Oregon. Day 1

This year’s adventure truly began by running for the bus.  We had driven a rental car to Callahan’s, picked up our hiking buddy Mountain Goat, deposited his car by the trail head, and then driven to Yreka.  There’s not a lot to do in Yreka.  We moseyed through the small Farmer’s Market and Craft Fair, checked out the location of the bus stop and waited.  It was hot out, and dry, so we found refuge in a car rental and auto parts store where we got cold water, filled our hydration packs and water bottles and waited some more. I spent my time musing about the beginning of this year’s hike. Oregon.  We were going to try to do a whole state in just one month.  I know it must be overwhelming for people to take on the whole trail in just one year, but to me this seemed equally impossible, after all, it took us ten years to finish California.  Leaving my kids, my dog, my house and my life behind for a whole month?  Having nothing to do but walk every day for a whole month? I had been wallowing in worry and dread for days, trying to talk myself into wanting to do this.  It sounded great months ago when my husband Snickers suggested it, but now that reality was setting in, it was a different story. Of course there had been moments when I was really excited about it, like when we were dehydrating and packing our food, but for the most part I had been fighting a lump in my throat and the threat of tears most of the week before we left.  Then, the day before we left, Aunt Donna had come to visit.   Aunt Donna is not a blood relative, just a wonderfully sweet lady who is interested in and supportive of just about everything our family does.  She has been a part of our trail experience since the first year, when the kids and I stayed at her house in San Diego while Snickers was out on the trail.  Anyway, she and Uncle Edwin were in town so they came by to wish us well.  She was so excited about our hike! She wanted to see my dehydrator, my food, my pack.  She was interested in our new water filter, my journal and watercolors, our Spot.  Her oohs and aahs and “oh you’re so lucky”s and overall positive attitude were infectious. I began to see myself as deserving of this great trip instead of subject to some horrible banishment. I smiled to myself now as I realized how one person can make such a difference.  My musing was cut short as the two men got antsy and decided it was time to leave the nice cool store and go sit out in the heat near the bus stop. 

We stood near the bus-stop pole.  We sat in the shade. We stood in the street peering down the avenue in hopes of seeing a glimpse of the bus.  We sat near the pole some more.  I finally got out my phone and decided to call home one more time, and then of course, the bus came.  But it didn’t park over by the bus stop; it parked across the street on the other side of the parking lot.  Yelling and motioning frantically with their hands, the guys took off to catch the bus, and I quickly signed off from my call and tucked the phone into my pocket while grabbing my pack, my poles and my hat.  Worried that the bus might not wait, the guys practically shoved me through the door.  It took my eyes a second or two to adjust and I was still concerned that this might not be the right bus. Then I looked ahead of me, and there were row after row of tan, bearded and smiling faces.  The bus driver said “you seem to fit my profile, come on in!”  We were greeted warmly by the other khaki-clad hikers, piled our packs in the back along with everyone else’s, and settled in for the ride.  I began to wonder why there were so many hikers on a bus from Yreka- which is not a hiker town.  Mountain Goat asked someone.  The explanation was simple: there were big fires in Etna threatening trail closure, so this group had taken the bus from Etna to Yreka and were now making their way to Seiad Valley to continue their trek.  We were familiar with that turn of events. Last year we had to leave Seiad and head home without having crossed into Oregon because they were closing the trail due to fires on the ridge.  Which was why we were starting in Seiad Valley this year.

 At the next stop another group of hikers tried to board the already packed bus.  There was a skirmish of bus company employees and managers, some jostling as packs were returned to everyone, more seating room arranged, and then the hikers and a few locals were crammed into an already full bus for a two hour ride on narrow and windy back country roads.  After an entertaining ride with plenty of local color, we finally arrived in Seiad Valley. Everyone gladly poured out of the bus and found their way to the RV Park where a herd of hikers were camped out.  Lots of beer, chips, laughter and gear talk, high fives and rustling through hiker boxes ensued as we found a spot to make camp for the night and plans for the morning. We made friends with a south bounding couple and a section hiker named Tortuga as we spread out our tarp and got our dinner ready. Mountain Goat had decided to take off and get 4,000 foot  climb started.  We would be getting a ride to Cook and Green Pass in the morning. 

The morning air was cool and the lawn damp- so were our sleeping bags. Our first hiking day began with breakfast at the Seiad Café.  Probably not the wisest choice, because I don’t like to hike on an overfull belly, but Snickers believes firmly in getting town food whenever and wherever he can.  One lone gal took, fixed and delivered the breakfast orders of a dozen hungry hikers, and the mood was high as people talked about the pancake challenge, the coffee, the long climb ahead.  There was talk of the recent PCT speed record being broken and the current record holder, Scott Williamson’s intent to get it back, the usual questions about the State of Jefferson, and a generally cheerful murmur as people started to get their food and set to the business of putting away calories.

By nine a.m. we were in a prospector’s truck heading up the rocky road to the pass.  He was friendly, overly talkative and quite expressive, telling us story after story of his prospecting adventures.  We listened, held on for dear life, and watched the road ahead for construction vehicles as we bumped and lurched down the gravel surface that was more pot hole than road. Around each hair pin and blind turn  I was thinking that hiking the trail would have been a lot less dangerous, and was happy when the time came to pile out of the vehicle and on to the trail. We thanked the man profusely, handing him some cash to pay for the gas, collected all our belongings and waved goodbye.  We were going to try to do about 16 miles that day so we needed to get moving.  Of course since we came in on a bus with twenty or more other hikers, we knew there would be a lot of others on the trail as well.  Some were very friendly, stopping to chat and others just said hi and cruised on by us.  It is hard to be the new kids on trail because we are so much slower than everyone else.  We huff and puff our way up hills and they just lilt on by.  It’s to be expected, we know that intellectually: we are older, out of shape, and have not been doing twenty mile days since March.  But it still makes you feel like the last kid to get chosen for the team at recess when hiker after hiker passes you and quickly disappears over the next ridge.  

Mountain Goat caught up to us early in the afternoon- we didn’t really expect him that early, but he came by his name honestly.  We hiked along amiably, talking about nothing in particular, enjoying the freedom of being back on the trail.  Dark clouds began to roll in after not too long, and by late afternoon we had a marvelous thunder shower.  At first it was just a few big plops of rain, I smiled at the novelty of  each one as we seldom get rain when we are hiking. We weren’t even sure we should get out our rain gear, but then the thunder started really booming and we grabbed our sky blue 1.1 ounce silicone impregnated nylon ponchos and put them on.  In no time the big drops turned to hard icy balls and we were being pelted by hail. I am not sure what it is that I find so thrilling about being out in a thunderstorm, but I couldn’t keep from smiling. Huddling under a pine tree for about twenty minutes, we sang at the top of our lungs and enjoyed the storm.  The forest floor was soon carpeted white and the trail turned into a trickling stream.  Finally it let up a little and we decided to head for the spring where we planned to camp for the night.  It was a pretty fast mile!  It didn’t take us very long to figure out how to make our ponchos into a rain tarp- of course this would be the trip we chose not to bring a tent. Since I hadn’t really planned this when I was making the ponchos, the Velcro tabs didn’t match up exactly.  Snickers found a few small rocks which he put under the layers of the poncho hems and tied around the bottom with a small piece of cord, and I contributed the clips from my hydration tube to hold the ends together.  We felt pretty proud of our ingenuity as we ducked under the shelter and began to make our dinner.  Mountain Goat was much more interested in our food than his own, so he came and joined us for burritos.  Rain continued to drip from the trees, and we collected the clean water by placing our pots at the edge of the shelter.  It rained on and off through the evening and into the night, but we snuggled down quite cozy and warm, counting the minutes between the lightning flashes and the booms of thunder as we drifted off to sleep.