October 24-31, days 208-215
PCT lilometer: 2,271; kilometers hiked: 3,776
Dear readers, dear family and friends,
I've been remiss with the blog, so what follows is my report on the trail from Highway 36/near Chester to Burney. Because the section to Burney was so exhausting, followed by a no-less-strenuous stretch to Dunsmuir, I only rarely made notes, using every free minute to rest or plan the next day's hike, simply enjoying the quiet and the sunshine.
Thus I'm writing these lines from memory, which may account for my jumping around a bit... Also, I want to describe my experiences hiking alone, without Olli, these past three weeks.
But first a word about what awaits me after Dunsmuir (I've hiked almost 4,000 kilometers), where I spent 2 nights and where I'm writing this blog, before heading out this evening. For the past 3 nights, it's gotten dark by 5:30 pm. Have the clocks been set back here, as in Germany? The cell phone synchronizes itself automatically, when there's reception, but I didn't notice anything.
I arrived at Interstate 5, at the same altitude as Dunsmuir, on November 4 at 7 pm. I was picked up by Kelly from Kellyfish/Crossroads (I'd written her from Burney and on the 4th when I was at the summit). She's taking me to Dunsmuir – great service! – because her little hiker abode, 1.3 miles between the interstate and Dunsmuir, closed for the season on October 27.
Once again I'm smitten by what I call the vortex of small atmospheric towns. And before me lies the next challenge: 160 km, 16 km more than the last stretch, more altitude (from 600 to 700 meters, where Dunsmuir lies), along with the PCT on Interstate 5, which is 3.6 miles away; then another ascent to 2,300-2,400 meters, then a descent, after which the ascents and descents level out to between 1,500 - 2,200 meters. In other words at a higher altitude than before Dunsmuir. Next station is Etna Summit Trailhead, at 1,800 meters. The town of Etna – I'll need to get a hitch – is at 900 meters.
To be honest, I'm at the end of my tether: my physical strength, my time, and my finances, nearly. My time's running out firstly because our friend Marylou in New York, whom I plan to visit and from whom I'll pick up our stuff, only has a small time slot available. Secondly, my theater friend from Stuttgart days, Jule (who now works for the GIZ and does theater projects in Guatamala), is expecting me in Guatamala City at an agreed upon date in order to take me to a theater festival. She lives 5 hours from the capital ... In any case, I've had enough. I really wish I were faster.
Added to that: Hiking solo is totally different!! You start talking to yourself, or with the camera (that's ok; I used to do that before, simply to record my thoughts), but now it's just reached a new level. Which became clear to me one evening when I made a little bed for my mascot, a crocheted bee normally attached to my backpack – in one of Olli's gloves without even thinking about what I was doing. Hello! I was reminded of the Tom Hanks’ movie "Castaway:" Hanks plays a character who, after an airplane crash, winds up on an uninhabited island for 4 years – and talking to a ball that's washed ashore. Of course he doesn't start talking to the ball after 2 weeks! I laugh at myself. So human beings need company. Albeit I feel great when I'm alone in a city. Apparently, it's enough for me to see people and have a conversation from time to time. Certainly, the unbelievable quiet you experience on the trail has an emotional effect. I'm amazed that a forest can be so still (when there's no wind or when I can't listen to music because my battery is dead). Keeping your fears in check while hiking in the darkness is also hugely challenging. I've always loved night hikes, but now it's more absolute, more hopeless; you can't simply hike down the mountain.
It's spooky when you – however briefly – mistake low-hanging stars blinking among the trees for animals' eyes. Or even the trail markers – silvery metallic diamonds reflecting in your headlamp. I tell myself: of course they're not the same shape as eyes; nevertheless, I am occasionally frightened, especially when I'm lost in thought. Then I recall my old Sesame Street LP, with Grover's song about being afraid and whistling a happy tune. So, now and again, I find myself whistling and singing. :-). When I get home I'm going to dig up that record again from garage. Always loved that song.
Also, there's no division of labor when you're hiking solo ...
All the same, I'm very glad to have this experience. After 23 years of marriage, I'm fending for myself entirely. It changes how you think. But what are 4 weeks, compared to the months before!
Gradually, I'm beset by a feeling of mourning along with all the other emotions: after all, soon I'll be quitting a very good, formative time in my life.
Back to camping at the parking lot at Highway 36 (on the way to Chester) – following up with my last blog: I spend the day at the picnic table, attending to business because I have internet reception. I've forgotten all of my credit card passwords, i.e. for online banking and also for Tan2Go. That's never happened to me before. Which is why I never wrote them down. And I really do have different passwords for all my bank, telephone, and other accounts. Which is supposed to be exemplary. Since I have to reset both passwords, I end up checkmating myself and can't reset the online banking password (I wanted to transfer money from my DKB checking to DKB Visa account) – because you need a Tan2Go to confirm the transaction, which I can't do because I forgot the password...
(Note from the translator: This happens to be one of my personal nightmares - what if I grow senile without realizing it?? How on earth can I be expected to remember half a dozen passwords??? Oh Lord!)
I write to the bank and I write to Olli – nearly out of battery on all counts. Simultaneously, I recharge the power bank a bit, in order to feed the cell phone a bit (attaching the cell directly to the solar panel isn't recommended due to varying sunlight; I try it nevertheless, and the cell starts flickering, the display turns on and off, going a bit crazy). So, I take it of, wait till the power bank is charged more, attach the cell. Fortunately, there IS sun. Time's running out; I don't care; this is my vacation.
I'm struck by the unbelievably diverse birdcalls around me, around and beyond the picnic table, emanating from the deeper forest – much more than usual. Later, I read on one of the Collins Pine Company’s display boards (around here, the PCT goes through private property) about their special forestry concept to ensure more diversity in the woods. The time passes, gifting me with the acquaintance of the owners of the two cars parked here overnight. A distraught woman approaches from the trail on the other side of the highway, from whence I came yesterday, and asks whether I know if there's a hospital in Chester. Nope. A few miles back, her girlfriend broke her arm. She drives off.
Here too, the trail goes through the privately owned Collins pine forests; the company has been doing sustainable timber processing since the 1940s, so dirt roads afford easy access to the PCT.
A short while later, Larry (60+) is dropped off by a woman at the parking lot. He's just completed the stretch from Old Station, which is my next section. He's a bit worried that I'm starting so late. But my plan makes sense, because I need to arrive at the boundary campsite in Lassen National Volcanic Park. From there I have 19.3 Meilen (nearly 32 kilometers), otherwise I'd need a bear canister for this section (mandatory; the rangers occasionally monitor), i.e. if you camp within the 19.3 miles. Since I'd never manage that section plus the bear section in one go (about 56 km, which includes many ascents), it makes sense to divide the stretches up as planned. Of course, I could start earlier to avoid hiking or pitching a tent in the dark. But I've had practice. Recharging my headlamp is always a top priority. And I need to cover those miles one way or another, no matter how beautiful or how necessary (internet) the campsites may be. In any case, this isn't a camping vacation, after all.
The woman who brought Larry to his car asks me if I'd like a lift to Chester. I'm tempted, but refuse. She gives me the weather forecast – because my cell has meanwhile died, ditto the power bank, the sun is gone, and I've decided to hike without the Guthook app (GPS maps on cell), following the signposts and the (now no longer interactive) maps I'd previously photographed with my camera (which batteries are of course always charged!). So if I got lost, I wouldn't know where I was, nor where the trail was with respect to my position.
(Note from the translator: I'm already lost just reading this description...)
But I have a yen for this adventure. If I can't find my way, I can always seek out a place to cowboy camp by the side of the trail and carry on by day, recharging power bank and cell then. Constantly staring at the cell to make sure I'm on the right track has increasingly been getting on my nerves. Of course it's sometimes necessary in certain situations, but there's a tendency to rely on it too much rather than observing, thinking, and discovering the trail. Once again, you end up depending on a machine. After such a long time on the trail, I'm familiar with how the PCT is laid out, how it should look. Besides which there are signposts (not always with the PCT logo, of course, but sometimes blue (in Oregon) or metallic diamonds) on trees or posts or signs left by other hikers if the trail isn't clearly marked. Sure, these signs – often arrows made of pieces of wood or rocks on the ground – aren't easily recognized this late in the season. Excepting the cairns, often marking the trail on the other side of a dirt road. Larry takes my trash and the small empty camping gas container. I ask him if he has any toilet paper. He gives me some. He's going to sleep in his car, because he's tired and has a four-hour drive ahead.
Makes sense. I'm reminded of James and his dead brother Henry. We met James and his mother Adriana at Spanish Creek Motel in Quincy; they were picking up Henry's stuff...
After 24 km I arrive at the boundary campsite by night; at 1,700-1,800 meters, it's one of the warmest nights I've experienced in a while. There's a spring, too. Great spot. Hiking without Guthook was fine, as the trail is well marked. I only needed to look at the photographed maps twice. Next day I hike the 19.3 miles to the boundary campsite at the other end. My power bank is hooked up to the solar panel, which is attached to the backpack. The section's highlight is Terminal Geyser. I stay for over an hour. Meter-high steam, seething noises, and in the middle of the hot crag (you shouldn't get too close to the edge, much less enter), the steam fountain releases a turquoise towel, a can that looks like a beer can, and a trash bag with chips bag. I call out, is anybody there? No. I'd love to know the story behind the towel and the drinks can, both of which are lying there as if waiting for someone to return from the WC.
It's very warm, nearly hot; I hike to Boiling Springs Lake and rest in the shade. Not only does the sun seem to send warmth, ... the smell of sulfur has also been noticeable for some time, even before the geyser-hydrothermal area. The light turquoise colored lake is boiling in several places. The earth in front of it is red. Wonderfully contrasting colors. I recharge my cell with the power bank and use the Guthook app in the afternoon. The signposts changed from metallic silver diamonds to yellow circles, to red diamonds; since there were no other trails in sight, I assumed they marked the PCT. The last miles to the boundary campsite at the other end of the bear section lead through endless, cool meadows. I arrive at 9:30 pm; two tents and a cowboy-camping hiker had arrived before me, with the intention of heading in the opposite direction. The cowboy camper is still awake. Quick chat; he tells me where he noticed level tent spots. I pitch my tent, intending to attach a cord to an arm-thick tree – and find myself holding the entire tree in my hands. The sandy ground won't hold it anymore. I push the tent pegs deeply into the ground; they'll hold: it's windless. In any case, there aren't any rocks around. I don't feel like looking for any, either. Delicious dinner; fall alseep. In the morning, I make Storybook, Tasty, and Lemon Heel’s acquaintance. Lemon Heel was the fellow I spoke to the evening before. He got his name because he healed the blisters on his heel with lemon. The girl, Storybook, got her name because she experiences the trail like a big history book (I can only agree). Tasty loves to cook and, like us, employs his creativity to make the PCT dining experience as enjoyable as possible. All three recommend I go to Burney instead of Old Station, spending the night in Burney's church.
Old Station is divided into two parts, the upper (as seen if you're headig northbound) and the lower. The lower part, with a small hotel and store, is less convenient for shopping. At the upper end, there's Rim Rock Ranch, where Dusty stayed for $70 Dollar a night; JJ's Cafe, with good food and shakes; and the Fill Up gas station, where the shopping is good, but pricey. I decide to go for one meal and a resupply at the gas station.
I hike the section along Hat Creek at a rapid pace, arriving just after 3 pm. Another disappointment: JJ's closes at 3 pm in the off-season – contrary to Guthook, which states 7 pm. But Melissa is willing to make me some sandwiches and beer. She offers to let me sit out back outside, to stay as long as I like even after she's closed up front. She also leaves on the router for the WiFi, because once again I have no reception with my "mobile data." There are power outlets in front of the café, so I can recharge, and faucet tucked behind a wooden box to fill up my water bottles (both big issues with hikers). The hiker box yields mashed potatoes with bacon and beans. I order 2 avocado-turkey sandwiches and a couple of beers on tap brewed by the local Fallen River Brewery – two different kinds of beer, of course. The second sandwich was planned for next morning's breakfast, but I eat both. Delicious. There's a side of green salad and one of coleslaw. I save the latter for dinner. Excellent beer. I have a spot in the sun and make progress with the banking issues: I need to register anew and the new data will be sent to me via snail mail to my home address. Very funny! Ok, I can still withdraw a bit of money with my card, even overdraw some. Till then, the data have reached Olli, who can then pass them on to me.
At 5:30 pm (as yet it doesn't get dark till 7 pm) I head for the gas station and purchase just enough to last me till Burney. I forget to buy camping gas – the second container is nearly empty – which is a lesson that teaches me the importance of a warm meal and warm beverage. Cold soaking, which some hikers practice, is simply not an option for me. Larry, the owner, describes himself as a workaholic. In addition to working at the gas station, he's been working as a security man for the same boss for the past 32 years. Finally, I drink two midnight-oil coffees – super delicious – he lets me sit in his office. There's a wad of banknotes in front of me. I’m forever delighted by this trust. Meanwhile, it's gotten cold outside. Depending on where you hike in northern California, the temperature contrasts can be huge. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth. As you know, you have to carry every milliliter of water ...
On the way to the new trail register, my goal for today, 10, 12 miles, roughly 20 kilometers, for which I'll need around 4 hours, there's a lava cave. Since it's dark inside and you need a lamp to go in, I tell myself I'll check that out. I spend an hour there, reading the info panels, leave my backpack outside. Then onward and upward to Hat Creek Rim with outlook, which of course I don't see in the dark. However, the rim will accompany my hike for many miles during the next day, and I'll see the Hat Creek valley next morning. I just want to make tracks. At the outlook parking lot, there are two toilets; to the right is a lot for day hikers; according to Guthook, the toilets are the cleanest far and wide. Which turns out to be correct. During the day, the outhouses heat up quite a bit, and because it's grown rather cold and windy, I consider spending the night in one of them. No, I continue hiking. Walking in the dark can be incredibly calming, depending on the terrain. When I'm hiking on the ridge and not in dense forests (which I've dubbed Hansel and Gretel woods), it's really calming. When the temperatures are warmer, I feel safer than when it's colder – I must ask a psychololgist about that ;-)). I encounter a cow family with a couple of calves; but I'm not scared because Guthook warned me about "weird cows." The rest of the stretch is covered in cow patties, although I don't see any more cows. I manage to reach the trail register, which friend Money Maker praises with flowery words in Guthook. The trail getting there was very stony, uneven, and difficult. I took a fall (this would have happened by day, too). An animal had hollowed out the trail, I broke through and fell on my knees despite my poles. Managed to catch myself up pretty well, though. Under pines I found a level spot. It's after midnight. I cooked, ate, rubbed ointment on my knees.
The next day I continue along the sunny and windy Hat Creek Rim; comments in Guthook like "not even Satan would want to hike this Rim" hint at extremely high summer temperatures. Even now, the heat is plenty for me. I always put on suncream with 50x protection, otherwise my face would be red all the time – I'm at 2,000 meters altitude, after all. Besides, there's not much water along this section; you have to carry water for miles. At the telecommunications tower, I take a break, drink the last of my water. Several miles on there's supposed to be water cache 22 sein, a water tank maintained by a private individual with the help of donations. The tank is right next to a tank for cows, none of which I see. The tank for the cows has a thin layer of ice. You first see the cattle tank; the other is hidden behind a wooden fence. There's also a trail register by the cache. I again register us both. Am determined to donate money to maintain this cache once I'm back in Germany. It's nearly 4 pm; I continue on.
Another two days pass without encountering a soul. The section across the high plateau, characterized by volcanic rocks, after Hat Creek Rim, is very beautiful. Since I now carry the solar panel hooked up to my backpack more often, I've figured out a good way to attach it (used to be Olli's job). So I've got enough battery and listen to music - Kate Bush, Cat Stevens, Tangerine Dream, Roberta Flack ... The sunset is outstanding. Onward.
About 10 km before Burney, I pitch my tent. An unbelievable amount of fall foliage beneath me. The night grows very cold; by the end of it, all the water has frozen in the bottles, even though they were inside the tent. In the morning, I leave them to melt in the sun; I stick a knife into the bottle openings to break down the ice and make myself cold coffee (I've run out of gas). It tastes pretty good, but doesn't warm me up. Haha. I have AT&T, so answer or comment on all the messages from friends and family. At 11 am I'm warm enough to decamp. The section is gorgeous and the autumn foliage shimmers in the sunlight. Before you pass an electricity plant, you traverse pipes; you can hear the water rushing through them. Under a tree there's a plastic chair with the inscription: "Have a seat under the tree of knowledge." Knowledge never hurts, so I sit there for half an hour, eat and drink and message my friend Scarlett (a teacher) re her change of schools. At the electricity plant, which vaguely reminds me of a little castle, a women approaches me, asking, "Where have you been?" as if we've known each other forever. We chat; she’s surprised to encounter a hiker here this time of year. I explain, and that I'm not the only one. She offers to take me immediately to Burney fahren; I tell her I prefer to hike the trail to the road to Burney. She nods, understanding ... But if she should happen to arrive there, coincidentally, in about an hour and a half, I wouldn't mind getting a lift the last 5-7 miles to Burney. We laugh and take our leave. People are just so warm and friendly. I pass by at a wonderful lake with picnic tables and portaloos, which I can see from afar; I even spot a pelican on the lake.
I arrive at the road to Burney at 4:30. I took my time for the 20 kilometers. After 5 minutes of thumbing a ride, Brian stops. He's picked up many a hiker. He's friendly with the pastor at the Word of Life Church, a free church, whose members are united in their faith in Jesus and his deeds. Brian texts the pastor, who responds: in an hour I can come into the church's gym, where hikers are allowed to stay overnight, cook, and shower. Super. Brian takes me to Burney’s Sporting Goods - I immediately purchase a large and a small gas container. When I thank Brian profusely, he answers, "Thatˋs the only thing we can do for you guys, who do this amazing trail." Larry, der pastor, is already waiting when I walk over to the church gym; he briefs me. Another hiker, a German named Martin, has the key. I put my stuff down. The kitchen table is covered with hiker utensils. I want to eat at the Chinese place next door. I'm instructed to pull the door shut when I leave. He hopes it will work out, that Martin will open the door for me; I need to knock loudly on the door to the gym. I write a note to Martin, with my phone number, place it on the kitchen table. Larry is constantly on the go, as I note in the next days. Halloween and a few activities are coming up. The community collects donations and warm clothing for homeless people and organize a Halloween event for the younger children, a safe (;-)) cooperation with the fire department, who have planned a scary event for the adults. Donated candy (Snickers) fills several boxes.
I was in luck, Larry informed me. The church café is open Tuesdays through Thursdays, which has everything: lattes, London Fog, mocha, capuccino ... I'm looking forward to the next morning. I am to register in the church office next day; there's a file for a copy of my ID or driver's license, date and trail name. I have dinner at the Chinese place, I've got internet; I drink wine. At 9 pm everything closes. Over in the gym, I meet Martin, who has a phone problem. So he would never have reached me. Brian texts me to see if everything worked out ok. Yes, I respond, with thanks. People here are wonderfully warm-hearted, unpretentious and unobtrusive. Simply uncomplicated.
Martin and ich talk till 5 am. Mechanical engineer. He quit his job. He was in the gym for a week, waiting for packages. At 5:50 am his bus leaves for Redding, from there to the airport, then to New Zealand, where he plans to hike another trail. Martin didn't do a few hundred miles in northern California, and he's also missing the stretch from Hart Pass in Washington to the Canadian border; he didn't get permission to cross the border. Instead he approached the Terminus from the Canadian side (which in fact is forbidden, since the Terminus is actually US territory ;-)). Then he returned to Hart Pass and has since been hiking southbound, finishing in Burney. Like me, he's someone who likes to finish what he starts; but the real victory, he admits, is calling it a day for the PCT at this point. He too was loathe to deal with the visa extension issue... He asks: how far would I go, what risks would I take, to complete the PCT? I answer: far. But I've benefited from the window of good weather and had hiked in the spring under much more difficult conditions. But I'm not as crazy as those folks who do the Sierra in May, June, with snow, below-freezing temperatures for days and weeks. You have to know when you've lost the battle with yourself, I say, laughing. I'd given up investing energy convincing myself to quit this or that somewhat earlier. Ultimately I've always been happy with my decisions.
Martin mentioned that the light in shower turns off after 7 minuten, so better not to stand under the shower: the motion detector is directly in front of it. Martin bequeaths me some food.
Martin and I are in contact via WA; he's arrived safely in New Zealand.
The next morning in the café, I encounter the remarkable Bon(nie) and her husband Ron, who entered the gym previously with a portable washer and dryer, which will be available to hikers next year. At that point I did not know who he was. Martin is gone.
Bon and Ron are retired. Ron was in Vietnam. Bon was a criminologist, among many other things – including a singer: she portrayed Grizzabella in the musical "Cats," among other things. The coffee is wonderful. We're immediately on the same wavelength; we share the same sense of humor. When I mention that I need to find a laundromat, and quickly change behind a machine in order to wash all my dirty clothes (I had borrowed some clothes from the gym), they protest, saying I can wash my stuff at their house. Bon then drives me to Safeway and picks me and my bags up again. Since there are no small bottles of whiskey, I purchase a 0.2 l bottle of Kirschwasser. Since Cowboy Will’s gift of whiskey in der Sierra, we've kept refilling the bottle. A slug in the evening or midday wakens the spirit, not just if you happen to be astride a horse.
Then we drive to Burney Falls; there's a short site trail off the PCT connecting to it (definitely worth the detour!). I'm delighted to see the falls unencumbered by hiking out and sacrificing a "stay." Afterwards, Bon and Ron take me to Annaˋs Kitchen for dinner. We have a lovely time. I interview Ron about Vietnam, among other things. I stay another two nights at the gym. Drop some money in the donation box there. I work in the kitchen (blog et al.). Ron gives me the tip to turn on and open the ovens. When the door to the gym is closed, the kitchen gets really warm.
John, the housekeeper with an imposing moustache, is just as helpful. He offers me a couple of pads for the hip strap on my backpack, which lessens the pressure on my hip bones, which have lost their fatty tissue.
On the second evening, a youth group arrives, led by Morgan and Amanda: "We have our youth here every Wednesday." Larry must have forgotten to mention it. I'd generously spread out in the kitchen and Morgan and Murphy, one of the dads, were chopping up tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, and peppers in between my SD cards and the stand-alone photocopier, preparing sour cream and guacamole dip, frying chopped beef. Tucker the dog examined my backpack and poles at length. Amanda was in the gym with the kids. Filled tacos were on the menu, and I was invited. That was great – I'd been about to head to the Pizza Factory. Meanwhile, Hansel and Gretel had arrived, two hikers from Germany, who joined the meal. Siblings Astrid, 25, and Lowik, who'd recently turned 18 on the trail, were true southbounders and were planning to reach the end by December. They'd done the Sierras first, good thing, as there's a heap of snow there now. I interviewed Morgan, 35, who no longer works but lives off his savings, about what motivates him. Amanda organized a Halloween quiz for the kids 9-15 years old; some played ball. Morgan and Amanda train the kids in various ball games. Some of the kids chatted to me, wanted to know what I'm doing, some knew what the PCT was. I blossomed, since I work with kids and adolescents a lot and obviously miss it. Later, when the gym was quiet again, I interviewed Hansel and Gretel. In the morning, Bon and Ron returned to the café; Bon was off duty, but we wanted to see each other again. They were on their way to Redding to donate blood for leukemia patients. I also met Ken, the senior pastor. He showed me around to the church interior, a grand piano, drums, mics, a complete setup. Olli plans to be in Burney next year. I contact him briefly; he says he'd be happy to perform at a service, including some of his own pieces. Maybe something from the Rock Opera. Ken plays guitar, his son the drums. We'll have to tell Kris that ;-))
After three nights and nearly three days with marvelous coffee and encounters, the secretary Kathy drives me to the trail head. Ron and Bon again send their best wishes via text. No matter where I encounter problems, I should call them – they'd come right away. It's evening again, 5:50 pm.
(There are photos and videos of the geyser and Boiling Springs Lake, but no cell phone photos due to empty battery. Patience, a bit longer!)