Day 97-99: Burnt

July 10-12; Mile 1331-1396

Day 97

Howard and I rode to the spot where the PCT crossed highway 36 west of Chester. There were a few thruhikers trying to hitch into town, and they stared when I got off the motorcycle and donned my backpack.

I had reached the burn area. For over forty miles I would travel through ash and blackened trunks until reaching Old Station. Or so I thought.

The first few miles were eerie in their silence. No birds chirped, no flies buzzed, even the wind was dead. The air was thick and hot, and I stopped at a murky pond to fill up from the spring nearby. I passed charred signs still nailed to the trees, their names and mileages wiped forever from their faces.

But after a few miles I spotted green up ahead. I passed through the gates of hell back into healthy forest, and before long I’d reached the bridge across Feather River. I stopped for a long break to soak my feet in the cold water and eat my lunch. The shade was lovely, and hikers bunched up at the oasis as we so often had in the desert.

I finally dragged myself back on trail, but less than half an hour passed before I reached a road with someone offering cold drinks and chips. Plus, he had chairs in the shade; it didn’t take much to convince me to stop for another short break. Everyone from the river ended up stopping as well to rest before the climb ahead.

The trail led through heavily-burned areas as it climbed steeply up and over a ridge on its way to the boundary with Lassen National Park. I paused to admire the small clumps of wildflowers blooming amid all the destruction. The hillsides awash in color that I’d hiked through just days ago seemed worlds away from this charred landscape.

I finally reached camp and set up my tent beneath some living trees that were just a little crispy near the bottom. Lassen National Park required a bear can for overnight stays, and so most thruhikers camped right outside the park boundary and hiked at least 19 miles the next day to pass through the park and avoid carrying the heavy, cumbersome can. It also meant I was only able to hike 15 miles that day, and would need to make up distance over the next few days.

I was surrounded by people I didn’t know, but I had hope that by skipping ahead I would run into folks from early in my hike. And as I was brushing my teeth, my hopes were answered as Stine and Inga walked into the camp site. The last time I’d seen them was in Idyllwild – a lifetime ago.

Day 98

My alarm went off at 5am, the first time I’d used it in over a month. The days were getting hotter, the trail was more exposed in the burn area, and I had many miles to cover each day. In the annual survey of PCT thruhikers, one person had written “I thought the desert was hot. Then I got to NorCal.” I was beginning to see why.

I hiked through the pre-dawn light among the ash and dead trees. Each footstep sent a cloud of dust spiraling up around my feet and legs. My nose started to run, and then it was hit with a wall of sulfuric stench.

The trail skirted the Boiling Springs Lake, where sulfurous gases wafted from the milky surface. We were definitely in volcano territory now.

The trail passed through more charred trees before reaching a lush stretch of living forest around the Twin Lakes. I stopped at Lower Twin Lake and swam in its cool waters for a while, enjoying a break from the ash and heat.

From there the trail leveled out and crossed hot, exposed basins where the horizon shimmered. Most of the trees were dead, and I relished each patch of shade that I crossed. I had excellent views of Lassen Peak as I hiked, and the occasional breeze or cloud offered welcome relief from the oppressive heat.

I crossed out of the park boundary after 19 miles and plunged into a thick forest full of shadows. I sped along the carpet of pine needles and reached Hat Creek before 6pm. After setting up my tent and stretching, I waded into the cool waters and scrubbed the ash from my legs and feet. It smelled slightly sulfurous, or perhaps I was just getting a whiff of my socks.

An hour later Stine and Inga showed up, and I ate my dinner with them as they bathed in the creek. Everyone’s feet were black upon taking off our socks, despite our midday soak in the lake. But we were almost out of the Dixie burn area and its fields of ash and cinders.

Day 99

The hottest, driest stretch of trail since the desert lay ahead of me that day, and I woke early and flew along the gentle shaded descent toward Old Station. I paused for breakfast around 8am and had already covered 7 miles.

I walked the short road detour into Old Station to stop for a celebratory ice cream and root beer at the gas station. I was out of the Dixie burn area, tomorrow would be my 100th day on trail – there was a lot to celebrate.

I started the hot climb up to the Hat Creek Rim, a relatively flat section of trail with no shade and no water on trail. A thunderstorm in 2009 had started over 40 fires in the area simultaneously, and the PCT led straight through the path of destruction. Although, the views were quite nice: Lassen Peak stood to the south, while Mt Shasta was just visible through the haze.

I stopped at the Trail Angel Cafe to enjoy the camp chairs in the shade and fill up my water bottles. It was only 10:30, so I soldiered on through the mounting heat until I found a patch of shade large enough to hide beneath while I ate my lunch. I’d miscalculated how much water to bring, and so I had to ration every sip while the heat soared into the upper 90s.

I started hiking again after two hours, determined to reach the water cache at forest road 22. I leapfrogged with Stine and Inga, stopping every hour, then every 45 minutes, then every time I saw a large bush with shade.

We finally reached cache-22 around 7pm, where several hikers sat in the shade guzzling water and recovering from dehydration. I’d planned to camp nearby, but once I’d eaten dinner the temperature was much cooler, and so I joined Stine and Inga as we all set out to hike a few more miles after 8pm.

Stine said something about how the trail was all downhill, and Inga and I both cursed her as we climbed up a relatively small, gentle hill. When I caught up to Stine, she said she’d just startled a rattlesnake, and in the distance I could see a line of wind turbines rotating slowly atop a ridge line. It was like being back in the desert again.

We hurried along as the trail treated us to the best sunset of the trip: the clouds were ablaze with pink and orange light, a fire in the sky after hiking through fire scars for days. Behind us the full moon rose with a thin wisp of indigo cloud drifting past its face. Distant hills were fading from pink to violet, and we hiked on in a state of wonder at the beauty surrounding us.

We reached camp after 9pm, and I quickly set up my tent and moved back my morning alarm. My body was hurting and full of fatigue, but I’d managed to hike 27 miles that day through scorching heat.