HIKE

I faced an existential threat of losing my identity. I'd just retired from a thirty six year career in the Navy where I tied my purpose to the people I worked with and the jobs I performed. I now felt sad, alone and uncertain of the future. What would I do with the rest of my life? Would my family and friends see me in the same light-even if I was not wearing a uniform? Would I be able to stay sharp and continue the adventurous lifestyle that I loved? These questions wrecked my head and I was nervous in a manner that I had never felt. I thought if I trained for a new adventure I would regain some semblance of purpose. I knew the comfort that outdoor life could deliver to my soul. So I set out to hike the California portion of the Pacific Crest Trail. I hoped the time alone would give me clarity and vision on how to create a new and meaningful future.  I've been told that hiking the PCT would change my life, but that sounds overhyped to me. 

The following pages are excerpts of my thoughts and experiences while I was on this western U.S. trail. The journal entries are chronologically arranged with images of hikers and nature. I've added the location and hiker trail names if I knew them. The photos were captured with iPhone 13 and 15 Pro’s.

Comfortable Outside My Comfort Zone

My body was depleted but well prepared after hiking twenty miles to Lake Morena. Day one was complete. I hiked a couple hundred miles around my hometown to break in three pairs of boots, get in shape and become familiar with my equipment. I named my local hiking path the Whidbey Island Postal Trail (WIPT) because most of my training was on the side of the road where I found myself sticking to the tracks created by our local mail trucks. There seems to be so much unknown in front of me, that this endeavor feels overwhelming. I am content in the fact that I've read several books about the trail and I think I know the basics of this endeavor. I know there will be several things that I'll just have to figure out as I go. I suspect there is a large divide between the academics and practical aspects of a long distance hike. The only way through this unknown is to get outside and go. Fortunately, life in the military has trained me to be comfortable outside my comfort zone. I shall push to Mount Laguna where I will meet Scuba Sue before she leaves San Diego and drives to Palm Springs for a springtime spa. 

Buon Appetit'

I camped in French Canyon and made friends with Dylan, Joe, Cathy and Greg whose trail name is "Chudy." I met my wife, whom I call Scuba Sue, in Mount Laguna at a French tavern. The European atmosphere was nonchalant and the entrees were thoughtfully prepared. I devoured a hearty ribeye with a tasty chimichurri sauce. Fresh squeezed lemonade quenched my thirst. I am watchful of the other hikers to see how they navigate their caloric intake as well as their outdoor skills.

Horny Toads & Snakes

Sue sent me off from the Mount Laguna Lodge after a restless night's sleep. Today was filled with beautiful mountain vistas-I could see the Salton Sea to the east. Tonight the low will be in the mid 40's. The frigid nights have left ice sheets on my tent.Tomorrow I'll follow Chudy's plan and shoot for a fifteen mile hiking day. I've met more Europeans than I expected.

I saw my first snake- a little guy though. Birds fill the air and horny toads share the trail's edge. The wildflowers add bright colors to my peripheries. I have not found my calm but I am confident that I am moving in the right direction.

Julian, California

Julian is a hiker friendly town and the local diner (Moms) offers through-hikers a free slice of pie, a spoonful of ice cream and a cup of coffee. All you have to do is show the waitress your PCT permit. For permit purposes, the PCT Association defines a through-hiker as someone who continuously hikes in excess of 500 miles. 

Today was a shorter hike and I found myself helping an international hiker named Uta get to town. Her feet hurt, she was having gear issues (her pack is entirely too heavy) and she had never hitchhiked. Uta seemed naive to American ways and I was fearful of her hitching into town alone. The morning sunrise warmed my face as I watched speedy jackrabbits dart across the trail. Hiking from sunrise to sunset consumes my energies and thoughts. The cadence of my foot strikes create a meditative rhythm. I already feel so alive and free.

In Julian I spent the night at American Legion Post 463 because they offer hikers free cots on the back patio. While having a cheap beer in the hall, I was able to meet a couple of the local vets. It was fun to chat with them about their service. We teased each other about being in the wrong branch or who had better uniforms- just the kind of jostling that military guys do with each other. One interaction with an older guy started out friendly but when I said the helicopter I flew in was more advanced than his, he became agitated and demanded that his aircraft was better. I acquiesced and gave him the victory. After he settled I apologized. He told me how he had been shot in the torso and neck while flying and fighting in Somalia. I could not see the scars but the wounds were real.

Sleeping on the Ledge

A kind trail angel gave Pepe, Uta and I a lift to the trailhead this morning. Some of the trail angels offer rides for payment. Some do it as a means to connect to the hikers. This morning's angel was the latter. I feel obliged to chip in for gas money-even when its not expected. It was a rough hike up the mountains as the day got toasty. I used my umbrella for the first time to keep the sun off my head. The shade made a substantial difference and kept me cool. When we made it to a well placed water cache, I was down to my last drop. A group of about a dozen hikers rested for a couple hours during the middle of the day. I ended the day with over eighteen miles of hiking. Tonight, Chudy, Pepe, Tricia and I are on a small clearing near a ledge with a beautiful view.  We will skip setting up our tents and sleep directly under the stars-the hikers refer to this as cowboy camping. Tomorrow we make for the small town of Warner Springs to clean up and take on food supplies.

Prisoner of War School Revisited

Last night's starlit camp left me in awe of our universe. The moon moved across the sky like it was my personal light show. My sleep was refreshing and I felt fresh waking at 4 a.m. to hike to Warner Springs. Upon arrival at the local community center, we washed our clothes in a deep sink and gave ourselves refreshing but chilly outdoor showers. The local trail angel, "Off Trail" drove hikers back-and-forth to the gas station until Chudy decided he had too much beer. Off Trail seemed happy to give Chudy the car keys. 

The last time I was in Warner Springs, I was going through SERE school (Survival, Evasion, Rescue & Escape.)  It was proper training on how to survive and evade behind the enemy lines. When we were captured, we were taught how to return home with honor, even after "enhanced interrogation." It was a realistic prisoner of war experience. My current feelings of freedom are enhanced as I compare it to the military training from so long ago.

We left the rec center around 5 p.m. and hiked a couple more miles before pitching our tents at an old Boy Scout camp site.

Today my spirits were boosted by playing on Eagle Rock and passing the 100 mile marker. 

I am so immersed in the physical aspect of this trek that I find scant time to wallow in my insecurities and seemingly minor problems. 

A Calm Heart

Last night I camped with Joe, Cathy, Dylan and Pepe. We were blessed with a beautiful lunar eclipse. The shadowed Moon was visible from my tent at 9:30 p.m. I struggled to stay awake and drifted off before ten. I woke at midnight and the eclipse was over. The meadow was awash in a new bright light. I was tired but energized at the same time.

Most of today's hike felt uphill. Our destination was a dilapidated mountain cabin called Mike's House. The abandoned property gave me visions of a 1960's psycho cult compound. As I scouted the area, I was alerted to a large rattlesnake in a pile of debris. I would have gotten closer but his distinctive rattle let me know of his disdain for a close-up. We ate our lunch, rested, filled our water bags and moved on.

Tricia and Joe got trail names within the past day. Tricia will now be referred to as ATF, as in: Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms. The name stemmed from a conversation the other day at a water cache. She went on about guns and shooting people who threatened to take her camp spot. It was rather dark but we were all in tears from laughing so hard. Joe will now be referred to as Ash Potato because he had once more burnt his mashed potatoes. Something about these camp stoves is just a little difficult to get used to. We are now camped on a mountain ridge in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park. The sun has set, and it's getting chilly, but I could not have asked for a better day. My heart grows calm.

God's Own Harley

We cowboy camped on a flat spot secure from the winds by surrounding sage bushes. The setting Sun and rising Moon should have eased me into a restful slumber but as I desperately tried to doze off, the evening racket drew me to the conclusion that God drives a Harley Davidson motorcycle. His glaring headlamp was the full Moon's light reflecting off the mountain tops. The howling wind was his exhaust and the shimmering stars were sparks coming from the tailpipes. Nature's evening show made my heart race and I felt like I was at a celestial party. 

We woke at 4:30 and as we were breaking camp Dylan moved his backpack and was greeted by a large tarantula. It was really hilarious as the little monster strutted through our camp and onto his next hiding spot. I will not be cowboy camping tonight.

Today was a sixteen mile day. The morning was crisp and the sky turned purple as the sun rose. It was a rocky, narrow downhill hike for the first two hours. Pepe and I hiked together the entire way. We passed Ash and Cathy who started earlier. Dylan fell off the pace when he stopped to shed a layer of clothes. The morning sun heated the hillside. Our packs were heavy with water. Pepe and I are good hiking partners and we kept good time. Gandolph the Red met us for the last few miles. His quick pace pushed us till we reached a campsite called Mary's Place. Chudy and ATF arrived in the afternoon. They had to wait in Warner Springs for the post office to open and pick up their resupply boxes.

Cathy will now be referred to as Blue Heeler. She's a dog lover and she also has a silver dollar sized blister on the side of her blueish bruised heel. I didn't know it, but a Blue Heeler is a cattle dog.  Blue has been a real trooper making the miles but she will most likely have to tend to the injury with some rest. I'm lucky to be out here with such good people and the wonders of nature.

Ducky and The Economist

We pushed off early this morning and arrived at Paradise Café as the doors opened. I ate a greasy truckers breakfast-it felt satisfying after the quick morning hike.

My trail family (Tramily) hitch-hiked into Idyllwild today so they could purchase fresh supplies, take an off- day (Zero) and enjoy some beers. I wish I was with them but I've got some miles to make and hills to climb to meet Scuba Sue by Friday afternoon. Today's hike felt completely uphill. I'm at 6,700 feet now and my camp spot overlooks San Bernardino Valley. I lost track of the trail a couple of times while crossing downed trees. FarOut's navigation app proved very handy getting me back on track. My backpack (whom I call Ducky) is heavy with water and four days of food. The extra weight makes my shoulders hurt.

I saw a pair of deer jumping off to the side of the path this morning. I wish I could prance up the steep hills the way they do. The last quarter of my day was hiking with "Chris the Economist." He is from Washington D.C. We made camp at the end of the afternoon in a spot with epic views of the valley and Palm Desert. It was a great day to be alive and I'm looking forward to tomorrow's adventures.

The Obstacle Course

The trail was littered with so many fallen trees that I was reminded of the obstacle courses we ran in the Navy. I had to climb over, around and under the dead trees. I experimented by taking my pack off as I went over the top of one downed giant. When I straddled one trunk, I laughed and pretended to ride a rodeo horse. Another time I imagined myself as a track and field high-jumper as I flopped over the busted log.

When I woke up yesterday I saw several patches of snow at my 8,600 foot campsite. The temperatures are moderate so I doubt winter's white remnants will remain for long. My evening rest was only fair because my breathing was labored by the thin air. 

The next evening, Chris the Economist and I shared a campsite under the trees close to Tahquitz peak. We walked a couple miles together in the morning until we came to a junction which would lead me off the south ridge. The Economist hiked up as he wanted to summit the 10,804 foot summit of San Jacinto.

A "Zero" is when a hiker takes a day of rest. A "Nero" is when we hike close to zero miles. My two mile hike to the Tahquitz Ridge Trail Spur and then the following three and a half miles down the mountain made for my rendition of a nero.

Scuba met me at the Red Robin Café in Idyllwild as I finished my  juices, milk, coffee, and fish taco plate. Scuba looks like a supermodel and feels great because she just finished her spa in Palm Desert. I jokingly call her spa "rehab." She laughs at my jokes even when they're not that funny. It's good to be with her as we rest at a small Hilton in Palm Desert. Tomorrow she will drop me off where Highway 10 crosses the PCT.  She'll then head to Santa Monica to pick up her dad, and they will take a road trip home to Whidbey Island. Sue’s dad, Pat, asked her to show him the giant Coastal Redwood Trees of northern California.

Hike Your Own Hike

Yesterday morning Scuba dropped me off and I walked six miles south to meet my friends. Once we met, I turned around and we headed in the proper direction. Twelve of my miles were without progress from the morning drop off but that's OK-It's the way I wanted to hike that day. It was good to see smiles on the faces of my new friends. 

When the trail crossed under Highway 10, a hiker named Jack was under the overpass with beer and Gatorade. We lingered and guzzled for thirty minutes before we hitched a ride to Cabazon for burgers, fries and shakes. Most of us had to top off our food supplies as we geared up for a march towards Big Bear Lake.

As the sun set, I made camp south of the Mesa Wind Farm. I dropped my bag and quickly pitched my tent-I was cold and the darkness was quickly surrounding me. 

From the time I dropped Ducky, to when I drove the final tent stake into the ground, a California King Snake located the bag of peanuts in the waist pouch of my backpack. It looked like he was moving in for dinner. I was wearing my headlamp and when I turned our eyes met-the little guy performed an about face and slithered into the bushes. Relief set in-I didn't have enough food for both of us.

The saying of "Hike your Own Hike" means several things to me now that I've had 170 miles to ponder it. Be independent and confident and know where you're going. Travel at your own speed. Hike a manageable distance. Hike when your body tells you it's ready, and not before. Sometimes it means sharing your hike with others and being grateful that they have shared their hike with you.

Battle With the Bees

Last night's camp was at mile 227 and tonight we are on the ridge line in the San Bernardino Mountains. Sleeping on ridges can be beautiful but you are also exposed to the elements. We are making steady progress. I've watered the trail with sweat.

Recent rest stops include the Mesa Wind Farm Outpost and the Whitewater River Preserve. The biologist at the wind farm track the population and health of the Desert Tortoise. They keep their coffee mess open to hikers so we can hydrate and charge our phones, battery packs, gps's and torches. The Whitewater Preserve is a Bighorn Mountain Sheep sanctuary. I counted forty sheep in the meadows and on the sides of the mountain. There was a knee deep pond to wade in and cool-off. The green trees at this oasis stood out against the dry California landscape. Dylan and I enjoyed the desert rest stop.

Ash, Blue and I were attacked by a swarm of bees today. All three of us  were stung at least twice. As the attack commenced, Ash hollered at me, "Run Ziggy Run!" I was laughing and crying at the same time. I thought we looked like some kind of comedy skit as we sprinted across the ridge jumping and screaming at the little bees.

Giants of the Forest

Yesterday's hike began at 8,000 feet in the San Bernardino National Forest. We slept under a giant Fir Tree a couple miles north of Mission Springs. The Moon is waning but it still managed to break through my eyelids at 3:30 in the morning. Pepe and I hiked twenty three miles yesterday. We popped off the trail a little east of a bone-dry, Baldwin Lake. Trail angel turned hiker, Captain Jack was with us. We hitched a ride into Big Bear in a giant Toyota Tundra truck. Pepe and Jack had to crouch down in the bed of the truck as we came down the road like a formula one race car. The poor guys in the back were tossed around like ragdolls.

Pepe and I shared a room at a Motel 6. The joint was a ghetto, but it felt good to have a soft bed and a fresh morning cup of coffee. We spent the evening at a local BBQ joint where it was square dancing night. I saw several European hikers and they were having the time of their lives as they took in some American country-western culture.

I don't know if we will see more of the giant Ponderosa and Fir Trees like the ones we encountered yesterday.  I felt like I was in the presence of greatness as the trees towered over me.

Bat Eyes

We finished shopping in Big Bear but before we headed back to the trail we dined at Maggio's Italian restaurant. Hiker hunger is a real phenomenon.

I called our Formula One driver to take us back to the trailhead and he showed up in a Chevy Suburban because we had eight hikers this time. We crammed the car to the gills and locked ourselves in for a race up the hill. We left our new friend, "Grandma" at the Motel 6. She wanted an extra night's rest. We hope she will catch up to us. She is a strong and confident gal and is a fine example of someone who has the confidence  to hike their own hike.

We came across another Boy Scout campsite a couple miles up the hill and set to making camp and dinner. Blue and Ash practiced hanging their food bags from a tree. A couple of the locals warned us that Black Bears live in the vicinity. A lady in the grocery store said an occasional mountain lion can be seen. We've had no such encounters but I did hear the coyotes howling in the morning as I woke up. 

Pepe and I left camp together in the early morning darkness. We were both wearing our headlamps and I was in front, "walking point."  As I shined my light up the hill, I noticed what looked like animal eyes reflecting back at me. At first I thought it was a small varmint, like a mouse or a cat. But as I approached, the glowing yellow eyes fluttered away into the shadows of the trees. Then I saw another pair of eyes, and another and, another! I stopped to show Pepe what was going on. I told him I thought they were bats. Sure enough, the next one had his giant yellow eyes locked on us. When he flew away we could see how big he was! It was spooky and fun at the same time.

Joshua Tree Inn

Chudy and I found a grand campsite on the top of another bluff with cover from two small trees. We had cell coverage and so we called our wives before hunkering down beneath the setting sun and glowing stars.

The rest of the crew hiked a couple more miles to sleep by a stream. Chudy and I woke up first and got ahead of them under the break of day. The trail followed the Mojave River. Our destination was eighteen miles north to Deer Hot Springs for an afternoon spa. I don't know how the trail managed to remain intact as it was etched into the side of the mountain. Several times the path crossed loose rock and landslides. This hiking called for a higher level of concentration for any misstep could send you several hundred feet down the steep slope. When the trail gets sketchy, Pepe and I don't chat much because we are busy focusing on our footsteps. When the hiking is easy we discuss our families, travel and life experiences. Chudy has a quicker pace and when we hike together our conversations are important and meaningful to me too.

We finally arrived at Deer Hot Springs and spent three hours exploring the warm pools with locals. We left with some apprehension because ATF and Gandolph had not arrived. We suspected ATF's blisters had gotten the better of her but we were confident that Gandolph would stick by her. We struck out in hope of finding a clear spot to pitch our tents for the night. But because the trail was entrenched in the hills, there was no flat ground for us to camp. We were all tired. We kept moving for several miles until we reached Highway 174 and caught a lift into town for food at the Joshua Tree Inn and Bar. This tavern offered their gravely back lot to hikers to pitch their tents.

Gandolph and ATF eventually showed up at the honky-tonk bar.  They powered through the day in spite of blister pain and overuse injuries. I was happy to eat hot food. I've been running a calorie deficit for the past two and half weeks. I know I've lost some weight. I am skeptical that this tempo is sustainable for the entire summer. I guess in the meantime I will figure out what four or five hot dogs can do to solve the problem. Maybe I will even have a beer or two. 

About twenty hikers were in the pub that appears to ordinarily serve locals, mountain bikers and ATV enthusiasts. Now I lay down in my tent at 10 O'Clock after another majestic day full of adventure, beauty and camaraderie. I think these notes only scratch the surface of my thoughts and experiences. I hope the words and pictures will solidify my memories. I can't wait for tomorrow as I feel myself grow.

KFC on the PCT

We are taking a zero in the mountain town of Wrightwood. Our tramily pooled funds to reserve a hip little ski cabin. We will stay for two nights, rest our legs, and plan the next segments of our journey. This town has a cool vibe. It was great to take a warm shower and wash my clothes. Goodbye hiker funk, at least for a couple of days.

After we left the Joshua Tree Inn, we hiked twenty three miles and then twenty five the following day. We spent time by Lake Silverwood and enjoyed a dip in the cool mountain water. The word on the trail was that you could order Uber-Eats from the picnic area, so I placed an order for a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken (my first ever UberEats!). It's funny what you crave when hiker hunger arrives. 

By the end of the day's end we gained elevation and cowboy camped on the top of a ridge.  We pushed through El Cajon Pass and have now left the San Bernardino National Forest and entered the Angeles National Forest.

On a sad note- Pepe has been called back to work. He hopes to return and meet us in the Sierra. We all are hopeful to see him again. To me it seems a return trip would be difficult to execute from Mexico. It has been delightful to hike with him and to call him my friend. Our next big ascent will be the summit of Mount Baden-Powell at 9,400 feet.  I fill my stomach with fried chicken but my soul is nourished with the smiling faces I see on the trail.

I heard that our tramily is referred to as The Cult. I was told it's because we get up so early but I am skeptical.

When you walk the trail during the quiet of the day, there are  sounds that we don't have back home. I've been rousted by the yelps of coyotes. Birds let me know when the sun is coming up. If you sleep close to a stream the crickets and frogs talk to each other throughout the night. Another sound I enjoy is the rhythmic crunch of the gravel under my feet as I walk the trail. It is usually mixed with the clacking of my hiking poles against the rocks. The hiking poles have become essential as they help me with my balance over the uneven terrain. Crunch, Crunch, Clack, Clack..

Even with my hiking poles, I've ended up falling at least seven or eight times. I have a theory that the rocks on the trail have little rock- hands, and when I step over the rocks, the hands reach up and grab my toes and try to trip me. I don't recall reading about these little baby rock hands in any of my PCT books but I'm quite certain they exist.

Tomorrow we  strike out for Acton to pick up our resupply shipments at the KOA Campground post office. Until then I will sleep under the stars in this beautiful Southern California National Forest.

Running on Empty

We got out of camp early and I made the mistake of not looking at the elevation profile of our morning hike. It was straight up Mount Williamson-Wow. We hit the top and then made a panoramic descent. Shortly after, we had to walk a detour along Highway 2.  The forest area was under preservation to protect the endangered Mountain Yellow Frog. I  hope the little critter makes it. The cool thing about Highway 2 is it's used as a race course by the local Porsche club. We had front row seats.

Today I felt an emptiness from being without my hiking buddy Pepe. His loyalty and knack for hiking my pace was uncanny.

I was toast by the time we arrived at Sulphur Springs Campground. As I was sitting at the picnic table, I passed out from exhaustion. Spider-Man and Grandma were concerned and called Blue and Ash over to see if I was OK. A minute later, when I woke up, Blue was saying:  "Ziggy, Ziggy are you OK?" I came to and told them I just needed a quick rest. I Guess I was running on empty for a bit longer  than I realized. I crashed hard that night. 

We broke camp at 4:40 a.m. and set out for Messenger Flats. It was another beautiful day of hiking in the Angeles Forest. On several occasions I found myself sad as I walked through the burnt forest. Many of the dead black trees are just giant sticks coming out of the ground - soon to topple. It was another exhausting day.

I had a nice chat with a hiker named Strider. She's a Park Ranger and an enthusiast for the great outdoors. I also liked listening to her thoughts on social issues (we didn't agree on many of them, but I played the role of the listener) and reflections of her travels. At Messenger Flats I also talked with members of a Tramily called "The Get Alongs." 

We broke camp at 4:40 a.m. and set out for Messenger Flats. It was another beautiful day of hiking in the Angeles Forest. On several occasions I found myself quite sad from the decimation of previous years' forest fires. Many of the dead black trees are just giant sticks coming out of the ground - soon to topple.

Square Dancing with a Field Mouse

We got out of Messenger Flats and off Mount Gleason early in the morning. I thought it would be funny to sleep on top of one of the picnic tables. Spider-Man and Grandma slept on the ground next to me. I slept fine, especially considering the noisy evening wind. The next day, our goal was to get to Acton. There is a RV campground, a pool, resupply store, showers and washing machines. Once we arrived we had a great afternoon taking care of chores, playing in the pool and seeing so many hikers.

It was here that I was able to talk on the phone to my daughter Ryan-Marie. She told me she was  in the early stages of pregnancy. My face got warm and tears filled my eyes. This will be my first grandchild. I fall short of words to express my feelings.

We left the campground in the late afternoon as the temperatures settled. We found a nice flat spot on a ridge with a canyon overlook. Chudy and I did our normal early wake up and headed out before sunrise. I'm still the slowest at packing my bag and breaking camp but I did get the evolution to under thirty minutes this morning.

As I was hiking the early morning trail, a field mouse bumped into my boot. I stopped and gave the little guy a tap on the butt to help him across the trail, but he scrambled around my legs and went over to the other foot and then he looked up at me. I gave him a second tap with my hiking pole but this guy wanted to dance. He bounced completely around me before he ran into my feet one more time. I couldn't help but laugh as I remembered cartoons where a mouse runs across the floor while a lady is screaming on a chair trying to broom away a little mouse. Eventually, the little guy scampered into the brush. He must've been tuckered out.

Later in the morning I crossed under Highway 14 and moved into Vasquez Rocks Natural Area. Several old Cowboy and Indian movies have been filmed at this location. The rocks rise out of the ground at a steep angle due to it's proximity to the San Andreas Rift.

We made our way into Agua Dolce and had breakfast at a nice little café. Gandolph used the restroom and somehow managed to back up the pipes. The rest of the day we spent hiking north through the Angeles National Forest laughing about the clogged commode. 

I calculate my water consumption at one liter of water for every four miles of travel in this warm weather. On this water-carry, I had to cover twelve miles with lots of uphills. The weight of the water and my  food supply made for a challenging day. Tonight we are sleeping a little north of Bouquet Reservoir on a flat spot under power lines. So tonight I'll fall asleep to the crackle of the electricity and the glimmer of the crescent moon.

500 Miles, 500 Miles

Ash, Blue, Spider-Man and I  started our way down the hill before the sun came up. The destination was Green Valley Fire Station ten miles away. The trail was easy with a gradual downhill slope the whole morning.  We all walked ten miles before nine O'clock. The standard hiker's challenge is to go ten miles by ten a.m.-so we crushed the goal on this particular morning! I chilled-out at the fire station having breakfast, filtering water and organizing my pack. When I took off at eleven it was hotter than I expected. The horseflies and the gnats arrived and relentlessly buzzed about me. I killed a couple horse flies but it wasn't until they drew first blood.

We caught up with Chudy because he had to detour into Lake Hughes to pick up a resupply box. We also found Gandolph and ATF later that day. It was good to be hiking together.

Chudy is great at setting a pace that is right for the incline (or decline) and the time of the day-he has a good sense for others fatigue or power.

Tonight I talked with "Gnome" about "why" people walk the trail. I like asking the why question. The problem is, the answer is usually deeper than most folks want to share. Of course, everyone wants to enjoy nature and the great outdoors-but I'm looking for the person that opens up and shares their secrets, fears and reason for taking to the mountains for several months and thousands of miles. Gnome was pretty forthcoming with his "why." I concluded that he is a wandering soul and still searching for his life's purpose.

I'm walking the trail to have a clearer vision of what a post military life will look like. It's scary to not know what the future will bring. I want my life to be meaningful, healthy and prosperous. I know I need to see my future before I can create it.

As of today we have hiked 500 miles. I hope I figure this out quickly, because my feet are sore.

Night Moves & MoonShadows

We finished the day and pitched our tents at Horse Trail Camp. There were at least three trail families gathered for the night. Everyone is gearing up for the hottest section of the hike. The seasonal stream close to the camp had just run dry. We were still nine miles from Hikertown which would be our next water supply. I had plenty of water but was down to the end of my food. No problem-my pack would be light. I've lost a couple of inches on my waist and Ducky is no longer snug at my hips. I'll have to get a smaller backpack or create a bigger belly. 

Hikertown is the home of Boss Hogg and his wife Martha. They built a mock town on their property with tiny cabanas that hikers can rent. The huts have signs on them like Sheriff's Office, Post Office, Hardware store, etc. It looks like a Disney town morphed with an old western movie set. Boss and Martha sell food, juice and offer rides to the local store. Boss is probably in his mid 70's. Martha is younger and keeps Hikertown clean. There were at least forty hikers in and out of the resting area throughout the day. Boss told me he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. I told him I just retired from the Navy.  At this point I did not have to pay for anything more. Before we left, I gathered about twenty of the hikers and we sang Boss and Martha a marching cadence. I think our spontaneous ditty made his day.

Ash and Blue, Semi and I got out a little after 7 p.m. to night hike the first twenty four miles of the Mojave. The evening hike paralleled the California Aqueduct. Blue and Ash scooched ahead of Semi and I. Semi is a touch older than me and a veteran Appalachian Trail hiker. Gnome, Pebbles, and Shuffles (The Get Alongs) caught up to us and we hiked with them till we couldn't go any further. It was 04:00 when Semi and I collapsed for a rest. We were one mile short of our destination but knew that we would be able to get to the water source in a couple of hours when the sun would wake us. In that twenty four hour stretch I hiked thirty two miles.

The plan was to rest during the next day and then finish the last miles before we  hitchhiked into Mojave where an air conditioned hotel room will be waiting.The evening desert was filled with moving shadows from the windmill vanes, running mice and Joshua Tree Cacti. Mother Moon was about eighty percent full and shone on us till she set at three a.m. It's good that we were night hiking as the daytime temperatures are well over 100.

I'm ready to rest my feet at the Best Western Motel. We are in the midst of a challenging section and I will soon swap my sectional paper National Geographic map for the next one (they are printed in a series of eleven) to guide us through the Sierra Nevada. The Sierra will give us new challenges to include long hikes between resupplies, river crossings, steep climbs and challenging terrain. My confidence to navigate the next section grows with each day.

Ashe's Appetite & The Kind Texan

We made our way out of the Tehachapi Mountains and got off the trail at Willow Springs Road in hopes of catching a ride to Mojave. At the trailhead we met a retired firefighter who gave us a lift to the local Denny's restaurant. We were hungry from a big morning hike and quickly commenced a feeding frenzy.

I enjoy watching Ash order food. Sometimes he gets two entrées. Other times he'll get an entrée and two or three side dishes. We all had a good laugh when he ordered his feast and then they laughed at me because I like to order four drinks before I start with food. Chudy joined us after we sat down. He arrived in town the prior day because he was expecting a package and had to get to the post office before it closed. He hiked forty one miles in a 24 hour period. It was an epic display of determination, athleticism and commitment.

After breakfast we went to the hotel for an early check-in. As I talked to the receptionist about arranging a taxi to the grocery store a tall gentleman behind me offered to give us a ride. He was an older, soft spoken Texan. 

The Texan owned a large flatbed truck. He was in town to do a hauling job with his grandson. Chudy and I took him up on the offer and he drove us to the supermarket and then he waited for us so he could give us a ride back. He was a really nice fella. He and Chudy hit it off pretty well. His name was Matt.

The hotel had a nice blue pool, strong air conditioners and clean rooms. The tramily went out for an early dinner and we planned our attack to get on the trail the next day.

Chudy saw Matt again and asked him if he would be willing to give us a ride back to the trail. Matt obliged. We waited until late afternoon when the temperatures cooled and then we headed out via Creek Canyon Road to hike through Cameron Canyon and the northern part of the Tehachapi Wind Farms. 

We traversed ten miles of trail and  crossed Highway 58. Our camp was halfway up a mountain and out of ear shot from the freeway and the railroad tracks below. It was a beautiful day and I was grateful to be able to make it back on the trail, with the help of The Kind Texan.

Blown off the Mountain

Our camp was in a little grove of Joshua Trees halfway up a Red Mountain. The grove offered modest protection from the wind and evening chill. When we made our way over the summit, gale force winds kicked up and fog engulfed us. The temperatures suddenly dropped and we were stuck in a low pressure zone. The winds became so powerful that we had to crouch low and carefully move up and over the mountain. We were 6,200 feet up the mountain.  It was a sketchy situation and more intense than any of us anticipated. Progress was slow. As we crested the summit and moved off the hill we escaped the natural wind tunnel.

We finished our day at Miller Springs campground. Ash, Spidey Chudy and I had to hike down to the spring in the morning to get the water. It was an extra two miles but it was good water. There's been a lot of trail-drama (via the crowdsourced navigation app, FarOut) because some hikers said that the water in this stretch was tainted from an algae bloom. We each carried seven liters of water so we could pass up the presumed unfilterable water. We were unaffected but did have some heavy backpacks over the course of the two days. Together, our Tramily has made it through this adventurous section.

Anticipating The Sierra

As I hiked through Owens Peak Wilderness I could smell the charred odor of the recent forest fires. We passed Chimney Creek and then entered Sequoia National Forest. The giant trees made the forest feel completely alive. The wind soothed me as it swept through the pine needles.

The day prior to entering Kennedy Meadows South a hiker named Quadzilla came upon Spidey and I as we were hiking together. Quadzilla was attempting to hike the Appalachian Trail, the Continental Divide Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail in the same calendar year. This herculean feat has only been accomplished by a handful of people. He has thousands of followers on social media. Quadzilla was born in China then immigrated to the United States as a small child. His father was part of the 1989 rebellion in Tiananmen Square. This man was tall, muscular and fit and when I hiked behind him, it seemed that he would float above the trail rather than pound it into submission. When we camped at Grumpy's later that night it was lively as several trail families were interacting with each other and sharing their trail experiences. Quadzilla served in the Missouri National Guard and it felt like we had a serviceman's connection. The next morning Quadzilla and I said our goodbyes as we signed each other's backpacks. It was cool to be a part of his historic hike. Later in the summer I picked him up from the northern terminus of the PCT and drove him to SEATAC so he could make his way to the Continental Divide Trail.

Trail Angels and Their Magic

Trail angels help hikers by offering rides into towns, maintaining water caches and handing out goodies: sodas, fresh fruit, cold beer, etc. or what hikers call Trail Magic.

Our friend Captain Jack got off the trail because of injured shins. But his interaction with the trail was not complete. He texted us saying he wanted to connect and provide some trail magic. We picked a fire road accessible spot at mile 608. Captain Jack lives in Carlsbad so it was about a four hour drive for him. Ole Jack didn't mind the drive and he loaded up his Chevy Suburban with hotdogs, fresh fruit, salad, water, Gatorade, beer and he left at four in the morning. He arrived in the late morning and we found him in the mid afternoon. The last time I saw him was in Wrightwood and that's where he exited the trail. After our hamburger and hotdogs we made our way into a meadow where we camped for the night. Our tummies were full and I fell asleep with a smile on my face. 

Two days later we met my friends Pat and Ellen. Pat and I flew in the same squadron and have been friends for many years. I asked Pat if he would meet us along the trail to either hike or just hang out one day. He figured Walker Pass would be a good place to meet us.  He loaded up his giant RV with hamburgers, candy, water, beer, and various fruits and vegetables from his garden. His arrival was timed perfectly as Chudy was coming into the campground when Pat pulled in. A few minutes later I hiked in and Pat greeted me with a cold beer and a big hug. Pat and his wife Ellen fed the Tramily and a few other hikers as they passed through the RV park. He made sure we were well hydrated that day and well into the evening. The next morning the Tramily piled into the RV and went to Lake Isabella for supplies and breakfast at the local diner. The Rigalis were super generous and  loved by the Tramily. Trail Angels and their magic are an important piece to my hike. I believe, when the time comes, it will feel good to pay it forward.At the Kennedy Meadows General Store I picked up my resupply package and chowed down on a burger, fried shrimp and ice cream.  Blue, Ash and I caught a lift up the road to Grumpy's campground. It was a party spot with a small bar and grill. I was wiped out and called it quits early and slept hard through the evening's ruckus.

Entering Kennedy Meadows was exciting because it meant we would officially be out of the desert section. We would have reprieve from the wind in the sun. It also meant we were starting the South Sierra Wilderness.

Blue and I shared butterflies in anticipation of what we think will be the most breathtaking part of this trek.

Mountain Passes

ATF, Gandolph the Red and Grandma were just rolling in to Kennedy Meadows when Blue, Ash and I were leaving. It feels like our Tramily is starting to fracture. Spider-Man peeled off with Gnomes Tramily so he could summit Mount Whitney. How much longer would we all be within a days hike of each other? 

The path leaving Kennedy Meadows was filled with beautiful flora and mountain lakes. The most awe inspiring moment occurred as I stared up to the mountain tops from the base of Forester Pass.

The peak is 13,200 feet. As I approached the pass I could not see or even imagine how the trail was cut into the side of the mountain. I was told, there was a small snowy notch at the top, that would serve as our egress point.  Chudy Blue, Ash and I made our way to the top. With every step, I was humbled by the beauty and the splendor of the mountains. When we made it to the top, my senses were strong and I knew this memory would be forever forged into my mind. I wished I could share this moment with my family and best friends. 

Our trail family has been together for almost 800 miles. I suspect that when I take a double zero in Mammoth they will move forward without me. I am grateful to have learned how to move smartly through the wilderness with them.

Weather, Weather, and More Weather!

A couple of nights after we left Kennedy Meadows South, we were sleeping on top of the ridge at mile 724, above the 10,000 foot mark. It was a great spot and Chudy, Spider-Man, Blue and Ash and I were together. We were pretty tired by the time we got to the tent site. We had a good rest after a long hike but I was awakened at 04:30 by a faint white flash and the sound of distant thunder. After a second clap, I opened my tent and told Chudy I thought we should get off the mountain top before the lightning got closer. We woke up Spiderman and the Brits and started to hustle-packing our bags and disassembling our tents, but the front was moving faster than we were. The thunder got louder and the lightning got brighter. I felt we were going to get dumped-on and end up in a dangerous spot with the lightning. At the last minute the storm moved east and the rain missed us. We continued to move quickly and get off the hill anyway. We fell back to our normal hiking pace and stopped for breakfast before resuming our normal hike tempo. This morning's wake up call was a precursor of the weather that would come later in the day.

I was still pretty high on the mountain when the showers began. Then the rain suddenly turned to snow and then the snow turned to sleet and the sleet turned to hail and the wind picked up and blasted me for at least an hour. I came across an experienced hiker called Tampa Pete. All we could do was laugh at the variety of weather. I was OK as I had my rain poncho, an umbrella and warm gear. But it was an unexpected storm in the middle of June, in the Sierra mountains that hikers would talk about for several days. In hindsight, I liked mothers nature's downpour because it put me on edge and in the end, everything was OK.

Pepe Returns

My dash to Mammoth was hurried because Scuba Sue was meeting me there. Scuba and I would camp at the Westin Hotel. She bought the airline ticket two weeks earlier. It was tough to estimate the exact day I'd make it to town. Luckily I was on track and arrived a couple of hours before her. Scuba and I had traveled to Mammoth several years prior and we knew the town would have a youthful vibe to it. Plus it was my halfway point toward the goal of hiking all of California. It will make me smile to see her. It's been an exhilarating trip, but I have missed our connection. Hanging out at a nice pool,in the warm sun is one of our favorite things to do and I expect we will make a mission out of suntanning.

The part of the PCT and John Muir Trail overlapped was filled with challenging climbs and descents. My quads were depleted on the uphills and the knees and core were destroyed by the downhills. Everyone seems to have their hiker legs by now. The through hikers are  toned and sun kissed. It's easy to spot the day hikers as they smell fresh and look softer.

I've lost and found a few things since this journey began. Lost items include: two toenails, fifteen pounds of fat, one pair of socks, and a connection to the madness of our shrinking world. Found items include: my rib cage, a high level of fitness, clarity of my senses, ideas for the future and Pepe!

Pepe proved me wrong and has returned to the trail. He flew out of Monterrey Mexico to LAX and then he pieced together his transportation of  "Planes, Trains & Automobiles" to meet us in Mammoth. He beat us there by a day and decided to hike into the surrounding mountains find us. I couldn't believe he made the return. We were communicating via our Garmin In-Reachs'  GPS texting capabilities. When we met on the trail several miles prior to the Mammoth trail head. I was overcome with happiness. We shared smiles and conversation as we caught up on all happenings since he left us in Wrightwood. My friend and truest hiking buddy has returned.

The Trail is Life

On our final day at Mammoth Lakes, Scuba Sue dropped me off at 06:00 at Reds Meadows trail by Devils Postpile National Monument. The geology of the postpile was interesting but the formation was a bit underwhelming after seeing the grandeur of the southern Sierra.

The stay in Mammoth was productive and relaxing. Scuba met the trail family and our hotel was a drop off spot for their backpacks while they would go into town to resupply or grab a meal and drinks. Sue and I hung out by the pool and enjoyed our time. I replaced Ducky because she just didn't fit. I purchased a sturdy medium-sized blue Osprey, 58 liter bag. I'm too rotund for the small. This backpack is an upgrade and I hope it lasts to the NorCal border and then my planned extraction point at Crater Lake. I haven't come up with a name for this pack yet. Perhaps Big Bird after its avian namesake.

I've added olive oil to my diet so I can get extra calories. I honestly don't recommend through-hiking as a weight-loss program for anyone but it will work.

While in Mammoth I saw a lot of familiar hiker faces and introduced Scuba to them if I remember their names. I saw Captain Jack as he was there for the Fourth of July weekend with his family. My best encounter was with an old Navy friend (Commander) Ronn Rose. We joined for a drink and reminisced about our days in the airplane, our families, friends and future. He's smart, outdoorsy, passionate and patriotic!  We both cherish our time flying together in the P-3 Orion and our squadron, VP-65. It's a unbreakable bond,

We hiked North and it would be the first time I'd see horses and mules on the trail. Spider-Man, Blue, Ash, Pepe and I were happy to be together. We shared the sights of the Minaret Peaks, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Inyo and Sierra National Forest. We've continued to keep our daily mileage around 20 but it's become increasingly difficult as we gain over 5,000 feet a day.

I felt a little rusty as I started back on the trail but this is the place to be, because as our Tramily Moto exclaims - "The Trail is Life."

Yosemite National Park

We entered Yosemite from the South once we crossed Donahue Pass. The pass was a long and arduous climb. The meadows were lush with vegetation and the lakes were crystal clear. We swam in the alpine waters when we stopped for lunch. Blue picks out nice spots for dining and we all enjoy the settings. We pressed hard to reach Tuolumne Meadows before the General Store closed. Bear cans are required to store your food when hiking in Yosemite Park. We rented our bear cans from Triple Crown outfitters. "Yogi" is the lady who owns the hiking store. She rents the cans for $45 and then you turn them back in when you reach Kennedy Meadows North. The cans weigh two and three pounds depending on whether you get the small size or larger size. When we hit the resupply store we had to choose our food wisely so it could fit in the canister. I can't wait to get rid of the bear cans because of the extra weight but I know the backwoods logic to carry them is sound.

After picking up Beef Jerky and Top Ramen, I sat with twenty hikers, organized my backpack and drank beer. Many of the faces were familiar and we had a good little parking lot party after the store closed. Afterwards we snuck off into the woods and stealth camped, because the campground was under renovation.

Prior to the store closing, we arranged transportation for the next day into Yosemite Valley. The trip was supposed to be a one hour bus ride. Road construction turned it into two. It really wasn't a big deal as my trail family and several of the other hikers were able to see the granite cliffs of Half Dome and El Capitan. I was happy they were able to experience the iconic sights. I felt that as a local California boy I was sharing one of my greatest treasures with new friends.

Life is Good.

We left Tuolumne Meadows at daybreak. The terrain was rocky. Pepe and I camped together and enjoyed the sunrise. Halfway through the day we came across two park rangers clearing the trail for a mule train that would bring supplies into the valley. They asked to see our permits and our bear cans. After we took care of business, we asked them if they had information about the fires to the south. Although the skies were smokey, they assured us we were in no danger because the fires were well behind us. 

We crossed Benson Pass and saw dozens of beautiful lakes on our way out of Yosemite. Spider-Man had fallen behind. He was concerned about the growing smoke and his pending connection with his girlfriend Cassidy. They were to meet in Tahoe and he was concerned the fires might delay him, so he turned back and returned to Tuolumne to hitch a ride to the town of Lee Vining and then make his way up to Tahoe via bus. Our dates in Tahoe should overlap so it will be good to see him and meet his Alabama belle.

We eventually crossed into the Hoover Wilderness and the Humboldt Toiyabe National Forest. The terrain continued to be challenging with rocky paths, steep ascents and descents. I've gotten better at not falling but it is still not uncommon for me to land on my butt every other day. I've given my left ankle a light sprain but it only bothers me at night-Thank goodness for Advil. Fortunately my hiking boots offer me proper support. Between the HOKA Gore Tex boots and my Smartwool Merino sweater I'm able to stay steady and comfortable. These are my two favorite pieces of gear.

When we crossed into Stanislaus National Forest we turned toward the Sonora Pass. The pass is about four miles long and over 9,600 feet high. We crossed snow patches as we made our way to the top. At one point my hiking poles drove deep into the snowpack. My downhill pole was caught between two boulders and when I put my weight on it, it snapped. Fortunately I didn't topple down the snowy hill.

Once we arrived at the bottom of the pass we hitched a ride into Kennedy Meadows North where we would resupply, turn in our bear cans and spend the night. I rented a bunk in the camp hostel. Pepe and I took the cots by the window. The experience reminded me of sleeping in a Navy barracks. Unfortunately the generator ran full bore until midnight so the evening's rest was below par. I haven't thought too much about my bed at home, but I'm starting now. Guess I have to remain positive and remember our Tramily motto- "The Trail is Life'' and Life is Good.

Journey to South Lake Tahoe

This section of the Humboldt and Stanislaus National Forest has an identity that rivals the granite walls and beautiful meadows of Yosemite. The bright and abundant wildflowers punctuate the landscape with soft beauty and vivid colors of purple, yellow, blue and red.

It's been an absolute blast to hike with Pepe. We've been in step with each other for the duration, even though I'm confident of his ability to move ahead. He said he enjoyed the scenery of the Sonora, Carson, and Everett Passes. I enjoyed our synchronicity. As life would have it Pepe must again leave the trail. He will return to Mexico and answer the calls of his architect profession.

Strider is back on trail after taking time off to recover an injury. I last saw her in Hikertown. She hiked with Pepe and I for a couple of days. She's an EMT, park ranger,  and wildflowers enthusiast.

After we crossed Carson Pass we arrived at a ranger station on Highway 88 where the rangers were  offering free sodas. Pepe and I got there just in time to have a couple soda pops and some chocolate Hostess pastries. We were chilling on the porch when a frantic couple ran up to the station. They said a motorcycle had crashed about 200 yards down the road and they were unable to get cell reception to call an ambulance. Strider looked at me and we simultaneously said, "Let's Go!" She grabbed her medical kit while I laced up my boots. We raced down the road to help. Strider immediately went into EMT mode and she donned her plastic gloves as she approached the downed rider who was lying in a ditch about twenty feet off the road. She checked him in fashion similar to what we learned in rescue swimmer school with palpitations and basic health and awareness questions. Eventually we helped the rider get on his feet. To say that she did a good job is an understatement. It was cool to be part of a moment where we could help someone.

We hiked the second half of that afternoon until we reached the Tahoe Basin. We would have a ten mile hike in the morning to the Echo Summit Trailhead where we would be able to hitch a ride into South Lake Tahoe. We were all excited to double zero and enjoy the beauty and buzz of South Lake Tahoe.

Band of Brothers.

Pepe and I got split up from Strider and the Brits on our way to the Tahoe trailhead and ended up hitching into South Lake on our own. Our ride was with a cool young couple on their way to ride mountain bikes for the weekend. They had a beautiful Golden Retriever in the back hatch. We were dropped off at a Denny's restaurant because Pepe had been talking about breakfast and I was hungry for lunch. We knew Denny's could deliver both. After Pepe and I sat down and ordered our meals I saw a distinguished looking man waiting for his table. He was wearing a Purple Heart hat. He appeared to be in his 90's. I approached him and told him "thank you" for his service in the armed forces. His name was Joe and he was a U.S. Army veteran of World War II. He was in the famous Big Red One division. Joe was wounded twice and awarded the Bronze Star for heroism. He fought in the Battle of the Ardennes Forest or what is commonly referred to as the Battle of the Bulge. He was a real Band of Brothers man and it was an honor to meet him.

After our meal we made our way to the hotel and reviewed our priorities for the weekend. I had to go to the mountaineering store to buy trekking poles and see if I could fix my backpack which was now too large for my shrinking waist. We also had to get food supplies and explore the sites of South Lake.

I was in communication with another old Navy friend, Scot "Scooter" Hartmann, who lived about forty minutes away. I was stoked to see Scooter as it had been a long time since our last visit. Scot was the pilot of our flight crew in Patrol Squadron 65. Scooter was just getting ready to retire from American Airlines and it turned out he was looking at other jobs now. He was interviewing to fly a corporate jet that delivers human organs to the most critically ill patients. We had a couple beers and I introduced him to Lucky, Strider, Blue and Ash. We ended the night early but as usual, we seemed to pack in an awful lot of adventure into one day.

Adios Pepe!

During our second day in Tahoe, Pepe and I checked out the beaches, snacked on tacos, drank coffee and enjoyed afternoon drinks.

Grandma, ATF and Gandolph made it to town, so the Tramily gathered for a sushi dinner to celebrate Pepe's last night. After dinner we walked to the casino and gambled a couple dollars at the roulette tables. 

Pepe and I realized that our time on the trail together had run its course. I was sad and happy at the same time. I am again reminded of the trail's "life-lesson" that we all need to Hike Our Own Hike.

Desolation Wilderness

South Lake Tahoe hikers and campers became familiar with a large black bear named Hank the Tank. Hank made regular visits to the dumpsters and campgrounds around town. Hiker's video showed Hank sitting down with an assortment of bear cans, as he methodically checked them to make sure they were properly secured. If a bear can lid was improperly latched, Hank knew how to spin it off and munch on some hiker Cheetos.

On the day we left Tahoe, a new  rule required hikers to carry their food in a bear can if they were overnight camping through a twenty mile stretch in Desolation Wilderness. I made plans to hike through this stretch in one day to avoid breaking the letter of the law. 

Ash, Blue and I departed Tahoe together. At this point, the Brits and I knew our hikes were about to split. They needed to make bigger miles to reach the Canadian border. Blue made sure we said a proper goodbye. It was another tough moment as I had become very close with both of them. Tears were in my eyes as they walked down the trail. I respect so many things about them-their candor, politeness, toughness, sense of adventure, and their adoration for each other.  But most of all, they are great friends.

The Two Rickis

It didn't take Gnome long to catch me out of Tahoe. We shared my hotel room the last night I was in Tahoe. As we moved through the Desolation Wilderness territory we came across the "Two Ricki's." Pepe and I had met them a week prior when Rikki (2k's) asked to use mosquito spray in a very buggy section of the woods. It was surprising to see them again because they jumped off the trail to visit family and I thought they would be off trail for longer. They're both very quick hikers and have a lot of positive energy. Ricki is from Southern California. She worked at Disney and is engaged to marry. 

Rikki is from Florida, well traveled and soulful. She talks quite a bit about her family and friends. It's an understatement to say they are both pretty women in multiple ways.

The four of us ended up camping in a big tent site at the end of that day.  We had time to cook our dinners and talk about our futures. It was a great way to end a bountiful day.

Gandolph, the Bear and Kenny

I worked fast to make the morning miles as I was on my way to meet Kenny. Kenny and I went to high school and have remained tight ever since. Kenny lives close to Donner Lake and we committed to having dinner and a beer together-So I didn't want to  keep him waiting.

The descent into Donner was steep and rocky. Those pesky medium sized rocks that roll ankles, test the calves and gnaw away at willpower were trying to get the best of me. Fortunately there was more descent than ascent that day and I managed the rocks without incident or injury.

At the local ski resort parking lot, I met a trail angel with an open cooler and a friendly smile. ATF, Gandolph and Boo-Boo (a kind middle aged Japanese hiker) stopped for the fresh fruit and cold beer. 

The tone was set for the rest of the day as check-in for the hostel was at the bar. The drought of service industry workers has forced many employees to perform multiple jobs-Especially in small towns. This lodge entices PCT hikers by offering a free 42 ounce beer with proof of a through-hiking permit.

I was starving. It was past the lunch hour and I waited for Kenny while devouring a hamburger, fries and a plate of shrimp. Judging from the way my backpack hangs on me I've continued to shed another pound.

As the day unfolded, the sunny balcony filled with hikers.

It was Friday and Kenny was able to get off work early. We had lively conversation and a fun time. Some folks had more fun than others. Gandolph the Red, had one too many beers and fell asleep on the couch inside the hiker lounge. The employees didn't notice him and when they locked up the cafe at 10 p.m., they had shut him in. The employees also failed to empty the trash bins on the balcony where we had been dining. Gandolph had left his backpack on the balcony while he slept. Mr. Bear came on the patio during the middle of the night and ransacked the trash bins and then made off with Gandolph's cinnamon bun laden backpack. Mr. Bear took that pack into the woods and opened up Gandolph's bear canister and ate all of his trail food - minus the tuna packs. I don't know why the bear didn't eat the tuna packs. Maybe he was full.

Kenny and I had a bunk in the adjoining hostel and we woke up to a cup of coffee. We saw the knocked over garbage cans and knew we were not alone during the night.

I assumed Gandolph had returned to the woods to camp with ATF who pitched her tent about a mile away.  He did find her when he woke up prior to sunrise, to return a borrowed battery and inform her of his lost belongings. There was a lot of drama for the morning. At this point Gandolph declared he was going off the trail. Fortunately he found the backpack a couple hundred yards away from the point of abduction. When Gandolph calmed down, he replaced most of his food for free out of a communal hiker box. 

Kenny dropped me and the Rickis off in Old Town Donner. We had a quick breakfast and a resupply mission to accomplish. It had been a great few days hiking through the  ski areas of the Tahoe National Forest. I think the Lake Tahoe area is one of the prettiest spots in the world. The wildflowers on the Tahoe Rim Trail were beautiful and blooming in full glory. Life is so good when the trail provides- and it seems like it always does- in one way or another. 

Fire and Smoke

We joined the trail where it crossed Highway 80. The next couple days were spent enjoying flatter terrain and the wildflowers of the Plumas National Forest. I planned to camp about five miles before Sierra City but was making good progress that day and pushed hard. I hiked twenty seven miles when it was all done. I found Gnome, Gandolph and ATF at the only open restaurant. They had scooched ahead the past day and a half.  We each reserved rooms in the historic Sierra City Hotel. The hotel was owned by a lively fellow named Rob who was bartender, housekeeper and when his guitar was handy and the mood was right-the entertainment. He kept us up well past hiker midnight (8 p.m.) with songs and witty conversation. It was another full day on the trail.

The next morning the valley was filled with smoke. The winds had changed and the smoke from the Yosemite Oak Fire was filling the Feather River Canyon. The air quality index spiked to an unhealthy reading of 275. Outside activities were ill advised. Gnome, the Ricki's and I decided to hitchhike north to the next town of Quincy in hope that we could find clean air. After piecing together three different rides we arrived. It was still smoggy but not as bad as Sierra City. We hunkered down for the night at the Gold Pan Hotel with the hopes that the next day would be better but the morning air was still smoggy. Gnome and the Ricki's decided to skip the next section around Mount Lassen because it was torched by the previous year's Dixie Fire. 

A trail angel dropped me off at Lake Almanor where I would visit my final high school friend, Barbie. Our families have been friends forever. I stayed at her lake cabin for the night. She prepared me a hearty meal, and I chatted with her son Luke, husband Mark and their favorite neighbors. Barbie gave me a ride back to the trail head the next day where I would walk and sleep in the charred remnants of the 2021 Dixie fire. I did not want to miss the impactful hike through the decimated Lassen Volcanic Wilderness.

The Dixie Burn

I walked most of the torched areas of the Plumas and Lassen National alone. The trail was stacked with black ash and soot, which made quiet foot strikes. The trail was peaceful but spooky. I came across a steam shovel looking vehicle that had a giant circular saw where the shovel would've been. I've never seen such a contraption. They are called conventional harvesters or excavators. The giant saw quickly cut through the remains of the scorched trees and then used its claws to pile up the logs. As I hiked past the buzzing machine, I felt like I was immersed in a science-fiction movie. My heart started to beat faster. The harvester started to move towards me and I had to run to escape any of the debris that might've come off the blade. I was never any closer than a hundred yards but I could not see the man inside the machine. Did he see me? I had goosebumps sharing the black forest with this machine and the dead trees.

When camping in a burn area, in the middle of the night, it's not uncommon to hear the dead branches falling off the trees. The crashes break the silence and make my imagination run wild. On several burnt trees, I noticed a crimson colored sap oozing from the base of the trunk. It looked like blood. I couldn't help but feel sad for the trees. I believe mankind's lack of consideration for the health of our environment is responsible for many of climate changes' effects. But I've been told that I am a "tree hugger."

Dehydration & Giardia

Because of the "jump" (skipping sections) for smoke out of Sierra City- ATF, Gandolph and I were able to catch Chudy prior to the northern border of Lassen National Park. Spider-Man, Blue and Ash were just a little bit behind us. 

It was in this section that our normal elevation would decrease, which meant our temperatures would be higher. It was the tail end of July and I knew the heat could get uncomfortable but I was confident I could move safely after completing the Mojave last month.  What I didn't count on was ingesting tainted water. I contacted a bug that was giving me diarrhea and draining my energy. I made it through the first day with a grimace and the hope that it would pass. The next day I started my antibiotics for Giardia and kept hiking. My situation didn't improve, especially as the temperatures soared. The stretch between Old Station and Burney was hot. By the time I made it to town, I was severely dehydrated and fatigued. It would take two full days for me to completely rehydrate and get my energy back. Thank goodness we were in town and I could have some rest, food and clean up.

Another trail development was the outbreak of the McKinney Fire to our north. The fire would be California's largest of the season. It would take lives and destroy many structures. Portions of the PCT would be closed quickly. I sensed the end of my hike was near.

Decision Time

I recuperated while staying in the Burney, California Assembly of God Church recreation building. It was a gymnasium complete with a kitchen, locker rooms and sleeping space on a carpeted basketball court. Thirty stinky hikers were scattered over the gym. There was one air-conditioned room upstairs and I quickly found a spot on the floor to lay out my air mattress and sleeping bag . I saw many familiar faces through the course of the next three days. At a zero-dollars cost, it felt nice to save a few bucks on lodging. 

A lot has happened off the trail since I started my hike. Ralph, a good friend of mine on Whidbey Island passed away. That was difficult news to receive as I made my way down Kearsarge Pass to Lone Pine. My daughter is pregnant. And another friend  came down with a severe case of COVID. The first time she had it, she was very sick for months. On top of that, her mom recently passed. Those were just a few things in my small circle- the rest of the world continued to spiral recklessly with war, assassinations and divisive politics. None of which I miss hearing about on an endless news cycle.

The cool thing about the last eighty days is that I have been able to filter a lot of the societal negativity out of my life and refocus on the good.

I talked to my children (young adults), Robby Jr. and Ryan Marie a few times in the past few weeks and they were trying to  adjust their schedules to see me on the trail. When I was ready to hike out of Burney, Robby called and said he could meet me the following day and drive me to Dunsmuir where I would catch the train home. We made the pickup arrangements and I reserved a two bedroom cabin at Cave Springs Motel. Robby and his girlfriend Grace joined me for the evening. We visited Burney Falls and the two of them were able to meet several friends and my Tramily. We departed with smiles and some good memories. The decision to hang with Robby instead of squeezing out ninety more miles was a good call.

Death Train

Our 04:58 train from Dunsmuir to Seattle was scheduled to depart on a Friday morning with myself, Chudy, Gandolph and ATF onboard. But as luck would have it, the rain pounded down the night prior and washed out part of the tracks north of the station. We would have to stay another night.

Our delay gave Ash, Blue and Spider-Man time to catch up. There would be one more Tramily reunion. We gathered at a Pizza Factory in the little downtown area.  Ash was hungry! The Brits had upped their mileage and were pushing 25+ miles every day. Ash had dropped more weight but he seemed to be healthy. Spidey was in good spirits and Blue was super happy to see Chudy. These were the core members of the Cult  and it was a sweet gathering. Blue, Ash and Spider-Man would depart after dinner to meet a trail angel who would put them up for the night. Gandolph, ATF, Chudy and I would walk back to our (circa 1923) Moss Springs Motel cabin where we cooked chicken for tomorrow's bag lunch. Gandolph and ATF slept on the front porch since Chudy and I had the only two beds. We grabbed a few hours of sleep and hiked back to town at 04:15 to catch the train- which was about thirty minutes late. It was not a big deal because we chatted like school kids about the next part of the adventure.

The ride was scheduled to take fourteen hours but it took eighteen. A truck towing a mobile home broke on the tracks and took an extra forty minutes to move. Then when we were south of Seattle, the train lurched to an abrupt stop. The sun was setting as we watched the conductors race out the doors and gather right below my window. As I peered out I saw a lifeless body just a few feet away from me. The legs and torso were away from the train and the head was closer to the tracks. I could not see the face as she was too close to the tracks. The mid section was eviscerated. There was no movement and the conductor covered the body with a blanket. We would wait for almost three hours as the authorities conducted their investigation. The mood became somber and I was upset, sad and in a state of disbelief. Several passengers were talking about the situation without regard or respect for the lost life. In the upper seats of our car they were taking pictures and video. Anger was added to my cocktail of emotions.

We arrived at the  Seattle station at midnight. Sue had a surprise for us beyond the sandwiches, sodas, chips and candy. Our friend Darcy, who owns the Whidbey Island SEATAC Airport Shuttle, was waiting for us with a VIP van for our transportation home. 

We had a party at our house the next day. I was glad to share our home with my Tramily.

After a two night stay, I drove the tramily two hours east into the Cascade Mountains to drop them off, where they would hike to the Canadian border and then start their southbound hike back to Dunsmuir. 

I was off kilter, as I watched my friends hike into the woods without me. I wanted dearly to be back on the trail but knew my path was taking me home where I could be with Scuba Sue and a better version of myself. I shall rejoin the trail next summer.

First Steps

I have more apprehension about starting this year's hike than I did last year. Last year I "didn't know what I didn't know" and so I entered the endeavor a bit naive. Now I know exactly how much it hurts to hike twenty miles a day. I know the toll that is placed on the heart when I am alone. I am apprehensive about the truths that I may learn about myself as I tackle this trail. 

Another difficult aspect of this year's adventure is leaving Scuba Sue. Last year I felt like I absolutely had to hike. Last year I was lost as I entered into retirement. The crutch of that excuse has diminished. This year's hike is driven by the desire to return to the solace of the forest and to complete unfinished business. But this year I feel I'm avoiding life's pressures as much as I am pursuing direction and fulfillment. I am hopeful that my negative mindset will flip as I progress toward this year's goal of completing the PCT.

Scuba dropped me off at the Sierra City trailhead. I hiked twenty miles, but I made only a little over fifteen miles of progress. I backtracked because my Garmin GPS fell off my backpack. I was unable to find it and finally gave up. That was an expensive mistake.

The hike out of Sierra City was steep. I started hitting snow at the 6,600 foot elevation. I donned my microspikes to maintain traction. I avoided steep traverses and used my ice ax for stability. Snow covered the trail and navigation was difficult. I had to check my location every hundred yards. Progress in the snow was slow.

My sister Libbi will pick me up in Chester and take me to Burney Falls, where I got off the trail last year. I skipped this section last year due to wildfires and smoke. Today's first steps were the hardest. 

One Step at a Time

It's the first night and I'm already receiving visits from critters. I could hear the distinctive chirps of raccoons outside my tent. I turned on my headlamp and yelled "Go away Mr. Raccoon, Go away!" Fortunately, they obliged, and my food bag was unmolested. 

It was a restless night and I slept later than I normally do. The trail conditions were horrendous with snow six to eight feet deep. It was slushy, icy, slippery and navigation was difficult. I only hiked five miles by noon. Fortunately, a hiker named Zane crossed paths with me and we were able to hike with more gusto. He's younger, and hiked half of the PCT last year. He's also a good navigator.

Today's hike was probably the most difficult that I've ever had. My ice ax was in my hands more than my poles. Zane and I went around the parts of the trail that were steeply  sloped, snowy and dangerous. It was good to have a hiking partner. These trail conditions are so difficult that I've thought about jumping to the next section where the snow is not so deep. I guess I have to stay present and just take this, one step at a time.

Bumps and Bruises

I've made my way from the  Northern edge of the Tahoe National Forest to the Plumas National Forest. I can see Mount Lassen on the horizon and it accents the existing beauty of the snow laced forest.

Zane and I hitched into Quincy to resupply and let our bodies heal. I've written today's notes from under the branches of a giant Sequoia tree at our motel. I am sore from my shoulders to my toes. Zane took a good gash and bruise in his buttocks when he was glissading down a steep portion of the mountain. While I took care of laundry, Zane called his mom for a ride home. He says he will come back after the Fourth of July weekend when the conditions are manageable. I will press on alone.

I entered the trail at Bucks Summit outside of Quincy. Next stop is Belden. I've mentally scheduled less daily miles because I am uncertain of the snow conditions. Snow was patchy at first but by afternoon I was walking on a dirt trail. There was one steep, slushy traverse, but I attached my microspikes and used the ice ax. I could see in the tracks ahead of me, where somebody has slid down the face of the hill. Belden is at the bottom of a steep valley that has been formed by the Feather Canyon River. Highway 70 is the passage in, but it's currently closed from recent rock slides. I suppose the slides were due to the heavy snow melt and last year's fires. Tomorrow I should reach the junction where the Sierra Mountain Range ends and the Cascades begin.

Feed the Soul

So far, there haven't been a lot of people on the trail. Today I was passed today by: Silver Lining, Mixed Tape and Snowcone- all northbound (NOBO). It was my second time seeing each of them on the trail so the four of us are the closest thing to a bubble. I doubt I'll see them again because they seem quicker.

I met a couple of interesting trail angels in Quincy. A retired guy named John picked me up and dropped me off at the trailhead. He was in the army in the mid 60's and made a profession by working on roads and bridges. He also volunteers with the local mountain search and rescue team. Bob, who was eating  breakfast next to me at the local family diner, worked in Alaska as a fisherman and he liked to travel to Baja, Mexico to camp and fish. He was a heavy equipment operator and mechanic. His trouble was that he could barely walk. He had a disease as a young boy that left him barely mobile. I thought it was amazing that he would travel and have such lifetime adventures. I take the memory of these inspiring people as I climb my mountains. 

Today's climb out of Belden was lonely. I didn't have snow until the end of the day. I made camp at  7,000 feet. I crossed the PCT 1,300 mile marker and the spot where the Sierra Nevadas meet the Cascades. I'm excited about the new mountain range. I recently finished a book by Bob Welch titled "Cascade Summer" about his section hike on the Oregon portion of the trail. I love the positive energies of people who overcome their fears and obstacles. These people feed my soul.  

The Funny Pages.

As I lay here and watch the crescent moon cut across the sky, I reflect  on the day. I did not see a single hiker, but I was not alone. I saw deer, lizards, colorful birds, butterflies, chipmunks, spiders, beetles, and many other insects.

I've crossed into Lassen National Forest and have walked through the burned trees. I've also crossed green meadows and rocky outcrops. Now the snow is patchy.  I spent most the day thinking about old friends, places visited, and family. I hurt.

The humidity rose in the afternoon and I worked up a sweat. My thighs were starting to chafe. Having seen only one person all morning I thought I would be OK to quickly change my shorts without running into the woods for privacy. I looked up and down the trail. The coast was clear. I doffed my Patagonia's and started to put on a fresh pair. Suddenly, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw a figure walking up the trail. She stopped. I'm not sure what she thought but I quickly pulled up my drawers and made myself right. I guess I was caught with my pants down.

Later in the evening, as I was preparing to sleep, a couple of does were snorting and pawing at the ground next to my tent. It can be unnerving when you hear animal noises outside your tent. I poked my head out and talked to little Ms. Deer for a bit and then shooed her away.

About five minutes later, she returned. I laughed at this curious deer. I sang a little bit of, "Doe, Ray, Me" to her and then yelled for her to go away. This back and forth  interaction went on for a couple of hours. I figured there must have been some old food in the dirt. I eventually went to sleep, but ended up counting deer instead of sheep.

Shadows of the Mountain

I cruised through Lassen National Forest, hiked past the 7,000 foot Humboldt Peak and crossed the midpoint of the Pacific Crest Trail at mile 1,325. When I arrived at the marker, I met a couple who were two of the few to make it through the deep spring snows of Yosemite. Pascal was from France and his hiking partner Nicola was from Austria. They both had extensive experience in the mountains. Pascal was fit and slim. A white beard circled his face. The two of them had a certain mystique that I cannot explain, except to say, they seemed very much at home, alone, in the middle of the mountains.

I pushed through the 2008 Cub Complex burn zone and in the late afternoon I was chased off the mountain by a thunderstorm. Upon crossing Highway 36 I was met by a day hiker who wanted to make sure the through-hikers had beer. The beer was warm and I think he was already half in the bag. I caught a bus into Chester and munched on tacos as I waited for my sister Libbi and her daughter Annaliese to pick me up. They would take me to Burney since I had already hiked the section between Chester and Burney last year.  We stayed at the Burney Motel, which is run by Luanne. Luanne was a helpful small- town lady that quickly endears you to her. Her motel was clean and she was helpful with information about Burney and the beautiful local waterfalls. She also told us of a local bridge made famous from the 1980's movie "Stand by Me." We visited the town's highlights and then Libbi dropped me off at the trailhead early the next morning. 

A hiker named Rali joined me at camp that night. Rali stands for "Retired and Loving It".  He's a strong hiker and has hiked the Appalachian Trail. It was good to have somebody with me today as we were on another snowy section of the trail. The next morning we  hiked 10 miles by 10 a.m. and then when we hit deeper snow, we were slowed to five miles' progress in five hours. We eventually found a clear camp spot. Tonight I have a panoramic view of Mount Shasta. I can't think of any better way than to go to sleep, knowing that I'm cradled in the shadows of this mystic mountain.

Chasing Butterflies

After a couple of days of hiking with Rali - we parted ways. It didn't bother me to shed him. I always had to lead, set  pace, navigate, and make suggestions of when to don our spikes. He was constantly tailgating me which was annoying. Another thing that irritated me was that when we started hiking in the morning, he made it a point to let me know he couldn't talk to me because he wanted to listen to his podcast. When we stopped for lunch his conversation was drab. I felt more drained being with him than I did alone.  

This experience gave me a powerful longing for my old trail family. I really miss them.

Shortly after Rali pressed forward, I took a small break by a cool stream. As I dipped my feet in the water a group of butterflies swarmed me. One in particular kept landing on my arms and legs. My Grandma Clem had a framed painting in her hallway wall that said "If you go into the field and chase butterflies, you'll never catch them but if you sit down in that middle of that meadow, they will land on your shoulders."

I suspect I should stop trying to chase down a new trail family, and just let it happen- kinda like the pretty butterflies down by the stream.

Saved by Milkshakes & an Old Friend

I met Jeanne the trail angel and proprietor of the Dunsmuir AHA Travel Lodge as I came off the mountain at 8 a.m. Her house was the "Travel Lodge." She had an unattached in-laws quarters in the back and an additional room for let in the basement. I was offered the basement. The house was dusty, cluttered and eclectic. She used to organize tours to Thailand and Cambodia. The Indonesian decor was gaudy and dark. Jeanne was like somebody's crazy aunt. The house would've made for a good episode in the TV show "Hoarders." I ended up not staying at Jeanne's  because I'm allergic to dogs and cats. She was kooky but kind. I cleaned up and headed out to eat, resupply and meet my buddy Shawn. 

I double-timed off the mountain that morning and I don't think I ate enough. I felt woozy as I walked to town. I made it to the local Burger Barn as they opened. I ordered two chocolate milkshakes, a burger and fries. But before my food arrived, the room started to spin and I passed out in the booth. As the clerks came to serve my food, I was coming-to. I was saved by the shakes. I have to be more aware of pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion.

Shawn met me at the lunch spot. I explained my lodging dilemma and he quickly organized a local hotel and made sure I was properly fueled. He also bailed me out of a tight spot when my resupply package of fresh hiking boots did not arrive at the local post office. The postal clerk said the box was bouncing around Northern California and that my parcel was sitting in a mail station seventy miles away. Shawn was familiar with the area because he fought fires in this region of Northern California as a young man. We packed up the truck and he drove me to the remote post office. After our road trip we zipped to downtown Shasta and enjoyed live music at their 4th of July Art and Wine Festival.

Shawn wanted to hike a bit. It turned out the Castle Crags trail section out of town was probably one of the most difficult climbs in this 300 mile section. We hiked for a couple of hours and Shawn got a taste of the PCT. Midday he bid me adieu and headed home. His mission was accomplished. it was heartwarming to have another adventure with my old friend.

The Trinity Alps

The stillness of the trail creates a peaceful setting. Sometimes the silence is pierced by a bird chirp, rustling branches, or the distant gurgle of a snowy stream, but more often I feel the silence is broken by the thoughts blowing through my mind. 

After Shawn left, I camped with a grand view of Mount Shasta and Castle Crag Rocks. My recent trail mates: Bear, Gargoyle and Newt camped on the bluff near me. Bear is a biologist from Alabama and did experiments of pharmaceutical effects on insects brains. Newt and Gargoyle went to University of California in Santa Cruz. The next evening we camped on the shores of Deadfall Lake. Thursday's camp was under the canopy of large pines. Tonight I'm on another ridge watching the sunset. I swam in Porcupine Lake with Abraham (trail name-Snow Leopard.) Snow Leopard was the first to solo hike through the High Sierra this year's high snowpack. He is a Sacramento school counselor.  Our conversations were mostly philosophical. He wanted to talk about ways to lead a meaningful life. He asked many questions about the careers and values of servicemen and women. I wish I could have kept his pace.

My snake count is up to three (one corn, one gardener, and one brown rubber snake). Also add one bear to the count. He was a medium size bear running across the trail at 10:30 yesterday morning. It was amazing how fast he could move down a steep slope.

I hope I'm not pushing too hard and I can stay healthy and strong. I'm blown away by the beauty of the Northern California, Trinity Alps.

Milky Way, Deadfalls, and Music.

Biff is a Rogue Warrior looking kind of guy. His thick black beard and stocky build makes him look like a person that you would see on a Navy SEAL team. Biff and I hiked through Etna and Seiad Valley. Our time together added to my growth. He is an Army veteran and  spent time in the mountains of Afghanistan. He speaks with candor and from the heart.

Prior to the descent into Etna I was  refreshed to see a mountain camp, full of kids playing in the woods and on the snow. I was still worried about the remaining snow crossings, but I was relieved and had to laugh when I saw the kids playing on the slippery slopes. There was one youngster climbing in a hollowed tree. He was sticking his head out of a hole and scaring hikers and schoolmates as they walked past.

Much of the hike has taken us through the burn zones. The weakened trees were not able to stand up to the heavy snow falls this winter. There have been numerous dead falls to hop over. Hikers have to go around, climb over and crawl under these obstacles. Some days I feel like I am as much a gymnast as a hiker. 

When we got to Etna, I stayed at the Bluebird Inn-Hiker Hut, which was a six bunk, one bath hostel on the property of a very pretty and old bed-and-breakfast. The owners were young and I could tell they had a strong sense of ownership in their fledgling business. On Sunday morning their children aged two, five and seven arrived to help lay out the breakfast table. They kids were well behaved. After the meal we sat on the porch and they sang camp songs to me. I felt like I was in the middle of a Disney movie; especially after my encounter with the kids in the mountain camp.

The  owner of the local coffee shop was a retired Navy helicopter pilot. We were in neighboring squadrons at Naval Air Station on Coronado Island. I also saw the Frenchman Pascal. We met for a beer at the local brewing company and he shared stories of hiking through the mountains in Europe, his adventures in the snowy Sierra and his matter of fact adventure blog.

On the final night in Etna, I went to the local theater to watch a bluegrass festival with Nashville studio and high school musicians. Biff and I headed out after he picked up a new set of shoes from the post office on Monday morning. After two days of hiking, Biff and I found a majestic camp spot on a ridge in the Klamath Mountain Range.  I cowboy camped so I could sleep under the stars. The evening was bright and the Milky Way so clear that I found it difficult to fall asleep. The moon didn't rise until close to midnight, and that light kept pushing my eyelids open. While the views were magnificent I didn't get a proper rest. My lack of sleep cost me in my progress the following day. It was a struggle to make 14 miles.

On the morning of my push into Seiad Valley, a young doe crossed the trail in front of me. I stopped to give her time to cross but she turned and started strolling away from me - so I followed. This went on for a couple of minutes and then a couple minutes more. I couldn't help but laugh as I was hiking down the PCT with this little deer. We exchanged names and she eventually took a left turn and returned to the woods.

California Man

I hiked at a steady pace into Seiad Valley where I had a room and a shower waiting for me at the RV park. This spot is famous amongst the hikers for their evening barbecues. The town had one gas station, a small store, a post office, and a diner that served a wildberry infused breakfast pancake, a greasy lunch and creamy milkshakes. I think milkshakes are the official drink for PCT hikers. 

After dinner, I hung out in the camping area and sang with a British chap named Jukebox. He was in his sixties and a talented guitar player. He knew songs from my era. We were the only ones that knew the words of our generation. 

I met another Brit named Refill, who was taking a break from the corporate legal world. He graduated from Oxford. He has a bad case of blisters. He spoke of pushing through to Ashland and then taking a couple days off to let his feet heal- he seemed familiar but we didn't discuss the possibility of a previous meeting.

Biff's strong pace pressed him forward. Hopefully I'll see him further down the trail.

The weather was getting hot and Seiad Valley was at a low elevation. The hike out of town is straight up the mountain for eight miles. I took an alternate path up an old fire road which the locals said would offer more shade and was a bit cooler because a creek ran next to it. 

The Oregon portion of the trail is referred to as"cruisy," meaning there are less ups and downs. I approached the Oregon border, and met three southbound hikers who said the views ahead were saturated in colors of bright orange and pink. I thought they were delirious as sunset was still three hours away.  When I crossed the state border I saw the pinkish, pastel-colored cloverfields that wrapped the west side of the mountain. I've never seen anything like this and my pictures did not offer justice to the beautiful scenery.

I have now completed the walk of my home state-My original goal when I started this journey last summer. It's common to ask fellow hikers where they are from and when I was asked I would often reply that I was a California Boy. Now that I have hiked the length of my home state I shall now say: I am a California Man!

Playing with Snakes

I've been on the trail for a month now, but it feels like I started last week.

I opted to pick up my next resupply package at Callahan's Lodge instead of Ashland because it was closer to the trail. When I arrived at the lodge, Snow Cone was sitting in the restaurant ready for a hamburger and a Coke. He's an Alabama native and a Vanderbilt graduate. He speaks with a cool southern drawl. His round, wire rimmed glasses and wispy earrings make him look like a groovy intellectual. He's a solid hiker. I hadn't seen him since the climb out of Belden.

At dinner two of my friends, Hannah and Plus One arrived. They are from the Czech Republic. They married as young adults and are now in their early 40's. Their approach to hiking the trail is very casual. They don't stress over the miles or a specific destination. We exchanged numbers and I know that if Scuba and I ever go to Prague, we will have some kind friends greet us.

My walk through this part of the  Siskiyou National Forest is very quiet, except for the occasional buzz of mosquitoes as they zip through the sunshine.

U.K. Paul and his three Dutch friends left me this morning. They were planning to push bigger daily miles than I.

I saw my first Sonoran Gopher snake. He had the distinctive head and brown triangular markings on his back. I thought it was a Rattlesnake at first. He was stretched across the path, taking in the morning sun. He was longer than my trekking pole but skinny. I encouraged him to move to the side of the road where everyone would be safer but he wasn't listening. I became curious as to how fast a snake really moves, so I backed up and kicked some pebbles on him. He smartly coiled up and told me to pissssssss off. I took one more step back and kicked again. Mr. Snake had enough and smartly moved on. I know I shouldn't play with the snakes, but when does a guy ever get a chance to do this? 

Rise From The Ashes

Updates: I did not lose my Garmin GPS. It was lodged in the backseat of the car and must have come off my pack before I started hiking. The Oxford chap Refill began his hike last year on the same day with me. He was quick and I never saw him after the second or third day. Rumor was that he quit the trail around Tahoe, which ended up being true by his account as well. Our tramily called him Tight-Pants. I also crossed paths with Teenage Dream. He too hiked last year and we  spent some time together in the Sierra going up Muir Pass together. At that time he had a hiking partner named Boo-Boo. They both hailed from Japan. 

Last night I fell asleep at 6:30 p.m. and I was so tired that it took all my energy to assemble and crawl into my tent. In hindsight, the day was fuller than I thought. U.K. Paul, Stumbles and I started hiking at dawn from Fish Lake campground. We tried to get a hitch on the highway to the trail portal. We had no luck and ended up walking along the highway as the cars and trucks blasted past us.

The trail had fairly mild ups and downs today. The sun was warm and the water was scarce. The mosquitoes have become quite thick. 

I don't remember a night where I slept so hard and woke in such a surreal manner that it made me feel like I had risen from the ashes of the previous day's battle.

A Great Alone

The press to Crater Lake was foremost in my mind. I planned on taking a zero in Mazama Village Campground on the south side of the lake.

I camped at Jack Springs in the Rogue River/Siskiyou Forest with Marine Mike and Solar Power. They wake up at 04:00 and hit the trail by five. They got out of camp just a little bit ahead of me but I beat them to Mazama Village because I followed my paper map and intuition instead of the FarOut app which had you swing into the park from the north and then backtrack. I've made a game of navigating off -trail to make it to the same destination.

Mazama Village has an area for the PCT Hikers to pitch their tents at no cost. The showers and washing machines were also free. The café served three meals throughout the day. On my zero, I caught the trolley up to the crater's rim and toured the lake with a volunteer ranger. He offered insight to the geology and history of the lake. It was a relaxing way to spend the day. Unfortunately the power went out around noon and the lodge, stores and restaurants closed down. The young people that work there said it happens about once or twice a month. 

I could still see Mount Shasta from the top of Crater Lake Rim but Mount McLaughlin is more prominent.

I departed Mazama village and made it to the northern edge of the park where I camped close to a water cache south of Diamond Lake in the Umpqua forest. 

The next day I was with Bear, Newt and Gargoyle as we passed through Thielsen Wilderness. We camped at Maidu Lake. I've hiked and camped several times with these three amigos and our time together is always memorable and fun. The next day I went off the modern trail at Windigo Pass and took an alternate route to Whitefish Horse Camp by Crescent Lake. This trail was part of the original PCT and would actually help me get into Shelter Cove at Odell Lake a little more quickly. 

After some difficulty finding the spot I finally reached Whitefish Camp. I was greeted by a family who said the camp was without an official host but that I was invited to eat with them. They made a hot spaghetti dinner-I was in heaven. Later, the grandchildren performed skits for the adults. In the morning another camper stopped by my tentsite and offered me apples and cheese. She said if I wanted to come by her dad's RV that she had hot water and coffee. For the record, I also got bacon. The generosity at Horse Camp was overwhelming. 

I pressed on to make Shelter Cove, where Scuba Sue sent me another resupply box.

When I arrived at Shelter Cove I was met by ATF! She delivered a second care package and card from last year's Tramily. ATF landed a job with Outward Bound and manages wilderness trips. Her life on the trail continues.

Sometimes I imagine that I'm walking on a brown shag carpet because the trail is cushioned with dark soft dirt and cushy pine-needles. Other times, when my feet become tired I feel like I'm wearing broken glass slippers-especially as I cross over the rocky parts of the trail.

In recent days, I've crested small, forested hills and have been greeted with expansive views of green mountain lakes. It feels like I'm walking into a different reality.

Most of the hikers I talk to enjoy their time alone. I find it therapeutic and relaxing. I often think about family and friends. If a person is not good with substantial alone time, I don't think the Pacific Crest Trail would be good place for them. 

Bend, Oregon.

My stay in Bend was a highlight on multiple levels. I spent time with old hometown friends Barry, and Gina and my Silicon Valley buddy Rich. Barry and Rich showed me around the fine city of Bend. We bolstered the bottomline of the local microbreweries as well.

Barry and I are from the little town of Los Altos, California and we've been friends for decades. 

As I came off the trail and arrived at the Elk Lake Lodge, Jet Ski and Hazy were at the picnic table next to me enjoying coffee and snacks. I sat with a cute Southbound hiker named Lightweight. She had just finished her residency at Yale and was going to be a doctor on the East Coast. When Barry arrived, he declared he was buying Lightweight and I lunch and drinks. After lunch, we loaded into his jeep and he took us to REI so Lightweight could buy fresh shoes. The people of Bend were kind and the vibe was welcoming. I stayed at the hippy hostel called The Bunk and Brew. A beer truck was conveniently parked in the backyard. Rich hired me for my first Silicon Valley tech job in the mid 80's. I worked in the computer networking industry Monday through Friday and flew with the Navy Reserves on the weekends. Rich put up with my shenanigans when I was his employee and now he had to deal with me as I was full of mountain air and energy. 

I think I'd like to go back to Bend with Scuba Sue. 

Airspace

With each mountain ascent, I am rewarded with stunning views.  With every struggle, I become a little stronger. With each step I become more confident to build a future in my new life.

It's been three days since I left Bend even though it feels longer. I slept last night at Upper Lake just a couple miles shy of Olallie lake. At Olallie, there's a tiny, well stocked store by the water. There was minimal electric power at the store. It felt odd, yet relaxing to shop in the shadows. Lack of electricity made all transactions "Cash Only." From the store's front porch I feasted on stunning views of the lake and Mount Jefferson.

I've seen four white mountain goats and another snake to add to my wildlife statistics.

I was stung by a bee in the lower leg. I'm now the proud owner of a puffy left ankle. 

Mountain lakes can be very buggy with swarms of biting mosquitoes. I've become a big fan of the mosquitoes' nemesis- the dragonfly, because when the dragonflies own the airspace, the mosquitoes disappear.

Connections

It took less than a week to get from Bend to the Timberline Lodge at the base of Mount Hood. I jumped off the trail for a couple of hours at McKenzie Pass to resupply and eat at Ray's Burgers and Shakes. Quick supply stops decrease my heavy food carries. It was only two and half days of travel from Timberline Lodge to Cascade Locks. 

The skirt of Mount Hood was magic with soft sand and lenticular clouds that haloed the pointed peak. The Eagle Creek Tunnel Falls alternate trail into Cascade Locks offered a walk through a dank rocky tube behind the towering falls. 

I reserved a room for two nights at Timberline Lodge. I explored the grand hotel and pretended I was a 1930's visitor when she was built. Outside shots of the lodge were used in one of my favorite movies: "The Shining." The food was tasty but pricey. The craftsmanship and architecture of the building is world class. I met Marmalade and The Codgers in the lobby on the last day. They are well-known for their "How-to Through Hike the PCT" YouTube videos.

I enjoy the connection that hikers have with each other. Like servicemen, we can spot each other from a mile away. We already have many connections, shared experiences, and feelings about the trail. Sometimes I feel like I know a person from the beginning of a conversation.

When I arrived at Elk Lake Lodge in Bend, I made a phone call to my Dad to give a quick check-in. After I hung up and sat with Lightweight, I told her I was chatting with my dad. She let me know her dad recently and suddenly passed away at the age of 58. It struck me deep. She appeared to be younger than my daughter and I was about her father's age. Even though she shared that information in a clinical, matter-of-fact way, I could sense her pain. Unhidable tears rolled out of my eyes. I felt awkward but not alone. 

I know my connection to the Trail not only runs through the beauty of  nature, but also through the eyes of the hikers I share it with. 

Mr. Bojangles

Cascade Locks is situated on the banks of the Columbia River. I sat on the balcony of the local microbrewery with a clear view of the Bridge of the Gods. The bridge connects Oregon to Washington. This spot is where Cheryl Strayed ended her hike in the book "Wild." Temperatures soared to 100 degrees and the day got sticky. I decided to take a zero instead of fighting the heat to get out of town. Cascade Locks is the lowest elevation point on the entire Pacific Crest Trail. 

I've been away from home for close to two months now and I want to return within the next couple of weeks. That deadline would mean I could cover only half of Washington. I would prefer finishing this year's hike at the Canadian border instead of an anti-climactic point somewhere in the middle of the state. So on Tuesday morning I took a bus to Portland and from Portland I jumped on the Greyhound to Seattle where I would connect to the trail at Stevens Pass and then hike north. The evening I arrived in Seattle I discovered there were new fires and parts of the northern trail were closing. After my jump, it looked like I would not be able to make the Canadian border this year. I consulted with Scuba Sue and Chudy and decided to hike from Stevens Pass back to Cascade Locks. The upside is that I would see many more of the people that I've hiked with over the past two months as they continue their trek north. I thought I could take their portraits as our paths crossed for a final time.

In Seattle an old Navy Triathlon team buddy, Commander Jim, made a couple phone calls to arrange a ride to Stevens Pass. Later that night I shared dinner with Jim's Navy buddy, Captain Doug. Doug  picked me up the next  morning and handed me off to his pal Gunnar. Gunnar was an acoustic operator in my old plane, the Lockheed P-3 Orion. Gunnar was super excited to drive me to the woods. He had been rehabbing his body for two years with a completely rebuilt neck and spinal cord because of a degenerative bone disease. We fed off each other's excitement. I think his labrador retrievers sensed his happiness and although they were old, they sprang to life when the car doors opened and the giant trees were in front of us. I too sprang out the door and headed into the woods.

On the second day of my south bound journey, I passed an older hiker, who seemed familiar. His clothes were baggy and stained. He reminded me of a modern Mr. Bojangles. His trail name of Pa'at was given to him by Native Americans hikers in Southern California. With the help of Outside Magazine a video of Pa'at reaching the Canadian border has been viewed by tens of thousands of people. In the video Pa'at breaks into a heartfelt song as he shuffles towards the monument at the PCT's northern terminus. Pa'at means Bighorn Sheep in the language of Cahuilla.

Fly Like an Eagle.

I made good time from Stevens Pass to Snoqualmie Pass. It was the second day that the smoke from the northern fires settled into the region.

Visibility was under a mile. The trail fought to provide majestic scenery for as far as the hazy air would allow. More alpine lakes, steep climbs and walks along daunting ridges ensued. On the final day of this section, my bag was light. I had a rapid descent off the mountain. I felt agile and moved quickly down the path. I was reaping the rewards of having stronger legs and a dozen less pounds of fat on my body.

I hiked with a lawyer from Escondido, California named Dave. He hiked the "Camino De Santiago" earlier in the year. He is a 65-year-old man transitioning from a legal practice to a life of retirement. He said he has to go to trial one more time and then he's done.

On our second night together, I was abruptly awakened by the thunderous clap of a tree crashing through the forest. It was my first large tree fall event of the hike. Funny thing is I would hear another one later the next day.

Some mornings when the air is heavy, the wind is still and the bugs are sleeping, the forest is eerily silent. The quietest of times are my favorite moments.

When I made it to Snoqualmie Pass a Scuba Sue resupply box was waiting for me at the counter of the Summit Inn. It had everything I would need and more. She's been a champion getting me food and consumables that I need to make it through this trek. She adorns the boxes with stickers and an occasional love note. After I unpacked the box and loaded my backpack, I went next door to the Laconia Market and ordered a large  Hawaiian pizza. I've been craving one for quite a while and heard about these tasty pies from fellow hikers. I took my pizza to the microbrewery across the street and with a cold Pilsner I commenced to get my Aloha on. I shared a picnic table with a local named Raj and his two-year-old son. Raj gave me a lift to the Washington Alpine Club (WAC) where I would stay overnight. The club had dorm rooms and for $45 a night I enjoyed a breakfast and a hearty dinner. The walls of the cabin were adorned with snowshoes and cross country skis.

The reading room had shelves filled with books on mountaineering, hiking and nature. Seventeen hikers shared the chalet and we passed the time talking about the trail and our adventures. As luck would have it, U.K. Paul and his buddy Bill would arrive. We would share another laugh as they ventured north and I went south. Paul and Bill shared their trail wisdom with passion to all who would listen.

When I left, I passed a young man named Karate Kid who told me he had seen a bobcat a couple of miles prior. I told him about the ospreys that circled over my head in the morning sun. He said he was making a music playlist based off of hiker recommendations. I told him on this day my song would be "Fly Like an Eagle" by the Steve Miller Band. He was not familiar with the song or the band but I was not surprised as our music was separated by a generation.  

Elk Alarm Clock

I made my way south, splitting the Mount Baker, Snoqualmie National Forest and the Okanogan Wenatchee National Forest.  At Tacoma Pass I stumbled upon an oddly dressed man named Brian who was trying to complete a 200 mile run. His support team had not arrived and he had waited for quite a spell. He was out of food and water and looked depleted. I dove into my bag and gave him a tuna pack, a power bar and nuts andI let him finish the rest of my water. He appeared reinvigorated. I asked him if it was OK to snap his portrait - he obliged and then quickly disappeared up the hill. 

The following night a Brit named Pick-Up camped next to me on spot close to a scenic mountain ledge. We hunkered down as the evening clouds engulfed us. About 25 yards to the north there was a sign nailed to a tree in remembrance of a snowmobiler who died at this location. He must have gone over the edge. This Norse Peak Wilderness section was fairly well covered by trees. It had formidable climbs and descents. After a twenty three mile day I made camp in Big Crow Basin. It was a beautiful spot that looked west into a meadow and Castle Mountain. The next campsite had a team of llamas that packed supplies for a group of hikers that were afflicted with Parkinson's disease. That evening three hikers, myself and a young man named Skylar from the llama group (his mom had Parkinson's) watched a large pack of wild mountain goats graze in the highlands as we ate dinner. After supper Skylar went back to his camp and returned with fresh watermelon and sweet Washington cherries. The next morning I was awakened by the rooting sound of a small herd of elk as they crossed the grassy meadow to my west. I've never had an elk alarm clock, but it was a neat way to start the day.

On Top of Old Snowy

The town of Packwood would be my second to last resupply stop. My childhood friend Tony drove in from Olympia to meet me. We went out for dinner and hung out like the old days. It was great to have another buddy be part of this adventure. Tony drove me back to the trail at Whites Pass after a morning rain shower raced through the area. I hiked out of the William Douglas Wilderness and headed into Goat Rocks Wilderness. Goat Rocks has jagged rock formations and one particular stretch is called the Knife's Edge. The trail was narrow and falls off steeply to the east and west. Views of Mount Rainier dominated the landscape. My progress was slow. At the northern part of the Knife's Edge I scrambled to the top of Old Snowy Mountain. When I reached the summit I could see Mount Adams to the south, to the Southwest was Mount Saint Helens and for the trifecta, Mount Rainier to the Northwest. 

I continue to cross paths with hiking friends as they head north towards the Canadian border. Since I turned south and started a hiker portrait project, I've snapped eighty photos of northbound hikers to share with family and friends. I see joy in the smiles and beauty in their eyes.

The trail took me through the Yakama Indian Reservation and down into Mount Adams Wilderness. The heavy forest only offers views of what I call the green tunnel. There were times when I would break out of the low hanging trees and be greeted with sweeping views of a glacier packed Adams. One glacial runoff that I crossed was fairly dangerous. The water levels were high and the current was fast. I entered the water and held on to a thin downed tree and crossed without serious incident. Hikers on the southern side of the river watched, but they were more apprehensive about crossing than I. 

Towards the end of the day I was feeling good and I challenged myself to hike thirty miles. A lot of people are able to make this distance in a day but until today that's been outside my desire. As the sun set I donned my headlamp, quickened the pace, and pushed forward so I would arrive at the road where trail angels bring hikers and their money to town. I enjoyed the night hike because the moon was full and the setting was completely different from the rest of this summer's hikes. My final tally was 31.7 miles. I was so wound up when I set up my tent that in spite of my fatigue, I had trouble falling asleep.

Once in town, I rented a room behind the local general store for $40. Gen-Pop hikers pitched their tents on the grounds of the store or the local church. I was stoked to not sleep in the rain.

My final stretch should take four days and cover about eighty miles where I will cross the Columbia River's Bridge of the Gods and end this year's hike.

Goat Rocks Wilderness has been the highlight of this summer's hike. My bird's eye view from the top of Old Smokey will live with me forever.

One With the Trail

I left Trout Lake on the 8 O'clock shuttle. Rain pelted the minivan as we made our way back to the trailhead. I was hopeful the canopy of the forest would keep me dry.  Unfortunately, the underbrush quickly soaked me as I moved along the trail.

After twenty miles I camped at Bear Lake near a young couple from "down under." Wiggles was from Sydney and her boyfriend was from New Zealand. They had traveled quite extensively for their age. Wiggles had ridden her bike down the Pacific Coast Highway and her beau had recently joined her on the trail after traipsing across Europe with a rail pass.

My stove failed me that evening-It would no longer connect to my propane canister. I suspect the threads had become worn. Wiggles loaned me hers and I was able to eat my last warm meal for this section. Yummy Raman! I added the stove to the list of gear that has failed. The zipper on my Nemo Hornet tent broke. I bought some Velcro in Packwood and attached it with the hope it would last me for the rest of the hike- so far so good. My Hoka Gore Tex boots were worn and treadless. I have hiked over 800 miles in them.

The forecast called for rain at sunrise so I woke up early and broke camp before the skies opened. I didn't want my bag to be heavy and wet. The rain arrived promptly at 6 a.m. and I quickly became the most soaked I'd be this summer. My wet backpack rubbed against my lower back, and created a new friction point that resulted in an annoying abrasion. 

I am seeing less people on the trail because most of the NOBO's  have abandoned their quest for the Canadian border due to fires. Many of them are flipping south to hike the Sierra section that they skipped because of the high snowpack this spring.

I pressed hard to make my way to Cascade Locks. When I finally crossed the Bridge of the Gods I was overcome with relief, sadness and joy. I know that I will miss being outdoors and being on the trail. I feel that I have forged a new connection with my soul. I am connected to nature and God. I am connected to hikers and the trail. I am appreciative of the many blessings in life. I walk with purpose. I am Alive.

Wish Upon a Star.

The first trail morning blessed me with a beautiful sunrise. the mountains behind Pear lake turned dark orange and then burnt red. I was a lone camper on the north end of the lake so I felt like the sunrise was my personal show. It is now my third summer of hiking- I only have 200ish miles to complete the trail. The plan is was to start as soon as the snow has melted in northern washington and then hope the fire season does not start early.

As the first day wore on the heat turned up and I trudged along. The high vistas are remarkable. 

I planned on another 17+ mile day but only made 15.  My body is upside down from last week’s European trip. I was not hungry for dinner for the second night in a row.

I shared my next camp spot with a Southbounbd hiker.  She rolled in after I was laid out in my new Nemo DragonFly tent. I zonked out quickly. We both woke up at 11: 30 when I heard a deep grunt from the bushes. I got my light and pepper spray and stood outside the tent and made plenty of noise. It turned out to be a deer rooting at the ground. I slept lightly till 2am and we were again woken by animal sounds. When we flashed our lights a large owl swooped over our tents and into the night. I stayed awake a bit more this time as the moon lit the evening skies.  I saw two bright falling stars.

I made a starwish for there to be no commotion for the night.

I was back on the trail at 0530. There were more tough climbs. The bugs were relentless and violent. I made about 8 miles when I met hikers coming off the hill with news of a fire and trail closure at Mica Lake.

My best option seemed to do an about face and figure out my egress plan. I will shoot for a spur trail that's on my National Geographic map close to highway 2. It will take at least two days. Maybe I will see more shooting stars tonight? 

Now I will fall asleep thinking of my next wish. 

Dodging Fires and Making Friends

I made my way south through Glacier Peak Wilderness and the Snoqualmie national Forest. Since I had already hiked this section going north, I felt like I knew when I could hike quicker, and when to slow down for a climb.

I was making good time and at 2 and at days into this six day stretch I had gone as far as I could go. There was a fire at Mica Lake and the trail was closed. I had to turn around and head back to where I started in Stevens Pass.

I camped in a cathedral of pine trees by the Wenatchee river in the Henry M. Jackson wilderness. The sound of the river put me to sleep quickly. I was a little depressed about not being able to complete the section, but over the course of this trail, I understand this is part of the adventure.

I found a shortcut out via the Smith Brook Trail  back by Highway two. There were four college aged kids hiking just a couple of minutes ahead of me.. When we arrived at the trailhead, and I told them my story, they offered me a ride to Leavenworth. I found a room at the local Travelodge. After researching the current fire info I was able to hitch a ride in the morning to Chelan where I would catch a ride on the morning ferry to the Stehekin Valley Ranch and then hike to the trailhead..

The only problem was that there were more forest fires  close to, and along the east side of Lake Chelan. When transiting up the lake, the ferry passengers watched fire helicopters dropping water on hot spots that had encroached the lake. Stehekin was at a level one alert.  Level two means pack your bags and level three is an evacuation order.

Once I arrived at the Ranch I was assigned  the “Trapper Cabin.” It looks like it was built 150 years ago. I had to duck my head to enter through the tiny wooden front door. The evening dinner was communal and hardy. Most of the workers appeared to be high school or college aged girls. Right after dinner the sheriff's department put the county on level two and the ranch decided to stop operations and evacuate. It looked like everybody was getting back on the ferry and heading south but I was clear to walk out by heading north up the trail and making my way to Highway 20. 

After a 15 mile day I emerged from the forest.  I hadn’t even made it to the road, but I saw a little white Subaru whiz by and I threw out my thumb. An older couple had just finished a day hike and pulled over to pick me up and drop me off in Mazama. Parts of highway 20 were closed because of the rainy pass Fire immediately to the north. I knew if I got to the local hiker hostel (the Lions Den) I’d be able to have a Trail Angel take me to the top of that closure where I will be able to hike to the northern terminus and complete this journey. When I got to the Lions den, I met  two hikers that had just gone to Canada and turned around and then they were going to hike south. They were both 30 years old. The male was named Azad. His friend Hedda was from Sweden. They were both wiped out after their first five days of hiking. We decided to go into town to get fresh food and have a beer. We had an instant connection and many laughs and even tears over the course of dinner. We decided to rest and spend an extra day together in the tiny town of Mazama. Hedda and I went to the neighboring town of Winthrop to draw money from an ATM machine so we could drop a donation in the Lion’s Den gratuity jar.

Final Entry

After a day and half hike from Hart’s Pass- I reached  the trail’s northern terminus. So I sang a little ditty to the music of Mr. Bojangles-

“I knew a trail, Pacific Crest, I danced with her for three long years.

Up the hills,  through the clouds and with the trees,

She sent me free.

You sent me free.

Oh, you set me free, free, free.

Pacific Crest Trail, Pacific Trail let’s dance.”

And like that- I met the end of the trail and the beginning of a new life.