PCT 2024: McKinney Fire pt 2

June 23-26; Mile 1650-1715

Day 13

The day began with a six mile road walk into the tiny town of Seiad Valley – one of the many stops along the trail where the elevation outnumbered the population. The route paralleled the river and was quiet and empty apart from three wild turkeys that trotted quickly away whenever I got within 50 yards.

The first stop in town was the Cafe: Handy and I tucked into a delicious breakfast while chatting with a few locals. I ordered way too much food – I was in the mood for both an omelet and blueberry pancakes – and ended up packing out half of it for dinner later that night. After resupplying in the little shop next door, we sat on the curb sorting our food, repackaging it into ziplock bags, and watching as a hundred cyclists whizzed by in the midst of some epic race. The selection at the store had been carefully tailored to the specific diet of thru-hikers – and it even included shot-sized bottles of liquor to celebrate the upcoming border crossing into Oregon!

Our town chores mostly complete, we spent much of the afternoon at an RV park down the road with free (ice-cold, outdoor) showers and a little spot to charge electronics. The cold water was surprisingly pleasant in the hot sunshine after the initial heart-stopping soak. A few other hikers were there, mostly section hikers like us, and we all sat on the front porch sweating in the shade, swapping stories from our trips.

At 4pm we packed up and set out to climb 4400’ in 7 miles. The temperature was in the upper 80s, but would cool off as we ascended. The first mile felt okay, but my feet quickly disintegrated in the heat. My heart was racing, I was drenched in sweat, and grasses and bushes whipped at my legs. Partway through clambering over a giant downed tree, my tired legs refused to budge, and I sprawled across the log and tried to catch my breath. I listened to music for the last three miles – anything to keep my mind off the misery.

The climb out of Seiad Valley – like the descent from San Jacinto, the aqueduct, Mather Pass, the lava fields of Oregon, and Glacier Peak Wilderness – is one of the memorable parts of the trail, not for its beauty but for its difficulty. As I reached the spring and saw Handy filling up his water bottles, I called out, “That hill made me want to quit backpacking!”

He laughed. “I was stopping every hundred steps for a while there.”

I sat down among the buzzing wasps to fill up my water bladder from a tiny trickle. Although my legs felt like lead, my back ached from the full weight of my food bag and water bottles, and my feet were now laced with blisters, I hadn’t once considered turning around. The only way out was through.

Our camp spot for the evening was on a saddle overlooking the valley from which we had climbed and the distant peaks we had walked along. It was beautiful, but the price had been steep. As I walked into camp, Handy gave me a hearty high-five that nearly toppled me into the bushes. At least I didn’t have to cook dinner; I pulled out my remaining blueberry pancake and pile of oily hash browns as the sky turned pink and the sun slipped behind the distant mountains.

Day 14

The next morning I rubbed the grit from my eyes and started packing up at the usual 5:30am. Manzanita bushes lined the trail as I hiked high along the undulating ridges. In the midst of more bushwhacking through burn scars, I spotted smoke to the north. Thankfully I had service and was able to text my mom to ask about the fire burning nearby. She gave me the full report on the Applegate Fire, and it was far enough away to not be a problem. But it was just another reminder of why I was out here struggling through a sea of dense branches.

The afternoon offered a short respite from the wall of greenery I had been clambering through. First, I spotted a rattlesnake that politely yielded the trail to me. It didn’t quite make it all the way off-trail, though, so I encouraged it to move my smacking my pole against the ground a few feet away until its tail finally disappeared under a bush. Second, Handy and I found an excellent shaded tent spot to rest and eat lunch. It was so relaxing that I even dozed off for a bit to the droning of the flies. I came across another 2022 hiker named Stitch who was finishing up 500 miles like me! And a hiker named Dana, who I had met at the RV park near Seiad Valley, stopped to chat and even offered to help with driving me to my final section of Washington since she lives in Snoqualmie.

After all that I was feeling so refreshed and content that I hiked out into the afternoon with a smile on my face, and was immediately disheartened by the wall of blowdowns awaiting me. After about a mile I finally snapped and took my frustration out on a bush, whipping my trekking pole around like a baseball bat.

Leaving the burn scar was like night and day. Green trees shaded the trail and wide open meadows filled with small yellow flowers gave off a faint cacao smell that reminded me of the Theo’s chocolate factory back home. I passed a saddle with views to the north of the mountains of Oregon before stopping at a spring to fill up for the next seven miles. Handy and I set up our tents in a stand of tall, living trees beside a rocky meadow. Tomorrow we would leave California behind and cross into Oregon!

Day 15

After days of difficult terrain, it was nice to finally reach some easy miles. The trail led through hillsides full of rocks and tiny flowers, never climbing or descending steeply. I was back among the forest and breathed deeply of the cool, mountain air. After four miles I stopped for breakfast, grabbing water from Alex Hole Spring, when I noticed that my hip belt buckle had partly broken! I ran through my options: zip tie the buckle closed and loosen my straps every time I had to take the pack off, tie the straps in a knot, perhaps use the carabiner that attached my socks to the outside of my pack… I had plenty of fall-backs, and at least the buckle still functioned with only one tine instead of two.

And then, despite surviving all the blowdowns and bushwhacking, the hot descent into and steep climb out of Seiad Valley, one mile later my right foot seized in pain because the trail was slightly sloped uphill on my right side. I tried walking slightly sideways so that my toes were pointed uphill instead of the outside of my right foot; I tried pointing my toes downhill when the trail meandered through a gentle descent. Only one thing really helped: not putting weight on my foot.

At mile 8 I stopped at an icy creek to try soaking my foot to numb the pain. As long as the trail was flat or sloped with my left foot uphill, then I was alright. When I saw Handy again I mentioned my pain, and he responded that he was dealing with tendinitis in his Achilles during the uphill sections. Like my hip belt, we were both starting to break down.

Handy and I stopped for lunch at the Donomore cabin just 0.7 miles from the border with Oregon. A group of seven folks from the Sierra Club were backpacking this section as well and stopped to use the picnic table for lunch. Two of the folks on the trip were finishing up miles from PCT thru hikes – just like everyone else out here it seemed. The cabin was pretty cool, complete with lawn chairs and a shaded porch.

Less than a mile later, and after passing a field of beautiful beargrass, I finally walked out of California and into Oregon! 1694 miles later, I was done with California.

We clinked our little plastic bottles of booze – bourbon for me and fireball for him – and then toasted the moment. After taking some photos and signing the trail register, we still had 4 tough miles before camp. As I started walking north, a few raindrops fell on my head and backpack like a gentle welcoming tap on the shoulder. I was in Oregon!

The next section ahead had some large snow drifts on the northeastern aspects of the ridges, and one necessitated climbing up above on the ridge, while the other necessitated a road walk bypass since it had a hefty cornice.

Finally we reached camp and I soaked my aching feet in the gushing spring water. It was almost painfully cold, but excellent. I made Spanish rice for dinner and added a mozzarella stick to melt into it. The other group arrived and we had a small horde of tents in the little clearing. Just outside my tent Mt Shasta loomed above the horizon, and clouds threw dappled shade across the green meadows and forested hillsides.

Day 16

I awoke to the sounds of the other group snoring and moving around in their tents. I packed up and left them all behind, slipping through the shaded forest in the dim morning light. After a few miles I reached mile 1700, and since no marker had been built yet this season, I actually took the time to gather some sticks and put something together.

The next section was a series of bowl-like meadow areas where the trail stayed high along the rim. I passed through another field smelling of chocolate in the warm sunshine. And then after about ten miles I came across my first trail magic! Three men were just setting up a cooler full of sodas beneath the trees. I gladly accepted a root beer before beginning the descent toward Callahan’s and the end of this section. Day hikers were out in groups of twos and threes, and a larger group of about eight people cheered for me as I passed them at a forest road crossing. I met two Canadian section hikers like me who even offered the use of their cabin near Manning Park after chatting for only five minutes.

And in all those miles I only had to step over a single downed tree.

After 18.5 miles I reached our camp spot for the night. Callahan’s lodge lay 4 miles to the north, where Handy would get off trail. My feet were tired, but the gentle terrain and flat trail had made the miles feel much better. Beautiful views, perfect temperatures, and a general lack of bugs meant my spirits were finally rising after the great pummeling they had taken in northern California. I just hoped my legs would make it through the next 60 miles before I, too, got off trail for a break.