2MoreMiles…

Day 122: (19.5 miles)
mile 1707 – 1726.5

We survived the night, and awoke to a brilliant sunrise.  The fire across from us was still burning, bit slowly and hadn’t grown very much.  The sky is hazy with smoke.  It feels as though we are wearing  sunglasses with a thin film on them, but we have yet to put them on.  The air smells sweet from the rain as we start our descent to the I-5.  Wiffs of acrid smoke accent the air as we drop lower into where the smoke is beginning to settle. 

The trail parallels a a busy paved road, and across and on edges of private land extolling one not to trespass.  Before we get to the I-5 and into Callahan’s, where we will spend the night, we see a trail marker indicating the last stage coach traveled through here in 1886.  We find these markers and monuments remarkable as it reminds us of the history all around us and the hearty souls and supreme adventurers that have gone before us.  It reminds us that our hardships are nothing in comparison to theirs, thus whining about the trail, and things like blisters, pack rash, sore legs and feet, is short lived. 

We pass by an abandoned rail yard just before reaching the I-5. Old decaying railyard buildings and rails make us think how different this area was years ago. Once we arrive at Callahan’s we see our friend Donna (aka. Timber) who has reached her final destination for this section.  She got ahead of us when I had to sit out four days with Giardia.  After checking out the hiker room, we check in.  Luckily we had called ahead and apparently got one of the last rooms. 

We are just in time as the sky above Callahan’s looms ominously.  Timing is everything it seems on this trail with giant thunder heads. This place is fantastic.  King size bed, jacuzzi tub, a patio with rocking chairs, laundry facilities, and full length robes to wear whilst doing laundry and lounging on the patio.  We may never leave. Not!

Day 121: (23 miles)
mile 1684- 1707

Today we put California behind us.  We hit our four month anniversary of being on the trail and have walked over 1700 miles to boot.  Last night was probably was the best night’s sleep we’ve had on the trail.  We are fully invigorated.  Even my pack rash does not hurt that bad.  The salt from my excessive sweat from the wonderful heat wave we’re having has turned my shirt into a grater of sorts against my skin as my pack shifts against it with each stride rubbing salt into the wounds on either side of my lower back.  It feels like I am wearing burlap.  When my shirt finally dries it’s as stiff as a mainsail, and could probably be used as one in a pinch. 

The tread is easy on our feet, but California has one final FU in store before we exit…down deep into a meadow so we can go uphill to the border, and a view of the distant peak that is Mt. Shasta.  We have had a peek and full view (all sides), back to a peek of Mt. Shasta for several hundred miles now.  At first it was exciting, but now it’s just plain annoying.  As we dip into the meadow, the skies begin to darken and the air rumbles with anticipation of rain.  It appears that Oregon may require that we clean up a bit before we enter.  We reach the border and find Frank there as well. 

He celebrates briefly with us and takes our picture.  How fitting to be exactly 4 months on the trail and now out of California.  We are fairly overwhelmed by the magnitude of what we have accomplished thus far, and are emboldened even more to continue to Canada.  The last 300 miles seemed to drag on, and became a mental game of sorts.  Many hikers have talked about the Nor Cal blues.  How their motivation has wained and their joy and wonderment for the trail has soured some.  So many have fallen ill.  And the heat has been nearly unbearable.  Many say they’re done once they hit Ashland.  California is “enough” they say.  We however are nowhere near done!  We have not walked this far, and gone through this much effort, injury and illness to stop now.  We march on past the border, we discuss buying a lottery ticket, seeing we are now out-of-staters, which should better our odds of winning…in theory.  We remark and ponder how an arbitrary sign and/or invisible line only recognizable on a map has the power to delineate how and where people live, what laws they live under, the taxes they pay, and/or the language they speak. 

We walk until we reach the 1700 mile mark…another milestone.  We decide we will try and make it to 1707, so we are better set up for getting to Callahan’s for the bottomless bowl of spaghetti.  Plan set. 

We water up at spring that flows from a crack in the hillside.  The skies rumble overhead, and dark clouds begin to move it.  We welcome a thundershower, and decide if it rains hard enough we will strip down and get out a bar of soap.  As we reach the top of an exposed mountain top it begins to sprinkle lightly, and then the thunder becomes more ominous.  Luckily the trail ducks back into a dense grove of trees as it begins to rain softly.  We decide to put on our pack covers before exiting the protection of the tree line.  Just before we don our covered packs, it begins to pour.  To avoid getting cold, and wet (we were fine with getting wet) we dig out our rain jackets.  Thunder bellows  and echoes all around us like the beating of big bass drums at the symphony.  We wonder if it’s accompanied by lightning. We get our answer all too soon.  Just as we cinch down our packs and pick up our aluminum trekking poles, the sky above us lights up brilliantly like a new sun, a thick column of white light shoots over our heads and behind us, then BOOM!  We drop our poles and hit the deck.  So much for walking in the rain.  Off go the packs and down the hilltop we bound to lower elevation and hopefully the safety of a low clump of trees.  Thunder, rain and lighting rage all around us.  We hope the other hikers we have been leapfrogging with all week are safe.  Nothing to do now but wait it out.  20 minutes later we crawl out of our hovel and begin to hike again.  The air is fresh and the trail is washed anew, as if no one but us has stepped foot on it. 

We can see fresh smoke billowing from over a hill ahead of us and even thicker smoke over the hill behind us, from where we had been an hour ago.  This is our first experience with forest fires caused by lightning (in SoCal most if not all our fires are started arsonist when the Santa Ana winds blow).  Now we understand why the fire crews stage in the mountains during predicted thunderstorms, and what they mean when they say its “fire season”.  We hike on to our intended stopping point.  The air is rich and electric.  Forest service planes and helicopters buzz overhead.  More thunderclouds form on the horizon.  With 2 miles to go the sky behind us begins to darken, it will be miracle if we are able to make our destination and set up camp before it begins to pour.  In actuality we have no choice really, but to keep on, as there is no place to pitch camp and we are on top of a ridge line and often the tallest things there.  Just as we reach our camp spot it begins to drizzle.  We set up quickly and take refuge in the vestibule of our tent. 

As quickly as it started, the rain stops and we are treated to a full and brilliant rainbow, a double one as well.  We can see a fire burning on a hillside across from our location.  Over that same way, the sky lights up like a laser light show, with a thunderous sound track.  We ooh and aah, and hope that it does not come our way.  As the day settles into night, the show continues and becomes even more fantastic.  It reminds me of the first movie I ever saw as a kid in the theater, on the big Century 21 movie screen, Fantasia.  I am on the edge of my seat fully enthralled with all five senses actively engaged.  Bliss.  Sleep comes fitfully though, as flashes of light and echoes of thunder continue throughout the night.

Point of Shasta in the distance

Day 120: (20 miles)
mile 1664 – 1684

Morning came early and so did the heat.  By the time we were up and moving the trail was alive with hikers from the RV park trudging up the trail.  We joined them and continued the 6000 ft climb we had begun the night before.   The trail was steep, and poison oak would make feeble attempts to reach out to you.  On our right, Mt. Shasta’s peaks continued haunt us, and make us feel like we were going nowhere but in tall circles.  A log jam of sorts occurred on the trail mile 1672, when everyone stopped for water at a spring and discovered the sodas that two hikers,  Siesta and Bomber had left.  Awesome trail magic!  The log jam continued as we climbed single file all morning, until the line finally self adjusted with the faster hikers in front and us slow old folk in back.

Kangaroo Spring

In the afternoon we arrived at a spring to water up and once again and the hiker crowd gathers.  Sprawled out amongst the shade of the trees the crowd digs out snacks to enjoy with the ice cold spring water. Everyone is making camping plans, looking at maps, and zeroing in on their final destination. After a short break in which we think we have waited out the heat of the day, we take off up hill, which seems to be today’s theme, for a six mile hike.  20 minutes into it we realize we have not escaped the heat as we trudge across an exposed ridge line.  Brilliant.  The things we do in pursuit of miles.  At least we are not alone in our idiocy as several other hikers had the same idea.  About two miles in we meet two section hikers, Larry and Oompa Loompa. Oompa Loompa tells us she got her trail name because… well she looks like an Oompa Loompa, and I’m afraid I have to agree, even down to the striped shirt. They started in Seiad Valley yesterday and are hiking the state of Oregon. They are exhausted and I had to ask why they started with such an ugly climb? They told us they wanted to hike “all” of Oregon and this was the closest trail head to the California/Oregon border. If they started in Ashland they would have cut off 20 + miles. Now they wished they had. We gave them encouragement and told them it would be “easier” from here. We reached our miles goal and located a flat area to camp for the night. Tomorrow we will cross in to Oregon and say good bye California and maybe, just maybe, Mt. Shasta will finally go home.  Tomorrow we will have been on the trail four months.  Wow.

Seiad Valley Cafe & "mini mall"

Day 119: (20 miles)
mile 1644 – 1664

Apparently we were really tired because we slept through our alarm and other hikers that were a couple miles behind us passed us as we were packing up.  Today however was Seiad Cafe day.  Home of the pancake challenge.  They make ginormous pancakes and if you can eat all five of them you don’t have to pay for the breakfast.  While we were not going to participate, there were two brothers that were and we kind of wanted to see that.  Many hikers think they are hungry enough to eat that many pancakes, but most can’t complete the challenge.  With such a late start, we didn’t make it in to see that (after two pancakes, they gave up), bit we did make 12 miles by 11 am…a first!. 

Most, of not all, the trail was downhill on soft tread and overgrown with vegetation that we had to wade through.  The trail was shaded which made for a comfortable descent into the valley campground as the temperature rose.

Once at the campground, we cooled our feet in the stream, that had run along side the trail most of the way down, and collected water for the 6 mile road walk into the Seiad Valley RV Park where our resupply package was. 

We began our trek down the hot and dusty road, and quickly became distracted by the wild blackberries lining the road on either side.  We would pick a few, eat them and continue.  Walk a bit more.  Pick a handful, eat them and walk.  Finally we decided if we continued, we’d never get into the RV park.  We had gone about 2 miles when we saw a big blue truck heading toward us.  An arm extends out the drivers side window and begins to wave at us, and the truck begins to slow.  We think it’s a local, who’s trying to be polite (say, “hey” and not dust us out).  To our surprise, its NOT!  It’s Tortuga, and asks us if we want a ride into “town”.  It’s hotter than $#*+, and we saw a mountain lion cross the road in front of us, just behind Tortuga’s truck.  Yes we will take a ride…we’re not purists, and don’t feel like being a snack.  In we climb with Moxie who is along for the ride…air conditioning.  We head back however, to the campground to pock up more hikers.  In total we crammed 12 people into Tortuga’s 4-door full size truck.  I’m surprised we all, especially Bat Shit Crazy Mama (Tortuga’s wife) survived the stench that is six days on the trail in sweltering heat.  The six mile ride seems longer than we anticipated, and we are even happier we got a ride.  When we arrive at the RV park, which is next to the Cafe and Store, we are created by several other hikers we’ve seen along the way.

In total, there are about 25 hikers strewn about the RV park’s lawn.  It’s over 100 degrees. Yeah!  We pick our resupply, and dump a good portion into the hiker box, as we’ll have a strenuous climb out and don’t want to carry the weight.   We gorge on a BLT and basket of fries…each, a few cold drinks and then at about 6pm headed out to get a few miles up the 8+ mile climb of 6000 ft and to “cooler” temps.  Everyone thought us nutty to leave with it still being so hot, but we knew we’d sleep better. 

Once we began to climb, we almost regretted our decision.  2.5 miles later, we were so happy as the temp for us now near 90 degrees.  The best part was when the two brothers, “Siesta” and “Bomber” who also had the same idea, to get a jump on the climb, asked us if we wanted one of the ice cold sodas they were going to deliver/leave at the base of one of the springs amidst the climb. 

Bomber and Siesta

Root beer or Orange soda, they ask.  Paul selects the Orange and I have the Root Beer.  Awesome.  Thanks guys!  We set up our tent and do our best to get some sleep as the temperature ever so slowly dips into the high 70s, low 80s.

Day 118: (20.7 miles)
mile 1624 – 1644.7

Today we awoke to the most awesome sunrise we’ve seen yet.  Last night the deer made quite a racket.  Apparently we camped where they like to hang out at night, and made sure to let is know they weren’t happy about it. We were both moving a little slowly this morning from our evening climb and the number the rocks did on our “rested”, but apparently now tender feet.  Been there. Done that. A few more days and we will get used to the soreness.  It will become ” normal” …again. 

Today was a treat, and we definitely understand why we were told we would love the Marble Mountains. 

The stark white marbled rock against the brilliant blue sky was impressive. 

The trail skirted the the base of the mountain with dribbles of white and eventually black marble boulders and stones peaking through dense green and flowering vegetation.  Water was plentiful and when we stopped for a snack and to water up, two chipmunks dazzled us with their MMA skills and several does walked by completely unfazed by our presence.

Paradise Lake

While we were at Paradise Lake for lunch, we got to witness a local osprey catch a fish.  Later on after a climb up an exposed red dirt mountain we snuck up on two mountain hens (grouse), and came just shy of a “chicken” dinner.  We laughed at how awesome it would be to cook them over an open fire…and possibly the looks we’d get from other hikers. 

We ducked into the final water stop for the day and reclined under one of the most unique trees we’ve seen, a three pronged tree dripping with dayglo green moss.  Several other hikers arrived, and we discussed the signs and symptoms of Giardia and whether they had it or not.  We told them how long I had been symptomatic (4 weeks) and passed it off to heat exhaustion… So better to just go into town, see a doctor, and get tested.  Lesson learned.  Although it would have been a great place to camp, we needed to grind out a few more miles to set us up for the descent into Seiad Valley.  Onward we went for a little more than…2more miles, and camped at a road spur as darkness settled upon us.  As we had signal, we called our daughter who had what we believed texted us on our Delorme to call when we had signal.  She was delighted, yet surprised we called.  We asked, ‘What’s up?’  “Nothing.  Why?” You texted us to call. “That was Tuesday”, she replied. Ya, and it’s Wednesday. So what’s up? I respond.  Laughter follows.  ” Mom, it’s Sunday, everything is good.  I’m at work.” Uh Oh! Seems we’ve totally lost track of time.  We talk for a little, but she’s got to get back to work.  That Giardia must have taken a lot out of me, in more ways than one. Geez.  We settle in for an uncomfortably warm night’s sleep.

L-R: Mr. Sandals, Princess, Moxie, Just Paul, One Speed, Tortuga

Day 117: (17.4 miles)
mile 1606.6 – 1624

This morning we were breakfast bound at Bob’s Ranch House.  I was pretty excited because I was actually hungry and they have pie.  Paul would have rather gone straight to the trail, but then I didn’t see him complain about the omelet he had.  Because we had such a large group we dined in the back room.  Once everyone was satiated, we loaded up into Tortuga’s cars and up the hill we drove.  Tortuga’s daughter Ashley drove one car and his wife (Bat Shit Crazy Mama) drove the other.  By this time it was nearly 9 am, and later than we normally like to get going to get the miles in, but beggars can’t be choosy and I actually enjoyed the laid back atmosphere.  Once the group photos with ALL the phones and cameras were completed our trek began again…finally. 

Paul checking/signing trail register

It was great to be back at it, and I knew I’d be a little on the weak side, having taken four days off the trail, but I never expected to be wobbly.  One would think the issue would be putting on packs again, but it wasn’t the weight.  I felt, and so did Paul like new born giraffes trying to get our feet under us.  It took most of the day to feel comfortable walking. 

Most of the trail followed the contour of the mountains.  Straight up on our right side and straight down on our left, with tripping hazards galore.  We were told we would “love” the Marbles, but so far we are not.  Deep green forested hillsides as far as the eye could see was most of the morning’s visual.  As the day went on, the thin ribbon of trail threaded through wide rivers of rock that flowed between stands of pines. 

We came across a rather large buck feeding near a spring who finally got annoyed enough with Paul talking at him (“I see you…You’re lucky I don’t have a rifle… Look at me when I’m talking to you…”) that he finally bounded down the gully directly in front of me.  Pretty cool!  The midday point was to be a swim in Fisher Lake. 

Once there, we considered it, and several others swam there, but it was a little late in the day for us and starting to “cool”.  Besides it had newts swimming in it and they looked like little alligators to me.  Granted we know there are sharks and the ocean when we swim or surf in it, but we don’t see them…and if we did, we would get out…fast!  From Fisher Lake (mile 1620) we decided to push to mile 1624 or so, as it looked like the terrain plateaued a bit which would enable us to pitch camp. 

This would be nearly 18 miles, and I thought that pretty good for day one back in the saddle.  Of course the last 2 miles were supremely hard.  We went from a flowing stream, which had campsites, to a 1000 foot climb, followed by another equally daunting climb.  Neither of these ascents were indicated in any previous year’s blogs we read, nor yogi’s notes…just say’n.  Do it tonight or in the morning, either way the climb and miles needed to made, and much better to do so while it’s cooler.  Just as it was getting dark we settled into the first and best “flat” spot we saw off the trail.  Both our feet were screaming, like it was the first week.  Hopefully, it won’t take another 500 miles to get our groove back.

Feeling better this morning, but I am torn between wanting to give it one more day for things to come together and to get feeling better than 80%, and just going for it.  80% is way better than I was when I was hiking sick.  Decisions. Decisions.  Paul’s patience is definitely waining.  He’s a plan guy and wants to know what the plan is the night before for the next day.  Unfortunately I can’t give him a definitive answer from which to plan for, as it depends…hence his frustration and mine.  As luck would have it we had a knock on our motel room door this morning and it was Tortuga!  Tortuga lives in Etna and had gotten in late last night.  His wife Theresa (aka. Bat Shit Crazy Mama) knew we were in town, told Tortuga, so Tortuga stopped by while dropping off Moxie, an ER nurse in Lake Arrowhead (kinda our neck of the woods)at the motel room next door.  We got to talking and he offered for us to stay at his house tonight.  His plan is to get back on the trail tomorrow morning.  It’s amazing how things just fall perfectly into place, as this was obviously a sign of what to do.  We are truly blessed.  We accepted his offer.  We have a plan. Tomorrow we’ll make a go of it, and his wife will drop us off at the trailhead.  We head over to the bakery again with Tortuga and Moxie.  At the bakery is Tortuga’s wife and Roy and Sarah, the Israeli couple we met in Sierra City.  They are getting breakfast and then Theresa is taking them to the trail.  We talk about our trail experiences and snake encounters and people we’ve seen on the trail.  Once satiated with cinnamon rolls we head back to the motel and pack up.  While at the motel we decide to download Guthook’s maps for Oregon and Washington for access to more detailed maps, trail exits and town stops/options.  We load up into Tortuga’s car and are off, but not before running into Glitter and a band of other hikers just getting into town.  They are headed to Bob’s Ranch house for some serious food.  Tortuga stops to tell them to meet us at 5pm at the brewery for burgers and beers.  Tortuga lives about 4 miles outside of town on a beautiful piece of property.  We are greeted by a rambunctious yellow lab that is so excited to see new people that it’s everything we can do to get out of the car.  Tortuga tells us that the lab is his daughter’s, and they’re dog sitting.  We later get our “dog fix” and throw the ball for the lab until he’s exhausted. 

Dinner at the brewery was excellent, as was the company.  My appetite is back and the plan is after breakfast tomorrow morning we hit the trail…with about 10 other hikers.  It should be only three days to Siead Valley where we pick up our resupply, then three days t Ashland and hello Oregon!

I’m combining these three days into one post as they were pretty much all the same.  I’ve been holed up in a hotel room, watching way too much TV, catching up on the blog and waiting for my insides to get their shit together… literally.  Two nights in Yreka, and now two nights in Etna.  Each day has gotten better.

Dr. Gary was kind enough to drive us to Etna, and was truly a Godsend for us.  I am able to eat actual food and keep it down. 

Last night we went to the Etna brewery, which has a great history.  This was a little bit of torture for me as I cannot consume any alcohol while on Flagyl, but Paul can, and did. 

The entrance to Etna

The Museum that once was the Fire house

Today I felt even better and was getting cabin fever, so we wandered the streets of Etna.  Our wandering led us to the local bakery where we helped clean out the last few donuts, the high school pool where we watched silly swim relays during the local swim team’s workout (we were checking to see if they had lap swim hours),

Peggy and Linda

and perused the local museum run by the Native Daughters of the Golden West and spoke with Peggy and Linda who were a wealth of information about the local area.  Before heading back to the Etna Motel, we stopped by the Alderbrook Manor B&B, which also has a Hiker Hut. 

Frank, inside the Hiker Hut, who cleans up nicely

There we found Frank, who was excited to see us.  Acorn and Estero, as well as a few other hikers we hadn’t met previously were there as well.  We talked with Frank for some time and then said our goodbyes, but not before confirming that we could get a ride up the “hill” back to the trail for $5 a head. Perfect.  If everything goes well, we may be back on the trail tomorrow. 

Day 112: (18 miles)
mile 1548 – 1566

This morning was highly disappointing.  It was all I could do to get out of the tent in time…both ends erupting.  Shit! This is NOT good.  Decision made.  Time to see a doctor.  Obviously the cipro did not work, or something else is going on and I can’t keep wishing this into the “corn field”, to coin a Twilight Zone term.  Hmm. Closest exit is Hwy 3, 18 miles away, then a hitch to a hospital.  We pack up and Paul takes most of my food and carries most of the water to lighten my pack (could of put load, but then that would just start silly remarks from my silly friends). 

I switch to autopilot, and think about all the long and arduous workouts that I’ve endured feeling just as bad or even worse than I feel now.  It’s just a matter of keeping moving, staying focused, break it up in your mind to intervals and short goals.  We begin to get back on the trail and run into MeToo, who we last saw in Independence, but had gotten off the trail at Sierra City for 10 days with an intestinal infection.  We talk a bit, and continue moving. We go for an hour or so and reach Chillcook Creek.  There we find ” Strawberry ” and her sister who is “guest hiking” with her to Ashland just breaking camp.  Last we saw her was in Burney.  She asks if I am feeling better.  “No”, Paul answers for me.  He tells Strawberry that we are trying to get to Hwy 3 and then to the hospital for treatment.  “Wow, it seems that lots of people are getting off trail cause they’re sick.  Hope you get better”, she replies. We walk a little further and run into Handbrake and Free Fall who we met at Subway Cave who are stopped for breakfast.  They ask me how I’m feeling.  Not good, is my reply.  They confirm that I look as bad as I feel. Great.  Handbrake tells me he has Giardia medication he’ll give me if we don’t want to go into town, but we decline because then he’d be without it and I’ve already gone through one round of antibiotics and am still having issues.  We would rather get a definitive diagnosis and medication to match from an actual doctor.  Our concern is that I’m the only one sick and Paul is not.  Not to say Paul should be sick too, but we drank all the same water and he’s perfectly fine, for which I’m truly grateful (I’ve got the best husband ever! …just say’n). We trudge on, and I live up to my trail name, OneSpeed, for even though I am sick, Paul tells me I am keeping to my 2 miles per hour pace…go figure.  The trail is wonderfully forgiving as it follows the contours of the hillside. 

The temperature is on the cool side as the sky begins to be cluttered with white fluffy clouds that are now beginning to darken.  All signs point to thundershowers. We have at least four more miles to the highway, hence two more hours.  Rain gear is at the bottom of our packs.  Dig it out now, or keep going.  Keep going.  The wind begins to gust.  We haven’t experienced wind for some time, and begin to recall and discuss all the crazy wind events we’ve walked through.  Thunder rumbles, mocking my insides.  We come upon MeToo again and he is digging out his rain gear.  We pass him, and consider once again digging out the gear.  Nope. Push on.  20 minutes to the highway.  It starts to drizzle.  No biggie.  The drizzle turns to big fat drops.  Okay, fine.  We stop under a tree, dig out our rain jackets and pack covers.  Once they’re on, the rain stops.  Of course it does.  Mother Nature reminding us she is still in charge and accompanying us on our adventure.  We near the highway and are greeting by an elderly gentleman.  “Are you the hikers I’m looking for?”. What hikers are you looking for?, Paul asks. ” The sick ones”.  Hmm, must be talking about us.  Apparently Strawberry, who was now probably camped at the campground where this kind gentleman was camped told them about our plight.  He offers to break camp and drive us to a hospital in Weaverville, 100 miles away. Not wanting to inconvenience his camping trip, we make a deal that we would try to hitch on the highway and if we strike out we will accept the ride. With our lucky “PCT hikers to town” sign we wait. After ten minutes and no cars in either direction we contemplate going with the sure ride, but wait when we hear car. Smile big, thumb out, and fingers crossed… Yes! A white truck stops. The driver, Jeff, listens to our sad story and agrees to drive us about 50 miles to the town of Yreka where the nearest hospital is located. Jeff had just finished a multi-day hike with friends and was returning home to Oregon. We talked about our journey and how he was planning to hike the John Muir Trail. We enjoyed the hiking conversation as we traveled through a beautiful farming valley (Scotts Valley) to Yreka. Jeff suggested we drop off our packs at a hotel before going to the hospital, which we did at the Comfort Inn Suites.

Three miles away was the small hospital where we thanked Jeff for being a lifesaver and wished each other the best on our hiking adventures. In the emergency room we waited only a few minutes before seeing Dr. Arron. Dr. Arron is a hiker too and knew right away what was going on with my upset  belly and bowels. After a quick assessment I was given a prescription to treat Giardia. Being a mystery why Paul is symptom free, the Doctor prescribed him the meds too. He will probably need them soon. All we needed now was a ride to the pharmacy. The emergency room P. A. Dr. Gary volunteered to give us a ride to the pharmacy and our hotel. What a relief, since I was still feeling weak and sick. Dr. Gary section hiked the first 700 miles of the PCT a few years back and said he was gladly repaying the generosity he received during his hike. Thank you Doc! Before saying good bye Dr. Gary offered to drive us to the trail tomorrow if I feel up to it. At this point I doubt I’ll be ready.

Mt. Shasta keeps following us

Day 111: (16 miles)
mile 1532 – 1548

Small critters enjoyed sampling my camp towel all night, which I suppose is much better than trying chew through my pack.  I shake the towel and it “snows” bits O’ towel.  Me thinks it’s time for a new one.  I pack up what’s left and we hit the trail. I’m hoping today goes better than yesterday, as I woke feeling a little better.  Again I’m not 100%, but still not as bad as the morning before.  I must be getting better, I think, but I’m still nauseous.  Figures that my feet and legs feel great, but that not all systems can get in sync.  Paul is being a good sport and doing everything he can to make me feel better. I’m beginning to worry that if this crap continues, I’m gonna have to get off trail and see a doctor.  This morning we start with plenty of water so there is no threat of dehydration, and there is another spring in 3 miles.  When we get to the spring we find a note skewered by a stick stuck in the trail from Donna, and apparently she has embraced her trail name, Timber.
It appears that today we will definitely run into each other, but will be going opposite directions.  We intersect a few miles from the spring and catch up on our goings on.  Yesterday she had waited for us at the spring and then camped at porcupine lake. We commiserate about the heat and climb through Castle Crags.  Timber needs new shoes.  Her current footwear is too hot and killing her feet making hiking intolerable.  I deliver the data cable and hope it works as it is not a “genuine” Apple product.  She plugs it into her battery pack, but her phone is so dead that it barely acknowledges that it is charging.  We tell her we saw a pair of women’s running shoes next to the road where we camped at mile 1530.  She should try them and see if they’ll work.  She laughs.  But we’re serious!  It’s like perfect trail magic, we tell her. Her plan is now to go in to Shasta City and get footwear like ours and hitch from there to Etna.  No need to reclimb that hill again, but she said it in a more colorful way, that only Timber can.  Before she went on her way she gave me some of her ginger/electrolyte capsules to help settle my stomach.  These capsules and her nausea medication allow me to carry on.  I really should not give her so much crap about all the “just in case” stuff she carries. 

Deadfall Lake

We made it to Deadfall Lake and took a break.  We saw people on horseback and several day hikers recreating at the lake, to include a blow up, stand up paddle board.  We napped had some lunch and watched the clouds go by.  While I slept Paul talked with a thru-hiker turned section hiker, Frank who also decided to lunch at the lake.  Frank has attempted to thru-hike the PCT several times and each time was thwarted by fires.  Each time he started from Mexico.  In this year’s attempt, he decided when he got to Wrightwood that he would change to section hiker and skipped ahead to the last time he was stopped.  Frank says there’s a definite shift in mindset.  He has evolved from the thru-hiker hiker, ‘gotta get in the miles’ mindset, and has taken a more take your time and take it all in, cause you probably won’t get through here again anytime soon approach.  We are kind of taking a hybrid approach of the two, or at least we’ve settled into it, as we realize that we’ve probably passed up a lot of cool opportunities in favor of getting our miles in for the day or week.  The clouds overhead become denser and seem to threaten rain, but shift and pass through.  We gather ourselves and continue on the trail. 

We pass two uncharted springs, in favor of one “sure thing” listed in our guide book and on our map. Dumb!  We, actually Paul, ended up returning to the last (and best) spring a mile back and gathering water, as the “sure thing” was dry.  We continue down the trail and run into a young man who greets us and asks if we are enjoying our day hike.  Thinking our packs are rather large for a day hike, we almost take it as a compliment.  We tell him we are thru hiking the PCT.  He apologizes awkwardly and tells us he’s part of the support team for “String Bean”, who is attempting to break the  “supported” thru-hike record, and is about 20 minutes or so behind us.  He asks how long we’ve been on the trail.  We tell him since March 30th.  You can see him do the math in his head.  “Wow!” Was his reply.  We’re old and slow is ours.  “But at least you’re out here and have made it this far.”  We agree. We go our separate ways and when we get to the trailhead where the support van is, I consider running up to the van and asking how were doing on time.  Paul says he’s going to run up and ask if he’s seen our support van, then have a fit cause it’s not there. We nix the idea, as it would probably only be funny to us, and where’s the fun in that?  Our conversation turns to the origin and uses of the word “shit” and profanity in general.  We do our best to replace profain words with other “benign” ones into “common” descriptive phrases.  Its just not the same. We laugh heartily.  We decide to take a break just past the road and wait for “String Bean”, who now we joke, must not be that fast cause it’s taking him this long to pass us. Frank pulls up with us.  He says he saw String Bean and he was walking and had just stopped at the van.  As we are sitting and talking, Ms. Frizzle appears.  We greet her and ask how far she plans on going.  She is thinking of doing a 30-35 miler today, with a full pack…unsupported.  She passed String Bean, while he was getting ” rolled out” (foam roller) by his support team.  She almost asked if she could get rolled out too.  As it’s starting to get cold, and feel like we are growing “roots”, we decide to get moving again.  Once on the trail, String Bean comes briskly walking up.  He greets us and we walk and talk for a bit.  He’s doing 45-50 miles a day.  Carries a tent and sleeping bag and enough food for in between support access.  His pack is smaller than an average woman’s purse.  Nice kid.  We hope he pulls off the record.

String Bean...the name fits