NorCal

The Octopus

September 09, 2014 in hike

There we were walking along in the Northern California wilderness when suddenly a placard appeared in a tree (ok, maybe the signage didn't 'appear' out of nowhere). But it had a mysterious message. A Forest Service sign had piqued my attention. It just said "The Octopus."

What was the octopus? A mysterious octopedal forest creature? Side show freak? A machine left in the woods? Probably none of these is correct.

I think the Octopus is a tree, but not just any tree. The Octopus would be the tree of trees (assuming that's what the signage was for). As we hiked past we noted it would take all four to wrap around its base. We turned a corner and hiked into a clearing. Looking back we could see the towering behemoth stand high above the other pines surrounding it. My best guess, a gigantic tree, became a legend, the Octopus lording over the forest.

Then that was that. I turned and hiked on, leaving the Octopus where it stood. We hiked into Mt. Shasta City and there was beer to be drunk.

---

Note: Ok, if you're reading, I need help. I haven't been able to confirm that The Octopus is, in fact, a giant tree in Northern California. Any information would be helpful. I scoured what tiny corner of the web I could on the limited internet access I have, but I found nothing about this sign. I'll get back to you with more info on the location of the sign later.

Cheers,

Dan

This thing we're doing

August 27, 2014 in hike

On this particular day, Dan and I happened to be hiking alone, finding ourselves - however briefly - without a crew. We came upon a saddle with one helluva view. As will sometimes happen on the PCT, we felt morally compelled to stop and observe the scene in front of us. It was too magnificent to pass up.

As Dan and I sat on that saddle observing the wondrous nature that lay before us, I felt a great sense of calm and contentment come over me.

"I'm not exactly sure what this thing is that we're doing, and I'm definitely not sure what will come next in life," I said, turning to Dan. "What I am sure of, though, is that this, this thing we're doing is the right thing to be doing."

He smiled, knowing exactly what I meant.

"Yeah man, yeah," Dan responded, giving a bit of a chuckle.

Nowadays, I feel that same sense of calm and happiness pretty often. Whenever I do I turn to Dan with a big stupid grin on my face and say, "Man, this thing we're doing."

Hiking the PCT has been and will continue to be one of the greatest adventures of which I could possibly conceive. I am constantly in awe of how fun it has been to incorporate so many things I love into my everyday life for the last four months.

-Jonathan

The first one didn't count

August 14, 2014 in hike

I guess one double-marathon simply was not enough.

Fence and I had been waiting around for two days. We mostly slept and ate. That is, until we realized how much food we were plowing through.

Then, finally, Dan showed up with Cheese, Baggins and Choop in tow. I had only hiked 37 miles in three days, which made me itch to do something stupid, something big. Now that I knew Dan was safe and caught up, I somehow had the desire to go and just keep going. We were at mile 1453.

Sunset with the bros before heading off into the night.

I left camp at 7 p.m. and walked all through the night, which can be a tricky thing when there is no moon and you are in dense forest. Still, I found a rhythm and was able to get by without kicking too many rocks and roots. By 4 A.M. I had reached McCloud River, mile 1476. After putting my pack down I cleaned my feet off, ate a snack and got a bit of rest. By rest I mean I leaned against my pack in the dirt at the end of the bridge for an hour.

Having rested a single hour, I got back up and kept hiking, but this time in a state of delirium. I met a new hiker, Free Refill, shortly after getting back on my feet. What a cool guy. He's a middle aged German engineer with one helluva sense of humor. This fact, however, I would not learn until a bit later. Free Refill was just warming up for the morning, and I needed to get my blood flowing so I didn't pass out on the trail. I pressed on at an unusually quick pace for that time of the morning.

Completely random note I saw that afternoon.

At certain points I could feel the proverbial wheels start to come off, but I hung in there. With enough caffeine, food, Ibuprofen and water you can do just about anything. Willpower doesn't hurt either. The miles kept rolling by. I saw a few other hiker friends, but mostly I kept my pace steady and powered on. The goal was Interstate-5 where I could hitch into town. By 2 P.M. or so I had reached mile 1500. WOOHOO! I still like the feeling of passing each hundred mile mark written in stones in the dirt.

By 4 P.M. I had finally reached my mark, mile 1507. After 21 hours my 54 miles were complete. 54 miles! That included 12,000 feet of climbing and and 18,000 feet of down. I felt accomplished. Also, I felt wrecked. My body had nothing left. Trail magic always makes everything better though. A couple and their daughter showed up with fresh watermelon, giant muffins and freshly baked cookies that were still warm. It felt like a pretty good reward for my day's trek.

About an hour and a half later Free Refill showed up. I had not yet moved from the spot where I stopped walking. He asked about my day and so I told him of my my distance record.

"Yeah, but you didn't do it in one day," he said.

"Maybe not in one calendar day, but I did it in 24 hours," I retorted.

"So, it still wasn't in one day."

God dammit.

This day was not Free Refill-approved.

----

Two weeks later, having passed Ashland, OR (and all of its magic), I was hiking with Ms. Frizzle, a bad-ass with an equally insatiable desire for doing stupid stuff as I do. Now that we were in the flattest section of the trail, we felt like we could do anything. Having told the tale of my first 50+ day, Ms. Frizzle wanted get on the bandwagon. Let's be real here, it's not like I was ever going to turn down another opportunity to do a crazy big day with another cool hiker.

And so on the 107th day of our journey on this Pacific Crest Trail, Frizzle and I awoke at 4:30 to embark on a double marathon. Mostly, the day went off without much incident. Frizzle likes to hike hard, which means that if you manage to hike in step with her the miles start to fly by. By mid-afternoon we hit some pretty crazy lava fields, but the actual trail through said lava rock was like a magic carpet, smooth as can be.

Sometime between 4 and 5 P.M. we heard cars. A road! We were 32 miles deep and while I didn't feel bad, it had already been a sizable day.
"Pray for magic, pray for magic, pray for magic," I muttered to Frizzle.

Awaiting us at the other side of the road were a couple of tail angels doling out tons of food to a group of hiker trash. There were grilled cheese sandwiches, beers, orange juice, coffee, ibuprofen, fruit snacks and more. I can scarcely think of anything that would have made that moment better than the grilled cheese sandwich brought to me upon reaching the other side of that highway. Oh, did I mention chairs? It turns out that chairs are, in fact, a pretty sweet invention.

We spent 45 minutes hanging with our fellow hiker trash and the generous angels who were passing out magic galore before Frizzle and I nodded to one another that we needed to get back out on the trail. We still had 20 miles to go, after all.

Things really started getting rough as the sun went down. The batteries in my headlamp had worn down to the point of making the light barely useful. My body was already fairly depleted of all resources and the almost-constant tripping did not help the situation. I doubled-up on lights, adding my iPhone's LED as a secondary. We pushed on into the night. And pushed. And pushed.

The last few of those 52.4 miles felt eerily similar to the last few of the first time I ran 26.2 miles. Everything hurt. The voice in my head kept saying "Please, just let this be over with." I conjured what willpower I had and forced myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other until, at 11:10 P.M. Frizzle and I had reached our double-marathon mark.

A few days later Frizzle and I met back up with Free Refill and told him our tale.

"This time I did it in one day," I exclaimed.

"OK, now you can tell people it was approved by a German engineer."

Frizzle waking up the next morning to an early sun.

Cheers,

Jonathan

Scenes of Northern California pt. 2

August 05, 2014 in hike

If a PCT hiker were to say that NorCal is boring, I don't think they would be entirely wrong. Conversely, if they were to say there is nothing cool about NorCal, I would say they are grossly mistaken. This section of the trail introduces far more forests than any heretofore, and they are more dense. On one hand, it means shade from the harsh summer sun. On the other hand it means fewer grand, scenic views. Despite this, the past 600 miles have afforded us some sweet views. Chief among them might be Mt. Shasta, which, even at the Oregon border, is still visible and has been since somewhere around mile 1300. It sits so tall off in the distance, dwarfing absolutey everything around it for hundreds of miles.

This has certainly been the most odd section so far. There was never really a routine, and things were always getting shaken up. Our crew was in constant flux and even Dan and I ended up separated for chunks of the section. This post, however, is about the visuals through the State of Jefferson. The personal stories are yet to come.

Mile 1371 - night hiking on Hat Creek Rim

Mile 1496 -  Mt. Shasta — Mile 1496 - Mt. Shasta

Cheers,

Jonathan

The Bet, concluded

July 31, 2014 in hike

How?! How is this possible? How do you make one roll of toilet paper last for a little over 900 miles? I don't think of myself as a gambling man, and thus I found the prospect of Dan accomplishing this feat preposterous, absolutely ludicrous. I had this in the bag. Then the miles past, but the size of the toilet paper roll barely seemed to shrink. Eventually, I realized that Oregon was fast approaching, and Dan hadn't run out of TP yet. It is now to my dismay that I must announce my concession in the bet over the Roll of Toilet Paper that Could. This is truly an impressive achievement. Many a hiker has listened wide-eyed as Soap Box explains the meaning of this roll. In the end, he only had three measles squares left. Now let's all continue walking through the woods as the number of miles left until Canada wain to under 1000.

-Jonathan

---

Perseverance. Perseverance, a steady hand and restraint are the skills required to make a roll of toilet paper last over 900 miles. Long days and many calories, stretches of no towns or pit stops, even a nasty bout of GI and still the roll turns. I'm not saying the PCT isn't impressive, but limiting toilet paper doesn't make the hiking easier. The bet has come to a close and I will gracefully accept my prize.

I'm not sure I'm even happy I won this bet... Or at least I won't be until I taste a few beers. Also, if anyone won any sizable side bets feel free to share the wealth.

-Dan

I saw (all of) the sign(s)

July 28, 2014 in hike

It opened up my eyes I saw the sign.

90s Swedish pop bands aside, there are more signs on the PCT in Northern California than any other place I've seen so far. They're everywhere. One might even go so far as to say there are signs on signs on signs. This is by no means to say they are good signs, but simply that they exist. In fact, they're some of the most janky signs I've come across. Even their helpfulness is hit and miss. Nonetheless, the amusement they bring is abundant.

Really guys? C'mon, we can do better than this. Just build a freaking cairn.

OMG it's an actual PCT crest, albeit with PCT spray-paint behind it. Notice how the  crest isn't riddled with bullets. This one must be new. — OMG it's an actual PCT crest, albeit with PCT spray-paint behind it. Notice how the crest isn't riddled with bullets. This one must be new.

Cheers,

Jonathan

Scenes of Northern California pt. 1

July 24, 2014 in hike

NorCal is freaking hot. We again resumed the tactic of hiking out early, taking a really long lunch break during the heat of the day, and then hiking late into the evening. In the Sierra you couldn't pay me to get out of my sleeping bag before 7am due to cold. Now the sun comes up so incredibly early and almost immediately gets hot that I have to intentionally sleep in to stay in my bag past 7am.

One great thing about this section is the mix of moderate to mild terrain, strong legs and long days. Doing 25+ mile days isn't even a big deal anymore, and I love it.

Watching sunsets (and sunrises) in Northern California is a thing of wonder. I delight in seeing the sun's golden hour glow bathe the forested hills in the first and last light of the day.

The clouds are magical. They remind me of clouds in Texas. Beautiful puffy looking ones perfectly scattered across the sky.

Trees here are covered in this neon green mossy stuff that I find incredibly comical. In fact, foliage and plant life in general has increased exponentially.

Not pictured: bugs. All of the bugs. Flies, Mosquitos, spiders ants and tons of others I can't begin to identify.

Mile 1250 - Middle Fork Feather River — Mile 1250 - Middle Fork Feather River

Cheers,

Jonathan

Visual update pt. 2

July 18, 2014 in hike

We are now three months and 1500 miles into the trail. Having past the midpoint, we've really hit our stride. This is no longer the adjustment period. This is living it. We are seasoned hiker trash and we are loving every minute of it. In my opinion we look like sporty, homeless people.

Note: Around mile 900 or so our merry band dissolved. Between the Euro Party wanting to watch their respective countries' World Cup matches and shin splints our schedules simply shifted. Assuming we catch back up to Quinoa and Half'n'Half, we will absolutely make a new visual update for them.

As it stands, we have been ebbing and flowing in and out of other groups. We decided to include our current crew as an example of these hiker trash at a moment in time.

Cheers,

Jonathan