Though the first several hundred miles of trail were hard, I was surprised to find that the challenge was more a mental and logistical one, and less a physical one, than I had anticipated. Of course I spent my fair share of time cursing the steep climbs, my heavy backpack, the desert heat and the slippery snow. I sweat and ached and moved down the trail at a speed barely above crawling at times due to sheer exhaustion. But even so, I had expected worse. I thought the first month would hit me harder, that there would be more significant pain. That pain came towards the end of the desert section. I don‘t know why exactly it took so long to manifest, but by mile 500 or so, my feet were starting to really suffer. Every day, around mile 13 or so they would start talking to me. But every day, I ignored them and walked on, and by mile 18 or 19 or 20 when I dragged my butt into camp, they were screaming and i was hobbling. The only explanation I could come up with was that 20 miles was just too many. So I told myself that when I got to norcal, I was gonna “hike my own hike” as people like to say. Even if it meant losing my tramily, I would do shorter days, sleep in more often, and dilly dally to my heart’s content.
I would rate my success in this endeavor as partial. There have been sections where I wished I werent going as fast and ones where I did my own thing. But the section where I felt most like I was hiking how I wanted to, was just after Mt Shasta. Scraps and I decided to get on trail a day before our group, with the thought that then we could do smaller days, and they would catch up to us in a day or two. We didnt see them until the town of Etna, 5 days later.
In those 5 days, we slept in everyday, often not leaving our campsite till 8 or 9 in the morning. We walked slow, stopped for many breaks, and generally took it easy. Our lunch breaks in particular would stretch on for several hours, during which I would nap, and Scraps would draw. But the best part was that we only ever hiked as far as we wanted to. There was no pressure to make it to a certain campsite, or to go a certain number of miles, so if we found something good, or if we were tired, we stopped. This resulted in some of the most picturesque campsites I’ve had yet on trail. And somehow, despite all of our sleeping and dilly dallying, and the prevalent snow in that section, we still managed around 20 miles a day.
Our most scenic tent site, with a beautiful sunset over Mt. Shasta.
Clockwise from top left: Scraps climbing back down to the trail after some off roading; a classic lunch time nap; some snow; some more snow; some more snow.
Some more sunset pics.
The On-Trail Nero
For days leading up to the town of Etna, we had been hearing rumors that the snow on the next section was treacherous. Someone had allegedly fallen several hundred feet, breaking most of their gear and parts of their body. Many people were skipping around the pass and ridge line in question, but we decided to go and see for ourselves.
Nick, Scraps and I had gotten slightly behind the rest of the group, and camped just below the pass. To our surprise, since the previous day had been sunny and warm, we woke up inside of a cloud, with a dusting of snow covering the ground outside our tents. Luckily, it melted off fast, and we set out. Since none of the 3 of us had our ice axes, and also because we thought it’d be an adventure, we decided to try an alternate route that looked less snowy. We made it 2/3 of the way up this alternate no problem, but then we arrived at the sketchiest snow field any of us had seen yet on trail. The part that we could see was incredibly steep, with a long drop, and no chance of self arresting. The definition of a no-fall-zone. There was a single set of footprints traversing the bowl, and disappearing into the cloud that still surrounded us. Evidently someone had atleast attempted the cross, if not succeeded. We all stared for a while into the abyss, separately calculating our odds of making it across without falling, and the odds of death if we were to fall. Nick broke the silence first, advising us that he had not written a will, and proceeding to share his wishes should he not make it. He was mostly joking, I think. Scraps spoke next, just six words: “I think I’m gonna throw up.” And so, we made the call. Turned around, headed south, backtracked. It was tough to come to terms with, but three people with no ice axes really had no business traversing a steep angled snow field in a near white out.
Clockwise from top left: Scraps brushing her teeth in preparation (?) for the snow; Nick and I posing with the traverse that could have ended our hikes; Scraps trying to eat lunch while wearing all her layers and being snowed on; Nick in front of what probably would have been a beautiful view in normal weather
Turns out, the normal pct route, the pass that everyone had been calling sketchy, was nothing noteworthy. We kept expecting it to get worse, to come around a corner and see a really steep traverse, but it never happened. However, just a couple miles in, it started really snowing. We were already wearing all of our layers, and though we tried to keep hiking and stay warm that way, the cold and wet penetrated quickly. Even with two layers of gloves on, I couldn‘t feel my hands after only 10 minutes, and really couldn‘t bear the thought of continuing on like this for the rest of the day. The others weren‘t doing better, and so we decided to just put up our tents and hide until the storm broke.
Our hiding spot. Though I had also set up my tent, it was warmer and more fun to squish the three of us into Nick‘s two person tent. We stayed in there for almost 20 hours.
The next day we awoke to a winter wonderland, in the middle of June, and happily hiked 24 miles in hopes of catching our group.
A Shoutout
In Mt Shasta I got to see a childhood friend of mine, Sam Neill. He and his wife were nice enough to let a handful of dirty hikers spend a night in their home. It was such a treat to get to see him and his dad, and to stay in their (beautifully renovated) house. Thank you Sam!
As always, thanks for reading (and for waiting ages between editions)
