"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Welcome to our blog!
Here you will find the periodic wanderings of "Steady" Rod and "Spirit" Fran. We wandered around the world for 20 months fifteen years ago, and have hiked or kayaked a number of long treks since then. Scroll along the listings to the right to see which trip you want to explore, check out a little bit about us using the buttons above, or just start reading chronologically below.
"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Our 2013 wandering was a 4,000-mile hike and kayak journey from Key West in Florida to Halifax, Nova Scotia in Canada. You can read about it starting at the beginning.
"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Reflections in Arcata
We drove down the coast to Arcata to meet Michael Kauffmann, the guy who created this crazy trail. We really enjoyed the trail and prepared some nice things to say. But we also decided not to ask the real question on our minds: "What were you thinking!".
Michael, a local high school science teacher, has been infatuated with the conifers of this area for years and written two books on the topic. He thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail in 2002, and in 2009 combined those two passions by mapping out the initial route of the Bigfoot Trail and completing the first thru hike. To date, there have been about 30 people attempt to hike the entire trail.
Michael peppers us with questions about the trail condition and experience. We are able to update him with details, such as that the flagging at Baldy Peak is quite visible and helpful but the flagging west of the Bigfoot Highway has all dropped to the forest floor. Mostly we just wanted to thank him for all of his efforts. The Bigfoot Trail is purely a volunteer affair, and Michael still shoulders most of the burden.
Wildcat and I continue to reflect on who we would recommend this trail to. The list is short. You need the physical stamina of a twenty or thirty years old, very good outdoor and navigational skills, and incredible persistence. We hear that one pair of hikers this year abandoned their hike the first week on the trail. Between us, we have hiked with or met most of the Triple Crowners, so that is a likely pool of candidates. But beyond that? This trail was by far the most challenging either of us had faced, both physically and skill-wise. It is not to be undertaken casually.
Michael, a local high school science teacher, has been infatuated with the conifers of this area for years and written two books on the topic. He thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail in 2002, and in 2009 combined those two passions by mapping out the initial route of the Bigfoot Trail and completing the first thru hike. To date, there have been about 30 people attempt to hike the entire trail.
Michael peppers us with questions about the trail condition and experience. We are able to update him with details, such as that the flagging at Baldy Peak is quite visible and helpful but the flagging west of the Bigfoot Highway has all dropped to the forest floor. Mostly we just wanted to thank him for all of his efforts. The Bigfoot Trail is purely a volunteer affair, and Michael still shoulders most of the burden.
Wildcat and I continue to reflect on who we would recommend this trail to. The list is short. You need the physical stamina of a twenty or thirty years old, very good outdoor and navigational skills, and incredible persistence. We hear that one pair of hikers this year abandoned their hike the first week on the trail. Between us, we have hiked with or met most of the Triple Crowners, so that is a likely pool of candidates. But beyond that? This trail was by far the most challenging either of us had faced, both physically and skill-wise. It is not to be undertaken casually.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Ocean
We start with a lovely stroll through the Stout Grove of Redwoods, a collection of giants by the river. Easy miles up the Mill Creek Trail pass by, with our first view of Sitka Spruce.
The trail ends at Howland Hills Road, signaling the final five-mile roadwalk to the ocean. Perfectly ripe blackberries conspire to slow us down and enjoy our last couple of hours.
We head to the beach, and WILDCAT wants me to take the first step into the water to finish first. While I protest that we should step in together a wave washes over both of us, answering the question. It is a tie, as it should be.
We head to the beach, and WILDCAT wants me to take the first step into the water to finish first. While I protest that we should step in together a wave washes over both of us, answering the question. It is a tie, as it should be.
The end came so fast. The beginning went so slowly, the miles never came easy, but now it is over.
The last day of any hike has never been a big deal to me; it is just another day of hiking. Soon, the Bigfoot Trail will simply become the past, and it will be time to enjoy the new day, whatever that brings. This trail is over, and tomorrow brings something new.
10 miles to the Pacific Ocean, at mile 360.
10 miles to the Pacific Ocean, at mile 360.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Redwoods
We are going to slack-pack the rest of the way to the ocean, meeting the RV at night and just carrying lunch and water with us. We climb up and over the Little Bald Hill and drop into the redwoods at the River Trail.
That was our last climb. We really are in the final stretches now. It seems like it went so fast.
8 miles to the River Trail on Smith River, at mile 350.
That was our last climb. We really are in the final stretches now. It seems like it went so fast.
8 miles to the River Trail on Smith River, at mile 350.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Slowly, slowly
Despite our earlier concern about making daily miles, now we are in great shape. We decide to finish slowly, taking our time and enjoying the last few days. I reflect that we pushed so hard early on, and now we have some extra time. Perhaps we could have eased up a little and enjoyed it more? But where? So many days we needed to get the extra miles to reach water, to get out of an overgrown area to camp, or to line up for a hot climb early in the morning. I'm not sure where we would have added days. Maybe a zero or two, taking time off for our bodies to rest?
Today we just hike down the road to the Paradise Trailhead and take the afternoon off to swim in the river again and spend time with Fran.
Despite my attempts to love the Altras Lone Peak shoes, I have given up on them. They are completely worn out with glue coming apart, the cushioning smashed to smithereens so that I feel every pebble, torn mesh, worn sole, and just generally beat up. Not to mention they still cause a bloody blister on the top of my foot from a poor quality tongue seam. I toss them to the side and pull out my New Balance shoes. They will get me to the ocean. No more Altras for me.
6 miles to the Paradise Trailhead, to mile 340.
Today we just hike down the road to the Paradise Trailhead and take the afternoon off to swim in the river again and spend time with Fran.
Despite my attempts to love the Altras Lone Peak shoes, I have given up on them. They are completely worn out with glue coming apart, the cushioning smashed to smithereens so that I feel every pebble, torn mesh, worn sole, and just generally beat up. Not to mention they still cause a bloody blister on the top of my foot from a poor quality tongue seam. I toss them to the side and pull out my New Balance shoes. They will get me to the ocean. No more Altras for me.
6 miles to the Paradise Trailhead, to mile 340.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Finishing the last tough section
Five simple miles to the trailhead and Fran with the RV. Good trail and little up or down. Yippee.
We bang out the short miles and ... no Fran. We had reviewed the plans enough that a misunderstanding is unlikely. We wait a few minutes, eat our last snacks, and consider options. Perhaps the road is blocked, or impassable with the RV. There could be worse options, such as a breakdown, but those are less likely.
We had planned this section for four days, but the overgrowth challenges stretched it out another half day. I had texted a couple of days ago to let her know to expect it us in five days, but don't know if she got the text.
Our best bet is to start walking the road. We are out of water and waiting here doesn't accomplish anything.
The road goes steadily uphill for a couple of miles, then starts down. We begin the slog uphill, fill up water at a creek, and climb.
At the top of the hill, we find the RV! Fran had driven up these roads and was concerned about overheating the brakes on the downhill. She had not received my text so drove up higher this morning to get a signal, and was able to pick up my text, albeit a little late, and then return to where we met her.
Typically, Fran does not worry too much about me if I'm tardy coming into a checkpoint. Actually, I was only late once on the PCT. She knows that I will not make foolish decisions and if I am late it is probably for a good reason. She has talked about that before. But this time she is worried since she knows there is no one else on this trail. If I have a problem, there is no one coming up behind me to help. Given that, and the trail conditions of this section, she is already considering calling Search and Rescue. She was pretty worried. Fortunately, she received my text message first.
After a nice afternoon break, we slack-pack on down the road to the Stevenson bridge over the South Fork Smith River and have a nice swim.
12 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 335.
We bang out the short miles and ... no Fran. We had reviewed the plans enough that a misunderstanding is unlikely. We wait a few minutes, eat our last snacks, and consider options. Perhaps the road is blocked, or impassable with the RV. There could be worse options, such as a breakdown, but those are less likely.
We had planned this section for four days, but the overgrowth challenges stretched it out another half day. I had texted a couple of days ago to let her know to expect it us in five days, but don't know if she got the text.
Our best bet is to start walking the road. We are out of water and waiting here doesn't accomplish anything.
The road goes steadily uphill for a couple of miles, then starts down. We begin the slog uphill, fill up water at a creek, and climb.
At the top of the hill, we find the RV! Fran had driven up these roads and was concerned about overheating the brakes on the downhill. She had not received my text so drove up higher this morning to get a signal, and was able to pick up my text, albeit a little late, and then return to where we met her.
Typically, Fran does not worry too much about me if I'm tardy coming into a checkpoint. Actually, I was only late once on the PCT. She knows that I will not make foolish decisions and if I am late it is probably for a good reason. She has talked about that before. But this time she is worried since she knows there is no one else on this trail. If I have a problem, there is no one coming up behind me to help. Given that, and the trail conditions of this section, she is already considering calling Search and Rescue. She was pretty worried. Fortunately, she received my text message first.
After a nice afternoon break, we slack-pack on down the road to the Stevenson bridge over the South Fork Smith River and have a nice swim.
12 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 335.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
The toughest part of the Bigfoot Trail
We have seven miles downhill to Gunbarrel Slide, a seemingly easy hike. But this section is completely overgrown, and the trail is obliterated. Michael Kauffmann warns that this section is tough and requires expert navigation. Buck-30 called it a challenging, very difficult section: "Get ready for hell. Way over head high and very thick brush to push through. At times I had to use everything I had to push up through the brush. I had no problem following the super vague trail as it's not even possible to walk off it."
This promises to be a tough day. We had a tough slog through overgrown vegetation a week ago, but that was just a half mile or less. I fear this one will go on all day. I hope I haven't built it up too badly and psyched myself out.
As we descend Harrington Mountain, the trail vanishes, and the brush closes in. We slowly pick our way down, but it really is not that bad, not as bad as the last couple of miles last night. I'm glad we got those out of the way yesterday. Next, we start the climb up Baldy Peak, which is pretty much straight up. The trail is horrible, just steep. We take a break at the top, munching Fran's homemade peanut butter cookies. So far so good.
After Baldy Peak, the trail deteriorated. The brush closed in and swallowed up the trail. Michael had recently flagged a route through the brush, tying flagging tape to the top of the brush every ten feet or so. Our task was then to climb up some brush branches to get a view of the next flagging tape, drop back into the dense brush and push forward toward the tape. Once we found the tape, then we would climb up again and spot the next flagging tape, and repeat the process.
The trail was completely insane. I added new rips in my skin and pack. We shoved, pulled, pushed and forced our way through the vegetation. If we were just five feet apart, we couldn't see each other. We barely made any progress. As WILDCAT says, "and then it got worse." We just kept on pushing through.
Eventually, the brush thinned out, though the trail was still invisible until we were near the Gunbarrel Slide. At the bottom, we took a nice break at Harrington Creek, cleaned up and cooked dinner. We talked about what a crazy trail this is, and how insane it is to hike. Who would we recommend this to? Not very many. Yet we both are loving it. Maybe it is not just the trail that is crazy.
With just seven miles for the day, we decide to hike some evening miles and head down the South Fork Smith River Trail. But as always, to go down, you must go up. We take switchbacks up and down, and up again.
The trail gets fainter and fainter. We expected simple trail after Gunbarrel Slide, but we underestimated The Bigfoot Trail again as it became overgrown and strewn with the downfall. As it hung to a cliff, it became narrower and more difficult. Once again, "and then it got worse." It didn't feel right. I flipped on my GPS and discovered that we had missed a turn - we were on the old, abandoned trail and a new one had taken a switchback up higher. But we were almost halfway through, so going back or forward were about equidistant, and either was likely to take a long time. We continued on, but the trail got worse. Eventually, we reached a stretch just a few inches wide at the top of a cliff a few hundred feet down. That was too dangerous. We reassessed, turned around, and slowly backed our way out.
We finally returned to the missed turn and discovered why. A tree had fallen over the new route right where it turned up the hill, obscuring the switchback. I broke off some of the branches to clear the new trail a little and piled it on the old path. It was still not great, but maybe the next hiker is less likely to get in trouble.
We hiked for a few more miles and found a flat spot to pitch my tent. The mosquitoes again are bad. WILDCAT has permethrin treated clothing that works well with moderate mosquito populations, but these are pretty thick. His tarp won't shield mosquitoes, so I've been offering him to join inside my tarptent the past few nights. Tonight he accepts the offer. The evening is hot, and our two bodies are both radiating lots of heat. It takes a few hours before it cools down enough for good sleep, but at least the mosquitoes are kept at bay.
10 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 323.
This promises to be a tough day. We had a tough slog through overgrown vegetation a week ago, but that was just a half mile or less. I fear this one will go on all day. I hope I haven't built it up too badly and psyched myself out.
As we descend Harrington Mountain, the trail vanishes, and the brush closes in. We slowly pick our way down, but it really is not that bad, not as bad as the last couple of miles last night. I'm glad we got those out of the way yesterday. Next, we start the climb up Baldy Peak, which is pretty much straight up. The trail is horrible, just steep. We take a break at the top, munching Fran's homemade peanut butter cookies. So far so good.
After Baldy Peak, the trail deteriorated. The brush closed in and swallowed up the trail. Michael had recently flagged a route through the brush, tying flagging tape to the top of the brush every ten feet or so. Our task was then to climb up some brush branches to get a view of the next flagging tape, drop back into the dense brush and push forward toward the tape. Once we found the tape, then we would climb up again and spot the next flagging tape, and repeat the process.
The trail was completely insane. I added new rips in my skin and pack. We shoved, pulled, pushed and forced our way through the vegetation. If we were just five feet apart, we couldn't see each other. We barely made any progress. As WILDCAT says, "and then it got worse." We just kept on pushing through.
Eventually, the brush thinned out, though the trail was still invisible until we were near the Gunbarrel Slide. At the bottom, we took a nice break at Harrington Creek, cleaned up and cooked dinner. We talked about what a crazy trail this is, and how insane it is to hike. Who would we recommend this to? Not very many. Yet we both are loving it. Maybe it is not just the trail that is crazy.
With just seven miles for the day, we decide to hike some evening miles and head down the South Fork Smith River Trail. But as always, to go down, you must go up. We take switchbacks up and down, and up again.
The trail gets fainter and fainter. We expected simple trail after Gunbarrel Slide, but we underestimated The Bigfoot Trail again as it became overgrown and strewn with the downfall. As it hung to a cliff, it became narrower and more difficult. Once again, "and then it got worse." It didn't feel right. I flipped on my GPS and discovered that we had missed a turn - we were on the old, abandoned trail and a new one had taken a switchback up higher. But we were almost halfway through, so going back or forward were about equidistant, and either was likely to take a long time. We continued on, but the trail got worse. Eventually, we reached a stretch just a few inches wide at the top of a cliff a few hundred feet down. That was too dangerous. We reassessed, turned around, and slowly backed our way out.
We finally returned to the missed turn and discovered why. A tree had fallen over the new route right where it turned up the hill, obscuring the switchback. I broke off some of the branches to clear the new trail a little and piled it on the old path. It was still not great, but maybe the next hiker is less likely to get in trouble.
We hiked for a few more miles and found a flat spot to pitch my tent. The mosquitoes again are bad. WILDCAT has permethrin treated clothing that works well with moderate mosquito populations, but these are pretty thick. His tarp won't shield mosquitoes, so I've been offering him to join inside my tarptent the past few nights. Tonight he accepts the offer. The evening is hot, and our two bodies are both radiating lots of heat. It takes a few hours before it cools down enough for good sleep, but at least the mosquitoes are kept at bay.
10 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 323.
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Uphill, and approaching the worst section of the Bigfoot Trail
We finished the downhill (which seemed like uphill) yesterday, but today is definitely uphill. After following Clear Creek downstream, we are now climbing up the West Fork of Clear Creek, gaining 3,500 feet in six miles. While the trail is okay, after a few miles we enter a dry five-mile stretch. That feeds into tomorrow's challenge, the most overgrown, notoriously horrible section of the Bigfoot Trail. We hike a couple of miles into that mess today, both to reach water and especially to get a head start on a tough hike tomorrow.
The trail evaporates near Harrington Lake, an overgrown lake with no places to lay out a sleeping bag. Someone tied flagging tape to delineate a trail, but much of it was on small twigs that have blown down, so you only see the flagging tape if you step on it. We have a GPS track but it follows a different course than the flagging tape. Neither actually has a trail associated with it so we traverse up and down, cross the outlet of the lake, and work our way towards a stream a mile away. The miles are slow, so we are thankful that we put those miles behind us today.
From here to Gunbarrel Slide, seven miles ahead, will be dry, overgrown, and tough. This is our last challenging section of the Bigfoot Trail, and it threatens to kick our butts.
9 miles to Harrington Mountain, to mile 313.
The trail evaporates near Harrington Lake, an overgrown lake with no places to lay out a sleeping bag. Someone tied flagging tape to delineate a trail, but much of it was on small twigs that have blown down, so you only see the flagging tape if you step on it. We have a GPS track but it follows a different course than the flagging tape. Neither actually has a trail associated with it so we traverse up and down, cross the outlet of the lake, and work our way towards a stream a mile away. The miles are slow, so we are thankful that we put those miles behind us today.
From here to Gunbarrel Slide, seven miles ahead, will be dry, overgrown, and tough. This is our last challenging section of the Bigfoot Trail, and it threatens to kick our butts.
9 miles to Harrington Mountain, to mile 313.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Swimming at Wilderness Falls
The miles are going by quickly now. Well, our daily mileage is still modest, but we have just 56 miles left. I can see the end coming.
The new socks are amazing. The blisters are going away quickly. Sometimes I'm too cheap! I should have replaced my old socks a few hundred miles ago. The shoe repair was less successful. There are now blisters on top of blisters, and some fill with blood. I'm staying on top of it to drain and prevent infection. I took another shot at trimming the seam, but am not sure it helped any.
Today is just an easy hike down the West Fork of Clear Creek, except that downhill always seems to mean uphill. A local we run into even refers to the trail "up" to the waterfall, despite it being downstream. The swimming hole at the waterfall is great, crystal clear and 25 feet deep. I take a quick dip and then retreat to the warm rocks to warm up.
We see several pockets of the carnivorous Darlingtonia pitcher plants, pretty amazing things.
The mosquitoes are bad tonight. Not enough Darlingtonia I guess. It is too hot to climb into my sleeping bag, so I put up my tarptent so that I can lay on top of the pad. That's the first time I pitched a shelter other than the night of the hail storm.
13 miles to a junction of West Fork Clear Creek, to mile 304.
The new socks are amazing. The blisters are going away quickly. Sometimes I'm too cheap! I should have replaced my old socks a few hundred miles ago. The shoe repair was less successful. There are now blisters on top of blisters, and some fill with blood. I'm staying on top of it to drain and prevent infection. I took another shot at trimming the seam, but am not sure it helped any.
Today is just an easy hike down the West Fork of Clear Creek, except that downhill always seems to mean uphill. A local we run into even refers to the trail "up" to the waterfall, despite it being downstream. The swimming hole at the waterfall is great, crystal clear and 25 feet deep. I take a quick dip and then retreat to the warm rocks to warm up.
We see several pockets of the carnivorous Darlingtonia pitcher plants, pretty amazing things.
The mosquitoes are bad tonight. Not enough Darlingtonia I guess. It is too hot to climb into my sleeping bag, so I put up my tarptent so that I can lay on top of the pad. That's the first time I pitched a shelter other than the night of the hail storm.
13 miles to a junction of West Fork Clear Creek, to mile 304.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
Bushwhacking
Fran records an amusing video as we head back onto the Bigfoot Trail. The trail is simply marked with flagging tape at the side of the road. There is no visible cut through the bushes, no tread. No trail. Just flagging tape. Fran records us plowing into the bushes as we follow the flagging tape.
We follow that for a couple of miles, and then it gets worse. Much worse.
The flagging tape ends at an overgrown meadow. On the other side is an old abandoned road, but in between is overgrown, six foot high, thick brush. We cannot climb under it, nor over it. We push some branches upward, and climb onto others, trying to squeeze between. It is a solid wall to be slowly negotiated. The branches rip new holes in my pack. We cannot see the ground.
At one point, my right foot gets caught under three crossing branches. Standing on other branches on my left foot, I cannot get it free. Then I lose my balance and drop my butt onto the branches that have my right foot pinned. I find it comical, even though I am pretty stuck. I finally find a way to wiggle sideways and free my foot to stand up.
We finally pop out the other side. I have had one memorable bushwhack in my life, on the Oregon coast in salal bush. This was just as extreme, or more so.
We have several new scratches on our legs. Several are rather deep so I treat and bandage them to keep them clean. Blood oozes through the bandages, making them look worse than they really are. I guess I will have to cut back on swimming for a couple of days as they heal. Even a few weeks later, the injuries are still problematic.
13 miles to a small lake above the Lieutenant mountains, to mile 292.
We follow that for a couple of miles, and then it gets worse. Much worse.
The flagging tape ends at an overgrown meadow. On the other side is an old abandoned road, but in between is overgrown, six foot high, thick brush. We cannot climb under it, nor over it. We push some branches upward, and climb onto others, trying to squeeze between. It is a solid wall to be slowly negotiated. The branches rip new holes in my pack. We cannot see the ground.
At one point, my right foot gets caught under three crossing branches. Standing on other branches on my left foot, I cannot get it free. Then I lose my balance and drop my butt onto the branches that have my right foot pinned. I find it comical, even though I am pretty stuck. I finally find a way to wiggle sideways and free my foot to stand up.
We finally pop out the other side. I have had one memorable bushwhack in my life, on the Oregon coast in salal bush. This was just as extreme, or more so.
We have several new scratches on our legs. Several are rather deep so I treat and bandage them to keep them clean. Blood oozes through the bandages, making them look worse than they really are. I guess I will have to cut back on swimming for a couple of days as they heal. Even a few weeks later, the injuries are still problematic.
13 miles to a small lake above the Lieutenant mountains, to mile 292.
Saturday, July 29, 2017
Margarita
Ten easy downhill miles! Well, downhill in the Bigfoot Trail meaning of the word. WILDCAT knows that when I say we have 500 feet of downhill, it usually starts with a few hundred feet uphill, so we start our downhill with a climb, of course.
Before lunch, we are done with our miles for the day!
Fran surprises me with new socks. My socks are old, wearing thin, with a few holes that I have darned and some that I have not. I slip on the new socks and immediately feel the difference. They are much more slippery. Perhaps that will solve some of the blister problems?
We get cleaned up, and Fran drives us 30 miles to Cave Junction, Oregon. She found that Carlo's Mexican Restaurant claims Margarita's are their specialty. WILDCAT gets his frozen margarita after three failed attempts and 278 miles!
10 miles to Indian Creek on the Bigfoot Highway, to mile 278.
Before lunch, we are done with our miles for the day!
Fran surprises me with new socks. My socks are old, wearing thin, with a few holes that I have darned and some that I have not. I slip on the new socks and immediately feel the difference. They are much more slippery. Perhaps that will solve some of the blister problems?
10 miles to Indian Creek on the Bigfoot Highway, to mile 278.
Friday, July 28, 2017
Cinnamon bear and great swimming
As I awake, I notice a beautiful, large cinnamon black bear about fifty feet away, across the creek. She does not see me and quietly gets a drink and then slowly ambles up the hill on the other side. WILDCAT is still asleep, and I choose not to wake him since that might scare the bear away.
Michael Kauffmann notates upcoming Azalea Lake as providing amazing swimming. We take a leisurely morning start and arrive just as the day warms up, and Michael is right. The lake is clear, shallow and warm. We feel so refreshed and clean after a swim.
My right knee has strengthened so that I rarely wear the knee brace anymore. However, the left knee, the one I had surgery on, is hurting, so I put the brace on it instead. The left knee has very little cartilage, and I do not want to get it inflamed.
The trail holds out in good shape, so the miles are easy. We just might finish this trail yet! With just 100 miles left, and two spare days remaining, we can relax and enjoy it.
16 miles to Tanner Lake, to mile 268.
Michael Kauffmann notates upcoming Azalea Lake as providing amazing swimming. We take a leisurely morning start and arrive just as the day warms up, and Michael is right. The lake is clear, shallow and warm. We feel so refreshed and clean after a swim.
My right knee has strengthened so that I rarely wear the knee brace anymore. However, the left knee, the one I had surgery on, is hurting, so I put the brace on it instead. The left knee has very little cartilage, and I do not want to get it inflamed.
The trail holds out in good shape, so the miles are easy. We just might finish this trail yet! With just 100 miles left, and two spare days remaining, we can relax and enjoy it.
16 miles to Tanner Lake, to mile 268.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Boundary Trail
Off to the restaurant for a big breakfast, a hiker tradition in Seiad Valley. Afterward, Fran checks the status of forest fires at the forest ranger office and is told that where we are headed is fine.
I figured out the cause of the blisters on top of my foot. The Altras Lone Peak shoes have a bad seam at the base of the tongue that rubs on the top of the foot. I poke tiny scissors in as best I can and trim off some of the excess fabric. I'm really trying to like these shoes since they are comfortable and have a great toe box. However, they are already showing considerable wear, and seem to have real quality control problems. I had to exchange my first pair due to a poorly cut insole that caused pain and affected my gait, and now a bad seam may be causing blisters on top of the foot.
We try to get an early start since we are facing a steep, long climb back up 4,500 feet in 5.5 miles. For a morning leaving town, we don't do too badly. We met several other hikers in town, plus the ones we partied with last night. We expect some of them to overtake us as we slowly climb up the hill, but none do. They are probably waiting until evening to hike in the cooler weather. We stop at the two springs on the way up the hill and get our shirts wet, and I pour water over my head. We call that turning on the air conditioning.
The smoke gets thicker all day. I trust the outlook provided by the forest ranger. Otherwise, I think I'd be too nervous to continue into possible danger.
We leave the last water source, Lookout Spring, about six miles up. Ten miles up, the Bigfoot Trail turns west onto the Boundary Trail while the Pacific Crest Trail heads east. We depart the PCT, grateful for 71 relatively good miles, but now continuing with a dry 11-mile stretch forcing us to hike until dusk.
16 miles to Lonesome Lake, to mile 252.
I figured out the cause of the blisters on top of my foot. The Altras Lone Peak shoes have a bad seam at the base of the tongue that rubs on the top of the foot. I poke tiny scissors in as best I can and trim off some of the excess fabric. I'm really trying to like these shoes since they are comfortable and have a great toe box. However, they are already showing considerable wear, and seem to have real quality control problems. I had to exchange my first pair due to a poorly cut insole that caused pain and affected my gait, and now a bad seam may be causing blisters on top of the foot.
We try to get an early start since we are facing a steep, long climb back up 4,500 feet in 5.5 miles. For a morning leaving town, we don't do too badly. We met several other hikers in town, plus the ones we partied with last night. We expect some of them to overtake us as we slowly climb up the hill, but none do. They are probably waiting until evening to hike in the cooler weather. We stop at the two springs on the way up the hill and get our shirts wet, and I pour water over my head. We call that turning on the air conditioning.
The smoke gets thicker all day. I trust the outlook provided by the forest ranger. Otherwise, I think I'd be too nervous to continue into possible danger.
We leave the last water source, Lookout Spring, about six miles up. Ten miles up, the Bigfoot Trail turns west onto the Boundary Trail while the Pacific Crest Trail heads east. We depart the PCT, grateful for 71 relatively good miles, but now continuing with a dry 11-mile stretch forcing us to hike until dusk.
16 miles to Lonesome Lake, to mile 252.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Seiad Valley
Last night's storm transitioned into a quiet, dry night. I slept surprisingly well considering the slope and rocks.
Today's destination is Seiad Valley, 18 miles downhill on a good trail. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
This area is largely burned just as it has been most of the past couple of days. Several wooden footbridges were destroyed, but we are pleased to find new steel footbridges installed last year. The miles go easily.
Fran is going to meet us at the campground, which WILDCAT and I both assume is the RV park in Seiad Valley. Instead, we find her at Grider Campground, six miles before Seiad Valley. Pleasant surprise! We relax in the shade sipping drinks and eating fresh fruit. In the evening we slack-pack the miles to Seiad Valley to complete the day's miles and return to Grider Campground for showers and dinner.
Three hikers appear at the camp, thru hikers on the PCT. We have a party with beer, Scotch and wine well into the night.
18 miles to Seiad Valley, to mile 236.
Today's destination is Seiad Valley, 18 miles downhill on a good trail. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
This area is largely burned just as it has been most of the past couple of days. Several wooden footbridges were destroyed, but we are pleased to find new steel footbridges installed last year. The miles go easily.
Fran is going to meet us at the campground, which WILDCAT and I both assume is the RV park in Seiad Valley. Instead, we find her at Grider Campground, six miles before Seiad Valley. Pleasant surprise! We relax in the shade sipping drinks and eating fresh fruit. In the evening we slack-pack the miles to Seiad Valley to complete the day's miles and return to Grider Campground for showers and dinner.
Three hikers appear at the camp, thru hikers on the PCT. We have a party with beer, Scotch and wine well into the night.
18 miles to Seiad Valley, to mile 236.
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Storm!
I had spotted mackerel clouds two days ago and mentioned to WILDCAT that they can indicate a change in weather two days out. Yesterday we saw mare's tail clouds, which foretell rain one day out. Today we woke to dry thunder and lightning. The lightning seemed to be just between clouds rather than striking the ground, so I just smugly congratulated myself on my weather prediction and ignored it.
Later in the morning, we saw five plumes of smoke below our ridge. Apparently, some of the lightning strikes did, in fact, hit the ground. So much for my powers of observation. They all looked small, maybe just a single tree. Later, I learned from Fran, 21 separate fires were started in the area around Happy Camp. Fortunately, none were serious.
In mid-afternoon, we climbed a ridge and could see dark streaks of rain pouring down to the east. The cloud was headed more or less in our direction, so it bore watching. Then I could feel the temperature drop and the wind come up, typical signs of imminent rain. I pulled out my poncho and got ready in case it hit us, though I still didn't expect much. After all, the average rainfall for the entire month is just 0.2 inches.
Then the hail hit. Hard! All of the hailstones were at least a half inch across, and some were a full inch. I quickly donned my poncho and Tilley hat, which fortunately has a padded top.
Now that it had hit, it was too late to pitch my shelter. I'd get everything soaked since my tarptent is at the bottom of my pack, having not yet been used on the trip. I'd underestimated the storm, and shelter was no longer an option. We took refuge under a cedar tree for a bit to wait out the storm. Instead, the storm just increased, and the ground turned white. I started to get cold. The only choices when cold are to pitch the tarp and climb into my sleeping bag, which I'd already ruled out, or to keep hiking for warmth. We headed back out into the storm.
At one point, WILDCAT yelled at me to watch out for the trail. At first confused, I soon realized that a flash flood was coming down the trail behind me. I jumped to the side as it steamrolled past. Thanks for the warning!
After the storm passed, we looked for a campsite. Unfortunately, there was nothing even marginally suitable. We continued down to the Cold Spring trail head on a forest road and started to unpack to cook dinner and make camp. A light rain started, so we decided to set up our shelters. I threw everything else back into my pack and grabbed the tarptent. Instantly a fierce wind took off, so our tarps flapped impossibly as we tried to set them up. I abandoned my first site and sought protection from the wind behind a tree. The new location was horribly rocky and sloped, but I could tie off the tarptent to the tree and find refuge. Slowly we wrestled our tarps into submission and slid under. A half hour later, the wind died down and the rain stopped.
What a day!
20 miles to Cold Spring Trailhead, to mile 218.
Later in the morning, we saw five plumes of smoke below our ridge. Apparently, some of the lightning strikes did, in fact, hit the ground. So much for my powers of observation. They all looked small, maybe just a single tree. Later, I learned from Fran, 21 separate fires were started in the area around Happy Camp. Fortunately, none were serious.
In mid-afternoon, we climbed a ridge and could see dark streaks of rain pouring down to the east. The cloud was headed more or less in our direction, so it bore watching. Then I could feel the temperature drop and the wind come up, typical signs of imminent rain. I pulled out my poncho and got ready in case it hit us, though I still didn't expect much. After all, the average rainfall for the entire month is just 0.2 inches.
Then the hail hit. Hard! All of the hailstones were at least a half inch across, and some were a full inch. I quickly donned my poncho and Tilley hat, which fortunately has a padded top.
Now that it had hit, it was too late to pitch my shelter. I'd get everything soaked since my tarptent is at the bottom of my pack, having not yet been used on the trip. I'd underestimated the storm, and shelter was no longer an option. We took refuge under a cedar tree for a bit to wait out the storm. Instead, the storm just increased, and the ground turned white. I started to get cold. The only choices when cold are to pitch the tarp and climb into my sleeping bag, which I'd already ruled out, or to keep hiking for warmth. We headed back out into the storm.
At one point, WILDCAT yelled at me to watch out for the trail. At first confused, I soon realized that a flash flood was coming down the trail behind me. I jumped to the side as it steamrolled past. Thanks for the warning!
After the storm passed, we looked for a campsite. Unfortunately, there was nothing even marginally suitable. We continued down to the Cold Spring trail head on a forest road and started to unpack to cook dinner and make camp. A light rain started, so we decided to set up our shelters. I threw everything else back into my pack and grabbed the tarptent. Instantly a fierce wind took off, so our tarps flapped impossibly as we tried to set them up. I abandoned my first site and sought protection from the wind behind a tree. The new location was horribly rocky and sloped, but I could tie off the tarptent to the tree and find refuge. Slowly we wrestled our tarps into submission and slid under. A half hour later, the wind died down and the rain stopped.
What a day!
20 miles to Cold Spring Trailhead, to mile 218.
Monday, July 24, 2017
Burn
We finish off the dry stretch in the morning and enter another one in the evening. Dry camping again.
At one point we crossed over enough snow that the trail played tricks on us. It crisscrossed underneath the snow on a switchback and headed back in the same direction it came from, only higher up the hill. That took a while to figure out!
The views are not as stellar as I remembered in 2004. A huge fire devastated the area in 2014 and we have probably hiked twenty miles in burn with just isolated pockets of trees. One area on the map is designated as Old Growth forest. Now it is just ash. The distant views are still wonderful, but my heart aches at what once was as I plod through the burn.
18 miles to a ridge above Cliff Lake, to mile 198.
At one point we crossed over enough snow that the trail played tricks on us. It crisscrossed underneath the snow on a switchback and headed back in the same direction it came from, only higher up the hill. That took a while to figure out!
The views are not as stellar as I remembered in 2004. A huge fire devastated the area in 2014 and we have probably hiked twenty miles in burn with just isolated pockets of trees. One area on the map is designated as Old Growth forest. Now it is just ash. The distant views are still wonderful, but my heart aches at what once was as I plod through the burn.
18 miles to a ridge above Cliff Lake, to mile 198.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Pacific Crest Trail
After finishing the climb up to the PCT this morning, it is like a whole new universe revealed itself. The PCT is wonderful. Visible trail. No debris. Ah, this is what a maintained trail looks like. Water is not an issue until later in the day, when a large stretch before and after Etna is dry. I load up with nine pounds of water.
I absolutely fell in love with this area on my PCT hike in 2004. Rereading my 2004 blog I see I was positively gushing about it. Take a peek: trailjournals.com/steady
As we approached the crossing of the road to Etna, we both wondered about going into town. Naw, let's get the miles done. Besides, it is notoriously difficult to hitchhike down to town on this remote road. Regardless as we cross the pavement, a local person drives up and offers us a ride to town. We decline, still preferring to make more miles.
I do find that the PCT is more physically challenging than I remembered. This section still has lots of up and down. Maybe it was easier in 2004 since I was thirteen years younger and had already hiked 1,600 miles. Back then, I clocked 25 miles a day through this section. Today we hike 17.
Huge milestone: 180 miles is exactly half way! We can relax a little on the pace now since we will have two spare days left with half the miles to go. Much better than we faced a week ago!
17 miles to a saddle above Etna, to mile 180.
I absolutely fell in love with this area on my PCT hike in 2004. Rereading my 2004 blog I see I was positively gushing about it. Take a peek: trailjournals.com/steady
As we approached the crossing of the road to Etna, we both wondered about going into town. Naw, let's get the miles done. Besides, it is notoriously difficult to hitchhike down to town on this remote road. Regardless as we cross the pavement, a local person drives up and offers us a ride to town. We decline, still preferring to make more miles.
I do find that the PCT is more physically challenging than I remembered. This section still has lots of up and down. Maybe it was easier in 2004 since I was thirteen years younger and had already hiked 1,600 miles. Back then, I clocked 25 miles a day through this section. Today we hike 17.
Huge milestone: 180 miles is exactly half way! We can relax a little on the pace now since we will have two spare days left with half the miles to go. Much better than we faced a week ago!
17 miles to a saddle above Etna, to mile 180.
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Island Fire detour
Again, the trail refuses to give up miles easily. The six miles to the RV include faint trail and a 2,000-foot climb over the ridge. But we arrived by late morning.
Fran was all set up in a great campground next to a 220-year-old Sugar Pine. Hot showers! Chilled watermelon! Iced tea!
We spent the afternoon re-planning the hike. I reviewed all of the maps through the end at Crescent City. There are still plenty of opportunities for the trail to bog us down, including climbs and descents through the most overgrown stretch of trail just a few days from the end.
We face a detour a few miles up the trail. The Island Fire has been burning for a couple of weeks, and while it is not a threat, the Bigfoot Trail is closed for a section ahead. The detour is to cut over to the PCT just before the fire. In fact, the Bigfoot Trail joins the PCT about 21 miles farther ahead anyway and follows it for 42 miles past Seiad Valley. As we study the maps, the detour on Right Hand Fork trail looks dubious. It may be yet another faint, unmaintained trail, and the PCT and Bigfoot are rather far apart where it connects them. We start looking for alternatives.
The irony is that the closed section of the Bigfoot Trail is said to be well maintained and follows a gentle river valley. Arg! We're skipping some of the few easy miles on this blasted trail!
A new plan emerges. The Bigfoot Trail momentarily touches the PCT just three miles past the campsite. Jumping on at that point raises our total on the PCT to about 71 miles instead of the 63 for the detour route, and eliminates the uncertain Right Hand Trail. That also might gain back a half day which would allow us to reduce the incessant push for miles.
The bonus is that this section of the PCT was one of my favorites along the entire PCT in 2004. I'm jazzed!
We set off on the climb in the evening, trying to get most of it out of the way. We toss our sleeping bags on the ground and cowboy camp about two-thirds of the way up, by a stream.
8 miles to Trail Creek Junction, to mile 163
Fran was all set up in a great campground next to a 220-year-old Sugar Pine. Hot showers! Chilled watermelon! Iced tea!
We spent the afternoon re-planning the hike. I reviewed all of the maps through the end at Crescent City. There are still plenty of opportunities for the trail to bog us down, including climbs and descents through the most overgrown stretch of trail just a few days from the end.
We face a detour a few miles up the trail. The Island Fire has been burning for a couple of weeks, and while it is not a threat, the Bigfoot Trail is closed for a section ahead. The detour is to cut over to the PCT just before the fire. In fact, the Bigfoot Trail joins the PCT about 21 miles farther ahead anyway and follows it for 42 miles past Seiad Valley. As we study the maps, the detour on Right Hand Fork trail looks dubious. It may be yet another faint, unmaintained trail, and the PCT and Bigfoot are rather far apart where it connects them. We start looking for alternatives.
The irony is that the closed section of the Bigfoot Trail is said to be well maintained and follows a gentle river valley. Arg! We're skipping some of the few easy miles on this blasted trail!
A new plan emerges. The Bigfoot Trail momentarily touches the PCT just three miles past the campsite. Jumping on at that point raises our total on the PCT to about 71 miles instead of the 63 for the detour route, and eliminates the uncertain Right Hand Trail. That also might gain back a half day which would allow us to reduce the incessant push for miles.
The bonus is that this section of the PCT was one of my favorites along the entire PCT in 2004. I'm jazzed!
We set off on the climb in the evening, trying to get most of it out of the way. We toss our sleeping bags on the ground and cowboy camp about two-thirds of the way up, by a stream.
8 miles to Trail Creek Junction, to mile 163
Friday, July 21, 2017
Another day, another climb
Today is the third of four consecutive climbs. We are again a few miles short of being perfectly lined up, but we are taking all the miles that the trail and our bodies give us. It feels like a hard push more than a recreational walk. I wish we had more spare days and didn't have to push so hard.
Today there is a choice on the climb. The more intense route is up Packer's Peak, while the less intense route is the Lady Gulch trail. Both are big climbs, but going over Packer's Peak adds about 1,500 feet more and is steeper. WILDCAT doesn't yet have his full speed climbing, so we opt for the less strenuous route. That is unusual for me, and I had been planning to hike over Packer's Peak, but the pressure of time is real. The Lady Gulch trail is faint and climbs 2,800 feet, so it is still slow going.
Since water is sometimes infrequent, I start soaking my hiking shirt every time I fill water bottles. I figure that the evaporative cooling is just as good as sweating, and eliminates the need for my body to drink, absorb and then sweat the water. Besides, the cold shock of putting on a damp shirt is fantastic.
My feet continue to blister. I drain them morning, noon, and evening. The blisters on the pads might be getting tougher, as is one inside my little toe. New blisters have started on the top of my foot, just before the big toe. Weird. I've never had blisters there before.
I pretty much put on the knee brace mid-morning every day now. I start each day without the brace to strengthen the knee and then brace it at the first sign of pain.
Fran is waiting with the RV at the base of the next climb. We hoped to get there tonight, but come up about six miles short. We have used about 1.5 of the three pad days, not as bad as it looked at first, but still, that leaves little cushion for the next 200 miles.
13 miles to Trail Gulch Junction, to mile 155.
Today there is a choice on the climb. The more intense route is up Packer's Peak, while the less intense route is the Lady Gulch trail. Both are big climbs, but going over Packer's Peak adds about 1,500 feet more and is steeper. WILDCAT doesn't yet have his full speed climbing, so we opt for the less strenuous route. That is unusual for me, and I had been planning to hike over Packer's Peak, but the pressure of time is real. The Lady Gulch trail is faint and climbs 2,800 feet, so it is still slow going.
Since water is sometimes infrequent, I start soaking my hiking shirt every time I fill water bottles. I figure that the evaporative cooling is just as good as sweating, and eliminates the need for my body to drink, absorb and then sweat the water. Besides, the cold shock of putting on a damp shirt is fantastic.
My feet continue to blister. I drain them morning, noon, and evening. The blisters on the pads might be getting tougher, as is one inside my little toe. New blisters have started on the top of my foot, just before the big toe. Weird. I've never had blisters there before.
I pretty much put on the knee brace mid-morning every day now. I start each day without the brace to strengthen the knee and then brace it at the first sign of pain.
Fran is waiting with the RV at the base of the next climb. We hoped to get there tonight, but come up about six miles short. We have used about 1.5 of the three pad days, not as bad as it looked at first, but still, that leaves little cushion for the next 200 miles.
13 miles to Trail Gulch Junction, to mile 155.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Scary Snow!
We were warned by another hiker yesterday that the deer here are aggressive and crave salt. Sure enough, WILDCAT woke up this morning to his shirt dripping with deer slobber and two buttons missing. I thought it was stinky before, but now it is truly yukky!
Today's climb is extremely steep, 2,500 feet in just two miles (since we came up short yesterday, it will be 3,000 feet in three miles). For reference, the Pacific Crest Trail is designed for a maximum 12% grade, while this section is 24%.
We get an early start and begin the climb. With little shade and no water sources, it is still a hot, slow trudge with our packs full of food and water, but we get it done.
Near the top, we meet a family on their way down. Their leader quickly queries if we know about the snow. We stare back with blank faces, asking what snow.
This is one of the areas of the trail that I worried about because of a steep northern slope that would retain snow. A couple of months ago it had nine to eighteen feet of snow. I was quite concerned, so WILDCAT and I both packed our ice axes and crampons. But the melt was very rapid, and so far we had only crossed little snow drifts around 8,000 feet elevation. I had dismissed concern about snow and forgotten all about this area.
The leader said that the north face is covered in snow so travel is extremely dangerous. He spent the prior day scouting out and marking a safe route to the west that weaved around the snow.
Still, we were stunned when we crossed over the top and looked down towards Caribou Lake. An unbroken snowfield dropped about 600 feet directly from the top. Without our ice-axes and crampons, that would be absolute suicide. We began searching to the west for the route that the other hiker had described. The snowfield was contained in a bowl so the slope to the west had a little more sun exposure and less snow. We very carefully picked our way along the jagged rock ridge, occasionally seeing the tracks of the group that came up. For a couple of hours, we slowly progressed down, following narrow bands of rock between the snow, and crossing smaller, safer snow fields.
I couldn't help but wish I had my ice-axe. With that I might have glissaded straight down the snow chute, having a blast and getting down in no time at all.
To get lined up for tomorrow's climb in the morning, we now need to make some serious miles. The climb up and the descent around snow were both very slow going, netting under four miles by early afternoon. The trail out from Caribou Lake is good and well maintained as this is a popular overnight hike with locals, so we circle the lakes and then bang out eight miles to the Big Flat Campground.
As we begin to doze off, just sleeping under the stars in our sleeping bags, I hear a noise and sit up. Just 15 feet away a startled small black bear hurries away in a panic. He obviously thought the camp was abandoned since there were no tents and he came in for a look. He doesn't return all night.
The reality of the challenge of this trail is settling in. The level of skill and fitness required is well beyond any trails that WILDCAT or I have encountered previously. It is fun but in a perverse sort of way.
13 miles to the Big Flat campground, to mile 142.
Today's climb is extremely steep, 2,500 feet in just two miles (since we came up short yesterday, it will be 3,000 feet in three miles). For reference, the Pacific Crest Trail is designed for a maximum 12% grade, while this section is 24%.
We get an early start and begin the climb. With little shade and no water sources, it is still a hot, slow trudge with our packs full of food and water, but we get it done.
Near the top, we meet a family on their way down. Their leader quickly queries if we know about the snow. We stare back with blank faces, asking what snow.
This is one of the areas of the trail that I worried about because of a steep northern slope that would retain snow. A couple of months ago it had nine to eighteen feet of snow. I was quite concerned, so WILDCAT and I both packed our ice axes and crampons. But the melt was very rapid, and so far we had only crossed little snow drifts around 8,000 feet elevation. I had dismissed concern about snow and forgotten all about this area.
The leader said that the north face is covered in snow so travel is extremely dangerous. He spent the prior day scouting out and marking a safe route to the west that weaved around the snow.
Still, we were stunned when we crossed over the top and looked down towards Caribou Lake. An unbroken snowfield dropped about 600 feet directly from the top. Without our ice-axes and crampons, that would be absolute suicide. We began searching to the west for the route that the other hiker had described. The snowfield was contained in a bowl so the slope to the west had a little more sun exposure and less snow. We very carefully picked our way along the jagged rock ridge, occasionally seeing the tracks of the group that came up. For a couple of hours, we slowly progressed down, following narrow bands of rock between the snow, and crossing smaller, safer snow fields.
I couldn't help but wish I had my ice-axe. With that I might have glissaded straight down the snow chute, having a blast and getting down in no time at all.
To get lined up for tomorrow's climb in the morning, we now need to make some serious miles. The climb up and the descent around snow were both very slow going, netting under four miles by early afternoon. The trail out from Caribou Lake is good and well maintained as this is a popular overnight hike with locals, so we circle the lakes and then bang out eight miles to the Big Flat Campground.
As we begin to doze off, just sleeping under the stars in our sleeping bags, I hear a noise and sit up. Just 15 feet away a startled small black bear hurries away in a panic. He obviously thought the camp was abandoned since there were no tents and he came in for a look. He doesn't return all night.
The reality of the challenge of this trail is settling in. The level of skill and fitness required is well beyond any trails that WILDCAT or I have encountered previously. It is fun but in a perverse sort of way.
13 miles to the Big Flat campground, to mile 142.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Climb!
Today starts with a 4,000-foot climb in just 5.5 miles! It takes us six hours to get to the top.
Just over the top, the conifer diversity explodes. Without even stepping off the trail or searching hard, I identify a dozen different species, including pines, firs, hemlock, spruce, and cedar.
The trail down is overgrown and slow going. It is not clear how many miles we will make today, but the plan was to reach Portuguese Camp at mile 126 so that we are lined up for a major climb in the early morning tomorrow. We might not make it that far, but we want to push hard to line up that climb as best we can. We are in the first of a four day series of stiff climbs, usually with hot southern exposures, so we really want to keep to the plan to avoid hot afternoon climbs. But we can only make whatever miles the trail allows us to make. As the sun sets, we halt at Stewart Creek, about 1.5 miles short of the target.
13 miles to Stewart Creek, to mile 128
Just over the top, the conifer diversity explodes. Without even stepping off the trail or searching hard, I identify a dozen different species, including pines, firs, hemlock, spruce, and cedar.
The trail down is overgrown and slow going. It is not clear how many miles we will make today, but the plan was to reach Portuguese Camp at mile 126 so that we are lined up for a major climb in the early morning tomorrow. We might not make it that far, but we want to push hard to line up that climb as best we can. We are in the first of a four day series of stiff climbs, usually with hot southern exposures, so we really want to keep to the plan to avoid hot afternoon climbs. But we can only make whatever miles the trail allows us to make. As the sun sets, we halt at Stewart Creek, about 1.5 miles short of the target.
13 miles to Stewart Creek, to mile 128
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Swim!
We hike the seven miles on paved road into Junction City, a tiny hamlet. We eat our lunches in front of the forest fire crew station and chat with the crew. The lead had vaguely heard of the Bigfoot Trail and mentioned that there was going to be some presentation or talk to learn more about it. He hopped onto the internet and explored the Bigfoot Trail Alliance website, so we have done a little work as trail ambassadors.
The fire crew lead mentioned that there are several great swimming holes along the Canyon Creek road that we will hike. Michael's guide says the area is private property with no trespassing signs, but we made mental notes to find the swimming holes.
The road was hot, paved and uphill. Once we found the first swimming hole, we ambled off the road and headed to the river on a well-used local trail. The concerns about private property seemed misplaced - they refer to gold prospecting claims, and indeed there are flecks of gold in the sandy creek bottom. The road has a nice pull out so I sent a text to Fran to meet us there.
Swimming and relaxing in the river was far more enjoyable than hiking the hot road. We spent the afternoon, and then I had a great idea! On the second day of our hike, we had logged five bonus miles due to missing a junction and having to backtrack. I proposed that we redeem those five miles now, and skip up to the Ripstein Campground at the end of the pavement! WILDCAT loves the logic of it. So after a nice swim, we ride up the hot road in the RV to the forested campground for a nice dinner of chili and cornbread with fresh berry pie and ice cream for dessert!
This was our last chance for slack-packing. The next section is road-less again, so we go back to hauling our backpacks.
20 miles to Ripstein Campground, to mile 112
The fire crew lead mentioned that there are several great swimming holes along the Canyon Creek road that we will hike. Michael's guide says the area is private property with no trespassing signs, but we made mental notes to find the swimming holes.
The road was hot, paved and uphill. Once we found the first swimming hole, we ambled off the road and headed to the river on a well-used local trail. The concerns about private property seemed misplaced - they refer to gold prospecting claims, and indeed there are flecks of gold in the sandy creek bottom. The road has a nice pull out so I sent a text to Fran to meet us there.
Swimming and relaxing in the river was far more enjoyable than hiking the hot road. We spent the afternoon, and then I had a great idea! On the second day of our hike, we had logged five bonus miles due to missing a junction and having to backtrack. I proposed that we redeem those five miles now, and skip up to the Ripstein Campground at the end of the pavement! WILDCAT loves the logic of it. So after a nice swim, we ride up the hot road in the RV to the forested campground for a nice dinner of chili and cornbread with fresh berry pie and ice cream for dessert!
This was our last chance for slack-packing. The next section is road-less again, so we go back to hauling our backpacks.
20 miles to Ripstein Campground, to mile 112
Monday, July 17, 2017
The elusive Margarita
City roads transition to a gradual climb up a gravel forest road. Water is frequent, and shade is ample, so the hike quite enjoyable. We cross over the top and part way down the other side until we reach pavement and the trusty RV.
The RV is about seven miles south of Junction City, a tiny hamlet. Since WILDCAT had his heart set on a Margarita, Fran researched and found a Mexican restaurant in Weaverville another ten miles to the east. She drove us over, despite slow road construction. But the Mexican restaurant had a sign on the door saying it was closed because the waitress didn't come to work today! Skunked again! We decided to try the Chinese restaurant instead, but it was inexplicably closed despite the posted hours. We headed to the pizza place and placed our order. Next door was the only bar in town, so we checked in for the elusive Margarita. The owner/bartender promised she could make a great Margarita, though she didn't have a blender. She just shook the Margarita with ice and poured it into a glass to serve. That's not a real frozen Margarita.
Hmm. The Margarita hunt will have to continue.
19 miles to Soldier Creek, to mile 92.
The RV is about seven miles south of Junction City, a tiny hamlet. Since WILDCAT had his heart set on a Margarita, Fran researched and found a Mexican restaurant in Weaverville another ten miles to the east. She drove us over, despite slow road construction. But the Mexican restaurant had a sign on the door saying it was closed because the waitress didn't come to work today! Skunked again! We decided to try the Chinese restaurant instead, but it was inexplicably closed despite the posted hours. We headed to the pizza place and placed our order. Next door was the only bar in town, so we checked in for the elusive Margarita. The owner/bartender promised she could make a great Margarita, though she didn't have a blender. She just shook the Margarita with ice and poured it into a glass to serve. That's not a real frozen Margarita.
Hmm. The Margarita hunt will have to continue.
19 miles to Soldier Creek, to mile 92.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Hayfork
We leave the RV and hike up a remote forest road, enjoying the leisurely stroll and learning the conifers. Just five miles in, we turn a corner onto a better road and find Fran and the RV again. Instant rest break! Iced Tea! WILDCAT says I'm ruining his reputation with the slack-packing but he seems very enthusiastic. I didn't slack-pack on any of my three Triple Crown hikes. In my mind those National Scenic Trails are different, and for me, it was important to connect all of the footsteps and hike with a full pack. But somehow slack-packing parts of the Bigfoot Trail seems okay.
Heading into Hayfork, we have a choice of a direct walk along Highway 3 into town or a longer remote walk on dirt forest roads. We opt for the latter, both for safety and enjoyment. Part way up a local person stops to query where we are hiking to and insists that we are going the wrong way to reach Hayfork. He is unaware that the dirt roads lead over the hills and drop into the town.
As hikers head into town, the talk invariably moves to food. Knowing there is a Mexican restaurant ahead, WILDCAT is fantasizing about a frozen Margarita. Unfortunately, we soon discover that the Mexican restaurant is closed. No Margarita today!
12 miles to Highway 3, to mile 58.
Heading into Hayfork, we have a choice of a direct walk along Highway 3 into town or a longer remote walk on dirt forest roads. We opt for the latter, both for safety and enjoyment. Part way up a local person stops to query where we are hiking to and insists that we are going the wrong way to reach Hayfork. He is unaware that the dirt roads lead over the hills and drop into the town.
As hikers head into town, the talk invariably moves to food. Knowing there is a Mexican restaurant ahead, WILDCAT is fantasizing about a frozen Margarita. Unfortunately, we soon discover that the Mexican restaurant is closed. No Margarita today!
12 miles to Highway 3, to mile 58.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Section One finally ends
We hike another five miles on the South Fork Trinity NRT, including our first sustained climb of about 2,000 feet. The miles go easily, other than a few steep parts on the climb. When navigation is easy, and the trail is well maintained, it turns out we can actually hike a good pace!
The NRT ends on top of a hill at a gravel forest road. While hot, it slopes downhill to the north, so the hiking is still easy. The last couple of miles is along Highway 36 to the junction with Highway 3 where Fran awaits with the RV parked in the shade.
We reflect on the first section. It was much more challenging than we expected. Despite the cautions that Michael Kauffmann includes in the trail guide and detailed planning that revealed the challenges, it was still more than we expected. Partly, we just need time to get into hiking shape. But mostly the trail itself is going to be slow. We are glad we finished in five days since for a while it looked like it could go on to day six. But time is going to be a concern, and we will have to push harder than we might prefer if we had a few more days to spare.
As part of the plan to ease into hiking, the next few days will take advantage of having Fran for support. We have several days of travel before the next wilderness area, with frequent road crossings. WILDCAT and I will meet Fran each evening, so we can "slack-pack" and just carry little day packs with lunch, water, and a few essentials. That will allow our bodies to rebuild a little after the rather intense past five days.
Fran bought WILDCAT a camp chair to go with the two that we carry in the RV. He's sitting in it, sipping a Guinness beer, dipping chips in guacamole, and looking quite relaxed. Showers with real soap and shampoo follow, enchiladas for dinner, and we feel nearly human!
12 miles to Highway 3, to mile 58.
The NRT ends on top of a hill at a gravel forest road. While hot, it slopes downhill to the north, so the hiking is still easy. The last couple of miles is along Highway 36 to the junction with Highway 3 where Fran awaits with the RV parked in the shade.
We reflect on the first section. It was much more challenging than we expected. Despite the cautions that Michael Kauffmann includes in the trail guide and detailed planning that revealed the challenges, it was still more than we expected. Partly, we just need time to get into hiking shape. But mostly the trail itself is going to be slow. We are glad we finished in five days since for a while it looked like it could go on to day six. But time is going to be a concern, and we will have to push harder than we might prefer if we had a few more days to spare.
As part of the plan to ease into hiking, the next few days will take advantage of having Fran for support. We have several days of travel before the next wilderness area, with frequent road crossings. WILDCAT and I will meet Fran each evening, so we can "slack-pack" and just carry little day packs with lunch, water, and a few essentials. That will allow our bodies to rebuild a little after the rather intense past five days.
Fran bought WILDCAT a camp chair to go with the two that we carry in the RV. He's sitting in it, sipping a Guinness beer, dipping chips in guacamole, and looking quite relaxed. Showers with real soap and shampoo follow, enchiladas for dinner, and we feel nearly human!
12 miles to Highway 3, to mile 58.
Friday, July 14, 2017
Easy miles and a swim!
By the end of the hike last night, my right knee was hurting. Today I pull out my knee brace and pop an ibuprofen. I'm also getting blisters on the top of my left foot just below the big toe. That's weird; I've never seen blisters there before.
The hiking today is easy, half on the shaded forest road and a half on the maintained South Fork Trinity River National Recreation Trail. Water is frequent, so our packs are light. I'm getting my hiking legs, though WILDCAT still slows down on the climbs. Curiously, the South Fork Trinity River Trail stays up above the river. We can see some inviting swimming holes, but they are not accessible due to rocky cliffs or private property. We are stuck on the hot trail looking down.
When Michael Kauffmann created the Bigfoot Trail, he wanted hikers to experience the diversity of conifers along the trail. Over the past few days, I've enjoyed watching for and identifying various trees as the ecozones change. I have copies of Michael's tree identification pages on my phone and a little cheat-sheet in my pocket. I used to know many of these trees (I was a teaching assistant for a field ecology class in college), but my memory is weak. I joke that I like having a bad memory because every time I relearn something, it is fresh and exciting!
We need 28 miles between today and tomorrow, so we hike 15 today. We stop where Smokey Creek flows into the South Fork Trinity River and discover an amazing swimming hole in the creek with water over my head for perhaps fifty feet, so I get to swim a little, though the cold quickly persuades me to hop out. It feels so refreshing to get clean and rinse out my clothes!
15 miles to Smokey Creek, to mile 46.
The hiking today is easy, half on the shaded forest road and a half on the maintained South Fork Trinity River National Recreation Trail. Water is frequent, so our packs are light. I'm getting my hiking legs, though WILDCAT still slows down on the climbs. Curiously, the South Fork Trinity River Trail stays up above the river. We can see some inviting swimming holes, but they are not accessible due to rocky cliffs or private property. We are stuck on the hot trail looking down.
When Michael Kauffmann created the Bigfoot Trail, he wanted hikers to experience the diversity of conifers along the trail. Over the past few days, I've enjoyed watching for and identifying various trees as the ecozones change. I have copies of Michael's tree identification pages on my phone and a little cheat-sheet in my pocket. I used to know many of these trees (I was a teaching assistant for a field ecology class in college), but my memory is weak. I joke that I like having a bad memory because every time I relearn something, it is fresh and exciting!
We need 28 miles between today and tomorrow, so we hike 15 today. We stop where Smokey Creek flows into the South Fork Trinity River and discover an amazing swimming hole in the creek with water over my head for perhaps fifty feet, so I get to swim a little, though the cold quickly persuades me to hop out. It feels so refreshing to get clean and rinse out my clothes!
15 miles to Smokey Creek, to mile 46.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Yolla Bolly Wilderness
Again we hike in a hot, dusty burned area. My notes from previous hikers blogs say that the first four miles are a rough trail, but then there is good trail after that. We haven't seen good trail since the first mile or two on the first day, so we are looking forward to it.
I've been assiduously taking care of my feet, taking off my shoes at every break and rotating to dry socks. This morning I was less careful and blisters showed up on the pad of the forefoot. My feet blister easily and I haven't had a hike yet without some challenge so this is nothing unusual. I start taping the blisters and resume rotating socks, keeping one pair hanging on the back of my pack to air out and dry.
I have new shoes on this hike, Altras Lone Peak 3.0. I think I am going to really like them. They are lightweight trail runners, and the mesh upper will dry quickly. The unique feature I love is the enormous toe-box. I'm hoping that helps limit the blisters.
After the first four miles, we watch for the trail to improve. Instead, a nasty prickly bush has grown thick in the open burn areas. We spend the 100F afternoon in a burn with exposed southern exposure, pushing through the overgrown brush. At first, it is just annoying but mile after mile takes a toll on our legs as the scratches mount. Eventually, the number of scratches is impossible to count and the skin becomes hypersensitive to even slight pressure.
Neither WILDCAT nor I have personalities that experience many emotional highs or lows. We just accept whatever life tosses our way, so here's the conversation that ensued.
"WILDCAT, I know you don't do grumpy, but if you did this might be a good time for it."
"Yep, I could imagine feeling grumpy here."
We finally pushed through the last prickly bush and exited the Yolla Bolly Middle Eel Wilderness at the Low Gap trailhead onto a remote Forest Road. The road is a very welcome upgrade from the burned, overgrown wilderness trail. Since this is a wet year and some unreliable creeks have been flowing, we banked on getting water at one of the three streams in the first mile of the road. We were a bit concerned when the first one was dry, but the second was flowing well.
It was now late afternoon, and we have hiked just nine miles. We are getting pretty anxious about the slow pace of the hike and WILDCAT's fixed completion date. We have an itinerary for 24 hiking days with three extra days to insert as needed. We have already burned one of our three extra days and do not want to burn another one so early in the hike. WILDCAT has a good idea. Let's rest in the shade by the creek, cook our dinners now, and then hike on in the cool evening. Water is uncertain from here for the next ten miles, so this lets us avoid lugging enough water to cook tonight.
Rested, fed, and cooled we make quick work of six miles on the forest road. There is no traffic, so the hiking is enjoyable. After a few miles we discovered why there is no traffic - a massive down tree blocks the road. We just toss our sleeping bags on the side of the road and sleep.
14 miles to the creek just beyond Low Gap trailhead, to mile 31.
I've been assiduously taking care of my feet, taking off my shoes at every break and rotating to dry socks. This morning I was less careful and blisters showed up on the pad of the forefoot. My feet blister easily and I haven't had a hike yet without some challenge so this is nothing unusual. I start taping the blisters and resume rotating socks, keeping one pair hanging on the back of my pack to air out and dry.
I have new shoes on this hike, Altras Lone Peak 3.0. I think I am going to really like them. They are lightweight trail runners, and the mesh upper will dry quickly. The unique feature I love is the enormous toe-box. I'm hoping that helps limit the blisters.
After the first four miles, we watch for the trail to improve. Instead, a nasty prickly bush has grown thick in the open burn areas. We spend the 100F afternoon in a burn with exposed southern exposure, pushing through the overgrown brush. At first, it is just annoying but mile after mile takes a toll on our legs as the scratches mount. Eventually, the number of scratches is impossible to count and the skin becomes hypersensitive to even slight pressure.
Neither WILDCAT nor I have personalities that experience many emotional highs or lows. We just accept whatever life tosses our way, so here's the conversation that ensued.
"WILDCAT, I know you don't do grumpy, but if you did this might be a good time for it."
"Yep, I could imagine feeling grumpy here."
We finally pushed through the last prickly bush and exited the Yolla Bolly Middle Eel Wilderness at the Low Gap trailhead onto a remote Forest Road. The road is a very welcome upgrade from the burned, overgrown wilderness trail. Since this is a wet year and some unreliable creeks have been flowing, we banked on getting water at one of the three streams in the first mile of the road. We were a bit concerned when the first one was dry, but the second was flowing well.
It was now late afternoon, and we have hiked just nine miles. We are getting pretty anxious about the slow pace of the hike and WILDCAT's fixed completion date. We have an itinerary for 24 hiking days with three extra days to insert as needed. We have already burned one of our three extra days and do not want to burn another one so early in the hike. WILDCAT has a good idea. Let's rest in the shade by the creek, cook our dinners now, and then hike on in the cool evening. Water is uncertain from here for the next ten miles, so this lets us avoid lugging enough water to cook tonight.
Rested, fed, and cooled we make quick work of six miles on the forest road. There is no traffic, so the hiking is enjoyable. After a few miles we discovered why there is no traffic - a massive down tree blocks the road. We just toss our sleeping bags on the side of the road and sleep.
14 miles to the creek just beyond Low Gap trailhead, to mile 31.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Navigational Challenges
Frying Pan is a pretty camp with ample water. We load up with three liters of water each and hike the half mile back up to the Bigfoot Trail.
Once again, the trail is faint and frequently blocked with debris. We navigate to The Knob pretty well, but then the trail just follows along a ridge with few navigational clues to watch for, such as creeks, junctions or turns. The area has been burned, and the trail is mostly obliterated and frequently missing. Again we find ourselves walking on a side slope, testing our ankles. We are fully exposed to the sun and 100F heat, scrambling up and down along the ridge. WILDCAT is frequently stopping to rest.
I like to follow navigational clues and stay found. I'm nervous just hiking blindly. The trail just doesn't seem right, so eventually, I flip on the GPS. Sure enough, we are 2.5 miles off-trail, climbing up Lazyman Butte. We are already tired, drinking up our precious water, and now we need to go back 2.5 miles. The trail is so obscure that even in the areas in which we found it before, we cannot locate it now, and vice-versa. We make it back to The Knob, flip on the GPS and search for our trail. After crashing around in the brush for a while, we find faint signs of the trail.
We have made just one mile of progress with seven hours of strenuous hiking. I'm worried about the implications. First, this section will now be five days long, not the planned four. It might even be six We have sufficient food, but the concern is that Fran will be stuck at a road junction for two days. Even more concerning, WILDCAT has a fixed completion date and airplane to catch. At this pace, we will not finish the trail.
Despite being low on water, we need to keep pushing. The map shows a tarn on the trail that might provide water. In the Sierras, a tarn is small alpine lake nestled in a granite bowl, with incredible cold, clear water, so that's what we both picture. Instead, this tarn is a murky pond ten foot across. Yuk. We take a liter each and treat it. A couple of miles later we reach Robinson Creek with excellent cold water, and with great joy, we dump out the tarn water and restock with ample cold fresh aqua. Neither of us usually treats our water. Instead, we seek out springs and cold clear creeks such as this one with excellent, safe water.
Stripped to our shorts, we rinse off our bodies and our clothes. A bath and laundry! Gorgeous orange lilies line the creek, and we are careful not to trample them.
We hiked ten hard miles to get five. But we are getting better at trail finding. We now categorize trail as "imaginary trail", "possible trail", and "faint trail". The latter is indeed very exciting to find. We haven't found a use for the term "good trail" yet, and sometimes our "possible trails" turn into game trails.
In some perverse way, I'm really enjoying the navigational challenge.
Five miles to Robinson Creek, total 17
Once again, the trail is faint and frequently blocked with debris. We navigate to The Knob pretty well, but then the trail just follows along a ridge with few navigational clues to watch for, such as creeks, junctions or turns. The area has been burned, and the trail is mostly obliterated and frequently missing. Again we find ourselves walking on a side slope, testing our ankles. We are fully exposed to the sun and 100F heat, scrambling up and down along the ridge. WILDCAT is frequently stopping to rest.
I like to follow navigational clues and stay found. I'm nervous just hiking blindly. The trail just doesn't seem right, so eventually, I flip on the GPS. Sure enough, we are 2.5 miles off-trail, climbing up Lazyman Butte. We are already tired, drinking up our precious water, and now we need to go back 2.5 miles. The trail is so obscure that even in the areas in which we found it before, we cannot locate it now, and vice-versa. We make it back to The Knob, flip on the GPS and search for our trail. After crashing around in the brush for a while, we find faint signs of the trail.
We have made just one mile of progress with seven hours of strenuous hiking. I'm worried about the implications. First, this section will now be five days long, not the planned four. It might even be six We have sufficient food, but the concern is that Fran will be stuck at a road junction for two days. Even more concerning, WILDCAT has a fixed completion date and airplane to catch. At this pace, we will not finish the trail.
Despite being low on water, we need to keep pushing. The map shows a tarn on the trail that might provide water. In the Sierras, a tarn is small alpine lake nestled in a granite bowl, with incredible cold, clear water, so that's what we both picture. Instead, this tarn is a murky pond ten foot across. Yuk. We take a liter each and treat it. A couple of miles later we reach Robinson Creek with excellent cold water, and with great joy, we dump out the tarn water and restock with ample cold fresh aqua. Neither of us usually treats our water. Instead, we seek out springs and cold clear creeks such as this one with excellent, safe water.
Stripped to our shorts, we rinse off our bodies and our clothes. A bath and laundry! Gorgeous orange lilies line the creek, and we are careful not to trample them.
We hiked ten hard miles to get five. But we are getting better at trail finding. We now categorize trail as "imaginary trail", "possible trail", and "faint trail". The latter is indeed very exciting to find. We haven't found a use for the term "good trail" yet, and sometimes our "possible trails" turn into game trails.
In some perverse way, I'm really enjoying the navigational challenge.
Five miles to Robinson Creek, total 17
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
The easy start that wasn't easy
Since Fran is justifiably nervous about the road, I drive downhill with her about two miles until we reach acceptable roadbed, and then walk back up to the trailhead where WILDCAT waits with the packs. Starting hikes with walks to the trailhead seem to be a habit of mine: I walked about ten miles to start the Continental Divide Trail and a thousand to the origin of the Appalachian Trail. Two bonus miles is nothing, and Fran is spared driving the dodgy road alone.
We can see just a little snow on South Yolla Bolly Mountain. At 8,000 feet high, it represents the limit of how high we will hike on this trip, so we likely will have little or no snow to deal with. We both brought ice axes and crampons, but it appears we will have no need for them, so we leave them in the RV.
Reviewing the map last night, it looked like today's trail would be gentle with just a few climbs of a few hundred feet. We're two guys in their sixties and both out of shape, so a few days of easy hiking is a welcome plan. Unfortunately, the map study was quite misleading. What we couldn't see was that the trail was constantly going up and down rather than flat.
We take a little detour to Square Lake. Actually, we were trying to figure out which faint trail to follow and arrived at the lake by accident, but it was well worth the extra tenth of a mile. The crystal clear lake is nestled against towering rock walls and softened by a dense forest of Western White Pine and Sugar Pine. One fisherman is on the other side of the lake enjoying the solitude.
We made plodding progress, partially due to being out of shape, but even more so because of the condition of the trail. Since the trail has little use, it is not maintained. Years of windfalls have blocked the trail with debris. The tread is faint, disappearing under the forest floor of pine needles and cones. We typically follow the trail just 20-50 feet before we lose it under a brush pile. By lunch time we have made just four miles, a fraction of our usual pace. The maps show trail junctions at mile 4.6 and 6.9. We see neither one, which is concerning because there is no reliable water on the trail for fourteen miles. We need to find the faint side trail to Frying Pan creek for water and camp.
By afternoon our trail finding skills are improving, and we are spending a little less time hunting for the trail. The trail generally follows the ridgeline, just off to one side or the other, so when it disappears walking on the side slope is rough on our ankles. Sometimes we just walk on the ridge until we spot the trail again.
Today's plan was for 12 miles, to camp at Frying Pan. That seemed like a short day when we reviewed it, but the trail condition conspired to make it quite challenging. Given the water situation we really had to make it to Frying Pan, so we hiked eleven hours and are quite tired. So much for the easy start!
12 miles to Frying Pan Creek
We can see just a little snow on South Yolla Bolly Mountain. At 8,000 feet high, it represents the limit of how high we will hike on this trip, so we likely will have little or no snow to deal with. We both brought ice axes and crampons, but it appears we will have no need for them, so we leave them in the RV.
Reviewing the map last night, it looked like today's trail would be gentle with just a few climbs of a few hundred feet. We're two guys in their sixties and both out of shape, so a few days of easy hiking is a welcome plan. Unfortunately, the map study was quite misleading. What we couldn't see was that the trail was constantly going up and down rather than flat.
We take a little detour to Square Lake. Actually, we were trying to figure out which faint trail to follow and arrived at the lake by accident, but it was well worth the extra tenth of a mile. The crystal clear lake is nestled against towering rock walls and softened by a dense forest of Western White Pine and Sugar Pine. One fisherman is on the other side of the lake enjoying the solitude.
By afternoon our trail finding skills are improving, and we are spending a little less time hunting for the trail. The trail generally follows the ridgeline, just off to one side or the other, so when it disappears walking on the side slope is rough on our ankles. Sometimes we just walk on the ridge until we spot the trail again.
Today's plan was for 12 miles, to camp at Frying Pan. That seemed like a short day when we reviewed it, but the trail condition conspired to make it quite challenging. Given the water situation we really had to make it to Frying Pan, so we hiked eleven hours and are quite tired. So much for the easy start!
12 miles to Frying Pan Creek
Monday, July 10, 2017
Trailhead
We buy supplies for 30 days in Sacramento and then drive to the trailhead. The highway becomes just a simple road, then a gravel road, then a very heavily rutted and steep forest road. Fran is very nervous about the last couple of miles on the road since she will be driving out alone tomorrow morning. We stop short of the backpacker's trailhead and pull off at a horse trailhead instead.
We lay our sleeping bags out under the trees, breathe in the fresh air, and drift off to a pleasant sleep.
We are the beginning of the Bigfoot Trail. After three years of dreaming and two years of planning, this is really going to happen.
We lay our sleeping bags out under the trees, breathe in the fresh air, and drift off to a pleasant sleep.
We are the beginning of the Bigfoot Trail. After three years of dreaming and two years of planning, this is really going to happen.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Sacramento
We picked up WILDCAT at the Amtrak train station in Sacramento and holed up in an RV park.
We rarely stay in RV parks, much preferring the wilderness. In towns, we often prefer a simple Costco or Walmart parking lot to an RV park. We have no need for RV hookups, with our self-contained tanks and ample solar electricity. But sometimes we are forced into the cramped, paved places called RV campgrounds, especially in cities where overnight parking is not allowed at Walmart.
We pick up WILDCAT at midnight and need to buy some supplies in the morning for the hike. Parking at Costco and Walmart is not allowed. So here we are at an RV park in Sacramento. So be it. It will get us through the night just fine.
Tomorrow we will buy supplies in Sacramento and get to the trail head. I can handle one day in town. Tomorrow we will be in the wilderness.
We rarely stay in RV parks, much preferring the wilderness. In towns, we often prefer a simple Costco or Walmart parking lot to an RV park. We have no need for RV hookups, with our self-contained tanks and ample solar electricity. But sometimes we are forced into the cramped, paved places called RV campgrounds, especially in cities where overnight parking is not allowed at Walmart.
We pick up WILDCAT at midnight and need to buy some supplies in the morning for the hike. Parking at Costco and Walmart is not allowed. So here we are at an RV park in Sacramento. So be it. It will get us through the night just fine.
Tomorrow we will buy supplies in Sacramento and get to the trail head. I can handle one day in town. Tomorrow we will be in the wilderness.
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Ignore the damn knee
We've gotta make this happen.
The knee is becoming an issue again. The hyaluronic acid injections I had last about six months and are starting to wear off. I try to get a new series of injections while we are traveling in Portland, but I cannot do that away from my primary care orthopedic surgeon and without a lengthy insurance company approval process. I'm determined to make it work whatever way is possible. I take chondroitin pills, I wear a knee brace, I take ibuprofen, I do physical therapy, I try to keep the knee in shape. I find a Portland orthopedic surgeon who agrees to give me a Cortisone shot which should get me through the hike. I need to make this work. I'm not ready to say thru hiking is behind me and advance quietly into the golden years in a rocking chair. Not yet. I saw hikers in their fifties complete the PCT, but hikers in their 60's drop out. Have I crossed over the line? Am I on the decline? Some hikers keep going into their seventies. Where is my cutoff?
Snow is an issue this early. But I really need to make the knee a non-issue. It killed last year's hike. Time is not on my side. I need to hike this year. Cortisone might mask the problems, or maybe it will give a temporary reprieve. Either way, it is a window. I will hike.
The knee is becoming an issue again. The hyaluronic acid injections I had last about six months and are starting to wear off. I try to get a new series of injections while we are traveling in Portland, but I cannot do that away from my primary care orthopedic surgeon and without a lengthy insurance company approval process. I'm determined to make it work whatever way is possible. I take chondroitin pills, I wear a knee brace, I take ibuprofen, I do physical therapy, I try to keep the knee in shape. I find a Portland orthopedic surgeon who agrees to give me a Cortisone shot which should get me through the hike. I need to make this work. I'm not ready to say thru hiking is behind me and advance quietly into the golden years in a rocking chair. Not yet. I saw hikers in their fifties complete the PCT, but hikers in their 60's drop out. Have I crossed over the line? Am I on the decline? Some hikers keep going into their seventies. Where is my cutoff?
Snow is an issue this early. But I really need to make the knee a non-issue. It killed last year's hike. Time is not on my side. I need to hike this year. Cortisone might mask the problems, or maybe it will give a temporary reprieve. Either way, it is a window. I will hike.
Monday, May 22, 2017
Spring Snow levels
The California Drought is over. Instead, we have a deep snowpack. That is wonderful for the parched mountains, but not necessarily ideal for an early thru hike. I am watching the snow melt. Currently, it is completely impassable, at least for a backpacker as opposed to a mountaineer.
Here's the email I sent to WILDCAT:
Here's the email I sent to WILDCAT:
Basically, we are now just sitting around waiting for the snow to melt in the High Sierras! We plan to start on about July 9th and finish no later than August 6th.
- We may encounter five areas of snow, totaling about 40 miles, of which two stretches totaling 17 miles are quite likely
- High temps will be 80’s-90’s for the first few weeks, dropping to 60’s near the coast
- Low temps will be from freezing to upper 50’s
- Water sources should be good
- Roads will be clear for Fran to meet us
- Bugs may be horrible!
Snow estimates
- 1st week – no snow
- 2nd week (last week of July)
- Eight miles near Caribou Mountain, from mile 129 to 136 (currently 99-197 inches)
- Nine miles near Deadman Peak, from 145 to 153 (currently 99-197 inches)
- Four miles, near South Russian River, from 161 to 164 (currently 59-98 inches)
- 3rd week (first week of August)
- 31 miles, from 255 to 286 may have many patches and traverses
- Likely snow traverses
- nine miles near Grizzly Peak Oregon, from 265 to 273 (currently 10-98 inches)
- eleven miles near Porter’s Camp, from 276 to 286 (currently 10-98 inches), though a lower alternate route will be clear
- 4th week – no snow
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Is this the year?
I started treating the right knee with hyaluronic acid injections in January. The injections don't cure the problem, but they do mimic the lubricant in the cartilage. Some orthopedic surgeons believe in the injections, some do not. They work for most people, but not all, and the relief is temporary.
The injections seem to work very well for me. The knee pain subsides after a few weeks and is nearly gone now. I can hit the trail!
I start discussions with WILDCAT again. Will we hike this year?
WILDCAT cannot hike this September, so we aim to hike in July and August. This will be much earlier than the time frame for last year. And what a difference a year makes. 2016 was a drought year, but the winter of 2016-17 was finally a wet one. Creeks and springs are flowing, but the snow is deep. In places, the trail is still covered with nine to eighteen feet of snow. We may have the odd combination of dangerous snow and hundred degree hiking days. That happens to also be prime time for the mosquito hatch.
But we will be hiking. I have felt this tug for three years now. I'm not going to be particular about the month. I just want this trek to happen.
The injections seem to work very well for me. The knee pain subsides after a few weeks and is nearly gone now. I can hit the trail!
I start discussions with WILDCAT again. Will we hike this year?
WILDCAT cannot hike this September, so we aim to hike in July and August. This will be much earlier than the time frame for last year. And what a difference a year makes. 2016 was a drought year, but the winter of 2016-17 was finally a wet one. Creeks and springs are flowing, but the snow is deep. In places, the trail is still covered with nine to eighteen feet of snow. We may have the odd combination of dangerous snow and hundred degree hiking days. That happens to also be prime time for the mosquito hatch.
But we will be hiking. I have felt this tug for three years now. I'm not going to be particular about the month. I just want this trek to happen.
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