Chapter 13 - Mt Shasta to Ashland
I attempted to take a bus back from Mt Shasta to the trailhead instead of a hitch. This ended with me walking along the shoulder of the busy-ish I-5, hoping I didn’t join the roadkill or get pulled over by a cop.
Making it back to Soda Springs Road, I looked at where I had left Northern California, in what felt like a lifetime ago. Then, I turned back north, climbing into Castle Crags. The smoke was much better than yesterday, and I felt as though I could at least hike without coughing.
As I ascended Castle Crags, the world behind me disappeared and I soon found myself eerily alone on the trail. On even the most obscure sections of the PCT, I’d at least see one or two other thru hikers during the day, but I hiked for hours without seeing anyone.
This worked out in my favor, as I swatted away biting gnats, slapping my face as they entered my nostrils. I then panicked as a sudden storm appeared as I was about to reach a very exposed saddle and ran back down to relative safety.
After the storm passed and I collected myself, I reluctantly climbed back up. The heat had only intensified during the storm, and I ran out of water with few water sources remaining ahead. One of the best sources I found was quite fascinating, as carnivorous cobra lilies surrounded it, but the rest of the trail between here and Etna had little reliable water.
The heat brought out the rattlesnakes, who welcomed me back to California, but the beginning of September also saw the bears more active, as they attempted to find food before winter came. The sight of Mt Shasta kept me company, as the bears and I rode the ledges north into the Russian Wilderness.
This section had me at an all-time low, as isolation and discomfort sunk deep into my soul. At one point, I broke down and had to talk myself into continuing, as I was too tired to feel motivated on my own. After messaging Elleen on my satellite device, I had enough strength to push on. As I crossed a dirt road trailhead, I predictably saw nobody and my heart sank further, as I was dying for any conversation.
On the other side of the trailhead, I noticed someone had formed an arrow out of sticks, pointing to the right side of the trail. I followed a few more arrows about 20 feet off the trail and found a lockbox someone had left full of Gatorades, snacks, and medical supplies. This brought me incredible joy and tears to my eyes.
Over time, the air began to clear, but the stinging insects came out in force. I had gone from never in my life being stung by any bee, wasp, or hornet to having several in a few hours. Still having not seen any other people for two days, I was worried about having a reaction. Thankfully, I was about an hour out from a road that an emergency vehicle could likely reach.
At the road, I finally met another person - a couple out on a day hike. They lived in Etna, the town I was going to next, and the husband, Jerry, had hiked the PCT a few decades ago. Knowing they lived in Etna, I asked them for a favor. The gear store closed early afternoon on Saturday and would be closed until Monday. As I was likely to reach Etna around Saturday, but was unsure if I’d be able to find a hitch on the low traffic road that led to Etna, I asked if I could pay them to purchase a fuel canister I needed and drop it off at the front desk of the motel I was planning on staying at.
Jerry smiled and said “No, but I can buy one for you, not take your money, and give you a ride into town myself”. With his number in tow, I continued, thankful for this interaction. That evening, I found a campsite that absolutely would have been packed normally, as it was in a perfect little nook of the woods, next to a beautiful creek. Instead, it was eerily silent.
A few turns on the trail before Etna, I met Janika, who also was deprived of human contact for the last few days, and she spoke nonstop for hours as we hiked together. She had already resupplied at Etna, back at the road where I first met Jerry, so she was planning on continuing. When I arrived at the usual hitching spot to Etna, the road was empty, so I called Jerry.
About half an hour later, Jerry arrived at the trailhead with a fuel canister, ice cold sodas, and a few candy bars. I gratefully accepted his gift, though I gave the sodas to the parched Janika, and we drove into the town of Etna. Here, I learned that there was a supposedly a new fire north of Seiad Valley, my next destination. Expecting this to close off the last bit of Northern California and with the fires still raging in Oregon, I figured that this would be the end. I was so sure this was the end that I announced to some friends that I was done with the PCT.
Derek, who worked at the Etna motel, heard me out as I explained why I was quitting. He told me to wait while he contacted some CalFire workers who were staying in town. They informed me they didn’t think the fire reported above Seiad Valley existed and was instead an incorrectly filed report. That evening, it also rained heavily in Oregon. These two factors gave me the tiniest sliver of hope and with that, I left Etna to see what the conditions were like in Seiad Valley.
The trail once again had no people, but brought even more bear encounters. They weren’t interested in me, however, and made a run for it as I approached, as they searched for more late season food. On the way to Seiad Valley, the trail became overgrown with poison oak, and avoiding the poison oak required keeping an eye out for rattlesnakes that hid right off the side of the trail.
Eventually, I made it past the poison oak to an established campsite right outside Seiad. The campsite was large and well-used, but was completely empty when I spent the night there.
Early in the morning, I was packing up and perked up to the voice of Stellar Jay coming down the trail behind me. She introduced me to her hiking partner, Unfiltered, and I realized I had already met Unfiltered. Not on the PCT, but during a winter hiking skills course in Colorado earlier that year.
We walked down to Seiad Valley, chasing off the neighborhood dogs who desperately wanted to bite us, ignoring the stares of the less than hospitable locals. The general store, despite being partially closed from one of the workers falling ill, was much more welcoming, and we hung out at the picnic tables until the worst of the heat passed.
The ridge climb out of Seiad Valley was a challenge, but before too long, we found a large flat area above a spring and spread out our camping gear for the evening. Late in the evening, some southbound hikers joined us and we congratulated them on making to California, and they congratulated us on almost finishing.
I got stung several more times on my last day in California, which left me semi-delirious. This surreal feeling was only heightened when I suddenly heard bells all around me, with no apparent source in sight. Eventually, I realized the trail went through a cow field, and the creepy bell noises were actually from cowbells.
As I made the ultimate last climb out of California to the Oregon border, I found Janika sitting at the sign. We sat in relative silence for a prolonged time until Unfiltered and Stellar Jay joined us. After reflecting for just a bit more, we raced out of California and the trail eventually took us to Highway 99, where we rode into Ashland
