The next 34 days in Northern California would be some of the hardest of my life. I would find myself alone, breaking into consistent big days and battling through the smoke from multiple nearby forest fires. Days and nights of soulitude battling physical pain and mental angst would lead me to discover what I was truly capable of enduring. If there was a section of trail that came close to breaking me this was it.
Day 103 to 107 | July 9
Mile 1026 to 1090 | 74 Hiked | Sonora Pass to South Lake Tahoe
I caught a hitch from Sonora Pass to South Lake Tahoe to spend the 4th of July weekend with my family. It was nice to take a break and spend some time with my parents but I quickly felt the urge to get back on trail. For whatever reason Alex had flipped up trail and hiked South during the time I spent hiking from Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass. His confusing plan was to meet back up with us in a week which meant my Dad and I needed to spend another few days in Tahoe. We were falling behind and I was growing more anxious with every passing day. I knew pushing my dad to do bigger miles was going to be tough. I didn’t want him to get behind again now that we were back together but fall was right around the corner and we needed to beat the snow.
Mom dropped us off at the top of Sonora Pass and we said our goodbyes. A bittersweet moment after 5 days of good food and relaxation in Tahoe. The trail immediately climbed up from the pass and took us back into the now fading Sierras. The week off had allowed time for the flowers to bloom lighting the trail up with color on all sides. A stark contrast to the red rocks from which they grew. Even more beautiful was the lack of bugs that had been so brutal only a week prior. A few miles from the trailhead we ran into old friends. “Smalls” had been behind but our time off trail had allowed her to catch up. It was good to be back with old friends and exchange stories from the high Sierra.
I was determined to start doing consistent 20 mile days but Dad was reluctant to the idea. His reply to my needling always the same “I can only do what my body allows me to son”. I understood of course but kept pushing the idea knowing that we had no choice. The trail wasn’t too difficult in comparison to the high Sierra and I knew this was the time to push. The summer was setting in making for longer and hotter days. Longer was good and allowed late morning risers like myself to walk further into the evening. This part of California looked like a mashup between Southern California and the Sierra. The white granite was gone, replaced by gentle rolling slopes. Valleys filled with coral rock formations overtook the landscape from time to time giving off an off otherworldly feel.
I ended my day just short of 20 miles and set up at the first nice camp I came to. That first night was a good one overlooking a valley filled with small lakes. I got a fire going knowing Dad would be stoked to see it when he walked in. The sun set and my fire faded. Dad wasn’t coming, he must have stoped a mile or two back. In the morning he passed by my camp as I was still breaking down. This would become a recurring ritual but I held out hope that with time we would sync up.
Fields of green shrubs and blooming wild flowers continued to fill the trail. Every now and then at a higher elevation we would cross the remaining snow patches still holding out in the heat. Trees were becoming abundant again providing shady walks through deep forests, a welcomed change from the bare high elevation. More lakes were dotting the landscape building up to the greatest of all lakes, Lake Tahoe.
We all managed to reach Hwy 88 around the same time and got a hitch into Lake Tahoe for a resupply. I was determined to keep the train rolling and convinced the crew to spend just one night in town before heading back to the trail. If it had been up to me we would have gotten back on that evening but I knew I could only push so hard. At this point I had spent enough time in South Lake Tahoe and wasn’t looking forward to being back.
I went to meet my dad that morning at IHop before heading back to the trail. Something felt wrong the moment I walked in. We ordered food and I started to talk plans for the upcoming section. Dad listened for a while before cutting me off. “I wont be getting back on trail son, things aren’t good at home and I have to go back.” I laughed off what he had said, told him I thought he was being ridiculous and figured he would change his mind before the morning was over. On the way out I realized he hadn’t changed his mind. He hugged me goodbye as I told him how insane it was to quit this far in. I was angry at him for letting this happen and walked off not really knowing what to think. I was fed up with whatever drama was going on and just wanted to focus on the hike.
I got back to the cheap hotel room I was sharing with Smalls. I told her what was happening while packing my gear readying to get back on trail. The trail was the only place I needed to be. Out of respect for my family’s privacy I won’t go into the details of what unfolded the rest of that morning. They’re fuzzy for me at best and all you really need to know is that it was the saddest moment of my life. Dad pulled up to my room in a taxi, a wreck but calm, and asked if I wanted to head back to Florida with him, our home. He was catching the first flight possible out of Reno. In a moment of despair and shock I actually debated if going would matter or not but quickly realized how insane and fucked up it would be not to. 8 painful hours later I was in Southern Florida thousands of miles from the trail with no idea when or if I would be going back.
The next week was brutal but things got better. I spent 11 days in Stuart, the South Florida beach town where my family lives. What was important was being there with them and making sure things would be alright. They would never be fully alright but they did get to a point where I was able to return and finish what I had started. It felt shitty to leave but if I didn’t the PCT would have to wait till next season. Dad who would not be heading back supported the decision and with a heavy heart I got back on a plane. I was heading back to the trail alone in the darkest mindset of my life, not sure if I would beat the snow in fall or the fires currently overtaking California.
Day 117-121
Mile 1195 | 105 Hiked | South Lake Tahoe to Sierra City
Getting back to South Lake Tahoe from Florida ended up being a nightmare. My pack didn’t show up in Reno so I was forced to wait around until it did. It was late and every hotel I called was booked which seemed nearly impossible given the vast amount of hotels Reno is famous for. Just when I was about give up and sleep in baggage claim an Airbnb host messaged me saying she had a room open and could pick me up. She ended up being an amazing person who took me around Reno to resupply and kill time till my bag was found. She drove me back to the trailhead 2 days later when my bag arrived and wished me luck.
I was back at mile 1109, alone with no real idea if I would ever catch up to Alex or anyone I knew from the trail. Can I make it to the border before winter sets in? Can I hike 20+ miles a day consistently? Was leaving my family behind the right thing to do? The trail is a great place to think about your problems and ponder deep thoughts. Normally I enjoy having that time to think but my head was in a dark place and I knew it would drive me mad. South Lake Tahoe is a beautiful section of trail and by the time I arrived at Lake Aloha my mind was focused on the beauty again. The day was hot and the water looked perfect. I dove straight into the lake and swam out hoping the water would wash the darkness away and allow me to start again refreshed.
The rest of the day was spent watching the sky. Dark clouds were pushing in as I went over Dick’s pass and I was sure I would get caught in a storm. Thunder boomed but no lighting struck and I managed to make it up and over with no rain. The landscape was dotted with perfect blue lakes that I knew would lead to Lake Tahoe. I took a half mile side trail that was supposed to lead me to a campsite. I never found anything worthy of setting up and foolishly decided to bushwack back to the PCT rather than go back down the side trail. After 10min of off trail walking I started to get anxious. Now that I was alone making dumb decisions like going off trail out of lazziness could cost me my life. I stayed the course and eventually ran back into the PCT and decided never to bushwack alone again if I could help it.
Despite lakes being everywhere I walked an 8 mile dry stretch today. The Sierra had spoiled me and I wasn’t used to needing to keep track of where the next water would come from. The terrain here would go from lush forest to dry and rocky every few miles adding to the confusion. As the trail rose in elevation the massive Lake Tahoe appeared on the horizon looking like the edge of an ocean. The PCT had merged with the Tahoe Rim Trail and entire days were spent far above the lake walking the ridge line that surround it. These ridgelines were ski resorts in the winter and I imagined how much faster it would be bombing down them with a board.
When you hike alone you start to learn things about yourself that you wouldn’t in a group. Your fear of being alone comes out in every decision you make. Finding a place to camp at the end of the day would always turn into a mad sprint against the fading light. There was no one to decide where to stop and because of that I would never really plan when to call it quits. I also hated camping alone in the deep overgrown woods. They were beautiful but eerie and played on all my irrational fears. Instead I would aim for spots high in elevation that were open, allowing me to see what was around and enjoy the sunlight till it’s last rays. This ended up putting me in strange sometimes cramped locations but the weather was warm and the bugs minimal so cowboy camping was always an easy option.
On Day 120 the trail crossed a small ski resort with a bar and restaurant. For some this was a resupply into Truckee. I was not heading into Truckee but the beer and burger was worth stopping for. Since getting back on trail I had come across a few other PCT hikers but only in passing. Here I finally had the chance to hang out with a group of them. After a few beers we all stumbled back into dark to look for the nearest camp site.
The next 2 days I spent hiking at roughly the same pace as my friends from the bar but I never totally joined up with them. I was on a mission and hiking with others can be tough especially when you get to town. It was best to do my own thing despite very much not wanting to hike alone. Also, they beat me into town and were walking out as I came in for resupply. I was hoping to get a shower and stay the night but when I got there I wasn’t able to find anywhere half decent. The “city” was a small town stretching about one block on the side of a back road highway, it was very small. The local church let hikers setup their tents in the lawn so I did that and found a spot to grab dinner. At dinner I joined another hiker who told me that he needed to finish the trail before the end of September. He had a crazy plan to hike 40 miles a day to do it. This sounded insane to me but I did my best to build up his confidence. In the morning I resupplied at the local market which was basically a shitty convenience store, had breakfast and found an outlet to let my batteries charge for a while before heading back to the trail.
Day 122-126
Mile 1286 | 91 Hiked | Sierra City to Belden Town
The climb out of town was hot and brutal with smoke from nearby fires starting to set in. The Sierra Butte’s peaks were clouded in smoke. Everything was hazy now and the views to the valleys below were completely filled with smoke. Trying to make up for the late start I pushed till dusk and cowboy camped on top of a pile of rocks. When the thick morning fog refused to burn off I realized it was just more smoke. Every view was now a blur and the light looked permanently dusk.
At noon I came to a small lake resort and found a small restaurant. The owner came out with a freshly baked scone and coffee. I munched it down and chatted with her about the fires before heading back out. The forests along this section have recently been harvested leaving only a select few trees surrounded by the debris of others. This shell of a forest combined with the smoke made me feel extra low.
Despite the smoke, moments of inspired beauty still appeared. I came across a bush one day filled with hundreds of butterflies. Another night desperate for an open spot to set up camp I found a ledge overlooking a view where I watched the sun set through the smokey haze. The details were gone but were replaced with a magnificent gradient of color.
When I came out of the hills 5 days later and walked into Belden Town I wasn’t sure what to expect. Rumors of all night raves that occur in the remote river community were all over the Guthook comments. When I walked in there was evidence of a rave that had just occurred. A few oddly dressed people roamed around, strung out picking up trash that their fellow party goers had left behind. The hotel that hosted the party had a small store and I stocked up on the typical convenience store essentials before getting lunch. Down the road was a post office where I was picking up an important package. A fresh pair of shoes. Sadly when I got to there my package had not arrived. I wasn’t hyped on spending the night here but I had no choice. Fortunately the post office doubled as an RV park that allowed hikers to camp. Two other hikers were staying the night as well and we tossed back a few beers to kill the time. The package came the next day and I was able to get out of town and proceed back to the trail late in the afternoon. The halfway point was only a day away and I desperately needed the satisfaction of crossing it to keep going.
Day 127-132
Mile 1411 | 125 Hiked | Belden Town to Burney
That afternoon leaving Belden Town was a hard one. The trail gained massive elevation over 10 miles, climbing up from the river. Of course the day was brutally hot and smokey as well. The trail markers that lined this section are blank diamonds where previous hikers scribbled short messages. Here they mostly complained about the trail. “Worst 20 miles of the trail” “You’re almost there” “Call Mom”. The philosophical ones tended to annoy me the most. “There Is No Wifi In The Forest But I Promise You’ll Find A Better Connection” To which I thought, “Fuck you I would love to download a new podcast right now.”
The sun was setting near the top of the climb. The summit offered many great campsites but I decided to sneak in a few more miles before nightfall. Of course this led me to walking after dark which no matter how many times I did was always scary. At this point I knew there was nothing to be afraid of in the woods but every time my headlamp caught the eyes of a deer I would jump out of fear. Finding a camp site in the dark was never an easy task but somehow I managed and found a group of fellow thru hikers there as well. It’s always nice to camp near other people.
128 days prior I started this trail and now today I was at the Half Way Point and it felt incredibly demoralizing. I had been at this for months covering massive distances and here I was still in California with hundreds of miles left till Oregon and only halfway finished. Half fucking way. Still, it was a milestone and I had fun taking photos of the mixed emotions I was feeling being there. The biggest feeling was that I was behind and needed to get going. And that’s what I did.
Lassen Park ended up being a nice change of pace. The park featured a handful of thermal active lakes, vents and hot springs. I had not expected these features so coming across them randomly was a fun discovery. Coming across a mama bear out on a walk with her cub was also a fun but startling discovery. I was alone and approached with caution hoping they would let me pass which they did. Of course the trail switched-backed into their path as soon as I went by and I had to wait again for them to move further up hill. Without any fuss they did. The encounter was a chill one but still I felt my heart racing. The next day I came across another bear, this time closer. He was scrounging for food amongst the fallen burnt trees and looked scraggly. Being a bear isn’t easy.
The trail into Old Town had recently suffered from a large fire creating a dusty desert in its wake. The new smoke from nearby fires added to the atmosphere of death. The bleakness only pushed me to do bigger miles. I made it to Old Town that evening and was delighted to find a camp located behind a convenience store. Myself and a handful of other hikers loaded up on beers and microwave burritos and had a little party in the dark. I stopped into the Old Town Diner for breakfast the next morning. A Cheryl Strayed quote was stamped on the menu. I never read “Wild” but this still delighted me, to think that this highway stop of a town was famous for something and it had to do with a hiker.
Along the trail outside of Old Town was the Subway Cave. A perfectly formed tubular cave that made for a fun detour. I went through it alone not knowing where it would lead but ended up coming out the other side a few minutes later. The smoke that day was bad. Every time I came across another hiker the topic of conversation was the same. Was there a point where the trail was on fire ahead and could we continue to walk through the smoke. Information was pretty mixed but my recent texts from Alex were that it was smoky ahead but passable. That was all I needed to know to keep going. Those last 2 days before getting into the town of Bruney felt like the desert again. Flat and sandy with little to no trees.
Burney was another small town located off a backwoods highway. Populated with people who were born there or hiding from the rest of society. Unfortunately for them the seasonal fires were becoming too much to weather and the fatigue was apparent. I got a cheap hotel room and spent the day doing laundry and shopping for food. A fellow hiker that I had been following on Instagram messaged me she was also in town and we met up at the bowling alley to play a game with a large group of fellow trash. It had been a while since I had had fun in town and having a few beers with my fellow travelers felt good.
Day 133-137
Mile 1501 | 90 Hiked | Burney To Mt Shasta
I ended up staying in town later than I wanted to waiting for my camera batteries to charge. In the afternoon I caught a ride to the trail with the owner of the hotel. The trail was as I had left it, hot and filled with smoke. Burney Falls was 8 miles ahead and I hurried to get there. The falls were located in a popular state park complete with a gift shop. America’s access to natural wonders is a great thing but having to cross a parking lot after miles of hiking always diminishes the reward. Everything leading up to and surrounding the falls was barren and dry so seeing this oasis was a major contrast. The way they broke over the cliff into a series of smaller falls gave them a tropical feeling. On the way out I hit the gift shop for some ice cream and ended up getting some small gifts for my niece and nephew. At this point I had no issue carrying extra weight and the s’mores plush was too cute not to get.
The hike out was slow going and I had no plan on where I would camp that night. Again I found myself walking in the woods till dusk. Just before dark I came to a solid site and started to set up. I came back from the nearby water source to find a deer sniffing around my gear. I spooked it off but the second I turned around it slowly crept back. Again I scared it off and again it came back. This would drive me nuts. I grabbed my gear and kept hiking. A quarter mile further in the dark I gave up and set up just off the trail. For whatever reason the woods here were unsettling and if I hadn’t been so exhausted I might have tossed and turned for hours. It seems no matter how many nights I spend in the woods alone I still have a hard time not succumbing to irrational fears.
Overgrown trail mixed with smoke made for a rough morning. My only salvation was listening to Jurassic Park on audio. Some stories are easier to get lost in than others and right now I needed to keep my head off the discomforts of the trail and thinking about raptors. Tonight I wouldn’t make the same mistake as yesterday. I would find a site I felt comfortable with. For me that meant being up high and in the open. Eventually I found my ridge-line camping spot and enjoyed the smoky sunset.
The smoke broke me today. Every hour felt like dawn. At some point ash started falling from the sky covering everything in thin layer of soot. Gnats buzzed around my face and poison oak lined the trail. The only person I came across that day seemed surprised to see me. The trail was thinning. I found a camp overlooking the castle crags on the side of a logging road. Paranoid of truck running me over I set up a few logs to block the way. The sunset was incredible and for a few minutes the peaks of the crags were silhouetted against the pink sky.
The town of Shasta was my next resupply but was further off trail than a town in NorCal had been in a while. I managed to get a cab there and spent the afternoon shopping. I was debating leaving that day but decided to stay the night after running into the hikers I knew from the bowling alley in Burney. Everyone at this point on trail seemed to be at a breaking point. In town we felt like soldiers on furlough from a war, either ready to collapse from exhaustion or party hard. That night we chose to party. I had not been drunk since getting back on trail in Tahoe and wasn’t ready for the emotions that multiple shots of tequila would bring out. I got up the next morning with a brutal hangover and decided to cure it with a haircut. Originally I had planned to go the entire trail without shaving or a haircut but It was starting to make me feel crazy. The heat and itchiness was only magnified by the overgrowth sitting on my head and face. It was time to go.
Day 138-142
Mile 1599 | 98 Hiked | Mt Shasta to Etna
I waited around Shasta hoping to head back to the trail with a few other hikers but apparently their hangovers were worse than mine. A cab ride back brought me to the trailhead in the late afternoon and right away I caught my first glimpse of the Castle Crags. The distinct jagged peaks of the crags were a welcomed site after a month of obscured smoky moutans. My excitement grew as I rose in elevation and got a clear view of the range. The smoke crept back in as the sun set and everything turned orange.
The morning was bright and clear allowing the entire range of Castle Crags to be seen as I continued to climb. In the distance Shasta was visible as well. The incredible view was refreshing to see after days of ash and smoke. Views keep you going out here and they always seem to appear when you most need them.
My first group of Southbound hikers passed by today. I had mixed feelings about seeing them. I expected some would be crossing my path soon but had hoped not till Oregon. I felt a little ashamed to see them so far South. My milage was far ahead of theirs but still I couldn’t help but feel judged. I got the rundown on what lay ahead and how the fires were doing and wished them good luck.
Mostly I hike alone. I don’t mind hiking alone, it gives me time to listen to books and podcasts, something I would miss once off trail but I hate camping alone. The past few nights I was lucky to stop at the same place as another hiker going South, “Kolohe”. Kolohe was an older gentleman who fought forest fires back home in Idaho. He filled me in on the best ways to evade a fire should you come across one on trail, something that would have been good to know weeks prior. I was faster than Kolohe but he would always catch me in the evening. It was nice to have another hiker around and not feel alone.
The pattern of clear mornings and smoky evenings continued into the Trinity Alp Wilderness till I reached the road and hitched into the small town of Etna. Etna was another town where folks move to to escape the rest of the world. A family in town ran a tiny hostel where I stayed the night and recharged.
Day 143-148
Mile 1700 | 101 Hiked | Etna to Oregon
Following the ridge line out of Etna the treeline was barren and burnt. The charred husks of pine trees stick up by the hundreds. The dust kicks up as I walk coating my newly washed clothes. The smoky glow tinged orange from the sun makes the entire scene look like an alien planet. Oregon is close, will it be different? I hope so. When the smoke subsides the landscape here is truly lovely. Rolling mountain ranges and granite cliff faces still dominate the landscape. Occasional glimpses of what lies to South in the Sierra.
17 miles of all downhill hiking took me to Siad Valley where I hit another 7 miles of road walking before making it to the small town. With signs in every lawn reading “No Monument” I felt slightly unwelcome in this town. An RV park allows hikers to set up their tents which sounded like a good idea when I arrived that evening. The owner warned that construction was happening nearby that night but I felt a few beers would help me sleep through it. I was awoken later by what sounded like high caliber machine guns going off over and over again. I didn’t get much sleep.
Breakfast in Siad was nice but I was happy to be leaving. The place gave off bad vibes and summed up everything I disliked about Northern California. The climb out and back into the mountains was a tough one with smoky views and more burnt trees. With the border on my mind I pushed hard and managed to squeak out a 20 before making it to camp.
The Oregon border wasn’t very eventful. It lay in the middle of the trail marked by a sign nailed to a tree. The nearest town, Ashland was still 18 miles out. Nevertheless It was the end of California and I was thrilled to see it finally done. There is no state as great and diverse as California, It is truly giant and to understand just how vast it is you have to walk it. Knowing how small Oregon and Washigton were in comparison gave me hope that completing the PCT was actually doable.
Northern California broke me but it didn’t stop me. I carried on despite the fires, despite the heat, despite the boredom, despite being alone and the sadness brought with me after getting back on trail in Tahoe. The wall of pain I hit only made me stronger and ready for the easy walking promised ahead. It was only fitting that one of the first landmarks in Oregon is Pilot Rock, a landmark and beacon of hope to travelers on the Oregon Trail that they had made it. A cool breeze was blowing and I could feel the smoke fading away. This was a new state and I felt like a new hiker.
