Last week marked our final week of hiking on the PCT for this season. While you can rest assured that the adventure (and blogging) will continue next week when we head off to eastern Europe, we were sad to see the end of another crazy, amazing hiking season.

Our final week was a microcosm of our whole summer experience. We changed plans due to weather, hiked in areas we hadn’t planned on at the beginning, had interesting experiences with wild animals,  met wonderful people, and were offered help by amazing strangers. Amidst it all we were blessed with beautiful scenery and strong legs, both of which helped us make it through the more difficult hiking of this last week.

South-bound from Ashland, OR: After almost two full weeks of storms (during which we backpacked along the CA coast and visited Aunt Carol in Florence, OR), we finally had a window of good weather to continue hiking, and we were ready to go. We drove down from Eugene, OR and spent the night in Yreka, giving us the best access to the trail in the morning to continue hiking north from where we’d left off. And then we checked the weather one last time. Storms. Right where we were going to begin again. Well, shit. By this time we were almost used to weathering these disappointments and were able to make a quick change of plans. In 10 minutes time we were driving north back toward Ashland, OR to hike “backwards,” or south-bound, from there… in the clear weather we were promised by the good people at the Medford meteorology office.

The vast majority of PCT thru-hikers (those trying to hike the entire trail in one, long hike of usually 5 months or so) walk from south to north. This makes hiking south-bound quite a different experience aside from the fact that we were still continuing the same activity as before. One must  read all maps and guidebooks backwards (they’re all written for north-bound hikers) as well as all directions to off-trail water sources and other notes of interest. Changes in elevation are also reversed, and we mentally prepped for some long, slow climbs and quick, steep descents. We also passed many more hikers than if we had been hiking north, enjoying many more social encounters.

And, what joyful hikers they were! You see, we passed many of them near one of just a few true markers of progress along the trail: the Oregon/California border. So happy is the thru-hiker that has completed the 1,700 mile stretch of the PCT through California and finally entered Oregon that the air is electric with their presence and energy. While the border did not mark quite as major a milestone for us, we enjoyed conversations with other hikers and took the requisite photos. Truthfully, the actual border crossing is one of the less majestic places along this section. But, perhaps to the thru-hiker, nothing is more beautiful than seeing “Welcome to Oregon” etched simply in a wooden sign.

Please, no more cowbell: Cowbell. That musical “instrument” we just can’t seem to get enough of… well, we’ve had more than enough cowbell. Our cowbell incident began shortly after sunset as the last rays of light were dying and we were tucked snuggly in our sleeping bags, reading our book. We heard the distant clanging of the bells and smiled to each other. We’d heard them periodically all day, and they reminded us of wind chimes. Then we heard them getting closer… and closer… and closer until a cacophony of bells resounded in our ears. We bounded out of our tent (ball point pens in hand) in case we needed to take cover behind something sturdier than nylon. In the dimming light we could make out shadows of the massive bovine in a semicircular pattern around us. We hoped the herd would continue moving on as quickly as they seemed to approach. But the bells told us we would not be so lucky. We quickly learned that we’d pitched our tent in a nice little forested area right next to their dessert meadow. That’s right, at 9:30 pm, half an hour past “hiker midnight,” 30+ cows were bowing their heads to feast in the meadow next to our tent, tinny clangs ringing out with each movement.

While they seemed harmless enough, cowbell isn’t exactly on the list of sleep-inducing nature sounds. We had to get rid of them. We threw the rain fly over our tent to make it more visible, stood next to it, and raised our arms high and wide to make ourselves appear the larger animal. The cows that noticed us scared easily enough and began running. And once a few of them go, well, herd mentality and all. We successfully created a small stampede of fearful bovine. We watched them scamper off while listening to the lovely sound of receding cowbells.

The bells resounded faintly in the distance for the remainder of the night while we, with earplugs firmly embedded, slept like babies… until about 4:45am when an increasing clanging drew us from our slumber. Yeah, we thought that would be the end of our cowbell experience too. But no. They were back for breakfast and approaching fast…. okay, not fast, but fast enough that we broke camp in record time and set off for the day at a light jog to try to keep ahead of them. You see, they also use the trail, and following 30 cows for who-knows-how-many miles was a little more cowbell and cow pie than we were ready for. We hiked a full six miles before we could pause without hearing  bells.

We made amazing time that day, hiking 14 miles before lunch and 22 total (our longest day). Turns out nothing motivates quite like cowbell. The next day, we had a short, steep descent into the tiny town of Seiad Valley, CA. We pitied the north-bound hikers we passed who had to hike up the trail: it climbs (or descends in our case) about 5,000 feet of elevation in under seven miles, mostly through exposed, burned out forest. Of course, we would soon have our own insane climb of 5,000+ feet over ~20 miles… not quite as steep, but an entire day of exhausting climbing nonetheless. Thankfully, Seiad Valley provided a shady respite between the descents and climbs. We relaxed and filled our bellies with BLT’s, milkshakes, popsicles and other treats – everything the hiker body loves.

The beginning of our climb out was also dotted with treats and marked our second foraging experience on the trail: blackberry picking! (Our first experience was thimbleberry picking after a couple locals told us they were edible and ate a few in front of us. Quite tasty!) We scoured the bushes for ripe berries and filled the little remaining space in our tummies with the delicious fruit. Maybe not the best climbing fuel, but it sure fueled our spirits!

Marble Madness:  Completing our climb out of Seiad Valley, we then hiked over the Marble Mountains. It was incredibly rugged and incredibly beautiful.

And, unfortunately for us, turning incredibly stormy…

We were not supposed to get storms during our last few days, but as we know and has been drilled into us this summer, the only thing constant is changing weather. We avoided the worst of the storms that night, though thunder kept us in a grove of trees for awhile earlier in the evening. Of course, this unexpected change put us on our guard. Was this a fluke? Would the weather get worse? Would our trip be cut short by weather just two days before its official end? The answers to those questions are: No, Yes, and Sort of.

The next day we asked everyone we passed if they knew what weather we could expect as they would have gotten a more recent report than we had. Almost every person knew, and each one had a different forecast; “perfectly sunny!”, “20% chance of storms but only this afternoon”, and “take shelter for the entire afternoon and most of tomorrow” are a few we heard. Of course, as we hiked we watched another set of clouds roll in ahead of us. By noon, the first claps of distant thunder could be heard over one  hiker’s weather report: “Naw, I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to storm at all.”

The trail finally crossed a road that day, and the increasingly frequent claps of thunder told us it was time to leave the trail again. We caught a hitch into the town of Etna and debated our next move over some pizza. We did not want our first post-entire-PCT-hike meal to be filled with the disappointment we felt being driven off the trail early by weather (we were honestly drowning our disappointment in pizza). We wanted to end the hike on our own terms.

Crushing it: We scoured the PCT weather reports for an area with clear skies, and strangely enough, back up near Ashland in southern Oregon (where we’d hiked south from and where our car was conveniently located), everything looked peachy. We were extremely lucky and found a hitch who drove us from Etna all the way up to Ashland. From there, we hiked north-bound for our last two days to Hyatt Reservoir. This put us at just over 500 PCT miles for the summer – a figure we’re pretty pleased with (especially considering all the storms that kept us off the trail for many days) – and allowed us to end the trip with a strong feeling of accomplishment. We crushed it!

Our PCT adventures for the summer have come to a close, but we’re excited to take off on a flight to Krakow, Poland on August 4th  to continue this year of adventure on a different continent. To all our family and friends, thank you for all the love and support – we couldn’t be doing this without you!

Plan B

The ranger looked at us, eyebrows raised in skepticism: “But it’s just the two of you.”

Pause for an expected response we never gave…

She, continuing: “There’s been some aggressive mountain lion activity in that area.”

We had driven out to Redwood National Park for a backcountry trip over 4th of July weekend. Strog picked a great route for us, and we’d filled out all the paperwork for campsites as required by the park. We were discussing getting back to our car on Monday by hiking back via a few trails when the ranger began voicing her concerns.

She continued explaining: “There’s two of them, siblings. The other night they stalked a group of hikers for a couple of hours… Seven hikers yelled at them and threw rocks, but they didn’t leave…. The lions got within 30 feet of the hikers. Do you have your flares?”

Flares? You mean sticks of fire meant to be waved about… in a dense forest… in the middle of an extreme drought? We shook our heads, no.

She: “Go to Walmart. Get some flares and maybe a little air horn. You’ve got to hit them with something different they’re not expecting. You have a Leatherman.”

This was not a question. We travel light. No, we don’t carry a Leatherman, because the chance of us needing to break out our black belt level hand-to-paw combat skills typically hovers around zero.

Us (looking a bit dazed at this point): “No.”

She gave us a sympathetic look and tried to reassure us: “Well, this one couple… He was in the lead and so was the one attacked, and his wife fought off the mountain lion with a ball point pen. She gouged out its eyes.”

Finally, a weapon worthy of the situation.

She: “I don’t want to scare you, but these two have been much more aggressive than we expect. We think the mother didn’t teach them to hunt properly. I’m not sure what they’ll do. Give me your cell phone number – though cells usually don’t work out there – we’ll try to reach you in case of another incident… and I’ll take an emergency contact number [in case you are the other incident].”

With all the paperwork filled out – save for our last will and testament – we headed back to our car like prisoners to the gallows.

We briefly discussed our new Walmart shopping list. At this point, the lions were probably expecting flares. We added to it clown costumes and ninja stars. We assessed our meager collection of ball point pens accumulated at various motels along the way. They seemed inadequate, and we added a Mont Blanc to the shopping list as well.

We did not go to Walmart. Instead, we drove straight to a second visitors center to get a second opinion. The second opinion made us feel much better. Perhaps it was that this ranger reviewed the incident report in front of us, or that she seemed fairly confident that two people together would probably be fine. Of course, she added in that she wouldn’t go alone, and that she’d prefer to be in a bigger group, but “mountain lions are supposed to be afraid of humans, right?” Right?!

We continued to drive toward the trailhead, feeling marginally better but still a bit nervous, when we realized we hadn’t filled our water bottles for the hike in. We stopped at a third visitors center on the way and decided to get a third opinion while filling our bottles.

Third ranger opinion: “It sounds like the first chapter of White Fang. I wouldn’t go out there.”

We changed plans.

Plan C

There was one backcountry camp open – the one that “always has spots available”. We told ranger number three we’d take a spot there (4pm on Friday of 4th of July weekend leaves few options). She looked at us in disbelief for choosing that camp, then shrugged as if to say, “better than being eaten by a mountain lion.”

Our new route had us climb three miles up to the first camp, a trek that was fairly easy once we completed the initial challenges. The first challenge was following the written instructions to the trailhead. Succeeding there meant completion of the only challenge. We failed. We followed signs instead. Thus, we were met with three more challenges: 1) break through the thorny thicket of hell, 2) walk past the seal carcass of putridity, and 3) cross the creek of stagnation. Seriously, we would have skipped all of those things if we’d just walked up the highway 100 yards – which seemed dangerous, but was clearly the thing to do.

The rest of our hike up that day was relatively uneventful. Much of the trail was overgrown, and holes in the trail were sneakily covered with branches leading to a few rolled ankles. However, we made it to the backcountry camp in one piece and settled in for the night. The next day, July 4th, we had a very enjoyable hike through amazingly tall redwood trees out to the beach. It’s wonderful feeling so small amidst these enormous trees that have been around for hundreds of years and will be alive long after we’ve passed. We celebrated the night of the 4th with Snickers bars – about as patriotic as apple pie (or as close as we could get).

Before we left on this three day trek, we were warned by the ranger (the one who compared the recent moutain lion incident to White Fang) of the elk herds that can sometimes be found along the beach trail we planned to walk on. We were told to 1) give them a wide berth, and 2) never turn your back to them. We added elk to our list of things not to turn our backs on: bears, mountain lions, and the ocean. (We’ve just decided to hike back to back for the rest of our trip.) Sure enough, as we worked our way along the beach trail, we ran into a herd of elk straddling both sides of the trail. We were definitely not going to be giving them a wide berth. And we had no choice but to turn our backs to at least a few of them. We nervously began an infinite loop of Jingle Bells, loud enough to let them know we were there, but not so loud as to frighten them. it seemed to work fairly well as the closer ones moved out of our way while the rest just stared at us (in fascination of our singing?). Pictures of the elk were taken at a “safe” distance, so you can’t really see them, but trust us, they were big (especially the one with the antlers).

The next stretch was filled with beautiful ocean views as we hiked through an area only accessible at low tide. We’d awoken extra early that morning to be sure we reached this section at the right time and so had the beaches (and the elk) all to ourselves.

The trail finally turned back into the forest, climbing up the bluffs through overgrown rainforest turning back to towering redwoods. We reached our camp in the early afternoon and spent the rest of the day reading our books.

Our hike back out the next day was lovely, and we got a hitch back to our car from a wonderful couple. In the end, we escaped the moutain lions of Redwood Park, and we were pretty happy with our decision to go with plan C.

This section can best be described in three words: exposed, hot, and climbing. Castle Crags towered over us in the beginning looking quite cragly but providing little shade, and the trail stretched before us, rugged and climbing. Though incredibly beautiful, our victories on this section amounted to reaching the end of the steep part of the climb, finding shade large enough to pitch our tent in to nap, and cooling off with a swim in a beautiful lake.

Oh yeah, and not getting bit by a rattlesnake. That was an early but important victory considering I put my foot down right next to its head. Turns out humans also give off audible warnings, though they’re about three octaves higher than the snake’s.

But let’s return to this lake for a minute, because it was a really special treat. For most of our hike so far, we ended up at nice swimming holes either too early or too late in the day to truly enjoy them. This time, we arrived at the lake (Porcupine Lake) around noon after a hot morning. We stripped to our skivvies and waded in to the warmest water we’ve yet experienced on the trail… Meaning we got a refreshing 5 min swim before the chill reached our bones. Oh but it was worth the dip! And the next couple hours were spent lounging in the shade, reading and gazing at the crystal waters – truly a beautiful experience.

That evening brought another cool encounter (cool as in neat… it was still hot as hell) – seven deer along the trail all within a mile. It was as if we stumbled into there territory and just missed the sign. One was even lying in the trail and didn’t move until we got within 5-10 feet of it. We thought it was injured. It was not. That’s how hot it was. The deer wouldn’t even leave its shady spot on the trail until we were close enough to hug it. And even then, it seemed to rather lumber off over prancing away. (Unfortunately, we could not have gone around the deer safely as that portion of trail was lined on both sides by boulder fields.)

 We’d decided before leaving this week to cut out early to check on weather. It had looked like storms might be coming, and we were hiking through very exposed terrain with little opportunity to get into trees for protection if need be. The evening before reaching our out, as we set up camp, a woman came hiking along and set up camp near us. She introduced herself as Steady, and we said, “Steady, wife of Subway Steve?!” [of the previous week’s mini pie fame], and sure enough it was! We were lucky to run into Steady, because Subway Steve picked her up the next morning and gave us a ride to both a ranger station to check weather and back to town once we saw the weather was turning bad again. And of course that was only after peppering our pallets with pastries. Yum!

Unfortunately, we did leave the trail for several days to let the weather pass. We’re continuing to check on it, but look for our next post to cover our 4th of July weekend backpacking the coast in Redwood National Park!

“Wow,” Strog began, emerging from the dense forest as I swatted yet again at the elusive flies floating in front of my face. “I think we just hiked out of the forest and into Switzerland.” I refocused my eyes for the view and let my jaw drop as I took in Mt. Shasta in the near distance and the wild flowers around us. A daring fly seized it’s opportunity and dove into my mouth. Perhaps I should have been grateful for the extra protein, but I wasn’t.

Instead, all my gratitude went into the scene before my eyes. When you’ve spent the better part of an hour or a day hiking through trees and you finally emerge on an open, flower-covered hillside with a spectacular mountain in front of you, well, it’s like stumbling upon front row tickets to a private concert of your favorite band. You can’t help but stop and show gratitude to the universe for creating such a majestic scene and placing you in it. And grateful we were, displayed largely in the act of taking breaks and eating at each perfectly placed viewpoint: bagels and cream cheese in the pre-noon hour, ramen in the afternoon, and beef jerky and candy bars in the evening.

You see, this week blew away our expectations. We stayed relatively low in elevation (mostly well under 6,000 feet), and so we expected to encounter quite a tough week of hiking over terrain covered in desert and grassland foliage with little shade. Surprisingly delighted were we to encounter continuously beautiful terrain: mountain and valley views, rivers, and waterfalls amidst lush shaded forest hiking. Perhaps due to the majestic views that continually surprised us or the relatively easy hiking terrain, but probably due to a combination of things, this last section has been our favorite so far on this trek.

 One strategy that made this week more pleasant was our early morning wake up times. We set the alarm for 5:00 am each morning and were hiking by 6:30. I know, I can’t believe it either. Nor can I believe that I just admitted that it made our experience more pleasant. But it’s true! The early morning hiking was cool and peaceful. By early afternoon the temps were unpleasantly hot, and we’d find shade, pitch our tent, and nap or read the afternoon away and hike on into the evening. It was really lovely despite my daily morning protests. And we got to see a couple of incredible sunrises. It’s amazing how we never seem to become habituated to sunrises and sunsets. No one ever glances west and says, “Oh that? Just another sunset.” Each one is something to pause and pay reverence to.

We also felt really strong this week: strong in our legs, our feet, and our spirits. It takes awhile to really build up hiker legs and feet – those that can go for miles and miles without tiring then get up and do it again the next day. Those for which a hill is just a hill and five miles is a short jaunt. We are certainly not as strong as the thru-hikers we’ve met, but our multiple 15 mile days mixed in with an 18er and our newfound ability (or at least newfound for me) to steam roll up hills shows us we’ve acquired our hiker legs. And it feels really good.

Of course, the legs are carried by the spirit, and to that end our spirits were lifted time and again by surprise views of Mt. Shasta, by cool streams to rinse our faces and soak our feet, and by incredible rivers and waterfalls. Each time the hiking started to become monotonous, we were met with some delightful surprise that lifted us up and lightened our load (at least metaphorically).

One such surprise (man-made, though, not natural) came partway up our last big climb of the section. We’d just powered up the first, steep mile after filling our packs with ten miles of water for a hot day when we came to a road. Luckily for us, we were perfectly timed to meet Subway Steve, trail angel and bearer of all things delicious. At first we turned down his offers of sandwiches and Gatorade: stuffing myself before a climb is never good. But then Steve mentioned pie. Pie, you say? Yes, I think we could probably help relieve you of that excess-pie problem you’re having. A mini pecan and lemon pie later (separately – one pecan, one lemon) and we could have sprinted the rest of the climb. Thank you, Subway Steve, for lifting our spirits and making pie our new hill climbing sponsor – this climb is brought to you by… Pie.

All in all, this week has been beautiful, fun, and everything we could hope for in a hike, really. All the awesomeness overpowered the flies, bees, mosquitos, and overly intimate sessions with poison oak (another story for another time). Happy trails!

Oh wait! Don’t go yet. I forgot one other piece – babies! Babies everywhere! Baby deer, baby snakes, baby lizards, baby birds – no baby bears or mountain lions yet (and no baby humans). Babies definitely added to the amazement of the week. So we’ll leave you with this video of babies being surprisingly unafraid of us.

There are so many stories that make up this crazy week of hiking for us. And we are stumped by how to relay all the amazing tidbits to you without droning on about each one. I mean, it might interest you to learn that we hiked 15 miles (our longest day yet) to arrive, unexpectedly early, at a guest ranch serving us a three course, cloth napkins, meal. But do you really need to know the details of each delectably amazing course? Um, yes. Yes you do.  

 And you’re probably a bit intrigued knowing that Bling got a blister so bad she hiked 4 miles one afternoon in a flip flop.  

But do you really want to see the blister? Or the subsequent shoe surgery that allowed us to continue hiking? (We almost cut out early due to the pain.) Oh, you do? We appreciate your interest! Click for blister and shoe surgery pics.

But really, the tidbits do go on and on… And in between those tidbits we did some of our strongest hiking yet through beautiful volcanic Lassen Park and along the incredible, and incredibly exposed, Hat Creek Rim. So maybe it’s best if we relay the week in pictures instead of words.

 

 
 

 
 

 
 

  

 

And we met a trail crew who let us help out for a few minutes. 

 

 
 

 
 

   

 

Picture pause for a few words on the hat creek rim experience… Hat Creek Rim itself is a 23 mile section of mostly exposed trail in the middle of a 30 mile waterless stretch. The guidebook and handbook warn about how hot it can be and recommend hiking as much of it as possible in the late evening and early morning. And hikers seem to share their Hat Creek Rim experiences in a where-were-you-on-9/11 sort of way. We followed the recommended plan, hiking through the evening and again very early in the morning to complete the rim in about 18 hours.  We carried seven liters of water each. Although we certainly didn’t experience the hottest temperatures possible (one PCT thru-hiker said it was 115 degrees at night when he hiked it in 2013), we got a good taste of the heat in our second day as we finally finished the rim at 1:30pm, well after the recommended get-down-off-the-rim  time. 

While the heat is usually the primary topic when it comes to Hat Creek Rim, we were struck by how incredibly beautiful it was. We had our first real views of Mt. Shasta and beautiful views of Mt. Lassen’s snowier north face, Hat Creek Valley, and lots of wildflowers. We hiked a small portion at night – a moonless night – and so had incredible views of the Milky Way too. All in all, the beauty outweighed the heat, our heavy packs, and our achy joints, making for a delightful experience.

 

 
 

 

Suffice to say, it was an exciting week. And we are glad to be hitting town for a rest day complete with hamburgers and milkshakes!