app shows the trail runs parallel here. But the trail seems to be rather untraillike, so I retrace my steps. Perhaps the trail runs above the road. There's nothing mentioned in the app’s hiker comments. Of course, it never occurred to the obedient German in me to ignore the keep-out sign... But I do precisely that and voilá, a few meters later I discover the metallic gleam of the PCT signpost. It was now 7:30 pm. The path is steep, but the trail runs above and parallel to the road, as I suspected. "I’ll never get away," I thought to myself, when I saw a tree-high historic gold mill next to the trail entry and followed the steps up to take a look. The entire area is characterized by the Gold Rush era. In any case, I found evidence that others had been up here: a small outdoor bag.
By now the red lamp was dying, so switched to the black, which Olli had left me. This allows me to use one while the other charges. I went over to the steep, very narrow trail entry and discovered a "karma box" on the ground. "I’ll never get away!" I thought again. I spent an hour examining the box: a little book and several objects are inside. On the first page, a couple wrote they'd started the box on their wedding anniversary in mid-August. Whoever finds it can take something, but something else back in the box, and leave a message in the little book. I read the entries by a truckdriver, a father-and-son pair of hikers, one person left a psalm ... I love stories like that.
I take an Earl Grey teabag (I love that too) and leave a strawberry lollipop. Then I leave a message (see photo gallery, which will be posted when I have a better internet connection).
At 8:30 pm I finally leave.
A very steep ascent of 2,218 feet in Belden to 3,632 feet to my goal, Williams Cabin Site: 1,414 feet = 430.98 meters up to 5.9 miles, spread out over 10 km. The campsites are sometimes named for rivers, meadows, mountains, or, as here, the cabins. Most are simply noted in the Guthook app as a tent site and a note re how many tents fit (usually only 1-3). A tent- or camp site usually means a flat spot in the woods or on an open mountain ridge with a view; sometimes there's a fire ring of stones. The Guthook app tells me there's no longer a cabin at the campsite I'm heading for. Too bad, would have saved me pitching my tent. I make a deal with myself: if I find a flat spot along the trail beforehand, I'll camp there.
Soon after Belden I see another animal skeleton, this time without fur et al.
The ascent is sweltering. Nothing along the trail. But I'm not averse to covering the 20 miles to the end. Around midnight, the tent's up: two swallows of whisky, Oreo Gold minicookies, and hazelnut chocolate – a great finish to the day. Some Roberta Flack to top it off (although I should save batteries), planning the next day's trek (water, elevation, tent sites, special features), and writing in my daily journal.
Then I fall into a dead sleep.